The Queen's Choice. Anne O'Brien

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СКАЧАТЬ did indeed both hate and fear his cousin. The death of Duke John of Lancaster had provided the English King with the perfect opportunity to rid himself of what he saw as a perennial threat.

      But for Henry to invade—was that not too great a risk? If he was innocent of treason before, to return with an invading force, to take up arms against a King anointed with God’s holy oil, would cast him fully into the arms of unspeakable treachery. There was no argument to justify such an act.

      So how could I wish him well in this chancy venture? All I saw were the dangers. Even if he accepted John’s offer, of men and ships, how many men would stand with him in England, where he might well find himself facing an army led by Richard himself? What then? I imagined the possibilities with a cold dread. Death on the battlefield. Capture, imprisonment and execution, hanged as a traitor. In that bright, empty antechamber where the shimmer of light from the river touched every surface, Henry’s death had a terrible inevitability about it.

      Unless Henry could command more support than Richard…

      But even then the future would be fraught with untold dangers. If it became a struggle for the Crown of England, France for one would oppose him at every step. France would be a dangerous enemy if Queen Isabelle’s position was threatened. That I could not wish on him. Would he find a friend anywhere in Europe? I thought not. A usurper, an invader who threatened to overthrow the God-chosen King would have a name poisoned by the worst of betrayals. Henry would be friendless.

      I came to a halt in the centre of the antechamber, eyes tight-shut against the images of death and dishonour, to the unease of a passing servant, until I forced my mind into the pragmatic steps that any ruler must consider. Invasion might be the only way for Henry to take back what was his, and knowing him as I did, would he respond in any other way? Even now he was plotting routes and advantageous landings. He would challenge the dragon and fight it to the death. There would be as little compassion in him when facing Richard as St George had dispensed to his scaly adversary.

      As for my thoughts in this matter, that Henry should tread with utmost care, they had been swept aside as nothing better than women’s thoughts by both those opinionated men. But why should a woman not have an opinion on affairs of government, as valid as that of any man? Was I, Duchess of Brittany, alone in my belief that a woman should have much to say in the ruling of a state, and considerable skill in the saying of it?

      Certainly I was not, for there were ideas coming from France, from the pen of the redoubtable Madam Christine, a widow of Italian birth in Pizzano, that would give credence to any stand that I might make. A woman after my own heart: erudite, educated, cultured, a lady of letters with a growing reputation for her forthright approach, she too believed that a woman’s body might be more fragile than a man’s, but her understanding was far deeper. A woman, Madam Christine pronounced, should concern herself with the promotion of peace because men by nature were foolhardy and headstrong. Their desire for vengeance blinded them to the resulting dangers and terrors of war.

      Which was all very well, I considered, riven with frustrations. But of course the man in question must be persuaded to actually listen to this capable woman. I doubted that Madam Christine had ever had to deal with masculine self-will as strong as that of John of Brittany and Henry of Lancaster.

      And I sighed. My fears for Henry, still very lively, did not excuse my ill-mannered flight. My fears would not persuade Henry to take a different path. An apology was demanded from me, unless he had departed precipitately with his offer of ships, his mind full of strategy, without his taking his leave of me. I almost wished he had. Until, in my mind’s eye, I saw Richard, smiling and victorious and Henry dead at his feet.

      ‘Well, Madam Christine,’ I announced to the empty room. ‘I suppose I must apply the wit and wisdom God has given me and try to bring peace to bear on the discussion. But I’d not wager on my success.’

      So I retraced my steps and re-entered, taking my seat silently, to John’s announcement, somewhat dryly:‘And here is Joanna again, repentant of her discourtesy.’

      I managed a smile of reparation and a little open-handed gesture of apology towards Henry. ‘My abhorrence of this plan still stands, but I am guilty as charged.’

      ‘I know why you advise me not to go. I see the dangers, and I like the role of invader as little as you do. But what choice do I have?’ Henry too managed a smile of sorts. ‘You would not wish to see me begging at your cousin Charles’s table for the rest of my life, living in a house that was not my own.’

      No, I would not wish it. Nor would I argue further against the inevitable, but I could not summon a blessing on such a venture. I heard my voice, cool and even. ‘Do you take John’s help?’

      ‘No, lady, I do not.’ He acknowledged my chill with a brisk response. ‘To land a force in Breton ships might seem like strength, but it also smacks too highly of a foreign invasion. I need to win support when I get to England, not antagonise the English lords who might throw in their lot with me. I’ll go alone, with a handful of men who will follow me, and hope it will persuade my fellow Englishmen that I have come to put myself in their hands. The power will be theirs, to win justice for me. I hope they will see the right of my cause.’

      ‘And Richard?’ I asked, anticipating a reply I would not like.

      And how simple it was, spoken without any rancour. ‘I cannot trust Richard to keep any promise he decides to make. I must not allow myself to forget that.’

      Which confirmed all I feared. My thoughts were once again drenched with blood as Henry clasped hands with John, saying:‘I’m for the coast and a ship to take me to England. We talk easily of destiny. This is mine. It is not easy at all, but by God I will take it and hold it fast.’

      After which his leaving was short and formal, a warm God Speed from John. A cool farewell from me. Madam Christine’s maxims had been notable only in their failure.

      ‘You should not have encouraged him.’ As soon as Henry was beyond the door I rounded on my husband. ‘It is treason, John. I see no good outcome.’

      But John was unperturbed. ‘He would have done it anyway. With or without my support. If you think there was even the faintest chance that we could turn him from it, you don’t know him.’

      But I did know him. I knew he would fight for his rights. Henry had begun a venture of great danger and, many would say, no certain outcome. Richard’s army was in battle-readiness for a campaign in Ireland. Henry had no army at all, merely the anticipation of goodwill from those whom Richard’s heavy-handed foolishnesses had pushed into enmity.

      ‘I am afraid for him.’

      ‘He knows what he is doing. He’ll not take unnecessary risks.’ John took my hand, rubbing it as if to warm my flesh on a cold day, even though the heat in the room was great. ‘It is his destiny. Victory or death. We cannot help him now.’

      It gave me no satisfaction. He had gone. The echo of his retreating footsteps had fallen silent, leaving nothing but a memory of sharp dissension and clash of will. How disturbing it had all been.

      And yet I knew the outcome as if I were a practised soothsayer peering into a scrying glass. He would win his own again, driven by justice and honour to retrieve what was undoubtedly his by birth and blood and true inheritance. Would this ambition carry him through this campaign to seize the Crown of England? It might indeed. And then France, faced with a new king de facto might just come begging, with Mary of Berry as a simpering offering, a new bride who would be Queen of England.

      ‘Joanna?’

      ‘Yes?’ СКАЧАТЬ