Thomas and Margaret laughed, and Thomas would have spoken, save that Lady Jane Keate, one of the Duchess of Lancaster’s ladies, joined them and asked Margaret to join the Duchess at her request.
Margaret smiled, looked at Thomas for his permission, then took her leave of the men and followed Lady Jane.
Thomas moved close to Hal as they, in their turn, moved through the crowds thronging the chamber toward the dais.
“You smiled prettily enough as you made your oaths to Richard this afternoon, my lord,” Thomas said quietly.
“Why ‘my lord’ so suddenly, Tom?”
“I am your servant now.”
“But still my friend, and I am still Hal away from courtly protocol. But, as to this afternoon, why, yes, I smiled prettily. I had no choice.”
Hal looked about them, making sure that the people in their immediate vicinity were
involved in conversations other than that taking place between Bolingbroke and his new secretary.
“Tom …” Hal drew Thomas close to one of the great stained glass windows, pretending an interest in a craftily executed scene of Noah’s Ark, “we can do nothing about Richard until we find proof.”
“The casket.”
“Aye, the casket. Tom,” Hal stared his friend in the eye. “I swear to you on the friendship that binds us that I will do whatever is in my power to see that the casket is placed in your hands. To have Richard on the throne appalls me, but neither of us can touch him at the moment,”
“What was it that appalls you, friend?”
Thomas and Hal both jerked in surprise, and turned about.
Hotspur had joined them, looking rakishly secretive in a black velvet tunic embroidered all about with seed pearls.
“Richard’s lack of a wife,” Hal said with no hesitation. “He has handled Tom’s Margaret too roughly, and I fear for the chastity of my own wife-to-be if Richard lays his lustful eye upon her. We must find him a queen, Hotspur. Any suggestions?”
Hotspur raised an eyebrow at Thomas. ” ‘Tis no great tragedy, surely, if a king’s eye falls upon one’s wife? There are many preferments and honors to be got from the guilty, and thankful, conscience of a king.”
“I would suggest you offer your own wife for Richard’s bed,” Thomas said, “save that you have none of your own. But there’s always your mother, Hotspur. Why don’t you dress her in the clothes of a harlot and parade her before the king? As you say, the benefits will far outweigh the sniggers.”
Hotspur’s face tightened.
“And for that dagger,” Hal said, “you have no one to blame but yourself, Hotspur.
Come, I hear from the murmur of the crowds that Richard approaches. Let us hear no more of the whoring of one’s wife or mother.”
Hotspur shot Thomas a further angry glance, but turned to follow Hal as he once more made his way through the crowd toward the dais. Thomas, having checked to make sure that Margaret was safely in Katherine’s entourage, trailed a few steps behind, thinking on how friendships altered, blossoming into a different flower, when minds turned to the acquisition of power.
RICHARD ENTERED the Painted Chamber, riding a wave of trumpet and bonhomie. This was his day, and there were yet some hours left to be enjoyed.
He had put to one side his coronation robes, again affecting a suit of green—amply laden with gold and gems.
As with the robes of state, Richard had dispensed with the crown of Edward the Confessor—a weighty item that was better worn for stately processions than the gaieties of post-coronation celebrations—and wore a simple coronet of gold and silver. The Plantagenet dynasty had ruled England for centuries, and all those centuries of arrogance and power revealed themselves in Richard’s every step and
movement.
He had succeeded to the throne of England when only a youth, he controlled the fate of a nation in his hands, and Richard intended to enjoy every moment of what he hoped would be a long life.
The king was dead, long live the king.
Trailed by a line of attendants and servants, almost as richly dressed as the king himself, Richard made his way to the throne which had been set upon the dais and sat himself down. He waved magnanimously as the assembled crowd bowed or curtsied, saying in his high voice that the time for stately protocol was over—at least for this evening—and that he wished his subjects to be at ease in his presence.
