Read Online Wife to Henry V: A Novel by Hilda Lewis - Free Book Online

could not think of her without anger.
    He attended, not hopefully, the opening of Parliament. Beaufort preached on the text God hath opened for you the way . “Now is our time to help, to lend to the Lord of Hosts Who has helped our King...”
    It was moving, Henry thought, sardonic. Beaufort himself was moved, forgetting, no doubt, the good security he had taken on his loans. There was Parliament nodding and smiling; but what would it do? Not much he feared; money was short and who knew how long glory would last?
    He was right. The money voted was not generous. Well, money or not, he was going on with his preparations. God would open the way for His Soldier.
    * * *
    The Emperor Sigismund had arrived in London—a poor, shabby man for so great a title; he had come at the Pope's request to preach peace.
    “Peace!” Henry said. “Peace! I claim nothing but my lawful rights and everywhere the Armagnacs harry my men. They have closed up the Seine and my garrison is starving—Harfleur, my Harfleur that I won with English blood. You talk of peace while my English bleed and starve!”
    Sigismund cast an eye upon the steel-cold young man and talked no more of peace. He collected the precious gifts Henry had given him, and, poor man, gave in return his greatest treasure, the authentic heart of St. George.
    * * *
    “The King of England collects his fleet,” King Charles said, mumbling in his beard, biting at his beard. “Carracks and barges and ballingers...and his dockyards turning out ships without number.”
    “Little, little ships,” Isabeau said as one comforts a child, holding her spaced fingers to show how small. “He must be hard put to itl For what are ballingers but merchantships with a few guns! As for the famous carracks...”
    “The Jesus and the Grâce Dieu ” his voice dropped in awe. “And the Trinity and the Holy Ghost . How can we hope to stand against such godly ships?”
    “God is not deceived. He can take care of such tricks,” she said, brisk.
    “But there is worse, far worse. Have you heard?” He stopped, looked about him, whispered with careful articulation, “He has the heart of St. George—the true heart, the very heart.”
    “We have a more potent heart,” Isabeau said smiling still. “The heart of our daughter. When did a dead man's heart weigh against the heart of a living woman—if she is pretty enough.”
    “You blaspheme. And you talk in riddles—hard riddles.” He was growing fretful. “The heart of St. George, the heart of England. Sigismund should not have done that, Sigismund is our friend.”
    “It is not true, believe it. Would a friend play so vile a trick?” And how long, she wondered, could a woman endure to be tied to this...this thing? “We shall keep our France, every yard. And maybe we shall win England, too; all England. That would be fine, you would like that!” she said, smiling coaxing.
    “The heart,” he said again, “the heart of St. George. And where are our own saints, tell me that!” Sickness was driving away the warm colour, he had the waxen look of a corpse. “It was mad to give the heart to him. The Emperor is mad. And you are mad. And the whole world is mad, mad, mad...” His eyes were pin-pointed with anger, with fear. He was dribbling upon his beard; his fingers crooked, plucked and plucked again.
    Isabeau pulled upon the bell.
    When they had dragged the King away she turned, humming, towards her chamber—and to pleasanter company.
    * * *
    Sa belle fille aux blons loriaulx,
    Et elle a sy fresche couleur
    Qu'avoir doilt ami de valeur,
    Et fu belle que fleur de may...
    sang Catherine. The little song they had made for her went well with the lute. How would it go in English? She was glad they had made her learn English when she was a child and lazy. She knew that now she was sixteen and grown-up.
    ... His beautiful daughter ...She frowned; she was not minded to drag her father into this; she tried again. The pretty young lass ...Too simple!