The Order of the White Boar

by Alex Marchant

  I grasped desperately at the reins, then felt the great muscles bunch up beneath me, and the horse sprang forward in a panic. Before I could do anything but cling on, he was carrying me at a gallop across the meadow, past the startled faces of Alys and Edward, scattering the grazing sheep, heading for the castle.

  Alys cried ‘Matt!’ in alarm as we passed, then angrily ‘Hugh, you —’, but anything she called him was lost in the wind whipping past my ears and the thundering of hooves as we sped on.

  I tugged on the reins, trying to stop the horse, but it was in no mood to obey. It simply tossed its head as it ran, showing the whites of its eyes.

  It told me what I had known all along. I was too small to control it properly. Now, to avoid being dashed to the ground, I had to focus simply on hanging on.

  I clutched at the mane with my fingers and at the sides with my legs, feeling the raw strength throughout its powerful body as it galloped on. And I prayed to God, Jesus and the Virgin Mary that I should not be killed.

  Up ahead loomed the rear wall of the castle and it struck me with the force of a blow that we were heading straight for the water-filled moat. Its steep sides and dark depths would mean death for us both if I didn’t act quickly.

  With a strength born of pure fear, I wrenched the horse’s head to the left. To my relief it didn’t buck or fight it, but veered that way, though without slackening its pace. Now side on to the moat, we were charging down the slope towards the outskirts of the village.

  A yell and a pounding of hooves made me look back as best I could.

  Alys, crouching low on her chestnut, was galloping headlong across the meadow towards us. Our abrupt change of direction meant she was gaining ground. By the time we reached the dirt road into the village she was only yards behind us.

  Another desperate cry from her. I caught only the words ‘People… village…’

  But it was clear what she meant. As we careered onwards, hooves kicking up mud from the roadway, villagers were scattering before us. Up ahead mothers were rushing to gather up their playing children out of our path. Screams tore at my ears. An old woman crossing slowly, turned, resting on her stick. Her eyes widened at the crazed horse plunging towards her.

  Dragging at the horse’s reins and mane with what strength I could muster, I steered it to the left again, taking the danger away from the people on the main street. Now instead we were racing across garden plots down the hill towards the river. All the while I could hear the thunder of two sets of hooves as Alys followed, still shouting wordlessly, trying to keep pace, maybe to gain on us.

  We passed the last of the houses, flashed across the Leyburn road and on to the water meadows.

  As we crossed the road at a flat-out gallop, a group of riders halted on the old stone bridge. Colourful pennons flew above them, the low sun glinted off burnished harness.

  A shout went up from them. As I glanced across, two of the foremost riders peeled away and launched themselves towards us, seeking to head us off.

  I pulled back on the reins again, but the horse did not respond, bolting still along the river’s bank. Flecks of foam were flying backwards now into my face. As I turned to blink them away, I saw one of the unknown riders catch up with Alys, stretch out an arm to grab her horse’s bridle and pull her to a stop.

  She screamed ‘Not me! It’s his —’, then her voice died away behind me.

  The other rider drew level with me, crouched low over the neck of his galloping horse, matching Windfollower’s pace stride by stride for a few seconds. A glint of blue eyes, concentrating hard under a dark brow, and he flung out a gloved hand to grasp my reins. With the gentlest of backwards pressure on my horse’s bridle, he eased us all to a shuddering halt.

  In a trice, he was down from his mount and standing at the head of mine. He stroked its nose gently, speaking calming words to it. It tossed its head once, blowing hard through flared nostrils, then lowered it beneath his touch. Its whole body was shaking beneath me, its great sides heaving with the effort of breathing. And I was quaking too.

  I drew my right leg across the saddle and slipped down the great height to the ground. Then my legs buckled beneath me and I found myself in a heap on the floor.

  The man laughed, but not unkindly, and then his hand was beneath my arm helping me back to my feet. His other hand kept a firm hold on my horse’s bridle.

