Lady Swynford, having borne the Duke four children and being the mother of two by her first husband, was knowledgeable and ready to impart this knowledge and advice.

She had a friendly personality and her devotion to the Duke and his to her, made Mary warm towards her. Because she refused to consider there was anything shameful in the relationship based as it was on selfless love, there seemed to be none; and Mary was happy to welcome Lady Swynford with the respect she would have shown to Constanza Duchess of Lancaster and, she was sure, with a good deal more affection.

The two women found undoubted pleasure in each other's company. Mary could talk of her anxieties about Harry's health and his wayward nature and Catherine could imply her own anxiety for her Beaufort family, those three sons and one daughter who were the Duke's and who were illegitimate, for however much their parents loved them the stigma was there and the rest of the world would not pretend it was not.

However, they were philosophical and both happy with their lot.

Catherine could interest herself in the trivia of domesticity as deeply as Mary could. She could admire Mary's handsome popinjay in its beautiful cage and declare that, although many of the fashionable ladies possessed them, she had never seen a finer bird than Mary's. She could laugh at the antics of Mary's dogs and compliment her on the decorated collars of

silk in green and white check, which she herself had had made for them. All this she could do as any woman might and yet she had a deep awareness of political matters which she could discuss with a lucidity Mary had discovered in no one else and consequently she could more clearly picture what was happening. Moreover Catherine shared Mary's fears of what their men might be led into; and they felt similarly about the futility of war and any sort of conflict. Thus they found great pleasure in each other's company.

Meanwhile the Duke was in earnest conclave with his son. He knew of course what had happened in his absence, how Henry with the other four Lords Appellant had faced the King and forced the Merciless Parliament on him.

^Dangerous,' commented the Duke. 'And your Uncle Thomas is not to be trusted.'

'Well I know that,' replied Henry, 'but our action bore fruit.'

'Do not underestimate Richard,' insisted his father. 'He acts foolishly I admit but he has flashes of wisdom. You see he has extricated himself from a very difficult position, accepts the restrictions imposed on him and now that he is not hedged in by his favourites, rules moderately well.*

'Yet it was necessary to act as he did.'

'That I do not deny. But be wary, Henry. Richard is not likely to forget you five, and he is one who bears grudges. It might well be that he will seek some revenge.'

'But he must realize that affairs run more smoothly now. He should be grateful to us.'

'Do you think a king, no matter who he was, would ever forget being confronted by five of his subjects who threaten to take his crown if he does not behave as they think fit. Nay, Henry. Walk warily. My advice to you is to stay in the country for a while. Keep out of politics. It is a course I have had to follow from time to time and always did so with advantage.'

Henry did see the point of this and decided he would try it for a while but, as he pointed out to his father, he could not be content for ever with the life of a country squire.

'There is to be a great joust at St Inglebert near Calais. Why do you not go and show them your skill? Your brother John should go with you. I doubt there are two knights in France or England who could compare with you two.'

The Duke spoke with pride. He was always trying to bring

forward the Beaufort bastards, the sons of Catherine, and he liked Henry to be on good terms with his half-brothers.

It would keep you busy for a while,' went on the Duke, 'and one can never be sure what is going to happen next. There might come a time when it would be necessary for you to take some part in shaping affairs. But this is not the time. Richard has regained some popularity since de Vere went. The people do not want trouble. Wait, Henry. Go carefully, but keep your image before the people. They like you better than they ever liked me. It would be wise for you to let it remain so.'

'You ever gave me good advice,' said Henry.

*My dear son, you are my hope. Everything I dreamed of for myself, I want for you. My affairs in Castile are settled now. Constanza's girl—and mine—has married the heir to the throne and will be Queen of the Asturias. That settles that matter. Constanza is pleased. She will not have the crown nor shall I, but our daughter will wear it. Your sister Philippa has married the King of Portugal. I feel I need no longer take an active part in State affairs. I have not achieved what I set out to, but who does? I must now live through my children. Henry, one day, who knows what will be yours ... Be ready for it. Richard is unstable ... the day may come ... But I will say no more. It is unwise to dream too much. But be ready ... It is a stormy path to greatness; so many fall through a false step. We are set fair. You have two fine sons. I am proud of you.'

'You are right in all you say. Father,' said Henry; and they were silent, both looking into the future and there were dreams of greatness in their eyes.

Before John of Gaunt's visit was over Henry had made up his mind to join the joust at St Inglebert; and by the time he left Kenilworth Mary was once more pregnant.

The two brothers set out for France and threw themselves whole-heartedly into the task of upholding English honour against the French.

They were friends, having known each other well throughout their childhood. Their father had never wished to segregate his legitimate children by Blanche of Lancaster from those who were illegitimate by Catherine Swynford. His daughter Catherine by Constanza of Castile had always lived

with her mother; but the rest of the family had been together a good deal, often under the care of Lady Swynford.

John was a young man with his eye to his own advantage. He was a little younger than Henry, though not much, he being the eldest of the Beaufort boys. He was handsome, showing more than a trace or two of his Plantagenet origins and he had inherited a little of his mother's unusual beauty. He was quick, clever, and a pleasant companion; and, although he had ambitions of his own, he never for one moment forgot that Henry was the heir of Lancaster, that he had the tremendous advantage of being the legitimate son and John knew that all the blessings which his mother, brothers and sisters had enjoyed had flowed from John of Gaunt, and when that benefactor was removed—and death only would remove him —they would have to come from Henry who then would be the new Duke of Lancaster.

John had a great admiration for royalty. It had been bred in him; it was his boast that he had royal blood in his veins —even though it had been injected on the wrong side of the blanket—and therefore he doubly admired Henry, for that blood had come to him not only through his father but also through his mother.

Henry was descended from Henry the Third on both sides, for his mother and father were that king's great great grandchildren and their great grandfathers Edward the First and Edmund Duke of Lancaster had been brothers.

There was complete harmony between the brothers—^John being determined to please Henry and Henry enjoying the obvious respect of his half-brother. Moreover it was not merely paternal pride when John of Gaunt had declared them to be two of the finest exponents of the joust in England and France. They had received the best possible instruction in their childhood and both being of a nature which longed to excel they had turned into truly formidable opponents for any who challenged them.