Bolingbroke managed a slight laugh. ―What? You would have raised a rebellion?‖
Neville took a sip of wine, and decided to be bold. ―I can do far worse to you, Hal, should
I have a mind to.‖
All amusement left Bolingbroke‘s face, and he leaned forward. ―Do not threaten me!‖
Neville leaned forward himself, taking Bolingbroke‘s fury full on. ―Then promise never
to lie to me again!‖
Bolingbroke stared a moment or two longer at Neville, then gradually the fury faded from
his face and he leaned back in his chair. ―I cannot afford to, can I?‖
Neville also sat back, one part of his mind thinking that he and Bolingbroke were
engaged in some bizarre seated dance. ―Nay. Not after all the lies you have told me in the past.‖
They were both silent for long minutes, thinking of the web of deception Bolingbroke,
and Margaret, had spun about Neville.
It was Neville who finally broke the silence, his mouth lifting in a wry grin. ―Who would
have thought, Hal, that such a once intensely-devout friar would sit so comfortably with the king
of demons?‖
―Such are the strange twists that life takes, Tom.‖
Again there was a silence, and again it was Neville who broke it.
―You have been honest with me,‖ he said, ―and so I shall be honest with you. Do you
remember that moment during your coronation when the abbot asked if there were any reason
you should not take the throne? If there were any man who disputed it?‖
―How can I forget it.‖
―You looked at me, knowing that if I spoke, I could yet ruin your triumph.‖
Bolingbroke did not speak, waiting for Neville to continue.
―That moment stretched on and on,‖ Neville said very softly, ―as I thought.‖
―And of what did you think?‖
―I thought of you that day you rode your white stallion into the centre of Richard‘s army
outside Flint castle. I thought of what you promised them: freedom.‖
―A better life,‖ Bolingbroke murmured, ―for themselves and their families.‖
―I made myself a vow in that moment,‖ Neville said. ―I vowed that whatever your birth
blood, your demonry, if you worked tirelessly and truthfully to ensure the freedom of the
commons of England, those men and women who have ever loved you, then I would condemn
heaven into hell if it might help you.‖
Bolingbroke‘s eyes widened, and he sat up slightly.
―But if,‖ Neville continued, ―I thought that you had lied to those men and women and to
England, then I would do everything I could to ensure that you were thrust down into hell.‖
Bolingbroke stared, then spoke. ―I did not lie, Tom. I would die if I thought it in the best
interests of England‘s common men and women.‖
Neville shrugged, and drained his goblet. He stood up, moving to the nearby table to refill
it, turning to refill Bolingbroke‘s as well.
―Our friendship will never be what it once was, Hal. Not now.‖
―But we can still work together? For England?‖
―Aye,‖ Neville said, and raised his goblet. ―For England.‖
There was an uncomfortable silence as both men drank, then Neville spoke again.
―Talking of England, I am assuming that it was for unity‘s sake that you turned so much of your
fabled charm on Exeter this evening?‖
―I did my best, Tom. I did my best. At the least he laughed cheerily at my poor jests.‖
Ah, thought Neville. Then Exeter is a dangerous man and undoubtedly thinking to raise a
rebellion.
―And what words passed between you and Montagu?‖ Bolingbroke enquired.
