Free Georgette Heyer by My Lord John Page A

that he was a lickerish old fool, an overheard observation which made his interested sons recall occasions when they had seen pretty chamberers slapping Great-uncle York, and running away from him with shrieks of pretended dismay.
    The children remained at Leicester for some time after the noble guests had dispersed. Some rather disquieting rumours reached them: they were to be separated again, but when, or where they were going they neither knew nor dared to ask.
    They met my Lord of Warwick’s son, Richard Beauchamp, again while they were still at Leicester. He and Harry were made to joust under Father’s eye. They were quite unfairly matched, but Father wanted to see his son pitted against one who promised to become a master. Harry, whose life was blackened by Father’s determination that he should excel in this knightly exercise, entered the lists with a sinking heart. Set Harry to wrestle, and you would see what strength and cunning there was in his slim body; but when he entered the jousting-field almost any aspirant to knighthood could beat him at all points.
    ‘I hate jousting!’ Harry said. ‘You will have the field!’
    ‘No, I shan’t,’ said Richard.
    The lion-look leaped to Harry’s eyes. ‘No, and indeed? Richard, dare – only dare to let me score one point!’
    Richard’s upper lip lengthened as it always did when a smile was coming. ‘I’ll knock you out of the saddle at the first wallop!’ he promised.
    ‘Do so! The sooner over!’ said Harry.
    Richard did not, of course, but he did not insult Harry by allowing him to score against him. My lord of Warwick sat puffing out his cheeks, and saying things like: ‘Well, well, my whelp is four years older than the Lord Harry, after all!’ Father frowned, tapping an impatient foot.
    Before Father left Leicester, John knew his fate. While Humfrey and his sisters were to be placed in the care of Sir Hugh Waterton, who was one of Father’s gentlemen, he was to live with the Hereditary Countess Marshal. He could only stare at Father, going red, but bosoming his emotions. Children did not demand explanations of their parents, and since none was volunteered John never knew why he was handed over to the Countess Marshal. She was a kinswoman, but of the half-blood only, and so remote a cousin that he did not think that could be the reason. Indeed, he had only the vaguest idea who she was, and sought enlightenment of Harry. Harry said that she was an ancestress.
    ‘She can’t be!’ objected Thomas. ‘Our fore-elders are all dead!’
    ‘Not this one!’
    ‘Harry!’ exploded John.
    ‘Well, I’ll tell you,’ offered Harry. ‘She is King Edward I’s granddaughter! And he begat Edward II, and he begat our thirdfather Edward III, and he begat Bel sire – so if she is not a fore-elder I should like to know what else she can be!’
    Thomas and John fell upon him, incensed at such leasings. When they had him flat on his back they demanded that he should retract, but as well as he could for laughing he held to the truth of his story.
    ‘Harry, you losel, Edmund I was hundreds of years ago!’ said Thomas.
    ‘No, he was not. Besides, he had two wives. Get off my chest, John!’
    ‘I will not get off your chest. Two wives don’t make any difference – if he had two wives!’
    ‘He had, and the second one had a son called Thomas of Brotherton, and he was Earl Marshal and Earl of Norfolk, and the Countess Marshal is his daughter. And she had two husbands and I forget who the first was, but the second was Sir Walter Manny, so now!’
    ‘Where did you learn all this stuff !’ demanded Thomas.
    Harry sat up, rolling John over. ‘Wilkin!’ he said, clinching the matter.
    4
    Father left the children at Leicester when he went south to attend the King’s Council. From scraps of gossip the lordings understood that Cousin Richard was taking a new wife. It was to be expected that a childless King should marry again, but why he should set his fancy on a maid