As the crowd straightened from their collective obeisance (despite their king’s words, it was difficult to be totally at ease when there were no seats), Richard began a speech, thanking all and sundry for the goodwill and effort which had gone into making his coronation ceremony such a success.
“And all for the want of a simple oaken casket,” Hal murmured into Thomas’ ear.
“As you have so freely given of your goodwill,” Richard continued, his eyes flickering toward Hal and Thomas, “so now I give of mine. It is traditional that a new king gift as his people have so freely gifted him, and this gifting is more a joy to me than a burden of practice.”
Richard beckoned to a clerk standing to one side, and the man handed his king a roll of parchment.
“The appropriate offices within my administration will hastily draw up the following deeds and devices for those men I intend to honor here tonight.”
Richard began to read from the parchment, listing names and the honors he bestowed on them.
To nine of his attendants, who had so faithfully served in his household, he gave knighthoods with the lands attendant upon each title.
To his tutor, Sir Guichard d’Angle, Richard bestowed the title of Earl of Huntingdon.
“If I had known he would so richly reward his tutor,” Hotspur whispered behind Hal and Thomas, “I would have taught him his numbers many a year ago.”
Despite their earlier ill-feeling, both Hal and Thomas grinned.
To his beloved uncle, Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester, Richard also gave the lands and titles of Earl of Buckingham.
“To Lancaster’s faithful retainer, Ralph, Baron of Raby,” Richard said, “I bestow the lands and title of Earl of Westmorland.”
“What?” Hotspur hissed, and Hal had to turn about and restrain him from saying anymore.
Hotspur, shaking off Hal’s cautionary hand, shared a look of smoldering resentment with his father, the Earl of Northumberland. Was the Percy power in the north to be threatened by the Nevilles?
“And to my beloved cousin,” Richard continued, again looking at Hal, “Prince Henry of Bolingbroke, I give the lands and titles of the Earldom of Derby and the Dukedom of Hereford.”
Thomas looked at Hal, who, patently shaken, was staring at Richard.
“He thinks to curry your favor,” Thomas whispered in Hal’s ear.
Hal did not reply for a moment, but eventually he turned and whispered back in Thomas’ ear. “Yet what he does not realize, does he, is that he has given me the lands, wealth and power that will enable me to form, in time, an effective power base to rival that of the throne.”
“Lancaster did well,” Hotspur said bitterly, and loudly, to a nobleman on his left,
“to nurture the boy-heir within his own household, for tonight that household has been enriched beyond measure for their foresight.”
And then, with a smoldering look of utter enmity toward Hal, Hotspur moved off through the crowd to join his father.
Thomas looked back to Richard, and saw the youth staring toward Hal with evident satisfaction.
Had Richard just rewarded Hal and Raby, or had he purposefully ensured inevitable animosity between the houses of Lancaster, Neville and Percy, three of the most powerful families in England? If so, then Richard had nurtured a conflict that would ensure the fragmentation of any effective opposition against his power.
Richard grinned, and tossed the parchment back to the clerk.
The Demon-King had done good work in his first hours on the throne.
EPILOGUE
Vigil of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist
In the first year of the reign of Richard II
(Thursday 23rd June 1379)
— midsummer’s eve —
MARGARET STOOD IN THE MEADOW LAND of Halstow Hall, a warm wind gently lifting both her skirts and her hair. The grass had been mown three weeks ago, but in that time the cornflowers had resprouted and blossomed, and a bunch of them now hung from her belt.
This was a peaceful, beautiful land. To the north lay the Thames estuary with its flocks of wheeling gulls and white-capped waves; to the south lay the Medway River and the town of Rochester, and in between stretched the tranquil fields of the Hoo Peninsula. A half mile away from where Margaret stood was the house of Halstow Hall. It was a commodious and agreeable building, full of light and warm wood and soaring hammerbeam ceilings, and Margaret hoped that one day her daughter would clamber, laughing, down the great central staircase, and spend the long winter evenings warm and comfortable before the great fireplace in the hall.