First of the Tudors. Joanna Hickson

but that would not work in the present political climate. I was content for him to assume the dukedom after his unfortunate brother died but if I grant him the lands as well, the Duke of York will find more cause to accuse me of favouritism. No, I wish my brothers to have them and they shall.’

      It occurred to me that he would never have confided these thoughts had he not freely partaken of the Christmas spirit but I was certainly not going to argue with him. Being recognized as the king’s nearest relatives was likely to prove a costly business and any grant of extra funds was welcome.

      A bold household knight appeared beside the queen’s throne and, with a deep bow, begged the favour of a dance, which she graciously conceded. Henry took the opportunity of her absence to suggest that he and I retire to his private chamber. ‘I have more to discuss with you about the Somerset wardship, Jasper. Send a message to Edmund to join us – and order more hippocras,’ he added, standing and signalling the alert heralds to lower their instantly raised trumpets. ‘We do not need a fanfare. Let the merrymaking continue without interruption.’

      I collared a page to carry out the king’s orders and we made our exit from the great hall via the privy door at the back of the dais. A cloister and a stairway led to the royal apartments and King Henry walked there in silence, giving me an opportunity to ponder my extraordinary conversation with the queen. Had she actually hinted that in a desperate attempt to conceive an heir to the throne I might take her husband’s place in her bed, or had she made a cry for help of another kind? The first possibility appalled me. I had found little opportunity to sow wild oats, my life being governed in recent years by tutors and masters at arms, and had no reason to think that I would be any more successful at procreation than Henry. And, far more importantly, beautiful though Marguerite was, the very notion of cuckolding my brother went against every Christian principle those greybeard governors had been so careful to instil. I decided to cling to the idea that the queen’s true intention had been that I should use brotherly privilege and every ounce of tact I possessed to encourage Henry to try a little harder and certainly more often in the queen’s bed, if not for his own satisfaction, then for the benefit of the kingdom. As a waiting chamberlain threw open the door to the royal chamber I took a deep breath and made a vow to seize the moment, hoping Edmund would not arrive too soon and interrupt my efforts.

      The sharp winter cold of the open cloister seemed to have dispelled Henry’s slight slur and so when the fresh supply of hippocras arrived I quickly poured another measure, which he showed no hesitation in accepting.

      ‘I find warm spiced wine an excellent soother of the stomach after the over-indulgence of Christmas fare,’ he confessed a little sheepishly, taking a chair beside the glowing fire. ‘Please tell me if I begin to appear inebriated, Jasper. I so dislike drunkenness in others.’

      ‘There is never any question of you appearing anything but sober, my liege,’ I assured him.

      Henry leaned closer, his brow creasing in concern. ‘It is not necessary for you to address me so formally when we are alone, Jasper. I like to think that in circumstances such as this we can converse freely together as brothers. And please sit.’ He waved at the chair on the opposite side of the hearth.

      I sat. It was now or never. I wet my lips with the hippocras and gave a nervous preliminary cough. ‘Thank you, Henry; if I may call you Henry, sire?’ How foolish that sounded but he gave me an encouraging wave and so I ploughed on. ‘Forgive me for asking but I wonder whether your promotion of Edmund and me and your interest in Margaret Beaufort may have come as a result of concern at your own isolation? The throne must be a lonely place when you do not have close family, whose loyalty you can rely on.’

      At this point Henry’s attitude became avuncular rather than brotherly. ‘For a young man you are very perceptive, Jasper. Yes, I have certainly felt the lack of relatives of the kind that many of my nobles seem to rely on in large numbers. That is why I have come to value you and Edmund so highly.’

      I took the plunge. ‘Of course there would be no such lack if you and the queen were to have a family of your own …’

      My words hung between us like feathers caught in an up draught, hovering weightless, before their slow, hesitant descent into meaning. Henry resorted to another large gulp from his cup. Then, after due consideration and yet more alcoholic encouragement, his response came like a bolt from the blue. ‘Was this what you were talking about with Marguerite after your dance together?’

      In future it would be hard for critics of his reign to persuade me that Henry was always an arrow short of a full quiver. ‘No. Well yes, indirectly,’ I stuttered. ‘She told me how happy she was that you were favouring your brothers and mentioned how much she regretted you having no children of your own as yet. She seems to think that the people blame her for this.’

      Henry’s brow creased deeply and at first I thought it was in anger. I steeled myself for his reprimand but instead he drained his cup and then replaced it with careful deliberation on the table. ‘She obviously already trusts you with her confidences, Jasper, and I am going to do the same,’ he said. ‘And what I am going to tell you must never be repeated to anyone, not even your brother and certainly not Marguerite. Do I have your word on that?’

      The solemnity of the moment was striking. I pulled from beneath my doublet the reliquary I wore: it held a trace of the blood of Saint Thomas Becket and had been given to me for protection by the Abbess of Barking when we left her charge to begin our training as knights. The saint’s sister Mary Becket had been a nun at Barking and had received the martyred Archbishop’s bloodstained garments following his murder at Canterbury Cathedral. They had become an object of pilgrimage to the abbey and the tiny scrap of bloodstained cloth that the abbess had snipped from them was my most sacred and treasured possession. ‘You have my oath on holy Becket’s blood, my liege.’

      What he saw in my eyes seemed to satisfy him. ‘Good. Then I will reveal to you that I have never liked the process of procreation. It does not come naturally to me as it does to other men and my late lamented confessor, Bishop William Ayscough, encouraged me to steer my energies instead towards the worship of God and his saints. Like Saint Thomas, the bishop was also murdered by evil men you know, outside one of his own churches after he had celebrated Sunday Mass. He was like a father to me.’ He faltered, as though there were a lump in his throat.

      I risked a supplementary point. ‘And he was the priest who married you to the queen. Did he not speak as well of the obligations of the marriage contract? Even I, though not yet wed, am aware that between man and wife there is a debt each owes to the other in the marital bed. Is it fair, or even legal, to fail your wife in this debt and expose her to the unjust censure of your subjects when no heir is conceived?’

      I was not sure if Henry heard me because he only asked if there was more wine in the flagon. He put the cup to his lips the instant it was full, and it occurred to me then that perhaps an inebriated husband was exactly what Queen Marguerite had in mind when she suggested that I get Henry to enjoy himself a little. Certainly I was not entirely sober myself.

      ‘Women are strange creatures are they not?’ my royal brother mused, nursing his cup fondly in both hands, as if anxious not to let it out of his sight. ‘Their conversation is all of material matters; who should marry whom, how great will be the dower, of which fabric shall a gown be made. They have little concern for their souls and much for their bodies. Marguerite is no different. I find I cannot bear to use her body in the necessary way to bring about a child when she responds the way she does, with such enthusiasm. Why can I not just take her quietly and discreetly and then return to my prayers?’ He stared deeply into the dark wine, pondering his next words. ‘When I was your age I knew nothing of such things. In truth I know little now and wish to know less. I told your tutors not to let you become corrupted by loose women and feckless companions. They are the ruin of many a young man. I hope you are keeping yourself pure and unsullied, Jasper.’

      I stared at him, hearing a maudlin tone in his voice and wondering if he ever really enjoyed himself. I felt a twinge of irritation, combined with a surge of affection for this intelligent yet strangely innocent man who seemed to have become old before his time and who, as a result, had never truly experienced