Chapter 27

The next months were a happy time for Catherine, as Henry was delighted that she was at last carrying his child, and was constantly in cheerful spirits, being very attentive to her and giving her a great deal of his time. He seemed to put aside his previous animosity and hardness of heart, along with his mistress.

Catherine blossomed in every way as the months passed, and Richard delighted in watching her, even though her newfound happiness with Henry meant that their relationship waned into a deep friendship. Catherine's heart belonged to Henry, and now that his attention was on her, she could not sustain a relationship with another, as fond as she was of Richard. It made him ache, but he knew it was right, and there was nothing he could do about it in any case. She had been so sweetly apologetic and guilt-stricken about it for a while, but he hoped that he had managed to assuage her guilt and assure her that all was well between them, and that he was truly happy for her.

When the time came, one icy morning in the middle of January, with snow blanketing the landscape thickly, Richard paced the floor of his chambers feverishly, feeling certain that Henry must be pacing similarly elsewhere in the castle. Catherine was in labour. At least Richard had the insight that Catherine had had an uncomplicated, safe delivery before, but he knew that each time was unique, and anything could happen. She could not possibly be in better hands, he reassured himself, given that she was providing the country with a new generation of heirs to the throne. They would do everything possible to keep her and her child safe and well.

She had laboured through the night, and Richard had not slept at all. He ventured out of his chambers once to enquire after her, but he didn't dare to draw attention to himself by asking again.

When the morning light broke across the white countryside, the purity of such white brightness made the whole world seem as though there was something new and fresh about today, of all days. Richard had washed and dressed himself, more to pass the time than any other reason, and was standing at his windows looking out over the wintry world as he attempted to eat some breakfast, when the trumpets sounded in the Throne Room. His skin prickled with goosebumps at the sound, which almost overwhelmed him with awe at the vastness of its meaning. Was it to herald a visitor of importance, or could it be… He waited, frozen at the window without breathing, listening to the triumphant sound. As it died away, the church bells took over, pealing joyfully in the castle grounds. Impulsively, he grasped the window handle and opened it wide, the bitterly cold air stinging his nostrils as he breathed it in.

The noise of the bells was much louder in the open air, and over their clanging noise, his ears picked up the distant sound of church bells ringing a way off in the village, as though singing a round with the bells here. After a moment, more bells could be heard in the new church at the village in the opposite direction. The whole land was singing for joy, and it could only mean one thing. Catherine's child was born.

Closing his window in a hurry, Richard left his chambers and all but ran to the Throne Room. Hovering around the place where Catherine had given birth would not be appropriate, and he would be able to hear the news in the busiest part of the castle. King Francis was arriving almost as soon as Richard had entered the room, his old face beaming with joy as he stood before his throne with his wife. He raised his hand above his head.

"Today, God has smiled upon us in his favour!" he declared. "Today, a new Valois Prince is born! A son for the throne of France!"

A cheer rang out from the crowds gathered to hear the news, and Richard cheered too, his eyes welling up with joyful tears for Catherine. He assumed, until proven otherwise, that she must be well, because King Francis was full of joy and Richard knew how fond he was of his daughter-in-law.

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The celebrations for the child, named Francis in honour of his grandfather the King, continued for many months after his birth – his naming, his christening, and all manner of otherwise minor events such as the physician declaring the infant in good health. France was delighted with her new Prince and every opportunity was taken to celebrate. There were feasts and banquets, contests and festivals as the weather warmed during spring. Catherine glowed, basking in the joy of having provided her husband with an heir, and France a Prince. Richard could see that her true happiness was in being a mother to her new son. He delighted in watching her with the baby, her face lit up as she spoke softly to him and stroked his cheeks gently. Henry was pleased with her, and spoke favourably of her, which was a great relief to Richard. He missed holding her in his arms, but her joy and happiness made up for it somehow.

Every chance he had, Richard spent time with Catherine. There was never as much opportunity as before, as Henry had time for her these days, and she was often pre-occupied with her child, but Richard would visit her at the nursery, play chess with her when she had time, and walk with her – through the castle halls on wintery days, and in the gardens when the sun deigned to come out. He loved her still, and cherished every moment he had in her company.

One pleasantly warm late afternoon in April, Richard sat with Catherine on a blanket spread below the freshly leafing branches of a large cherry tree in the gardens. Pink-white blossom littered the grass in all directions, and many still clung to the tree. Little Francis lay beside Catherine on the blanket, gazing upwards, mesmerized by the little blooms floating and twirling to the ground. His mother smiled at the awe on his face and bent down to kiss his downy head. Richard smiled too. Babies did not delight him as they did others, but he was fond of Francis for Catherine's sake. His delight was in seeing her with him, and how happy she was. She looked so beautiful, glowing with love for her child.

"I love seeing you so happy."

She looked up at him, still smiling. "Being a mother makes me happier than I ever imagined."

Richard nodded, his hand covering hers for a brief squeeze. "I expect it's a relief for you too, to be revered by all of France as the provider of an heir to the throne! And so you should be. I'm relieved too." Catherine turned her hand under his, squeezing it back, and he asked, "How are things with Henry?"

"Things are…" she hesitated a moment, "…going well. It always seems like Diane is waiting in the shadows somewhere, but he hasn't given her any attention since Francis was born…" The doubt in her tone made him ache, but she shook her moment of insecurity off as though remembering something.

"He is being very caring and attentive, which is lovely. Making sure I rest enough and spend time with Francis… Actually, he has insisted on accompanying me to see the physician today, once I take Francis back to the nursery."

"Are you unwell?" Richard felt his chest tighten.

"No." She smiled fondly at his concern, laying her hand upon his knee. "My monthly bleeding has returned and he wants the physician's word that I am fit to conceive again."

