by Jean Stubbs
He looked Buckingham in the eyes, and saw that they understood each other.
‘Then thrice welcome, my lord bishop. And though your earthly lord, King Richard, has bidden you to cease to meddle in earthly matters, you may yet serve your heavenly lord. When you have rested and refreshed yourself you shall give us a good grace upon our meat!’
Morton was an abstemious man, but even he could not resist the multiple seductions of Buckingham’s cooks. Also his political nose smelled out a new drift in events, and added more relish to his food than a dozen spices. So he sat comfortably in his carved chair, next to his host; and blessed the boy that knelt before him with a silver basin of warm water, and dried his hands with some satisfaction on the spotless towel. Then settled to enjoy the long leisurely progress of a great dinner. The carver, sharp of knife and eye, remarked in private that the Bishop of Ely was a gracious gentleman, and applied himself to his craft diligently. And for two hours or more they worked their way through brawn and mustard, potage, beef and mutton and goose, vast crusty capon pies, venison and pheasant: and washed them down with cups of sweet wine.
‘A princely spread, my lord,’ said Morton mildly, as spoons, trenchers, crumbs and fragments were gathered in preparation for the second course.
Buckingham glanced at him quickly, but seeing only the humility of lowered eyelids, the folding of old hands, the bent white head, set the remark down to good manners. And smiled again.
‘Yet indeed, my lord,’ Morton continued idly, ‘when your lordship comes into full possession of his inheritance, men shall say in truth that no subject has been so great since Warwick fell.’
A darkening of Buckingham’s face told him what he had guessed: that Richard had no intention of giving so much power into another man’s hands. So Morton remarked on the beauty of the gold salt cellar, fashioned like a ship in sail, and sent the conversation in a different direction.
Fresh table linen was set. The little boy proffered his basin of warm water again. And they bent their appetites to cheese scraped with sugar, to custards, and fruits seethed in half a dozen ways and twice as many spices, and more sweet wine.
‘I shall attend you in your chamber myself, later, my lord,’ said Buckingham, as he indicated that the meal was at an end. ‘I would see that all is to your liking. And though the summer is with us I have ordered a fire to be lighted. The night air is often sharp in Brecon, and I would have you lie easy.’
‘This old head shall lie easier tonight, my lord, than for many nights past — due to your lordship’s gracious kindness,’ said Morton quietly. ‘For I may rather call your noble custody a liberal liberty more than a straight imprisonment.’
And once again they exchanged looks, and bowed.
Alone in his room, Morton felt the featherbed and pillows, and longed to creep between the sheets and sleep soundly. But he knew that the latter part of the evening must be dedicated to greater matters than slumber. He sat before the burning logs, and warmed his hands and feet thoughtfully at the flames, and waited.
‘Kings’ games!’ he said to himself softly. ‘Kings’ games!’
And because he was sixty-three winters old, and had spent the last four days mostly on horseback, he dozed a little, waking with a start as a chamber door crashed open in the distance. And he saw Hastings’ face as that other door was flung back, and Stanley falling under the table with blood about his ears, and the shouts of armed men crying treachery.
‘I am too old for such matters,’ he said wearily, but the sound of footsteps in the passage took the slump from his shoulders. ‘Kings’ games,’ he whispered, and held his hands meditatively to the fire.
Buckingham had changed into a loose gown of emerald velvet, trimmed with miniver; and was followed by a page, tongue caught between his teeth, bearing an array of chessmen on an ivory board.
‘Set it down, lad,’ said Buckingham easily.
He looked round the chamber with the eye of a host, and the page waited with bowed head for his commands. Buckingham felt the bed and pillows, as Morton had done earlier, pulled the brocade hangings to see that they ran smoothly, stared at the tapestries — though he must have seen them a hundred times — and selected a little branch of cherries from the dish at the side-table.
‘Bring us Rhennes wine, boy,’ he ordered, ‘and then leave us.’
‘My Lord,’ the page said inaudibly, and went swiftly out.
‘Perchance you are too weary for a game, my lord?’ Buckingham suggested out of courtesy.
