‘What about the Order of the White Boar?’
They all stared at me.
‘In honour of the Duke?’
‘What a good idea.’
‘I think my mother would like that – and my father.’
‘That's settled then,’ said Alys.
She picked up Edward’s riding crop. Kneeling in front of him, her head bowed, she presented it to him with two hands.
‘My lord, if you are willing, you shall knight us here on the battlefield. Well, it almost looks like it with that dead sheep over there. Then we can arrange the rituals and do it again properly later.’
Edward giggled and took the proffered whip.
Roger and I knelt either side of Alys, our heads likewise bowed. He touched us lightly on each shoulder with the tip of the crop, then said, ‘I don’t have to strike you, do I?’
Alys got to her feet hurriedly, brushing dust from the front of her gown.
‘I think we can save that for later – if we feel it’s a valid part of the ceremony. I’m not sure the King does it to the Garter knights. They’re all nobles I think, and it might cause another civil war if he did.’
‘I’m sure we’ll remember our duty as knights without it anyway,’ said Roger. ‘We’ll have to swear an oath to uphold the King’s law, protect all women and children –’ Alys snorted – ‘well, those who can’t protect themselves – always be loyal to one another, that sort of thing.’
‘That’s my father’s motto,’ piped up Edward. ‘Loyaulté me lie – loyalty binds me. I’m sure he’d be happy at that.’
‘And of course be loyal to him – our liege lord,’ continued Roger. ‘Maybe it should be the Order’s motto too.’
‘Maybe,’ said Alys. ‘Anyway we can talk about it all as we ride home. I think we should head back now – then we’ll have time to start drawing up our rules before supper.’
The ride back was taken up entirely with talk of the Order and what our small band of companions would entail. We decided to let only Elen in on our secret. As Alys said, she might be useful for taking messages. Being both a servant and a member of the household, she was able to move everywhere around the castle more freely than either Alys or the pages.
‘I don’t think she’ll want to join herself. She doesn’t much enjoy riding or hawking or any of the other things we’ll do.’
‘Is that what we’ll be doing? It doesn’t sound so very different from now.’
‘Oh, Ed, of course it’ll be different. From now on we’ll know we’re part of a secret order, and that we’ll be loyal to each other and our lord until death – like real knights.’
Edward must have run to tell his mother as soon as we returned to the castle. Before supper, the Duchess paused at our table on her way to the dais and said, simply, to Roger and me,
‘Thank you for all you’re doing for Edward. He’s as happy today as if his father had not gone away.’
As she walked on, I made certain not to glance in Hugh’s direction, in case there was once more on his face that look of hatred and spite I so well remembered.
Chapter 9
Autumn
As the days shortened and became cooler, and autumn slowly descended into Wensleydale, my previous life seemed like a dream. My life in the castle was now all that was real for me.
Our brief holiday behind us, we returned to lessons. The schoolroom was chill now in the early mornings, and rain often curtained the open windows.
In a few days, the Duke returned from York. Alys reported to us his surprise at seeing Edward looking so well.
‘Usually he mopes around when the Duke’s away, and even Roger’s clowning can’t cheer him up. It was such a good idea of yours, Matt, to start the Order.’
I protested that the idea had been as much hers, but was secretly pleased to have such praise. We had spent several afternoons closeted all together in the empty pages’ chamber, discussing the Order’s rituals and rules, and I had felt my contributions were as valued as anyone else’s. And as it was determined that mine was the neatest handwriting, I was also chosen as our scribe and the keeper of all our secret documents. Everything was folded neatly when complete and stored at the very bottom of my bundle of belongings.
By the time of the Duke’s return, we had each sworn our oath of loyalty while dressed in the robe of the Order (Edward’s finest blue velvet cloak stitched with gold thread, which barely reached Roger’s knees), drunk the draught of friendship (again from Edward’s best gold cup), and had our venture blessed by Sir William, whom we also took into our confidence – at least as far as to tell him that we intended to be a band of true friends from this time forth.
Sir William seemed to understand the seriousness of the occasion. He dressed himself in his most festive clerical garments to intone the solemn words, lay his hands reverently on each of our heads and join us in supping the friendship draught.
I spluttered at the strength of the wine.
‘Where did you get this, Ed?’
‘It’s from my father’s private store. Only he and Master Guylford have a key to it – but I know where he puts his when he goes away.’
We had reason, a week or two later, to hope that the Duke’s and the steward’s eyes were not sharp enough to detect that Ed had taken the wine. That store and many others were opened for the festivities for His Grace’s thirtieth birthday.
The day began with a special Mass and sermon from Sir William in the village church, giving thanks for preserving the Duke through this his thirtieth year. It was attended by local noble families, the mayor of York, and other dignitaries from the city and surrounding towns.
All at the castle were given another holiday to celebrate along with the villagers. This time it involved sports and competitions, in archery and feats of arms, followed by feasting and entertainments. A dancing bear was brought from York especially for the evening. Then the ladies and gentlemen also danced, and music continued late into the night.
As the torches began to splutter out, but before we were left with just the dark red glow of the fire to cast shadows into the rafters of the great hall, the Duke rose.
