The Star of Lancaster by Jean Plaidy Page A

father restrained the people who would have attempted to carry out some of the old customs. ‘They are young and innocent,’ he said. ‘I would not harry them. Let nature take its course with them.’
    In the great bedchamber which had been assigned to them, nature was taking its course.
    Henry was advanced for his years. He was in love with his bride and because she was intelligent beyond her age it did not occur to him to consider that she might not be physically mature.
    He was glad that there had been no ribald jokes; Mary would not have understood them and they might have alarmed her. As it was she was entirely his to teach as he could, he believed, so comfortably do.
    Henry helped her remove the wedding garments, which jewel encrusted as they were were heavily uncomfortable, and it was a relief to be free of them.
    She stood before him – a child in her simplicity. He himself took the loose nightgown and put it over her head.
    Then he led her to the bridal bed; she lay down while he divested himself of his garments.
    Then he joined her.
    Gently with tender explanation he initiated her into the mysteries of procreation which for such as themselves, who had the continuance of great families to consider, was the primary function of marriage.

    They set out for Kenilworth, for, as his father had said, Henry loved that best of all the Lancaster estates which would one day be his.
    Mary was very happy journeying with Henry; he was kindly, loving and gentle and she had not believed there was so much contentment in the world. If she could but forget Eleanor she could be completely happy.
    The sight of Kenilworth was breathtaking. They had travelled some way, for the castle was situated between Warwick and Coventry, being about five miles from each. It consisted of a magnificent structure of castellated buildings which owed their charm to the fact that they had been added to over the years, for Kenilworth had been nothing but a manor in the days of the first Henry who had bestowed it on one of his nobles and it was this noble who had begun the task of turning the manor into a castle. The keep was massive and was known as Caesar after that of the same name in the Tower of London. Kenilworth had the distinction of once belonging to Simon de Montfort and on his death it was bestowed by the King on his youngest son Edmund, Earl of Lancaster. Thus, like the Savoy, it had come to John of Gaunt through his marriage with Henry’s mother, Blanche of Lancaster.
    Henry told Mary that his father, who had taken a great fancy to the place since it had been in his possession, had extended it even more than those who had owned it before, and to prove this Henry pointed out to her the magnificent extension which was known as the Lancaster Building.
    Kenilworth was a fairy tale palace ideally suited to a pair of young people who were realising the joys of getting to know each other.
    Mary would remember those days to the end of her life. Shewas completely happy and it did not occur to her in the full flush of her happiness to question its transience. She did not look to the future; if she had she would have known that a man in Henry’s exalted position could not revel in the joys of newly married bliss in the castle of Kenilworth for ever.
    They rode through the forest together – not hunting, for she had confessed to him that she hated to see animals killed and always hoped the deer and the boars would escape. Henry laughed at her but loved her more for her gentleness and he said that as she did not care for the hunt they would look for the signs of the spring and not for the spoor of animals.
    She did not care for hawking either; she liked to watch the birds flying free. She would stand and admire Henry when he practised archery and happily applauded when he excelled those in competition with him. She thought how fine he looked when he shot at the target with his bow which was the same height as he was and his arrow was one full yard