The Witch of Eye by Mari Griffith Page A

to marry the Earl. In Henry’s opinion, Tankerville was welcome to her, though he nodded, smiled and kept his uncharitable thoughts to himself.
    The only face that was missing, the dear face he wanted to see more than any other, was his mother’s. The Dowager Queen Catherine should be here on the royal dais, watching the dancing, her slim fingers tapping the table to the rhythm of the music. She loved music and always charmed everyone when she sang the songs of her native France in her pretty Parisian accent. But she was spending Christmas in the country and no one but her son seemed to care that she wasn’t in Westminster; no one even mentioned her name.
    At least Henry now knew the reason why she wasn’t here, and he was the only person seated at the table who knew the truth.
    When he was younger, the King had been very distressed by his mother’s frequent absences from court and he had prayed earnestly that she was not ill. Then he reasoned with himself that she was probably still mourning his father’s death. Or maybe his mother disliked him and couldn’t bring herself to say so? Perhaps she was disappointed that he wasn’t growing up to resemble his late father. He had been told many tales of his father’s bravery and of the high regard in which the people had held him. Henry really, really wanted to grow up to be resolute and steadfast like his father and he had always wanted to please his lovely, gentle mother. But he was afraid she didn’t care for him.
    It had been with very mixed emotions that he’d learned the real reason for her absences. Far from mourning the death of her husband, as Henry had imagined, she had at last confided in him that she had married again, in secret this time, and she made him swear not to divulge the secret to anyone. The only other person at court who knew the truth of her situation was Henry’s great-uncle, Cardinal Beaufort.
    Henry had been deeply shocked, hurt and resentful that his mother preferred to be in the country with her new husband, Owen Tudor, rather than at Windsor with her son. But she explained to him that the marriage had to be kept secret because, as her Clerk of the Wardrobe, Tudor was a servant in her household. He was also Welsh and therefore had no rights under English law. He could be hanged if anyone ever found out about it. So Henry must promise never to tell anyone.
    At first Henry had found it very difficult to understand why his mother had lowered herself to associate with a servant. Then she told him of Tudor’s great kindness towards her when, as a French woman at the English court, she had felt lonely and vulnerable. They had fallen in love, but were forced to keep their relationship a secret because of a parliamentary statute which threatened terrible punishment for any man who married the dowager queen without the express permission of the King.
    Henry really wanted his mother to be happy and said he would readily give his permission for the marriage, but she told him that it wasn‘t as easy as that and one day she would explain it all to him. For the moment, all he needed to know was that the statute had been drawn up by none other than Henry’s own uncle, the Duke of Gloucester, so his mother and her new husband deemed it wise to stay away from court, rather than arouse the Duke’s suspicion and face the threat of Owen Tudor’s possible execution. The Duke still knew nothing of the marriage and neither did the Duchess.
    Of course, Henry would never let his mother down in any way, but she had entrusted him with an enormous secret and it was very, very difficult to keep it to himself. Sometimes he felt his head would burst with the effort, especially now he knew he had two younger brothers. Henry, who had thought himself an only child, was tremendously excited by the knowledge. He knew their names were Edmund and Jasper. Edmund and Jasper! When he was on his own, he would say the names quietly to himself, rolling them around his tongue,