Once she said to Henry, ‘My only hope is in God and in you, my lord.’

And Henry bent his head, saying, ’Noble lady, I cannot interfere; but while you are in my house, nothing can be done with you against your will.’

Yet even Henry was scarcely what he had been in all-pervading vigilance and readiness.  Like all real kings of men, he had been his own prime minister, commander-in-chief, and private secretary, transacting a marvellous amount of business with prompt completeness; and when, in the midst of shattered health which he would not avow, the cares of two kingdoms, and the generalship of an army, with all its garrisons, rested on him, his work would hardly have been accomplished but for his brother’s aid.  It was never acknowledged, often angrily disdained.  But when John of Bedford had watched the terrible lassitude and lethargy that weighed on the King at times in the midst of his cabinet work, he was constantly on the watch to relieve him; and his hand and style so closely resembled Henry’s that the difference could scarce be detected, and he could do what none other durst attempt.  Many a time would Henry, whose temper had grown most uncertain, fiercely rate him for intermeddling; but John knew and loved him too well to heed; and his tact and unobtrusiveness made Henry rely on him more and more.

If the illness had only been confessed, those who watched the King anxiously would have had more hope; but he was hotly angered at any hint of his needing care; and though he sometimes relieved oppression by causing himself to be bled by a servant, he never allowed that anything ailed him; it was always the hot weather, the anxious tidings, the long pageant that wearied him—­things that were wont to be like gnats on a lion’s mane.

Those solemn banquets and festivals—­lasting from forenoon till eventide, with their endless relays of allegorical subtleties, their long-winded harangues, noisy music, interludes of giants, sylvan men, distressed damsels, knights-errant on horseback, ships and forests coming in upon wheels, and fulsome compliments that must be answered—­had been always his aversion, and were now so heavy an oppression that Bedford would have persuaded the Queen to curtail them.  But to the fair Catherine this appeared an unkind endeavour of her disagreeable brother-in-law, to prevent her from shining in her native city, and eclipsing the Burgundian pomp; and she opened her soft brown eyes in dignified displeasure, answering that she saw nothing amiss with the King; and she likewise complained to her husband of his brother’s jealousy of her welcome from her own people, bringing on him one of Henry’s most bitter sentences.

Henry would only have had her abate somewhat of the splendour that gratified her, because he did not think it becoming to outshine her parents; but Catherine scorned the notion.  Her old father would know nothing, or would smile in his foolish way to see her so brave; and for her mother, she recked not so long as she had a larded capon before her:  nor was it possible to make the young queen understand that this fatuity and feebleness were the very reasons for deferring to them.