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John.
    Blanche had been safely delivered of a son.
    She had christened him Henry. ‘Henry of Bolingbroke, they are calling him, for, my husband, I decided that he should be born in our castle of that name. He is well formed, lusty, perfect in every way. I long to show him to you.’
    A son, Henry of Bolingbroke! Born three months after Richard of Bordeaux.
    It was the greater victory.
    At last … a son.

  Chapter II  
    CATHERINE SWYNFORD
    Q ueen Philippa, suffering as she was from a dropsical complaint, was scarcely able to move. Her women helped her from her bed to her chair where she would sit with her needlework and dream of the past.
    She was always delighted to see members of her family, and that included her daughter-in-law Blanche of Lancaster who contrived to spend much time with her.
    During this year the Queen had come to Windsor Castle, one of her favourite residences and there she found it expedient to remain for the progress from palace to palace was too exhausting to be undertaken unless there was some important reason why she should do so.
    In spite of her sufferings she was amiable and was always interested in the activities of those around her, ready to share in their triumphs and commiserate in their tribulations.
    Blanche was a great favourite with her. There was a similarity in their characters. They were both capable of deep affection; and ready to forget themselves in their service to the loved one. Neither of them was of a complaining nature. They did mention however when their husbands were absent that they missed them, but both of them accepted these partings philosophically and the similarity of their lives was an added factor which drew them closer together.
    Philippa would sit with her women at one end of the apartment stitching at garments for the poor or working on an altar cloth while Blanche sat close beside her where they could talk intimately. Philippa’s hands would be busy and so would Blanche’s. The Queen had never approved of idleness.
    It pleased her very much to know that Blanche was pregnant once more.
    ‘It is good that John is home again,’ she said. ‘I trust my dear that it will be long ere he has to go to war again. I’ll swear you are hoping for another boy.’
    ‘It is what John wants.’
    ‘Your young Henry is a rascal I’ll be bound.’
    Blanche’s face betrayed her pride and joy in her only son.
    ‘My lady, I know all mothers think their children are the best in the world, but Henry …’
    ‘Henry really is the most beautiful and clever child that ever was born.’ The Queen smiled. ‘I understand, dear Blanche. I was so with mine. Every one of them filled me with wonder. If you could have seen Edward as a baby! Of course he was the first-born. And Lionel. He was big from the start. And dear John. Such an imperious young gentleman. Then Edmund and Thomas. And the girls of course. They were just as dear to me. I had my sadnesses. Death has taken its toll. But when I look at my fine sons I can rejoice. Oh Blanche, if you are as happy in your family as I am in mine you will be a fortunate woman. But we must remember that while God gives with one hand, He takes away with the other; and He has always his reason for doing so and that, dear daughter, we must accept.’
    Blanche bowed her head in agreement. She had lost the dear little boy she had borne, but now that she had her Henry she had ceased to grieve so deeply, although she believed she would never forget.
    She was sure Philippa would always remember those children she had lost. Her greatest blow had been the deaths of her two daughters some years before, Mary and Margaret who had died within a few weeks of each other. She had never been quite the same since.
    But she must not think of death now with the new life stirring within her.
    ‘This matter of Castile,’ the Queen was saying, ‘would seem to have been satisfactorily resolved. Pedro will have much to thank my sons for. He owes his crown to Edward