The tension was great as the day fixed for the enquiry drew near. People crowded into the streets, everyone eager to get a glimpse of the friar. They were taking sides. The friar was innocent, said some. He was a great man. He had warned the King although he knew he could risk his life by so doing. John of Gaunt was the villain. Had he not always been?

Sir John Holland came to the King on the morning of the day fixed for the enquiry. Richard was as usual in the company of the Queen and Robert de Vere.

‘My lord brother,’ he said, ‘there can be no enquiry.’

Richard looked at him in astonishment.

‘The friar is dead, my lord.’

‘Dead! But he was not ill when he was taken away.’

‘He has died since.’

The King looked at the Queen and from the Queen to Robert. Anne had turned pale; there was real anguish in her face. Robert’s expression was enigmatical.

‘It was necessary to question him,’ said Holland. ‘He was a stubborn man.’

The King turned away and put his hand over his eyes, and Anne signed to Holland to leave them.

Sir John bowed and retired. He himself was a little uneasy. The torture administered under his direction had been savage.

When the body of the friar was examined and it was realised what had been done to him the King was overcome with horror. So was John of Gaunt. Neither Richard nor his uncle believed in that sort of torture. If men were against them they were all for the quick stroke of the sword or the axe but not that obscene and filthy torture which had been carried out on this man.

Richard wept and the Queen sent everyone away that she might comfort him as she believed only she could. Richard lay on his bed and she sat beside him stroking his hair.

‘’Tis done, ’tis done,’ she said. ‘There is nothing we can do now to change it. We should never have allowed your half-brother to have care of him.’

She had already discovered that there was great cruelty in John Holland.

‘And to what avail!’ cried Richard. ‘What did we discover? Nothing.’

She tried to soothe him. She was beginning to learn a great deal not only about the men who surrounded her husband but of Richard himself.

He was weak. That she had to accept. He was not the golden god she had believed him to be when he had welcomed her to England and she had been overawed by his beauty. He needed her. She realised that more each day. He leaned on her. It was for her to protect him. And she loved him more deeply for his weakness.


* * *

Thomas of Woodstock came riding to Salisbury. News of the friar’s outburst and his accusation against John of Gaunt had reached him.

Unceremoniously he burst into the King’s chamber.

Thomas’s eyes were wild as he took his sword from its sheath and brandished it before the King. Those about Richard closed in on him and Thomas cried: ‘Who dares accuse my brother of treason, eh? Tell me this. Let that man stand forth and I will challenge him. Yea,’ his wild eyes were fixed on Richard. ‘No matter who he be. I will run him through.’

Richard was astounded. That anyone should dare speak thus of him in his presence was an insult. It was something he had never expected could be possible, even from this uncle who had always treated him as though he were a boy.

He opened his mouth to speak but he had always been a little in awe of Thomas of Woodstock. During his boyhood this big uncle had often lectured him on what he should do, and somehow the sight of him, red-faced, his eyes bulging, his sword in his hand, intimidated the King.

De Vere said: ‘My lord Buckingham, this matter is over. The friar is dead. None of his accusations have been proved. The matter is at an end.’

‘It is not at an end my lord if calumnies are spread about my brother. And if they continue to be I shall be at hand to defend his good name.

Woodstock bowed and left the chamber.

Everyone who had witnessed the strange scene was astounded. The brothers had not been on such good terms. Buckingham still resented the fact that Lancaster had married his son Henry to the co-heiress of the Bohun estates.

Why then was he so concerned with his brother’s reputation?

There was one construction to be put on it and Richard declared to Robert de Vere and Anne that he knew what it was.

‘He loves to humiliate me. That is his motive. He wants to make me feel that I have not yet grown up and he wants to make other people believe it. I shall not forget this in a hurry,’ he added. ‘A plague on these uncles.’


* * *

The people of Salisbury were not going to allow the friar Latemar to be forgotten in a hurry either.

It was not long before he became a martyr.

One man came running through the streets shouting: ‘I can see. I who was blind can see.’