After a few words of thanks to those who were still awake, he bowed deeply. Then, taking the hand of his wife, he led her from the hall into their private chambers. Edward, blinking rapidly and almost tripping over his feet in his tiredness, followed them. The dying light of the torches glinted off the brand new cloth-of-gold tunic he had been given by his father to mark the occasion.
Before long the rest of the company also retired. Within seconds of us reaching our mattresses, Roger’s gentle snores began to break the darkness and the deep breathing of our fellow pages slowed as one by one they too fell asleep. But I lay awake a little longer, turning over in my fingers the gold coin the Duke had presented to each of us in celebration of his special day. I offered up silent thanks for having been a part of it – and also for our being excused Mass and morning lessons the next day.
After the long warm summer, autumn was all too brief that year. The damp days were dark under low heavy clouds from dawn until dusk, and a day or two of October gales tore the last of the golden leaves from the ancient, stunted oaks and hawthorns that lined the lanes around the castle. By All Souls Day the once-gilt bracken on the moor tops was a sombre dark brown, and everywhere we rode lay pools of brackish water, dark grey beneath the November skies.
But as the dour weather drove us all to spend more time indoors, and Roger became fretful at us not wanting to ride, I didn’t mind the change. For me, there was more time to talk with Alys and Edward, and the Duke and Duchess summoned me often into their chamber to sing during the dark evenings after supper.
Once I was there, Ed would ask me to read to him, or share with him simple tunes on the lute. I was still a novice player, having picked up a lute for the first time only here in the castle. But Master Petyt soon declared I was a natural and invited me to take proper lessons. Before long he had found an old instrument for me,
battered but serviceable, and I would practise with it on my free afternoons as well as during evenings in the great chamber. I blushed at my mistakes, but the Duke would often break off from whatever business he was conducting, with the steward or the chamberlain, hush his companion and listen too.
Those evenings were a delight to me. Not only did I love to sing, and now to play the lute, and to read aloud the new French romances to Edward. I also had the chance to see how this lordly family spent their leisure time.
The Duke was often at his books or papers, perhaps with Master Guylford or his secretary, Master Kendall, perhaps alone. At other times he would play at chess with the Duchess or his good friend Sir Francis Lovell, the gentleman I had mistaken for him. Sometimes he would simply sit back in his great carved chair and watch his wife as she sewed in the smoky light cast by the torches, or his son playing jacks on the huge hearthstone. At such times I would see a wistfulness in his eyes that was only banished when I brought my final song to a close. Then he would clap his hands two or three times fit to summon an echo from the high vaulted ceiling above, spring to his feet and, catching up a tray set ready by a servant, offer all of us in the room a cup of spiced wine and some small sweetmeats – honey biscuits or marchpane.
Sometimes Alys would be there, undertaking some small task for the Duchess or sitting sewing on a small footstool, as I had seen her that first evening. She would toss her pale gold curls, and accept the wine cup and tidbit. Then, work over for the day, she would tug at my sleeve and draw me over to the hearth to play or read with Ed. My one regret on those evenings was that Roger was not with us.
But Alys was not there either one evening, deep into November, when, cup of wine on a small table at my elbow, I sat trying to bring to mind a tune Master Petyt had started to teach me that afternoon. As I plucked at the strings, I heard the Duchess’s voice raised.
‘But, Richard, you made him a promise before you went away.’
She was sitting in her usual chair a little behind me, and a moment before her husband had seated himself beside her. He spoke now, more softly, but my ears had been caught.
‘Peace, my dear, I would not want the lad to hear.’
Thinking he meant me, I turned my attention to my lute again. But the Duchess’s next words told me it was not me they were speaking of, but Ed. Out of loyalty to him – and sheer curiosity – I could not fail to listen.
‘He is your son, Richard, and longs always to be at your side. In the spring you promised you would take him hunting this winter. All summer while you were in Scotland he spoke of little else.’
‘All summer after he had been so ill?’
‘That is months ago now. He has had no attack since April. He has grown stronger day by day since he has been here at home. Particularly since he has been riding out with his friends.’
‘But that is not a hunt, Anne.’
‘He can remain on his pony all the time. And his friends can look after him. It will do him good. And it’s important that we treat him the same as every other page.’
‘Although he is our son?’
‘You were the brother of the King when you came here all those years ago – but my father treated you no differently from the other pages in his care. We may not choose to send Ed away, but do not let him think he is not as good as the rest.’
There was a pause in their conversation, but I made sure there was no pause in my quiet picking of the strings.
Then the Duke’s voice came again.
‘You say his friends can look after him?’
‘Of course. Roger, Matthew, Alys —’
‘Alys!’ He sounded surprised, but my surprise was at the mention of my name.
‘Why not?’
‘A girl – on a boar hunt?’
‘Fie to that, Richard. You never questioned when I rode to the hunt.’
‘Maybe. But you —’
‘But I was my father’s daughter?’
‘Yes, Anne, indeed you were. Although I think cousin Richard sometimes thought you were a son.’
