The Shadow of the Pomegranate by Jean Plaidy

can make one sterile.’
    He may have taken this to heart, but on the other hand the prospect of war may have been entirely responsible for turning his interest into other channels.
    One day he swept into her apartments, and she was aware that instead of glancing appreciatively at the prettiest of her women with that glazed look in his eyes which she had noticed with some alarm on previous occasions, he waved his hands for their dismissal.
    ‘Ah, Kate,’ he cried when they were alone. ‘I chafe at thisdelay. I would I could set out this day for France. These ministers of mine think the time is not meet for me to leave the country.’
    ‘I have heard from my father,’ she told him. ‘He writes that he knows that you would be welcomed in Guienne. The people there have never taken kindly to French rule, he says, and have always considered the English their true rulers. He says that once they see Your Grace they would rally to your banner.’
    Henry smiled complacently. He could well believe that. He was certain that the wars with France should never have been allowed to die out while the position was so unsatisfactory for England. England had been torn by her own Wars of the Roses – which was a matter he could not regret as out of that had come the victorious conclusion which had set the Tudors on the throne; but now that there was peace within England and there was a King on the throne who was as strong and eager for conquest as Henry V had been, why should not the struggle be continued?
    But Guienne! His ministers were a little anxious. It would have been so much simpler to have attacked nearer home. Calais was the natural starting point.
    He would of course be near his ally if he attacked in the South; delay galled him. He could not imagine defeat, so he longed to set forth, to show the people his conquests.
    ‘It would please me, Kate,’ said Henry, ‘to lead my army and join up with that of your father. Together we should be invincible.’
    ‘I am sure that you would. My father is considered one of the greatest soldiers in Europe.’
    Henry frowned. ‘You would imply, Kate, that I should find it necessary to learn from him?’
    ‘He is a man of great experience, Henry.’
    Henry turned from her. ‘There are some who are born to be conquerors. They are endowed with the gift. They do not need lessons in bravery.’
    She went on as though she had not heard him. ‘He and my mother had to fight for their kingdoms. She often said that without him she would have been lost.’
    ‘I like to hear of a wife who appreciates her husband.’
    ‘She appreciated him . . . although he was often unfaithful to her.’
    ‘Ha!’ cried Henry. ‘You have no such complaint.’
    She turned to him smiling. ‘Henry, never give me cause for such complaint. I swear to love and serve you with all my might. I picture us growing old together with our children about us.’
    His eyes were misted with sentiment. The thought of children could always produce this result. Then his face puckered suddenly.
    ‘Kate, I do not understand. We have been unfortunate, have we not?’
    ‘Many are unfortunate, Henry. So many children die in infancy.’
    ‘But three times.’
    ‘There will be many times, Henry.’
    ‘But I cannot understand. Look at me. See my strength. My good health is something all marvel at. And yet . . .’He was looking at her almost critically.
    She said quickly: ‘I too enjoy good health.’
    ‘Then why . . . I could almost believe that some spell has been cast upon us . . . that we have offended God in some way.’
    ‘We cannot have done that. We are devout worshippers,both of us. No, Henry, it is natural to lose children. They are dying every day.’
    ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘One, two, three or four in every family. But some live.’
    ‘Some of ours will live.’
    He stroked her hair, which was her claim to beauty, and as he watched the sun bring out the red in it he felt a sudden rush of desire for her.
    He laughed