―General charm, but some sourness over the new home for the House of Lords. Hal, be
careful. There is yet unrest.‖
―A kitchen has never caused a revolution yet, my friend. I shall have that kitchen decked
out in fine emeralds and scarlets, and much gold gilding, and once the lords remember that the
wine cellars lie directly beneath the former kitchen, well…‖
―I have also heard whispers—no, not from Montagu, but in the streets and stables—about
Richard. Hal, some say he is not dead.‖
Bolingbroke‘s mouth thinned. ―Trust me, he is dead.‖
―Oh, I trust that you would not have him left alive to niggle at your legitimacy. But
Richard‘s name is powerful whether he is dead or not. A single rumour that he escaped
Pontefract Castle and waits in the marches for all true Englishmen to gather at his side would be
enough to destabilise your seat on that throne.‖
― Richard is dead! ‖
―But he may still haunt you,‖ Neville said. ―Be careful. You may be beloved of the
commons, but there are many who would not weep to see you dead on the cobbles with a knife
between your ribs. Richard‘s name is the one they will use to thrust that knife home.‖
Bolingbroke waved a hand. ―I will prevail.‖
―And I hope that you do,‖ Neville said, ―for of all things I do not want another Richard to
take your place.‖
Bolingbroke smiled, and the atmosphere between them eased a little further. ―You have
taken good care of Mary,‖ he said. ―You and Margaret. For that I thank you.‖
―She is a treasure, Hal. The people on the street adore her almost as much as they do
you.‖
―I have been lucky in my wife,‖ Bolingbroke said.
―But not as lucky as you had hoped?‖ Neville said.
Bolingbroke sent him a sharp look. ―What do you mean by that?‖
―Mary will never bear you an heir. Have you thought about setting her aside?‖
―That is a brutal remark, coming from one who claims that my wife is a treasure.‖
―Then I ask you as a king, not as a man. As a king, you need an heir. How does the king
answer my question?‖
―I can never set Mary aside,‖ Bolingbroke said. ―And that is the answer of the king.‖
Neville nodded, turning to stare into the flames as he thought. No, the king could not set
Mary aside, and certainly not for the woman Bolingbroke truly wanted, Catherine of France. The
commons adored Mary, and would loathe Catherine. It might be the end of Bolingbroke‘s
kingship if he set Mary aside.
So Bolingbroke the king was going to wait for Mary the queen to die.
Neville wondered very much what Bolingbroke might do if Mary did not die. A crippled,
barren wife was second only to a successful rebellion as the worst lot in life that fate could deal a king.
―And France?‖ Neville said.
Bolingbroke hesitated. ―France? You know I will turn my attention to France sooner or
later, Tom.‖
―Aye.‖ For there lies Catherine… and untold wealth and land. ―Take care you do not
become another King Arthur, Hal. So caught by his glorious dreams of conquering the entire
civilised world he neglected his own family where waited his doom. Remember what happened
to Arthur‘s dream of Camelot.‖
Bolingbroke shot Neville an unreadable look, then took a deep breath. ―I must to France,
but not merely for the ‗glory‘. France waits for me, and for you.‖
―Waits for me?‖
―Aye. It will be in France that the angels, no doubt using their mouthpiece Joan of Arc,
will ask you for your decision, Tom. My road, as yours, will lead to France.‖
Neville thought a moment, then nodded. Of course. Doubtless, Joan would present the
choice on behalf of the angels. ―Arthur‘s dreams ended in France,‖ he said.
Bolingbroke stared at Neville. ―Then I pray to our sweet Lord Jesus that France shall not
prove the end of mine.‖
III
Saturday 4th May 1381
—i—
It was still dark, but Mary could hear the world stir outside her chamber windows. There
was a faint, distant clattering interspersed with the low growl of men‘s voices: grooms readying the horses for the day‘s entertainment. There was another clatter, closer, and this noise was
interspersed with more feminine voices: women in the kitchen courtyard, darting to and fro
between kitchen and great hall, carting pails and dishes, readying the morning‘s breakfast. And
faintly, so very faintly, came the morning song of the birds: the pigeons and doves of the stables,
and the wilder, lovelier melodies of the meadow birds.
Mary kept her eyes closed, her hands clenching at her sides under the light coverlets, and
bent her entire will to concentrate on the sound of the birds. But it was no use. The world of
stables and of kitchens kept intruding, destroying the peace of the birdsong, and soon Mary knew
the world of the court and of her responsibilities as queen would also intrude in the guise of the
careful voices and hands of her waiting women.
Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. Just a slit, a glance under her lashes, for Mary did not
want anyone who might be watching to know she was awake. Still dark, it appeared that there
was, as yet, no one up and moving about the chamber, but now Mary could hear the altered