CASTLE OF CALAIS, FRANCE, JUNE 1433
We are housed once more in the great castle of the garrison town of Calais, Woodville is greeted as its captain but my lord says he cannot spare him from his side yet to take up residence. I am standing on the battlement at the top of the castle, looking anxiously up at the standard on the tower above my head, which cracks and ripples in the strengthening wind.
‘Is it going to be rough?’ I ask my husband.
He glances at me. ‘You are not afraid? But water is your element.’
I bite my lip on a retort. Personally, I don’t think that having a water goddess for an ancestress is a guarantee of freedom against sea-sickness, nor, come to that, shipwreck. ‘I am a little afraid. The waves look very high, are they always big? Do they always break so high on the harbour wall? I don’t remember them being like that before.’
He glances out to sea as if to measure them for the first time. ‘It’s a little rough, perhaps. But we will leave on the next tide. It is too important for us to delay. I have to get to England. I am going to address the parliament, they have to realise that there must be funds released to pay for the campaign season in France. And I have to find some way to get my brother Humphrey to work with our uncle, Cardinal Beaufort. The young king . . . ’ He breaks off. ‘Ah well, at any rate, we have to go and I don’t think the journey will be too uncomfortable for you, and there should be no danger. Can you not calm the waters? It’s Midsummer Eve; surely you should be able to do a little magic on this of all evenings?’
I try to smile at the weak joke. ‘No, I wish that I could.’
He turns and goes into the inner rooms. I hear him shouting for his clerks, and to tell the captain that he must complete loading, for we will leave on the next tide, whatever the weather. Woodville comes up with a warm cape and puts it around my shoulders. ‘My lord is worried by events in England. His brother Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, does not give good advice, his nephew the king is young and inexperienced, and his uncle, Cardinal Beaufort, has his own plans for the kingdom. The two of them, the Duke of Gloucester and the cardinal, try to turn the young king each to their own way of thinking and he is torn between them.’
‘Is it safe to sail?’
‘Oh yes. It may be a little rough, but I shall see you are comfortable in your cabin, my lady. And Merry safe in her stall. We will sail through the night and in the morning you will wake up in your new country. And my lord will take you to see his new house.’
‘Spenhurst?’ I ask, trying the odd name in my mouth.
‘Penshurst,’ he corrects me. ‘You will like it, I promise you, it is a most beautiful house in one of the loveliest parts of England, in Kent, which is famous for its apple orchards and fruit gardens. Near to London, but far enough distant that you will not be troubled by too many people. A jewel of a house for a diamond of a duchess.’
‘And will we stay there all the time?’ I let Woodville lead me from the roof of the tower into the warmth inside the castle. A fire burns in the centre of the round room and he sets a chair for me before it.
‘I don’t think my lord will be able to rest in the country,’ he says. ‘He will have to meet with the king and persuade him to give him men and arms to continue the campaigns in France. He will have to explain the campaign to parliament to get their support. He will have to deal with his brother, Duke Humphrey, and their uncle, Cardinal Beaufort. He has much to do.’
‘And the king, Henry, will I see him? What is he like?’
He smiles. ‘A very young man still, almost a boy, he is only twelve years old. You will have a state entry into London. The duke is a very great man in England as in France, and the young king will greet you.’ He smiles again. ‘I should think you will like him, he is a charming boy, and he . . . ’ He gives a little laugh, almost as if he is embarrassed. ‘I should think he will adore you. He will never have seen anyone quite like you. You will be the most beautiful wond England as well as the greatest.’