"Should you blame me? One day you will discard the comparatively humble title of Prince of Wales and become King of England. But enough of banter. What think you of the Lollards, Hal?"

"Lollards? In truth I have thought little of them. My grandfather supported their leader Wycliffe for a while and I think little came of it."

"Mayhap not through him, but they are a rising power. There is much that is good in them."

"I like their name. Lollards, what means it, John?"

"Some say it comes from the German word lollen, to sing."

"They have a habit of singing hymns, I believe."

"A good habit to sing of what one believes. But I have also heard, now I come to remember, that they have been named from a good English word. Loller—an idler."

"Well, what is in a name? It is what they stand for which is important. They are a dangerous group, John. I remember Archbishop Arundel's saying that they were behind the Peasants' Revolt."

"Some say the peasant had good reason to revolt."

"You always loved a discourse. God's truth, I believe you take a view with which you know I will not agree just to bait me."

"Mayhap," agreed John. "It makes a good pastime."

Harry was watching one of the serving women.

"I can think of a better at this moment," he said.

John sighed and the subject was dropped, but he brought it up again at their next meeting.

"The Lollards believe that no human law not founded on the scriptures ought to be obeyed."

"There are crimes not mentioned in the scriptures"

"Is it right," persisted John, "that popes, cardinals, prelates and the like should live in luxury while the people who struggle day and night to feed themselves and their families should pay them rich dues?"

"John, you talk like a preacher."

"I feel deeply on this matter."

"You do indeed, I see. John, you alarm me. You know my father does not think kindly of the Lollards."

"I think in his heart he may ... as his father did. But when he came to the throne he promised Archbishop Arundel to persecute them and this he did ... for the sake of Arundel's support."

"What's come over you, John? You should not talk thus of the King."

"To you, I speak without thought."

"It is a dangerous habit, old fellow. Do you remember a man named William Sawtre?"

"Would I forget the first martyr to this cause? He was a poor curate and they made an example of him. He said he would not worship the cross but only Christ that suffered on it. He would rather worship a man who was truly contrite than the piece of wood which was all the cross was. The bread used in the sacrament remained bread whatever a priest mumbled over it. He was burned to death as a heretic. The first to be so treated. His death was a dark blot on our history."

The Prince was looking in astonishment at his friend.

"What has come over you? You've changed, John."

"Nay, I am the same. As you are, my Prince. We frivol away the hours but when we are quiet we think of other things.

As it is with you, it is with me. I look ahead, Hal. We shall not spend our lives roystering in taverns. We have other work to do."

"I know what mine is. I thought yours was to serve me."

"So it is, lord King-to-be. But not in taverns."

"You've put me in a sober mood, John. I fear the wenches will be disappointed."

"Cast off your gloom. I humbly ask pardon for creating it."

"Nay, John, nay. You have put me in the mood for serious thought. Let us leave this place. I have no stomach for it now.

One thing I would say to you. Have a care. Do not become embroiled in sects and reforming companies. They could bring you to disaster."

"I am not of a nature to fear what may come to me ... even as you are. Would this close friendship—with which you honour me—have existed if we had not been two of a kind?

I shall do what I think right ... as you will always. It is the nature of us."

"Then take care, John. I am not sure that I like the serious thinker half as much as my lewd old roystering rogue."

The King lay in his bed. His face was distorted by the hideous pustules which stood out all over it; his body was shrunken and there was a stiffness in his hands and feet so that he feared he was losing the use of them.

He dared not show himself. He relied on his closest friends and his sons. Thomas was his favourite and he wished that he had been the eldest, although there were times when he recognized a certain strength in Harry which the others did not possess, and then he would feel that the realm would be safe in his hands. Thomas was milder than Harry although he too had been involved in riotous conflict in East Cheap, which created something of a scandal. John, who was by far the most sober of the family had been involved but that was only because he was accompanying his brother. Even young Humphrey was developing a taste for the night life of London. They were a wild brood, his sons. Odd to think that gentle little Mary had produced them.

At least he had something to be thankful for. He had produced sons—wild though they might be; and both his marriages had been happy ones. He could not have chosen better than Joanna, except for the fact that her family—by the nature of their geographical position—were inclined towards France. But there were internal difficulties in that country now—with Burgundy and the mad King and the wanton Queen. Fortunately, thought Henry, for they were causing little concern to England now; and he had no great wish to go to war, unlike Harry who was straining at the leash. Harry was ambitious. He wanted not only the crown of England but the crown of France.

Peace, thought Henry, that is what I long for now. Would to God I were well enough to go on a pilgrimage. God knows I have sins enough to wash away. There had been a prophecy made years ago that he would die in Jerusalem. There seemed little likelihood of that now, unless his health improved and he abdicated in favour of Harry. But if he were granted the miracle of good health, he would not dream of leaving the country.

The people loved Harry. He had noticed it when they were together. All the cheers were for Harry. He had that certain quality which drew men to him. A Plantagenet quality although he had the looks of a de Bohun. His father had never had it, for all his strength and power; Edward the King had had it, so had the Black Prince.

He felt angry because it had been denied him.

They never liked me, he thought. If I said I would abdicate tomorrow they would cheer themselves hoarse for Harry.

And what of me? He would tell me what I must do. He would remind me a hundred times a day that he was the King.

"Never will I give up, my son," he murmured. "Death's is the only hand which will place the crown on your head."

Harry was hand in glove with his Beaufort relations. Trust them to go where the pastures looked greenest. It was an indication that they thought there was not much time left to him.

They had supported him whole-heartedly at one time. Of course they had. Their fortunes were firmly tied up with those of the House of Lancaster. His half-brothers—result of his father's abiding passion for Catherine Swynford. Clever men all of them. And now they veered to Harry. They were going to uphold him, even if it meant going against the King— for the old King was not long for this world.

"The King is dead!" they would cry. "Long live the King." He was sad; he was in pain. He had committed a great sin in compassing the crown and it had brought him nothing but bitterness.

Harry liked to discuss his plans with John, who was his favourite brother, and his uncles Henry and Thomas Beaufort. Henry had been made Bishop of Winchester and Thomas, Duke of Exeter and Chancellor of England; they had been specially favoured as the sons of John of Gaunt and they had inherited a good deal of their father's shrewdness.

Their elder brother John Beaufort, Earl of Somerset, was dead and there had been a rift in the family when the King's son Thomas had married Somerset's widow for when Thomas had demanded her estates Henry Beaufort had refused to give them up.

In the quarrel, the Prince had taken sides and was in favour of his uncle rather than his brother and this had, of course, made a great coolness between them, and Thomas, knowing that their father was not on the best of terms with the Prince of Wales, did his best to turn the King still more away from the heir to the throne.

It was an uneasy situation. It brought Harry closer to the Beauforts who as Bishop and Chancellor were powerful men; and as everyone knew now of the King's fearsome disease which often kept him out of sight for long periods, an uneasy tension was growing up in Court circles. It was working towards a rift and it seemed that before long there would be a King's circle and one made up of the Prince's supporters.

At this time a new conflict had arisen in France.

After the death of Isabella in childbed her husband Charles of Angouleme, who had become the Duc d'Orleans when his father had been murdered, married again. This time his bride was the daughter of the very powerful and warlike Count of Armagnac. Charles of Orleans was of a gentle nature, a lover of the arts, thoughtful, with a hatred of war, but he was in the hands of his forceful father-in-law who wanted to establish the power of the House of Orleans which meant destroying that of Burgundy.

Civil war in France was something which England could not fail to be pleased about. It was always so much better to let an enemy destroy itself than to waste one's own strength doing it.