‘Your lordship’s hospitality has taken my weariness from me,’ said Morton automatically. ‘And we shall all sleep long enough at the last!’
‘And sleep peacefully, meanwhile, since our gracious King Richard rules England, and all loathsome traitors are rooted out,’ said Buckingham seating himself, and he lifted the splendid monarch from the chess-board with a little smile. ‘For England shall take profit from his reign, or am I much mistaken!’ Then he replaced the piece as the page poured wine into two silver cups.
‘To the king’s good health and long life!’ Buckingham cried. ‘This heart and sword are his so long as he shall live!’
Morton waited until the boy had gone, and ventured to slip an embroidered cushion between himself and the chair. He was well awake now, watching Buckingham make the first move in both games.
‘Surely, my lord,’ Morton said slowly, bringing forth a humble pawn, ‘it were folly for me to lie. For if I swear to the contrary your lordship, I wean, could not believe me.’
Buckingham’s fingers closed round a mounted knight, and he hesitated.
‘If the world had gone as I would have wished,’ Morton continued, ‘King Henry’s son had had the crown, and not King Edward.’
He eyed Buckingham’s battle-line of pawns with interest.
‘But after God had ordered him to lose it, and King Edward to reign,’ he went on mildly, ‘I was never so foolish that I would strive for a dead man against the quick. So was I faithful chaplain to King Edward, and should have been glad if his son had succeeded him. But then,’ he added dryly, ‘it was discovered that neither King Edward nor his children were legitimate heirs. And I have heard that the Duchess Cecily much disliked the king’s imputations on her honour. It takes a cool man, my lord, to besmirch his mother while they reside under one roof, and this matter puzzled me sorely.’
Still Buckingham said nothing, seeming intent upon the one game.
‘Young saplings grow into great trees, betimes, my lord,’ Morton continued amiably. ‘Then may King Richard find helpless children become noble warriors, and acquiescent boys defend their honour with the sword!’
Buckingham sent his knight on dangerous errantry, and reached for a comfit.
‘Saplings may wither at the root, my lord bishop. The Prince Richard was but sickly when he joined his brother, and rumour says that Prince Edward suffers from a disease of the jaw that no physician can allay.’
It was Morton’s turn to pause.
‘Speak you of things past, or things to come, my lord?’
Buckingham said, ‘King Richard need fear no treachery from his brother’s bastards.’
A small sigh escaped Morton as he made his move. He played as he lived, cautiously, and risking nothing until the end was in sight.
‘Now do you set your pawns against me in a fork, my lord,’ and Buckingham interested, and surveyed the board shrewdly. ‘You were saying that you would not be so foolish as to strive for a dead prince against a quick one.’
‘If the secret judgement of God has otherwise provided,’ said Morton heavily, for the news of the princes was grievous, ‘I purpose not to spurn against a prick — nor labour to set up whom God pulls down,’ and he crossed himself. ‘As for the late Protector, our king ... but you draw me out, my lord. Your wits are too sharp for mine, and I fear this old tongue will prove my undoing!’
He looked up and smiled.
‘I have meddled too much with this world already, my lord. From this
day forth I shall meddle with my books and my beads, and no further. Your move, my lord.’
‘Be bold, good Morton!’ said Buckingham, grinning, as he saw a way through the bishop’s ranks. ‘Say your thoughts and fear not. I promise you shall come to no hurt — and perchance to more good things than you guess. For I purpose to use your faithful secret counsel, and that is the cause for which I procured your custody from the king.’
He glanced triumphantly at Morton, who affected to conceal surprise.
‘You should reckon yourself well at home here, my lord,’ said Buckingham, unable to hide his pleasure. ‘Else had you been in the hands of them with whom you would not have found like favour.’
Morton obligingly placed a pawn at risk, to allow Buckingham the full savour of his diplomacy, and spoke meekly.
‘I thank you, but in good faith, my lord, I do not love to talk of princes — it is a dangerous pursuit. I think always on Aesop’s tale. For when the lion had proclaimed that no horned beasts should abide in the wood, an ass — that had a bunch of flesh in his forehead — fled away at a great pace. Ah! I have put my pawn in peril, and your lordship shows no mercy!’
