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

have France, then let France have me—bones and all! He bent over the sick man, spoke, forcing his words through the indifference of death. “Calais. I will take it. I have sworn it.” And it was almost as though he made a pact with the dying man.
    * * *
    “This Henry!” Isabeau said tight-lipped. “Truly France will have his bones—as he has sworn. For certainly he will not get through to Calais. And don't tell me again about Harfleur! That was unexpected, how could we send relief? But Calais; Calais is different. Now we know the danger; now we have time; now we shall act together, all, all of us. Well, girl, speak! Have you lost your tongue?”
    “Burgundian and Armagnac fighting side-by-side! We have yet to see it,” Catherine said.
    “We shall see it. Burgundy's a sly snake but it wouldn’t pay him to bite us in the heel, not just now. No, my girl, this time we'll act together And let the Englishman look out with his handful of men and no food; with bridges broken all the way; and arrows behind each tree waiting to find their mark.” Catherine said nothing.
    “You think he will get through,” Isabeau said, but you’re wrong. You pray he will get through—and you're even more wrong. How many times must I warn you against this hero of yours, this hypocrite? He walks barefoot through Harfleur to offer thanks to God- and while he prays his brothers hurry from house to house to hang those who haven't made a full declaration of their property. He prays, oh yes he prays; but does he himself heed the prayer of the helpless and the innocent?”
    Catherine said, slowly, “Who would? Would Burgundy? Would my brother?”
    “Your Henry is God's Soldier—so he tells us. Well, what does he do, this Soldier of God. He turns the helpless out into the open countryside.” Isabeau held her hands nearer to the comfort of the fire. “Women and children, and the old and the feeble—and nothing but the poor rags they stand up in. Just like any other soldier!”
    “Not like any other soldier,” Catherine said. “They were fed on the way; bread and cheese, yes and wine, too. And no woman is to be harmed, nor any priest.”
    “Oh he's a great one, a hero!” Isabeau said. “He sends a message to your brother offering to settle the matter by single combat!”
    “And Louis refused,” Catherine said contemptuous.
    “Of course he refused. D'you think I'd let him accept? A boy who spits blood at the slightest exertion and that man ten years older, hard as nails and pickled in blood?”
    “A man,” Catherine said softly.
    “A man, a man!” Isabeau lost her temper. “A man—and that's all. It would take a god to break through to Calais.”
    “Yet he will break through,” Catherine said; but she did not say it aloud.
CHAPTER V
    He had got through. Better for France, Isabeau thought, if they had let him through, pretended the army had not found him. Instead they had forced the lion to turn at Agincourt. With his handful of men, with the dysentery and the hunger, the lion had turned. And the chivalry of France was broken.
    And now what? Her shrewd brain went unhurried to work.
    Her husband was sick; with the disaster at Agincourt madness was on him again. And what courage Louis had—she had seen it crumble and break in his face the day she had forced him to refuse the duel. He, too, looked a sick man.
    The cool, unloving brain assessed him.
    In bad condition; worn by his lecheries, wounded in his vanity and in his courage. Any slight sickness might carry him off. Better for France that way; better, maybe, for himself—he was too like his father.
    But then, John? Her second son might be even worse for France; he was completely under Burgundy's influence—Burgundy who hadn't so much as shown his face at Agincourt; neither he nor his son, Michelle's husband. John and Louis, feeble, both. Louis, at least, she might hope to sway, watch the event, play party against party. But John—married to Burgundy's niece, educated by