Chapter 2: A Descent Into Madness
August, 1453
Margaret was undergoing morning sickness again, Henry knew because her Mistress of the Robes had told him so, when he’d gone to see her. Why he’d gone to see her he didn’t know, but upon realising that she was unwell he had thanked the Lord and hurried out of her apartments and toward his own. Margaret was pregnant after all, and though she looked as beautiful as the day they had married, Henry couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Margaret was pregnant, but he didn’t remember fucking her to make her so. Surely, given his lack of experience he would remember if he had done that? He remembered the first time he had slept with Margaret, it had been a messy experience, things had gone into places he didn’t know they were meant to. She had moaned and groaned, and at first he had thought that that might have been a good thing, but when he had mentioned it to Suffolk, the man had said that women weren’t supposed to make those noises, and so he had been horrified.
But, Margaret was pregnant, so that must have meant he had slept with her and done the deed. But he didn’t remember doing so, so did that mean she had raped him? He didn’t think so, it wasn’t possible for a woman to rape a man. That’s what the Cardinal had said when he had asked him once, especially after hearing about that case from Devonshire, about a boy who had been attacked by a woman. Henry blinked then as he heard a voice say his name.
“Sorry?” He said. “Could you repeat that?”
“Of course, Sire.” John Tiptoft, Earl of Worcester and Lord High Treasurer said. “I have examined the government’s tax accounts and I have to say the picture is bleak. We are roughly £9,000 short of being able to pay off our debts.”
“But then surely that is a good thing? Nine thousand is not too great a sum.” Henry said, thinking that he could willingly use the profits from the Duchy of Cornwall to pay off the debt.
“The £9,000 is simply the base amount, Sire. If we let it sit for much longer the amount will grow to the forecasted amount.” Tiptoft said. “And then there are all the salaries that need to be paid.”
“So, can we not simply increase taxes?” Henry asked. “Surely that will cover it.”
“Tax increases can help sort out the salary portion, but the rest of it needs to come from somewhere.” Tiptoft replied. “And I think I have a solution, though it may do more harm than good.”
“I will decide that.” Henry said.
“The Duke of York and the Earl of Salisbury both owe some £6,000 each to the treasury. If we seize their assets and then determine their value, we could be able to take what we need and use that to pay off the debt with interest.” Tiptoft said.
“So, why do we not do that then?” Henry asked.
“Because we do not have a legal basis for doing it, Sire.” Tiptoft said.
“What do you mean?” Henry asked, why would they need a legal basis for seizing the assets of subjects who had not paid their fair amount of tax.
John Kemp, Archbishop of York and Lord Chancellor spoke then. “Because part of the reason they owe that amount of money is due to shortfalls in payments from the government. York is still owed money for his service in France, Sire. If Your Grace were to seize his assets he could claim wrongful seizure due to payments owed and win back twice as much as he owes. Salisbury could do the same.”
Henry stared at Kemp. “So, because of some shortfall in payment and his own incompetence, York could potentially challenge any seizure we do, something we would only do to try and ensure that we do not have this debt hanging over us?”
“Yes, that is correct, Sire.” Kemp said.
Henry banged the table. “Is there no other way?”
“There is one possible solution to the problem, Sire.” Kemp said. “Your Grace could offer to sell Roxburgh and Berwick to the King of Scots, the total value of the two towns could be seen as enough to cover the expenses.”
Immediately, Henry felt something within him recoil. Sell off Roxburgh and Berwick, the two towns that were left from his ancestor’s conquest of Scotland? He didn’t want to be the man who did that. He had already lost so much of France; he didn’t want to sell off Scotland as well. He was about to open his mouth when his cousin, Edmund Beaufort, Duke of Somerset spoke.
“Why not simply charge York with treason and declare his estates forfeit.”
“What treason has been committed?” Tiptoft asked.
“He raised an army against the King, that is treason.” Somerset said.
“And that was resolved by him spending the latter part of last year under house arrest, before he paid a fine and swore an oath of allegiance.” Kemp said.
“So, he cannot be charged then. What of Salisbury? His feud with the Percies is disturbing the King’s peace.” Somerset pointed out.
“Yes, this is true.” Henry said, latching onto his cousin’s suggestion. “And Sir Jack Dee did say that Salisbury was planning on raiding Lord Egremont’s territory.”
“That could work, Sire.” Kemp said. “Though we would need to act quickly, and have definitive proof that Salisbury was going to do this.”
Henry nodded, and looked at Somerset. “You have friends in the north do you not, cousin?”
“I do, Sire.” Somerset said.
“Tell them to keep an eye on what Salisbury does, we want him caught.” Henry ordered.
“Of course, Sire.” Somerset replied.
Just as Henry was about to declare the meeting at an end-he had to go and pray after all-the doors opened, and a servant hurried in. The man bowed before Henry before handing a letter to Somerset. Somerset opened it and read it and then cursed.
“Somerset!” Henry said reprovingly.
“My apologies, Your Grace,” Somerset said bowing his head. “but a letter has just come from France, writ in the hand of Lord Lisle.”
Henry immediately perked up at that. News from France, either this was incredibly good news, or incredibly bad news. From the way Somerset refused to look at him, he got the feeling it was bad news. “Well, what is it?!” Henry demanded.
“Lord Lisle writes that after a long and hard fought battle, the army under his father, the Earl of Shrewsbury’s command was defeated and forced to retreat back to the ships they had brought with them.” Somerset said solemnly.
“They were defeated?” Henry asked, his mind racing. He had failed then, failed to keep something of his father’s legacy alive.
“Yes, Sire. Defeated. Gascony is lost.” Somerset said.
Henry felt something hit him, it felt like a hammer blow, but his arms started shaking. He looked at them and tried to stop them from doing so, but found that he couldn’t do much.
“There was something else, Sire.” Somerset added, softly.
“What?” Henry asked, staring at his shaking arms and wondering if he had been possessed.
“Lord Shrewsbury was amongst the casualties, as were Lords Richmond and Pembroke.” Somerset said.
Henry looked up at Somerset then, stared at him, willing himself to yell at the man, but seeing the haunted look in the man’s eyes, found himself unable to do anything. The shaking in his arms got worse, indeed it was spreading now. His legs were shaking, his body was shaking, everything was shaking.
“Your Grace, are you okay?” Somerset asked, his eyes wide with alarm.
Henry tried to speak, but his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. It wouldn’t move, no noise would come out. He just kept shaking and shaking, and all he could think of was the fact he had sent Edmund and Jasper to their deaths.