savouring them. He whispered those names in his prayers each night and entreated God to be kind to them. Edmund and Jasper. What did they look like? Did they look like him? Or did they take after their father, Owen Tudor? Edmund and Jasper. He wished he could spend time with them, teach them to ride, help them with their reading, worship with them in St Stephen’s Chapel or in the Abbey Church of St Peter. It wasn’t fair that he should be constantly alone. He ached to have his other, secret family with him here at Windsor, sitting on the royal dais, eating roast swan, enjoying the games, the music and the dancing, not hiding away in the country at Bishop’s Hatfield. What was the point in being King of England and France if he couldn’t have what he really wanted?
The burden of the secret was almost too much to bear and he was relieved to be able to talk about it to the one other person who knew it, his great-uncle Henry Beaufort. Beaufort had warned him strongly against saying anything to anyone, particularly the Duke of Gloucester. He had been at great pains to stress that the King’s uncle was a dangerous, devious politician. He pointed out that, by forcing the Royal Marriage Bill through parliament to prevent the Dowager Queen from re-marrying and having more children, Gloucester’s main motivation was to strengthen his own claim to the throne.
His Highness should wait, said Beaufort, biding his time and looking forward to the day when he was old enough to make his own decisions. Then he could welcome his half-brothers to court and no one could gainsay him.
Henry was aware that there was no love lost between the Cardinal and the Duke but, of the two, his instinct was to trust his great-uncle Henry Beaufort. So, though it was all he could do to stop himself blurting out the truth, Henry knew he must keep the exciting secret of his half-brothers to himself and, whatever happened, he must never, ever, tell his uncle of Gloucester, nor his aunt, the Duchess Eleanor.
CHAPTER SIX
Spring 1436
––––––––
‘M ay Day tomorrow,’ said Jenna, expertly slapping a ball of butter into a rectangular shape between two wooden butter paddles. ‘It’ll soon be summer and then we’ll have trouble keeping the dairy cool.’
‘Well,’ said Jane, ‘it’s a lot better since Master Jourdemayne diverted the stream to run through it last year. It makes it a lot easier to clean out, too.’
‘Cold feet are my problem when I’m in here,’ Hawys said, with a scowl, ‘they’ve been frozen solid all winter.’
‘They don’t have to be Hawys,’ said Jenna. ‘If you’re shrammed with cold, you can always try stuffing stinging nettles in your shoes.’
‘Ugh! I’ll put up with the cold feet, thank you! Shall I pass you the butter stamp, Jenna?’
‘Please.’ Jenna added the butter to a tray of similar yellow rectangles, each lying on a dock leaf, then began stamping each one with the imprint of the farm before wrapping the leaf around it.
‘Oooh, I love May Day!’ exclaimed Kitty, pirouetting around her butter churn and humming a little dance tune. ‘I wonder who will be Queen of the May! Will it be you, do you think, Jenna?’
‘I doubt it,’ Jenna shook her head. ‘I’ve already been a queen once this year, remember. I was Queen of the Pea. I won’t be May Queen as well. Perhaps it will be Hawys.’
‘Oh, it won’t be me,’ said Hawys dismissively. ‘May Day,’ she grimaced, ‘already! And my Seth still hasn’t said a word.’
‘Perhaps he won’t,’ Jenna said, ‘and don’t waste your time grieving over that. Marriage isn’t all it’s made out to be. Or so they say,’ she added.
‘I can’t see any alternative, and I’m not getting any younger.’ Hawys wasn’t exactly sure of her age, but thought she was about nineteen years old. To Hawys, that meant her chances of marrying were decreasing rapidly.
Jenna said nothing. Kitty had told her that the other dairymaids were
The burden of the secret was almost too much to bear and he was relieved to be able to talk about it to the one other person who knew it, his great-uncle Henry Beaufort. Beaufort had warned him strongly against saying anything to anyone, particularly the Duke of Gloucester. He had been at great pains to stress that the King’s uncle was a dangerous, devious politician. He pointed out that, by forcing the Royal Marriage Bill through parliament to prevent the Dowager Queen from re-marrying and having more children, Gloucester’s main motivation was to strengthen his own claim to the throne.
His Highness should wait, said Beaufort, biding his time and looking forward to the day when he was old enough to make his own decisions. Then he could welcome his half-brothers to court and no one could gainsay him.
Henry was aware that there was no love lost between the Cardinal and the Duke but, of the two, his instinct was to trust his great-uncle Henry Beaufort. So, though it was all he could do to stop himself blurting out the truth, Henry knew he must keep the exciting secret of his half-brothers to himself and, whatever happened, he must never, ever, tell his uncle of Gloucester, nor his aunt, the Duchess Eleanor.
CHAPTER SIX
Spring 1436
––––––––
‘M ay Day tomorrow,’ said Jenna, expertly slapping a ball of butter into a rectangular shape between two wooden butter paddles. ‘It’ll soon be summer and then we’ll have trouble keeping the dairy cool.’
‘Well,’ said Jane, ‘it’s a lot better since Master Jourdemayne diverted the stream to run through it last year. It makes it a lot easier to clean out, too.’
‘Cold feet are my problem when I’m in here,’ Hawys said, with a scowl, ‘they’ve been frozen solid all winter.’
‘They don’t have to be Hawys,’ said Jenna. ‘If you’re shrammed with cold, you can always try stuffing stinging nettles in your shoes.’
‘Ugh! I’ll put up with the cold feet, thank you! Shall I pass you the butter stamp, Jenna?’
‘Please.’ Jenna added the butter to a tray of similar yellow rectangles, each lying on a dock leaf, then began stamping each one with the imprint of the farm before wrapping the leaf around it.
‘Oooh, I love May Day!’ exclaimed Kitty, pirouetting around her butter churn and humming a little dance tune. ‘I wonder who will be Queen of the May! Will it be you, do you think, Jenna?’
‘I doubt it,’ Jenna shook her head. ‘I’ve already been a queen once this year, remember. I was Queen of the Pea. I won’t be May Queen as well. Perhaps it will be Hawys.’
‘Oh, it won’t be me,’ said Hawys dismissively. ‘May Day,’ she grimaced, ‘already! And my Seth still hasn’t said a word.’
‘Perhaps he won’t,’ Jenna said, ‘and don’t waste your time grieving over that. Marriage isn’t all it’s made out to be. Or so they say,’ she added.
‘I can’t see any alternative, and I’m not getting any younger.’ Hawys wasn’t exactly sure of her age, but thought she was about nineteen years old. To Hawys, that meant her chances of marrying were decreasing rapidly.
Jenna said nothing. Kitty had told her that the other dairymaids were
Similar Books