He set another one as bait, talking idly the while.
‘A fox, seeing the ass run so fast, asked him whither he made such haste. And the ass answered him that he feared the proclamation of the horned beasts. Then the fox called him fool, saying that he had no horn in his head but a bunch of flesh, and the lion meant not him.’
Buckingham decided that Morton had brought out the pawn on purpose, was unable to see why, but steadfastly ignored it and sent his queen out at the head of his troops. Morton permitted himself a sigh, and saw a smile touch Buckingham’s mouth as he interpreted it wrongly.
‘“Why,” said the ass, “I know that well enough. But what if the lion call it a horn? Where am I then?”’
Buckingham laughed, swaggered a knight into position, and cried, ‘Check!’ Then sat back and nibbled a piece of green ginger, and drank more wine. ‘My lord bishop, I warrant you, neither lion nor boar shall pick a quarrel with anything spoken here. For it shall never reach their ears!’
‘In faith, good sir,’ said Morton, adroitly protecting his king, ‘if it did it would turn me to little good — and to you, my lord, even less good!’
He sacrificed another pawn to Buckingham’s vanity, having prepared a trap for the queen.
‘Be bold, my lord,’ said Buckingham impatiently. ‘You have my word, as one of the blood royal, that aught you say shall be secret between us.’
Morton was now as relaxed as Buckingham had been. Both games were going his way.
‘Since King Richard is now in possession I do not propose to dispute his title. But for the weal of this great realm I wish that to those good abilities — of which he has many — he might have other virtues, such as Our Lord planted in the person of your grace.’
Buckingham flushed slightly, passed one hand over his mouth, and made no further pretence of chess. He began to pace up and down the chamber, thinking; while Morton prepared to follow him down whichever dark road he trod. At last the duke thrust back the curtains and drew counsel from the night.
‘My lord bishop, I shall open my mind to you freely. More wine, my lord?’
‘No, I thank your grace,’ said Morton, closing the lid of his silver cup. ‘My head is not so young and full of fire as your own, nor my stomach as hearty. The Plantagenets were ever good trenchermen,’ he added, bringing Buckingham into that mighty host as if by chance.
‘My lord bishop,’ Buckingham cried, ‘I have been most grievously wronged by the king. The lands of Humphrey de Bohun are mine by right since King Henry died, and King Richard promised them to me. He gave me a signed bill soon after his accession, and yet the letters patent have not been issued.’
‘And never shall be, your grace — I know princes! They mislike overmuch power in others, and you cannot quarrel with the king’s munificence. Why, what has he given you already? All royal lands in five western counties. The office of Chief Justice and Chamberlain of North and South Wales, and Constable of England — and a host of lesser offices, too numerous to count upon these fingers.’
But Buckingham was adrift, as Morton meant him to be, upon a royal tide.
‘I have some goodly claim, lord bishop, being descended in the female line from King Edward III himself. I am as well-born as he, and yet he spurns me.’
‘Tell me your grace, what said the king when you pressed him for your full inheritance?’
Buckingham repeated, sullenly, the words that had kept him company ever since.
‘“What now, Duke Henry? Will you draw unto you the might of Henry Bolingbroke, whereby he wickedly usurped the crown? And so make you open for yourself the way thereunto?”’
‘And had you thoughts of the crown, my lord?’
Buckingham laughed without humour, and said frankly, ‘Aye, for two days at Tewkesbury, on the royal progress. I had thought myself a dead man there, for since the coronation the king and I are not as close as formerly. In great turmoil of mind, I feigned myself sick that I might not ride with him on the day he was crowned. But he sent a message saying that if I did not ride I should be carried. And so I rose and rode, and turned my head away when he was crowned, and feigned to be sick again on the morrow. And he said that all was done in hatred and despite of him, and so I came to Brecon that I might not be murdered — as others have been.’
‘Truly, my lord,’ said Morton, placing the tips of his fingers together judiciously, ‘had I been King Richard I should have despatched you to heaven rather than Brecon. I wonder why he did not?’