  As I raised my head, I saw he was a slight man, hardly taller than Roger, clad in an ancient leather jerkin and mud-flecked hose. Although young, his face was serious. There were lines around those intense eyes I’d glimpsed earlier, whether of laughter or something else I couldn’t tell.

  A frown darkened them now.

  ‘Well, lad,’ he said, ‘explain to me, I pray you, why you were riding a horse that is not yours and that you clearly cannot control.’

  Chapter 7

  ‘A Golden Giant of a Man’

  Roger came to my rescue, galloping up to us at the head of a small troop of pages, as though leading a cavalry charge.

  Their sudden arrival caused pandemonium.

  Windfollower began to buck and kick again in fright. My rescuer struggled to control him, while catching hold of his own horse in an attempt to stop it bolting in its turn. Meanwhile, Alys, still atop her chestnut pony, was being led towards us by the other stranger. She was shouting at him that she had had everything under control until he had interfered.

  The two men, the one slight and dark, the newcomer taller and fair, glanced at each other. My rescuer shrugged and laughed again.

  ‘Perhaps it would be better to go into the castle. We can sort the matter out there.’

  So saying he swung himself back into his saddle and, gathering the reins of both horses, rode with them to join the company of horsemen waiting on the road. The other man turned his horse about and followed, leading Alys behind him despite her protests. The whole company set off again along the road, and in a minute or two had disappeared into the village.

  I was left standing alone, among the pages milling around me on their horses. Hugh and Lionel were not among them.

  Roger stuck out his hand. I clasped it and he hauled me up to sit astride his horse behind him.

  ‘Perhaps you are safer riding with me this time.’

  Without another word, he pulled his mount’s head around and together with the other pages, we rode more sedately back up through the village and into the castle’s outer courtyard.

  At the stables, all the grooms were busy attending to the two dozen or so horses of the riders who had arrived before us. Windfollower and Alys’s chestnut were among them, but there was no sign of her or of the men who had accompanied her in.

  As I slid down from Roger’s pony, the head-groom called across to us.

  ‘Don’t stand there gawping, boys. You can see we’re busy here. Take off your horses’ tack and rub them down before they chill.’

  Roger dismounted and began to unbuckle his saddle. Before I could work out how best to assist, through the outer gate rode Edward and Elen. They had clearly been abandoned during the charge of the pages.

  As I hurried to offer them my services instead, I was surprised at the eagerness on Edward’s face at the sight of all the horses and banners.

  ‘Is it my father come home already? We heard that he’s on his way, but my mother didn’t think he’d be here so soon.’

  He wheeled his small pony around and pushed it into a canter towards the inner court. The chickens scratching the earth floor scattered before him.

  Elen watched him go, then turned her fond smile on me.

  ‘Forgive him, Matthew. It’s more than two months since he saw his father and he misses him terribly – though you’d think he’d be used to his absences. I hope it is the Duke this time. Meanwhile, I will gratefully accept your help.’

  I held the old mare’s head as Elen alighted on to the mounting block. Then she placed her hand in mine to step down to the ground before bidding me farewell and following in Edwa
rd’s wake.

  As I led the mare away, I reflected on how different Elen was from Alys. She always appeared quiet and calm, and I couldn’t imagine her shrieking at anyone as Alys had done at the man who had ‘interfered’.

  Attending to the horses left little time for conversation, but all the same, I was surprised that Roger said nothing – until it dawned on me that he might not have seen anything. Perhaps he assumed Windfollower had been spooked by a rabbit, or even his own shadow. Nor did he react when we returned Lady to the mews and there met Hugh and Lionel.

  Hugh hailed Roger from where he was settling his own bird on to her perch.

  ‘De Kynton – a fine attempt at that rabbit. A shame your hawk was distracted. We must fly them again soon.’ There was a smirk in his voice. Was it directed at me? But then he added, ‘That is, of course, if the Duke gives you that hawk.’

  ‘He promised her to me. Before he went away.’

  ‘Maybe. Now I hear that he’s come home. Perhaps he will see how well she flies and want to keep her. He’s gone back on promises before.’

  ‘When? The Duke always keeps his word.’