"Is that really necessary? Surely it's evidence of readiness to conceive by itself?!" He didn't know why he felt so defensive. Was Henry pushing her to conceive again before she had recovered fully? Or was the opposite true – he wanted to be careful NOT to push her before she had recovered? Richard always felt helpless when it came to Catherine's wellbeing. He yearned to look after her himself, to put her needs first and make sure that she had the very best of everything. Sometimes he didn't trust Henry to do that, and yet his hands were tied to protect her.

Richard looked down at her hand on his knee, and let his gaze wander up her arm, clothed in the finest embroidered silk. He followed the line of delicate stitches up to the shoulder, where the neckline of her dress swept her fair skin, exposing her collar bones and the hollow of her throat. He closed his eyes momentarily, struck by the unexpected pang of memories – times when he had not needed to be restrained; the many occasions that his lips had lingered there as he cherished the closeness between them. She turned her head then, gazing again at her baby son, and her strawberry blonde curls fell over her shoulder, hiding her neck from him once more. He knew then, with absolute clarity, that he would never marry. Catherine had won his heart, and there would be no room for another, even if his feelings for her were to be unrequited for the rest of his life.

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Richard walked the grounds of the castle for some time after Catherine left to take Francis back to the nursery. He wondered if Henry would continue to treat her well, or if he would revert to his old ways before long. He was torn, thinking of the two possible paths for his future, for his heart. He had always assumed to stay at French Court. Henry would be King one day – soon enough, if the rumours were true about King Francis's state of health, and Richard had every intention of remaining by Henry's side to become an advisor to the King. He could not hope for a better position in society, though perhaps that was less important, now that he knew he would never marry. But what of his future? Henry might love Catherine and be a good husband to her. Her joy would be complete, but Richard would have to bear seeing her in Henry's arms, and never holding her again for himself. On the other hand, perhaps Henry would revert to his old ways, and Catherine would need him once more. She was his first priority, and he knew he had to be there for her.

He took the longer route back to the castle through the beds filled with flowers that were pulling their petals close to themselves as the sun began to set. He had barely entered his chambers when Catherine burst in without knocking, somewhat breathless and wide-eyed.

"Catherine?" Richard crossed the room quickly as she closed the door behind her, concerned by her appearance. "What's wrong?"

"I – We – I went to see the physician with Henry, as you know." She glanced at him, her posture tense and anxious as she twisted her hands together. Richard nodded, impatient for her to continue her explanation, but she hesitated, managing a few steps towards the chaise before sinking down onto it, shoulders hunched. After a moment, she looked up at Richard and he could see the fear in her eyes.

"The physician asked me if I'd ever been with child before."

"What?! Why? How could he possibly know?" Richard felt shaken.

"He didn't get to explain – oh Richard, you should have seen Henry's face! You know what he's like – he has always been quick to envy, and I don't think the thought has ever crossed his mind that I might have betrayed him in such a way."

"What did he do?" Richard asked hesitantly.

"He asked the physician what on earth he meant by that. The man must have been terrified, and I have to say, I felt quite shaken too. Henry gave me such a black look, even though he has told me that he doesn't believe it."

"And the physician?" Richard's anguish was plain to see. "Did he say what he had meant?"

She shook her head. "He began stammering something about having assumed, given some older marks on the skin, but Henry shouted at him before he could finish speaking, and told him he would have his head if he implied such terrible things about his Queen again."

Richard remained silent as he thought over what Catherine had relayed to him. Could there really be signs that might allow another person to know that a woman had carried a child before? Signs that would be proof without argument? Their lives might still be in danger, even with nothing to show for their relationship, and Catherine having given Henry a son. He looked up at Catherine, who sat twisting her fingers together absent-mindedly, her eyes wide and anxious. There was nothing to say, and little to be done about it. There was no way to know whether Henry would brush the matter off, or be dissatisfied with anything except finding out the truth. He did his best to comfort and reassure Catherine, but she seemed so shaken that he took care to walk her back to her chambers and ask her lady to prepare her a lavender bath before she went to bed. Perhaps it would soothe her and she might be able to sleep. It seemed so little to be able to do for her, but it was all he could do.

As Richard was leaving Catherine's chambers, he almost bumped into Henry, who seemed surprised to see him.

"What is it with you and Catherine, my friend?"

"I – uh, beg your pardon?"

Henry gave a short laugh. "You've always been good friends, I know that. You've always been at her beck and call, I've noticed."

Richard quickly tried to cover up. "I have been – Catherine had often asked me to advise her on matters, and you know me, Henry. I enjoy being of use and putting my opinion out there!" He smiled with a light-hearted shrug.

Henry raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement, but his wordlessness put Richard on edge. It wasn't like Henry at all. Richard watched Henry continue on his way towards the doors to his wife's chambers, hearing them close behind him as he turned away, his heart sinking. He couldn't discern the thoughts behind Henry's look. Sometimes he was quite unreadable, and it unnerved him. Did he suspect something other than the friendship that he knew about? Did Richard's presence at her chambers make him feel unsettled? Richard hurried away to his own chambers, needing to think. If Henry began to suspect ANY connection between himself and Catherine, other than a secondary friendship to the one he and Henry shared, he might begin to dig. If he did that, he might discover that there was more to this so-called evidence of Catherine's previous pregnancy, as they feared. And if he was at all suspicious about Richard in connection to Catherine, it wouldn't be too hard for him to realise that perhaps the pregnancy had something to do with himself, Richard. He would lose his head, very likely. But what frightened him more was the fact that Henry would accuse Catherine of adultery publicly. At best, he could divorce her, exile her, and marry Diane, and Catherine's heart would be broken. At worst, she could lose her life. Richard sat up quickly. He could not – he would not let that happen. He loved her far too much to let there be any risk to her life.