The star of Lancaster

A CHARGE OF WITCHCRAFT

Henry was determined to complete the conquest of France and what he needed more than anything was money.

He was obsessed by the thought of attaining the crown and was convinced that it was his by right and he would let nothing stand in the way of attaining it. He was certain that if his great-grandfather Edward the Third had carried on with the fight after Poitiers he would have won it. He had given up too soon; he had become lethargic, obsessed by lust; and the Black Prince, who would have won it, had become ill and died.

He, Henry, was the chosen one.

It was agreed now that he was a great warrior—to rank with William the Conqueror and Richard Coeur de Lion. Such men were all-soldier. They allowed nothing to come between them and their objective. Henry was not cruel for the sake of cruelty but if it was necessary to the outcome of a battle he would kill without mercy. He was a soldier first; everything was subordinated to his cause. He never sought to evade any duty; he should share hardship with his men; he made it clear to them that even though he was their King and leader he was one of them, ready to suffer cold or die with them. He had the power to make them follow him. He was good to them; he was proud of his image; he knew that his men would follow him to the jaws of death if he commanded them to do so.

With such an army and such a leader, he knew he could not fail.

When he heard how Oldcastle had died he was overcome with grief but then he grew angry. John had been a fool. Why had he given up the glorious life of a soldier to campaign for his Lollard views? John, becoming spiritual, a reformer I It was nonsense. He should have been with him at Harfleur and Agincourt.

And now he was dead ... and had died in such a way. Foolish John !

There was no time to regret the fat old martyr. God rest his soul, said Henry; and was glad that he had been out of England when it had happened.

How could he have passed judgment on the old buffoon? Yet it was a just sentence. John had been a self-confessed heretic and so it was right that he should die the heretic's death.

But it was over now. No looking back. No remembrance of old tavern days and the tricks they had played. John had gone his way and the King had gone his.

And there was a crown to be won.

Money! Money I He needed money. He had left Bedford to govern England. He could trust his brother. Bedford was a fine soldier, loyal too. Almost the man his brother the King was, he had heard it said, but not quite.

No, not quite. But a brother to be grateful for.

"You must find me money," he had told Bedford.

And Bedford had said: "Our stepmother is a very rich woman. She does not help as she should."

"Ah, our stepmother. Her heart is in France"

"By God," Bedford had cried. "Then she would be a traitor to our lord the King. I'll find a means, brother."

Bedford would find a means. He had rid the country of Oldcastle. It was right of course. The old fellow was a heretic and he had earned the heretic's death.

Yes, Bedford was a good brother. He would look after affairs in England while Henry was winning France.

He could trust Bedford.

There was something wrong in the Queen's household at Havering Bower. Servants of the Duke of Bedford had arrived the previous day and Joanna had presumed that this meant their master was on the way to see her.

She was always apprehensive now. Arthur was still a prisoner though they had moved him from the Tower to Fotheringay Castle and she hoped he was in less rigorous confinement there. Whenever members of the King's or Regent's household visited her she feared what reason they had for coming.

She knew that the King was in France and she guessed that he would be constantly urging Bedford to find him money. Perhaps she should have offered more to the King when he had come to her. That would not have helped. He would still have wanted more.

Roger Colles and Petronel Brocart had warned her that she should be extra watchful for she was passing into a dangerous period. She did not need to be told that. She was aware of it more every day. The longer this war continued and the more success Henry had in France the more dangerous her position would become.

Colles and Brocart were in constant attendance on her and although their prognostications were becoming more and more gloomy she wanted to hear them. There was dissension between them and John Randolf. There always had been but it seemed to have deepened of late. She had never really liked John Randolf; there was an air of self righteousness about the man which had not appealed to her; she would have dismissed him from his post but for the growing apprehension all round her. This did not seem the time.

She sent for John Randolf.

Her servants returned with the information that he was closeted with the men from the Duke of Bedford and had been so for some hours.

This made her very uneasy.

She sat with her women and they worked together on the tapestry they were making. They were more silent than usual. They were aware that something extraordinary was going on.

"My Lord Bedford will be here this day, I believe," she said.

"Yes, my lady," was the answer. "They are preparing for him in the kitchens."

"Where is Randolf? I would speak with him."

"He is talking to the men from London"

"What! Still talking."

"Yes, my lady. None knows of what they speak. They have been closeted these last two hours and there are guards outside the door."

"Of what could they be speaking to Randolf?"

Everyone was silent. They bent their heads over their work. What does it mean? the Queen asked herself apprehensively.

They were startled by a clatter in the courtyard. One of the women dropped her work and ran to the window.

"What do you see?" asked the Queen still sitting with her needle in her hand.

"Some are leaving."

"Bedford's men?" asked the Queen with evident relief in her voice.

"No ... no ... my lady. It is ... Yes, it is. Randolf. He and two others are riding out of the courtyard."

Joanna put down her work and with the others went to the window.

She saw John Randolf riding out of the castle with two men.

"They are taking the road to London," said one of the women.

Joanna stared. Why? What could it mean?

She was soon to discover.

Later that day the Duke of Bedford arrived. Joanna went down to the courtyard to meet him. He was very like his brother the King and was said to be Henry's most loyal and fervent supporter. He was more highly coloured than Henry, with a prominent arched nose, well marked chin and slightly receding brow. He was a man who would not shirk his duty; and like his brother did not practise cruelty for its sake yet had no compunction in taking a severe action for the furtherance of a cause which he believed to be right.