What had happened? Crowds gathered round him.

‘I touched the crate on which he was dragged through the streets. Leaves had begun to sprout from it. I touched them and lo, I could see.’

It was like touching the hem of the holy garment.

After that there was a crop of miracles. Lights were said to shine over the friar’s grave. There was constant talk of the astonishing cures which were performed there. No, the friar was not going to be forgotten.

And if he was a martyr, which the miracles proved he was, then John of Gaunt was in truth plotting to murder the King, for martyrs always spoke the truth.

Robert de Vere was very much aware of the feeling which had been raised against John of Gaunt. Of course he himself was equally unpopular. Favourites always were. He was surrounded by envy, simply because he knew how to amuse the King and delight him with his company.

Richard doted on him and could deny him nothing. Robert must be watchful of Anne of course; but Anne was a wise woman; she loved the King and was in fact loved by him. She had to accept Robert and she did so with a very good grace. Just as, thought Robert slyly, he accepted her.

Richard and he were friends, devoted friends, but they had their wives of course and both of them understood this friendship which made for a harmonious household.

Richard could not do enough for Robert. When he had told him that he and Philippa could not really manage on their income, the King had laughed. He could remedy that. He could not allow his dear Robert to be poor. Robert was very soon the possessor of the town and castle of Colchester. He was also a member of the privy council and a knight of the Garter. Of course they were jealous of him. Robert expected jealousy from other nobles. But he had to be watchful in higher quarters.

The King’s uncles did not like him. He had long been aware of John of Gaunt’s antipathy; now of course he had that of Thomas of Woodstock. When he had raged into the King’s chamber brandishing his sword he had, it was true, been brandishing it at Richard, but he was sending more than the occasional glance in Robert’s direction too.

It was unfortunate that the plot against John of Gaunt had failed. The friar was an innocent man who had been trapped into being the betrayer of the ‘plot’. He had been a simple man and it had been easy to play subtly on his incredulity. Robert had banked on Richard’s losing his temper and acting on impulse as he so often did. Then John of Gaunt would have been taken away and executed before enquiries were made. It had happened like that more than once.

But here he was with a failed plot and yet not entirely failed. Not while the miracles continued and they must make sure that there was no falling off of those for while they persisted feeling ran high against John of Gaunt.

Thomas Mowbray, Earl of Nottingham, another favourite of the King’s though none could compare with Robert of course, was equally eager to be rid of John of Gaunt. Nor were they the only ones. They had their supporters.

He discussed the matter with Mowbray. ‘This time,’ he said, ‘we must make sure of our man. We have agreed that it will not be difficult to get him arrested and accused. Feeling is running high. People really do believe in those miracles. He shall be summoned to a meeting of the Council at Waltham and there accused. This time he shall stand trial.’

‘And you think judges would dare convict him?’

‘My dear Mowbray, judges we shall choose will. They will be as anxious to see the end of him as we are.’

‘And Richard?’ asked Mowbray.

‘Leave Richard to me.’

‘He will be present, you know.’

‘My dear fellow, I know how to play on Richard’s fears. He is already half convinced that he should have listened to the friar. He has nightmares, dreams of the tortures. He has a very delicate mind, our King. He does not like to contemplate torture, even that of men who would be plotting against him. A nice quick stroke of the sword or the axe, that is Richard’s idea of despatching his enemies. He is very suspicious of Uncle John and of Uncle Thomas. Thomas rushing in like that and flourishing his sword was playing right into our hands. Rest assured, my dear Nottingham, that this time it will be the end of John of Gaunt.’

Robert was right. It was easy to convince Richard. ‘There are rumours,’ he whispered to him. ‘It is said that there was a plot and that John of Gaunt cleverly extricated himself as he has done so often before.’

‘There are times when I could bring myself to believe that,’ said Richard.

‘There was another miracle at the friar’s tomb yesterday,’ went on Robert. ‘My lord if treason were proved against John of Gaunt you would not hesitate …’