Read Wife to Henry V: A Novel for Free Online Page A

said, sharp, “though you are to have Aquitaine, we have no orders as to how it shall be held; whether in absolute supremacy or by oath.”
    “There's no order needed.” Anger broke through the King's smiling. “The land is mine. I hold it by right—King of France. The crown is mine and I will have it.”
    It was completely unexpected, this old nonsense of Henry's claim; only Beaufort, knowing his man, was not surprised. To Boisratier, proud prelate, it was cold water, dirty water, flung full in the face. His quick temper rose. He bent his eagle's face towards the King; he had no fear of this young man carelessly lounging; he had reduced the Dauphin to tears before now!
    “The crown of France? Why you have no right to the crown of England! It is with the true heir we should treat.” His bold eyes fixed themselves upon young March.
    “Yet I have the one and I shall have the other!” Suddenly Henry's anger broke. “It's war you want—and you shall have it, too! Go back and tell your master so. Trouble me no more.”
    * * *
    From the deck of the Royal Trinity Beaufort looked at the King's ships spread out upon Southampton water.
    “So it's war,” he said.
    “What else?” Henry's brow darkened. He had done exactly what he had meant to do—broken off negotiations beyond all mending; yet the Frenchman's insolence rankled still. “The bold proud priest!” he said. “It was not clever of France to send such a one to treat with us.”
    “He played your game,” Beaufort reminded him. He looked again at the massed ships, the great square sails spread like patchwork upon the green water of the harbour. No wonder Henry had not meant to be baulked of his fighting! But—that last meeting with the embassy! In spite of himself he had to smile. The King turned a sour, unsmiling face.
    “It was before I took them your final No ” Beaufort said. “I thought Boisratier would burst with fury. Do you think my master has offered his daughter with such vast territories, he said—and every word sharp as a gunstone—for fear of your King? I nearly answered No, for love of Harry's pretty face! It was as much as I could do not to laugh in his own!”
    “It's well that you controlled yourself.” Henry was sour still. “The man's no courtier; but he's a good churchman—better than you, Uncle.”
    “Better chancellor than churchman, I admit it. I reverse the order of the sainted Becket.”
    “You'll never lose your life for a principle.” Henry was cold, his deeply religious sense affronted by the frivolity. But he let it pass; Beaufort was useful, a skilled diplomat.
    “The lady Catherine...” Beaufort began.
    “We are not interested.”
    “You liked her picture well enough and no wonder. She's handsomer than any of her sisters. And yet you would have taken Madam Isabella without a penny—and no mention of lands, either, if I remember aright.”
    “You remember too much. Mind how you prick me, Uncle. You may yet find yourself in Becket's place and no heavenly crown.”
    Watching Beaufort bow himself out, Henry had the swift, the short compunction. Beaufort was the King's man. But Beaufort presumed sometimes. He was apt to forget that his pupil must be tutored no longer.
    Walking the deck not best pleased with himself or with the King, Beaufort came upon his nephew Clarence staring upon the bright water, fascinated by the gay pattern of sail and banner, pennant and shield.
    “A great sight,” Thomas of Clarence said.
    Beaufort shrugged. “The King should beget an heir first. It's his duty.”
    “A pleasant duty one would think!” Thomas laughed. “But Harry hasn't touched a woman since his crowning. Those games don't come easy to him now.”
    “He'll learn them again quickly enough. The lady Catherine is hot for him so I hear.” Beaufort smiled his sly, dissolute smile.
    “It'll need more than that to melt his coldness. More than beauty, more than wit. And even then—he'll still find no bed so sweet as the