‘He yet may. But still, my lord, I have three sons to follow me. I have a brother. He cannot murder every one.’
‘And so at Tewkesbury,’ Morton reminded him gently, ‘your mind reached for the crown?’
‘For but two days. While I rode between Worcester and Bridgnorth, in a muse, I encountered with the Lady Margaret, now wife to the Lord Stanley. She had been as clean out of my mind as though I had never seen her, and she stayed me to ask a pardon for her son that was Henry, Earl of Richmond.’
Morton wondered why the duke was wandering up to Worcester when his road to Brecon lay to the south-east, and set it down as a pretext.
‘She thought that now King Edward’s daughters were cut off from succession he might marry one of them. And said that her son should take the lady even though she had no dowry, if he could but come safe home before she died. And then it came to me, my lord, that she and her son were both the bulwark and the portcullis between me and the gate to the crown. For they have the nearer claim. The fire grows low and I am cold,’ he added hurriedly, and shouted for attendance. ‘I keep you late and you are weary, and not so young as myself,’ he said courteously. ‘Yet must I beg your ear a little longer.’
‘These ears shall not be stopped up, nor these eyes close, until your grace pleases,’ said Morton, and his voice was strong and clear. ‘I see your grace knows much of statesmanship, for he would not lay claim to the crown, when England would be as divided under him as under Richard. Now I commend your grace’s wisdom, and see you have looked further than myself. But I interrupt your grace, and beg you to continue.’
‘If such a one as Henry Tudor should marry Elizabeth of York,’ said Buckingham slowly, ‘then the two houses should be joined in one, and England prosper. But I know nothing of this man, and he has been abroad these many years.’
‘Now I must think awhile, for your grace has over-reached me with this scheme,’ said Morton, smiling. ‘I know the Lady Margaret, and from time to time I have heard of her son — and always to his good. The late King Henry marvelled at his grace and breeding, and said he showed great wisdom for his years. And I have heard that he is well-learned and fair-spoken, keeping his own counsel but thinking all the more. Aye, and he knows adversity,’ cried Morton, as though suddenly remembering, ‘for was he not in the siege of Harlech? Adversity, your grace, teaches us m
ore than twenty tutors. And while he is green to kingship you and I shall sow such seeds into that noble soil as shall grow into mighty trees, and you and I lie beneath their shade.’
‘Is he a warrior, think you?’
‘He must be, if he is to fight King Richard — for that is a very prince of warriors, like unto his father the Duke of York. Yet I have heard — it is strange how you quicken my thoughts, your grace, I remember much now you encourage me — I have heard that he will play his part, though he has little relish for war.’
Buckingham snorted.
‘But why do we puzzle ourselves over his martial prowess, with such a one as the Duke of Buckingham to fight for him? Aye, and his uncle, that was Pembroke.’
‘I do not want a king that hides behind me, and then comes forward to wrest the crown from my bloodied hand. I could do as much for myself!’
‘My lord, is it not better to get ourselves a grateful monarch, than have a haughty soldier with a proud stomach that will learn nothing from us? And he is affable and bold enough. Modest and upright, and devout. Youthful but grave. He has all the qualities of a king and but lacks the experience.’
‘You speak as though you knew him well,’ said Buckingham suspiciously.
‘I do but picture him as I have heard of him, and the more I think on it the more I marvel at your grace’s depth of thought and range of vision. Why, my lord, I think you mock me. For you brought me here only to wonder at your wisdom. I have given no counsel, only that of an old man that says yea and nay and knows himself to be out-matched.’
Buckingham warmed himself at the mended fire, and in this wealth of compliments.
‘But if Elizabeth of York is queen, her mother will be plotting treason against me,’ he said thoughtfully.
‘My lord, a lady of forty-six years that has known the burden and perils of politics, that has had two goodly husbands and borne twelve children, and suffered much sorrow, shall be glad to look to her soul’s health. You do most grievously misjudge the lady. I dare swear she will retire to some innocent pasture, within a twelve month of her daughter’s marriage, and leave all worldly matters well behind her.’
