by Anne O'Brien
My vexation returned, twofold. ‘I’ll not keep up a pretence of satisfaction, Harry, just to save your ears. I’ve spent the past hour with magnificent hypocrisy, trying to keep a balance between Philippa and Alianore. If I speak of my loyalty to my cousin Henry once more my tongue will sear under the weight of falsehood. I despise what we have done. I despise even more that we are caught like an adder in a cleft stick and can do nothing but accept Lancaster’s hands tight around our necks. You must have suspected this outcome all along.’
‘Yes, I did. Now stop talking and collect your belongings.’
‘Why?’
‘We’re leaving.’
I looked at him aghast. ‘What about the feast? Do we not celebrate? If there is to be tilting and swordplay, how can you resist? King Henry will be delighted to defeat you and all comers. Will you not allow him that further victory against the Percy name?’
‘I’ll resist the temptation.’ He sat next to me to pull off the extravagant shoes. ‘There are only so many times I can bow before him on one day. Look, Elizabeth, it’s done and we must accept it. For now at least. But I’ll not sit through a ceremonial banquet with my father standing throughout, lofting the Lancaster sword as a symbol of what we have just done. I do not wish to see Westmorland holding the royal rod of office. Nor will I exchange lances or sword blows on the tournament field with the King. Enough is enough. It all leaves a sour taste in my throat.’
‘What will King Henry say?’ I took one shoe from him, then the other, smoothing the leather between my palms while he pulled on his boots.
‘I’ll not tell him.’ My brows flew. I dropped the shoes. ‘I’ll send a message. I’ll make some excuse of insurrection in Richard’s name in the north that needs to be put down by the Warden himself. He’ll happily send me off with his blessing in absentia.’
I was already on my feet, opening coffers and removing the jewels I had been wearing.
‘What will your father say?’
Muffled in the folds of the plain wool under-tunic that he was pulling over his head, Harry’s words were clear enough. ‘He’ll cry foul but we’ll be gone.’
‘So you’ll not tell him either.’
Harry, emerging, grinned as I recalled him grinning when he was much younger.
‘Be honest with me,’ I said, helping him to pull on a thigh-length, more serviceable tunic, running my fingers through his hair to restore the semblance of order. ‘I feel a need for honesty on this day. We seem to have been surrounded by trickery and false promises for too long.’
‘There has been no trickery, Elizabeth. We are loyal subjects, we support Henry’s authority, we make the most of opportunities in the north or wherever he demands our participation, and we will ensure that he pays us for the loan of our armed retainers. It will all be to our advantage.’
‘But what about…’
‘I know.’ His fingers on my lips stopped the word ‘Mortimer’ before it could be uttered. ‘Perhaps one day. Not now, not yet. And there is no point in blaming me.’ He kissed me in passing, which went no way to soothing my heart, my sense of failure. ‘We will rule the north in Henry’s name.’
‘Percy deceit and double-dealing.’
‘No. Percy pragmatism. Can you accept that? I would rather we were not at odds for the whole of the journey back to Alnwick.’
‘Very well.’ But I had not quite forgiven him. Or the Earl. Still, I tried for a lighter note between us. ‘I know what it is,’ I said. ‘You can’t bring yourself to sit silent through Sir Thomas Dymoke’s challenge at the feast.’
Sir Thomas, King’s Champion and full of conceit, would challenge to a duel any man who questioned the King’s right to the throne. He would enjoy every minute of the ceremonial.
‘No, I cannot.’ Harry was grimacing. ‘He’s nothing but a pompous bagpipe, and I might be tempted to take him up on the offer. Now, are we ready to go?’
At last we had both set aside our finery. ‘What do we do with these?’ I asked.
Harry regarded them, symbols of Lancaster hegemony. ‘Fold them neatly, I suppose.’
‘You have never folded your garments neatly in your life…’
‘And we will return them with thanks. Until the next time.’
‘Harry…’
I waited until he turned to me. But then a rap on the door forestalled any further conversation, particularly as the door was opened without any invitation from within. The Earl stood on the threshold, casting an eye around the room as his presence filled it, equally garbed in red damask, three strips of gold braid on his right breast defining his rank. A crimson chaperon, decorated with a cloud of white fur, enhanced the impression of status and power.
His smile faded.
‘What in God’s name are you doing?’
‘Going home.’
‘Are you a fool, man?’
‘I’ve done all that is necessary. I’ve acclaimed. I’ve witnessed. I’ve taken an oath that is binding unto death. I do not have to eat and drink and joust.’
‘What’s ruffled your fur?’ He turned on me. ‘Is this your doing? The claim of the Mortimer child is not worth mentioning. Why give it time and space?’
Accusations proceeded to fly between them, needing no intervention from me.
‘You knew this was to be the outcome,’ Harry accused.
‘So did you if you will confess it.’
‘Yes, but I don’t have to like it.’
‘You’ll like the rewards well enough. Even your uncle of Worcester can come to terms with necessity.’
‘As I have done.’ Harry’s temper, kept in hand in dispute with me, now flamed as bright as his hair. ‘But I’ll not sit at his table and raise a cup of his best spiced wine to seal what is a chancy alliance at best. I think we have been used as magnificent puppets, my lord father, won over by oaths and fair words. And gold chains.’ He gestured to the sparkling gems on the Earl’s breast. ‘Are Percy jewels suddenly not good enough for you? Make sure King Henry pays you well for all our services. Without us he would never have been wearing that crown. Our prestige and our troops made all the difference. We were the first to support him with soldiery in any number capable of giving battle.’