  ‘Is that so? What about those lands in Westmorland he said should be mine?’

  ‘That was the King’s decision,’ retorted Roger. ‘You know it was. His Grace tried his best. But, anyway, you wouldn’t have lost those estates if your father hadn’t —’

  He stopped, biting his lip.

  Hugh’s face darkened, visible even in the murk of the mews, and his voice lost its light tone.

  ‘If my father hadn’t stayed loyal to his cause? Why don’t you say it?’ He swung round to me. ‘You’ll soon find out what these people are really like – that is, if you stay here long enough.’

  I pulled Roger away.

  ‘Let’s get to supper. It must be nearly time.’

  I was now sure Roger hadn’t seen anything amiss to cause my horse to bolt. I was glad. Perhaps I was mistaken – perhaps it had been an accident rather than deliberate. Whatever the truth, if no one had seen it, no trouble could be made for Hugh. I had no wish to make him any more my enemy.

  At supper the talk amongst the pages was all of how the Duke had come home. It seemed that at last the Scottish border castle of Berwick had fallen to his army and he had hurried south as soon as he could. He had been expected to go first to York at the head of loyal soldiers from the city, but his desire to return to Middleham had made him change his plans.

  I was pleased for Edward. But my discomfort grew when I realized his father had been among the riders who had witnessed the shame of my rescue from the bolting horse.

  Roger still didn’t mention the incident. As Sir William said grace, he only remarked that the Duchess and Edward were not at the high table, and that they must be taking supper in their private chamber with the Duke and his knights. There were faces I didn’t recognize in the great hall that evening. I kept my head down in case they, by contrast, recognized me.

  After the meal, Roger and I took ourselves into the garden to read the romance that Alys had given me. It was there that she found us a little later.

  Her cheeks were flushed as she approached and several curls had escaped from the linen coif she wore over her hair.

  ‘Matt, at last I’ve found you. The Duke wants to see you.’

  I started.

  ‘Who, me?’

  ‘Yes, about this afternoon. Don’t look so worried. I told him what happened.’

  ‘What do you mean – what happened?’ asked Roger. ‘Didn’t the horse just bolt? It wasn’t Matt's fault.’

  ‘Oh, you! I suppose you were too busy with your precious Lady to see. Hugh – I saw him – he flew his hawk straight at Matt’s horse. It was bound to bolt. He’ll say it was an accident, but —’

  ‘But I shouldn’t have taken the horse in the first place,’ I said. ‘I knew I wouldn’t be able to control it. And when Roger told me it belonged to the Duke…’

  ‘That’s no matter now. Come on, he’s in his office.’

  But still I hung back. I had been scared enough when meeting the Duchess, but now it was to be the Duke – and under such circumstances. I’d been given a chance to better myself, and now that would be ruined.

  Alys grasped my sleeve.

  ‘Matt, I’m sure he has lots of things to do on his first night home. You mustn’t keep him waiting. Don’t be afraid. I’ll come in with you.’

  With reluctance I gave in to her tug at my arm. In a way this was even worse. It might be good to have a friend with you in a time of trial – but to be shamed in front of Alys, perhaps twice in one day…?

  As we hurried along back to the inner court, Alys surprised me by squeezing my arm.

  ‘I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think. His badge may be a white boar, but really he’s not half so ferocious.’

  If her smile was meant to encourage me, it didn’t succeed. I was trembling by the time we reached the office in the corner of the courtyard.

  Alys knocked. A voice within called ‘Come’, and we entered the room together, Alys closing the door behind us.

  In the golden light of the setting sun flooding through the window were two men with their backs to us, poring over some papers on a table.

  As Alys introduced me – ‘Matthew Wansford, Your Grace, the new page’ – the taller man turned, and I recognized Alys’s rescuer from the afternoon.

  At that moment I believed I would have recognized the Duke anywhere. The King was famed as being a golden giant of a man, over six feet tall, who blazed like the sun on his royal banner. Clearly his brother the Duke resembled him in every way.