A good meal was served and during it Joanna sat beside her guest and he talked to her of the war and the glories of Agincourt, of the King's valour and the genius he was displaying in the conduct of the war. He regretted that he was not with his brother in France; but the King had assigned to him the task of keeping law and order in England during his absence and that was a task which he was pursuing to the utmost of his capabilities.

"We shall let nothing ... but nothing ... stand in our way, my lady, no matter what has to be done it shall be done"

Ominous words perhaps.

She was right.

As soon as the meal was over he said he had matters of which he wished to speak with her, and she took him to an ante-chamber and began by asking him: "Where is my confessor?"

"He has gone to London."

"I did not give him permission to go."

"No, my lady. He went on my command which is the King's."

"For what reason?"

"This is a painful subject and I would rather speak to you of it than let others do it. You are my stepmother and there has always been amity between ourselves."

"And still is I trust," she said.

Bedford was silent, and she looked at him in alarm. "Pray tell me without more delay what this means," she said.

"That I will. You have two sorcerers in your employ, my lady. Their names I learn are Roger Colles and Petronel Brocart."

"These men are my servants. I would not call them sorcerers."

"What then, my lady?"

"They are men with a knowledge of the stars ... they predict the future."

"And on occasions arrange the future."

"I do not understand what you mean, my lord."

"It should be clear. You wish for some event to take place and ... these men arrange it."

"How could that be! The future is in God's hands."

"But it can often be helped by certain methods."

"You are talking in riddles."

"Forgive me. Your confessor has told us much. He says that these two men at your command work with the powers of evil."

"The man is a fool and a liar."

"My lady, he is a Minorite Friar."

"I would say he is a liar were he the Archbishop of Canterbury. He has always been of a jealous nature. He hated the friendship I showed for the astrologers"

"He says they were with you when the late King suffered from his illness"

"Oh God help me" murmured the Queen.

"My father's disease was a loathsome one. Many said it had witchcraft in it."

"I was with your father. I nursed him. He loved me till the end."

"That does not prove that you had no hand in illwishing him."

"This is nonsense. What good has his death brought me? It was better for me when he lived. He would never have allowed me to be treated as I am being now."

"If you were guilty of what some say you are, he would have wished you to answer for your sins."

Joanna covered her face with her hands. "I loved the King" she murmured. "I nursed him through his sickness. He wanted me near him all the time."

Bedford was silent.

"He suffered greatly" she went on. "Not only with the pain but the fearful disfigurement."

"What was the disease Which overtook my father?" said Bedford. "It was said at the time that it was brought on through evil influences."

"That is a lie. Your father would have been the first to declare it so. He knew that I loved him, that I could tend him better than anyone."

"So we thought then, Madam."

"Of what else have you come here to accuse me?" she demanded.

"Of practising witchcraft, of working against the King."

"Working against the King! How could I do that? He is my friend. He has always been my friend."

"You did not show much friendship when you gave so niggardly to him in his need to pursue the war in France."

"I gave what I had to give."

"My father left you rich. You are said to be one of the richest women in the country."

Now she saw it all. It was her money they sought. What a fool she had been not to have given the King what he wanted when he had come to see her. His brother was his lieutenant.

Extortion was their plan. She felt a faint relief. If it was her money they wanted, they might spare her life.

Of course they would. They dared not take that. Henry could not afford to offend the Duke of Brittany nor the royal House of France to that extent. To make war was one thing but to murder members of the family another.

"So you will believe the word of a treacherous priest against mine, my lord?" she asked.

"We shall investigate, of course. In the meantime I have decided to put you under guard."

"Here in Havering?"

"No, you will go to Pevensey Castle. There Sir John Pelham will be your host."

"You mean my jailer?"

"He will take good care of you and treat you as your rank requires."

"But I shall be his prisoner."

"And if you are guilty, my lady, your goods will be confiscated to the crown."

"Ah," she said, "I understand. They will be of some help to the King in pursuing the war in France."

Bedford was silent.

She was resigned. She knew her stepsons. They could make themselves believe that they were acting justly and all they cared about really was bringing money into the exchequer. She should have known better.

"There is one request I have to make," she said. "My son Arthur is in Fotheringay. He is Henry's prisoner as I shall be. Could we share our imprisonment?"

Bedford looked horrified.

She saw the thoughts chasing each other through his mind. Two of them in one castle! What plots they might fabricate.

"You will go to Pevensey," he said stonily. "And now, my lady, you will wish to prepare. You leave tomorrow."

He bowed and left her. She looked about her. Soon this place where she had lived during her widowhood would be a memory. She thought then of Colles and Brocart. Perhaps they should try to escape to France. Would it be wiser for them to go or stay? If they were caught something might be proved against them, innocent as they were. Yet if they fled that would be taken as an assumption of their guilt. She must warn them and leave them to make the decision.

The next day she left for Pevensey. When she was arriving at the castle she was treated by Sir John Pelham with the respect due to her rank, so she could not therefore complain of her reception.

If only she could have been with Arthur at Fotheringay she would have been almost content for it soon became clear that no case was to be brought against her. Colles and Brocart had not been questioned even. But her wealth had been confiscated.

Bedford had achieved his purpose. Her immense fortune was now in the hands of the King.

She would remain his prisoner, awaiting his pleasure.