‘What can I add to a situation that is already plain? Katherine is my wife. She carries my child, as you are aware. We will live together and raise our children, imbuing them with integrity and loyalty to the English Crown. But we will not live at Windsor. Or anywhere that the Queen does not wish to live. She must have her freedom to live as she chooses. And now I think it is her wish that we leave. Her health is fragile and she should rest. I ask your permission for this Council session to end, for her sake.’
I held his hand as tightly as I could. It all hung in the balance.
It was not Gloucester who spoke. It was the Bishop of London.
‘Let the lady rest. We will consider the situation in the light of our findings, sir.’
Incensed, Gloucester leapt to his feet: ‘The law has been broken. We cannot overlook the fact that the Queen Dowager has brought England’s government and King into disrepute by her selfish actions. This cannot go unpunished.’
But we walked from the Council Chamber, not stopping until we had escaped the confines of the buildings and could stand in the open, with sun and a light breeze and the caw of rooks in the elms by the river. And I drew in a breath, relief flooding through me. I had done it. I had done the best I could. What the outcome would be I had no notion, but for the moment we were free.
‘I think that was the worst hour of my life.’
But beside me Owen exploded. ‘God’s Blood! How could I remain silent? How could I not answer word for every damned insolent word Gloucester directed at you? The law has been broken—yes, it has—but we are wed. Can they not accept that? What does it matter to the state of the realm? They were not even interested in the legality of our marriage. All they did was follow Gloucester’s lead and harp on about the damned law. Have they no sense? No compassion? I despise them! I despise all the bloody English for their narrow-minded, opinionated—’
‘And that is why we agreed that I should make our case,’ I said, with a little laugh. ‘Thank God you did not tell it to their narrow-minded, opinionated faces.’
Owen dragged in a breath, forcing himself to rein in his temper, but it still rumbled dangerously below the surface. ‘We’ll just have to wait.’ He thrust my mangled gloves back into my hands. ‘Take these before I destroy them!’ But at last he looked at me with a softer expression. ‘You were magnificent, you know.’
‘I was terrified.’
‘No one would have known it. How I didn’t use my fist against Gloucester’s smug face and his insinuations, I’ll never know.’
‘I couldn’t have done it without you.’
‘Oh, I think you could. You have hidden depths,
‘What does it mean?’
‘My love. And,
‘It wasn’t very satisfactory, was it? Our marriage is recognised only in so far as they can do nothing to end it.’
‘It’s the best we can hope for.’
So it was. And perhaps it was enough. Yet I frowned.
‘Is it enough to stop you from standing behind my chair at every meal?’
Owen thought about it.
‘Yes, By God! It is enough.’
We decided to leave that very day, that very hour, Owen looking back over his shoulder as he was helping me into the litter, surveying the bulk of the Westminster palace that cast its shadow over us.
‘I’ll not be sorry to leave this place. Gloucester hovers over it like a bad smell. It smacks of English military aggression, not to mention dungeons and locked vaults where poor incarcerated fools never again see the light of day.’ Sometimes Owen was very Welsh. He stared at me. ‘Now, are you comfortable? Or do you wish to stay a night?’
‘We leave immediately.’ Suddenly my desire to depart was as strong as Owen’s.
‘Immediately, my lady.’ And he grinned at what had been a very imperious tone.
‘Master Tudor?’
A tall, lean man in clerical glory hailed us and approached from the wing of rooms behind us, and I smiled. It was the Bishop of London, who had spoken up for me, or at least not against me. Robert FitzHugh, a friendly face, all in all, and not one of Gloucester’s coterie. He was followed by another cleric I knew, Bishop Morgan of Ely. They ranged up beside us and bowed to me. And, interestingly, to Owen. I remarked it, but Owen’s face was implacable.
‘We will not stay, my lords,’ he said unequivocally.
‘I understand,’ FitzHugh replied. He looked across at Morgan, who nodded. ‘But just a word, sir, my lady.’
Owen scowled, and I saw the direction of his thoughts. What would these clerics want with us? ‘We’ll hear you—but I wish to make good time, my lord,’ Owen stated. ‘It will not be a comfortable journey for my wife.’
‘Where will you go?’ Morgan, as rotund as FitzHugh was lean, asked.
‘To Hertford. We’ll stay there until the child is born.’
FitzHugh merely nodded with a thin smile. ‘A suggestion, my lady. And an offer. To you and to your husband.’