  I stepped forward and knelt down on one knee before him, bowing my head for good measure, hoping I could make up somehow for my disastrous afternoon. As I did, Alys hissed something at me and her toe nudged my leg, but I was too busy trying to make an impression to heed her.

  ‘At your service, Your Grace.’

  The man stepped forward, his hand outstretched. But rather than raising me to my feet as I expected, he uttered words that mortified me.

  ‘Nay, boy, I am not he. This is His Grace the Duke of Gloucester.’

  I raised my head, as the other man turned to face me, and felt my cheeks aflame with embarrassment. Doubly so because I saw now, not a complete stranger, but the man who had seized my horse that afternoon. His worn leather jerkin had been replaced by a velvet doublet of deep emerald green, stitched with bronze thread and seed pearls, and the dust and dirt of his journey had been washed away. But there was no mistaking him.

  He regarded me levelly.

  ‘Well, Master Wansford, am I not what you expected? Perhaps you expected someone more like my brother the King, or Sir Francis here, not the runt of the litter?’

  The other man laughed and made to protest, but the Duke waved his words away. Through the tears of shame that had begun to smart in my eyes, I saw a wry smile play about his lips.

  ‘I’m sorry, Your Grace, I mistook you.’

  ‘Nay, it’s no matter. Why should you know me? We have never met before today.’

  I bowed my head again. This could not have begun worse. I might as well pack up my bundle and leave tonight.

  ‘Come, get to your feet. I’ll not have you grovel on the ground. Your reputation precedes you and does not suggest you would. After all, our friend the mayor of York has reported you to us as a troublemaker and rebel.’

  That stung me, and I sprang up to defend myself. But as I did, I saw that despite his serious tone, he was mocking me gently.

  ‘But perhaps you are not quite so quick-witted as he would have us believe.’

  Alys came to stand next to me, bobbing a tiny curtsey.

  ‘Your Grace, this afternoon, Matthew —’ but he cut her short.

  ‘Thank you, Alys, I have heard your story. Now I prefer to hear Master Wansford’s version of events. Sit down, Matthew, Alys.’

  We pulled up and sat on the stools that he indicated. The Duke perched on the edg
e of the table.

  ‘So, Master Wansford, tell me what happened.’

  My head was whirling at this turn of events. But I had to avoid problems with Hugh if I could.

  I swallowed before beginning my story.

  ‘Your Grace, I went riding with some of the pages after dinner. I found that the horse I have ridden before was already taken so I accepted the offer of another. I didn’t know at the time it was one of your own horses.’

  ‘But you knew it was too big for you and you would have difficulty handling it?’

  ‘Yes, Your Grace, but – but it would have hurt my pride to refuse. I thought the risk was worth it.’

  ‘And what happened on your ride?’

  ‘Some of the pages stopped to hunt rabbits with their falcons. My horse was frightened by something and bolted because I couldn’t control it.’

  ‘By something?’ His eyes narrowed.

  ‘Yes, Your Grace. By something.’

  The Duke continued to gaze at me, twisting a small ruby ring on his finger for a few moments. Then he spoke again.

  ‘I watched you from the road as you guided the horse away from the moat. It might have broken its neck or your own. Then you turned it from the marketplace where villagers, children perhaps, could have been injured or killed by a bolting horse. Somehow you kept your seat and by that you prevented both things. Well done. You may make a good horseman yet – on a suitable mount. We shall have to find you one – better than the old mare Alys tells me you have been riding, but not yet one so young and inexperienced as Windfollower. I will ask my horse master.’

  He stood up and, sensing I was about to be dismissed, so did I.

  ‘Her Grace tells me that you also sing well. I would be pleased if you would sing for me soon. Meanwhile,’ that half-smile returned – ‘meanwhile, Matthew, think twice before trying to protect someone who doesn’t deserve it.’

  With that he turned again to his desk and in a moment was deep in conversation with his companion.

  I followed Alys back out of the office. I didn’t know whether to feel elated at the praise I had received or disappointed at my mistakes – and the fact that perhaps, despite my resolve, I might have caused trouble for Hugh.