‘Well, Alys is her father’s daughter too. You remember Sir Philip Langdown – he was a fine jouster. And you know her, how well she rides.’
Although my back was to them, I had now seen enough of this husband and wife in their private time to imagine how they looked. He with a half-smile now playing around his lips, she with her grey eyes alight at his gentle mockery, but also at the chance of winning her point.
‘True, she is another daughter who rides as well as any son. Her father also would no doubt have been proud of her. But as you well know, a boar hunt does not call for skilled riding. It is a time for discipline and strength and staying safe.’
‘You say the squires and older pages will take part. Have two or three remain on horseback with the younger ones – let them see the sport but remain at a distance.’
‘Perhaps. I will think on it and speak to Master Gygges.’
Master Gygges was the chief huntsman, in charge of all the hounds and huntsmen at the castle, and of supplying the game meat to the kitchens. Over the next few days, I made sure my friends and I wandered often into his domain in case preparations were being made for the hunt the Duke and Duchess had discussed. But all seemed as normal. I had told no one what I had overheard, not wanting to raise Edward’s or Alys’s – or indeed my own – hopes about the prospect. The Duke had not sounded convinced by his wife’s words, and I heard no more about a hunt on those evenings when I sang for them. Not that I tried to eavesdrop on their private conversations – often.
But one afternoon after our ride, Alys and Ed were called to attend the Duchess, and Roger and I again made our way to the kennels. Entering the low building, we breathed in with enjoyment the deep musky scent of the hounds before, as usual, letting ourselves into the pen of Florette, the Duke’s favourite.
The tall white hound was strong and fit again, and her pups were well grown, reaching now as high as her flank. All bar one, at least – the small red pup I had noticed on my first visit.
A few days ago, when I had persuaded Roger and the others to visit the kennels with me, this red pup had hung back at our approach. It stuck close to its mother, growling a little, while its larger brothers and sisters bounded forward with tails awag. But I had spent time with it each afternoon and had taught it to trust me. Now it came straight to me on its still-wobbly legs, nudging its warm, soft muzzle into my hand in greeting, while the others fussed around the morsels of meat that Roger had brought.
‘It won’t be long before they’re fully weaned and can leave their mother,’ Roger said as he pulled apart two scuffling puppies rolling about in a squabble over a tidbit.
‘That’ll be a relief to her, I’m sure,’ said I. I had felt the sharp teeth of the pups as they snapped at the treats we brought, and even now the red pup was gnawing at the tough leather toe of my riding boot.
The heavy wooden door of the kennels creaked open again and we straightened up to see who had entered. The place was usually quiet at this time, after the final feed of the day.
To our surprise, it was Duke Richard himself, in quiet conversation with Master Gygges. They had walked almost half the length of the building before they spied us there in the murk. Now, seeing us bowing low before them, they broke off their talk.
‘Well, boys,’ said the Duke as he came up to the pen. ‘How is my Florette today?’
‘Lusty and strong and at Your Grace’s service,’ said the huntsman before we could reply.
The Duke leaned on the side of the pen, his quick eyes watching the puppies fighting around our legs. Florette herself came up to him and he fondled her ears.
‘Ready for the chase, are you, girl? And how about you, boys?’
He raised his head to look at us, and Roger and I exchanged a glance. There was a sudden light in Roger’s eyes.
‘Your Grace?’
‘I am riding to Pontefract tomorrow for a few days’ business and I have a mind to raise a hunt on my
return. The monks of Jervaulx Abbey have complained to me that boars have been damaging their orchards and there is a chance of some fine sport. You are rather young to join us —’
‘But Your Grace!’ protested Roger, but the Duke silenced him with a wave of his hand.
‘You are rather young, but you may join us if you wish – if you promise to remain on your horses and away from the fray.’
‘Of course, Your Grace – we promise.’
‘And – and Edward will ride with us.’
‘Edward?’
‘Aye. You shall take care of him during the hunt.’
Roger hesitated. Without thinking, I answered for him.
‘Of course, Your Grace. You can trust us.’
The Duke regarded me levelly for a few moments. I returned his gaze.
‘Yes, I think I can.’ He straightened up again. ‘Master Gygges will give you your instructions while I am away as you have never hunted boar before. You must obey them to the letter. I will have no accidents that can be avoided.’
He nodded, patted Florette once more, slipped her a tidbit and was gone, the huntsman at his heels.
Roger turned to me, his eyes shining.
‘A boar hunt!’
The Duke’s words about accidents still sounded in my ears. I swallowed.
‘How dangerous are boars?’
Chapter 10
The Boar Hunt
By the time the Duke arrived home from his business, I had learnt just how dangerous boars could be. Master Gygges took great delight in filling us younger boys in on all the details. I began to regret my eagerness to be helpful.
Roger was far too happy at the chance to go on a hunt to notice my worries, even if we would only be watching. Alys, though, was more observant.
When the three of us met up after an early breakfast on the icy, sunlit morning of the hunt, she laid her hand on my arm. Her breath plumed in the wintry air as she said,
‘Keep with Ed and me, Matt. There’s no shame in protecting a girl and young lad as the Duke bid you.’
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