‘Without doubt, nephew.’ The Earl of Worcester, similarly opulent in silk and fur and gold braid, had arrived in the wake of his brother. Shorter, less robust, but unmistakably Percy, he held himself with quiet confidence. ‘We have become kingmakers indeed.’ He smiled at me. ‘I was about to say that you look superb, Elizabeth, but there seem to have been some rapid changes since I saw you at the crowning.’
He embraced me.
‘A rapid change of plan,’ I said.
Meanwhile Harry’s stare remained severe. ‘Have you too come to terms with your conscience, Uncle?’
‘I have. It was necessary.’
‘And yet you were at Richard’s side in Ireland and when he landed.’
‘And now I am here.’
‘Well, Elizabeth and I will be in Alnwick by the time you have both finished roistering, and when you have returned Lancaster Sword to its owner, my Lord Constable.’
Worcester looked from Harry to me, as if he had known the tenor of the conversation before he arrived. Perhaps he had. ‘There’s no chance for young Mortimer, you know.’
Thomas Percy, Earl of Worcester. Younger than his brother, slighter in build, his features not so hawkish, Worcester had an air of gentle elegance about him and a gift of drawing advantages out of the most unfavourable of circumstances. Unwed, with no family of his own, he had dedicated his life to service to the King. He had a name for diplomacy and cool speaking that could smooth the clash of magnate ambitions. Erudite, educated, charming – I liked him. I could not quite understand how he had given his name to this change in circumstance, except that he had always been attorney to the Lancasters. Perhaps that had been the persuading element in his dramatic change of loyalty since no one would know better than he the crime committed when Richard had se
ized the Lancaster estates.
Harry, now in possession of cloak and gloves, replied to his uncle’s soft criticism. ‘No, there is no chance. But that does not mean that I have to like what has been done. We crowned the wrong man here today. The Earl of March has the right.’
‘Right has nothing to do with it.’ The Earl was already halfway through the door, taking his brother with him. ‘Then go. But as you ride north, you should contemplate the benefits to us of having King Henry’s gratitude showering down on us.’
‘What did he mean?’ I asked when the Percy feet had clattered down the stairs.
‘Nothing more than I have already said. There will be rewards. Our King will assuredly pay his dues. But we’ll not count our chickens before King Henry has hatched them.’
I thought he was being evasive. As we left London, looking back to the Tower, a memory alighted in my mind, and not a happy one.
‘Do you think Isabelle will ever see Richard again?’ I asked.
Harry growled. ‘As you would say, I’d be a fool to wager my Percy acres, or even the shoes on my feet, on it.’
I could think of no response, realising as we headed north that I had exchanged not one word with my cousin Henry on the occasion of his coronation. To me he was a breaker of sacred oaths. Taken of his own volition on the relics of St John of Bridlington, yet he had denied them at the first opportunity. To those around me I would be a loyal subject, acknowledging this new line of kings through Lancaster to his own sons. In my heart I was a traitor. Henry had broken his sacred vow. He had always wanted the throne. The vow had been a piece of carefully planned and performed mischief to win over those who might be uncertain.
‘Would you condemn him as an oath-breaker?’ I asked Harry as we rested briefly during our journey in the comfortable grandeur of Spofforth, the Yorkshire castle which was secure enough not to need dark crenellations and where Harry had spent some of his earliest years.
‘I’ll leave that to God on the day of Lancaster’s death.’ Harry lounged at his ease, apparently unaffected by our long journey conducted at his usual breakneck speed. ‘We brought him to the throne. Now we accept it and concentrate on events in the north, where we’ll ensure that Henry as King will not be to our disadvantage.’
Which encouraged me, in affronted silence that Harry had slid so effortlessly from Mortimer justice to Percy dominance, to retire to my chamber, unable to decide whether I should be guided by my head or my heart. And worst of all, I knew that Harry would enjoy wielding every inch of the authority that King Henry was about to cast into his lap.
My Mortimer dreams, I feared, were about to fade into insignificance within the scope of Percy plans for the future.
Chapter Six
Alnwick Castle: Early November 1399
King Henry’s chickens were hatched smartly enough. Before the first frosts of November, the two great Percy magnates, Northumberland and Worcester, arrived at Alnwick with what could only be described as an air of smug achievement. They were soon closeted with Harry in the Earl’s private chamber, dispatching servants for ale and food.
I considered listening at the door but decided that it was beneath my dignity either to eavesdrop or to demand admittance. I would discover all in due time.
So what had been our reward for helping Lancaster to his throne? I imagined it was generous, hearing the Earl’s bark of laughter, Worcester’s smooth rumble, the sharp query from Harry as I passed the still-closed door an hour later.
A further hour and the exchange of opinion continued, with more ale sent for, and I could wait no longer. Thus I arrived with the ale, waylaying the servant and taking the flagon from him. There they were, the three Percy lords deep in admiration of their ill-gotten gains and no doubt planning a raid along the Scottish border on the strength of their new powers, driving me to make, in a spirit of spiced malice, a suitably deferential obeisance in the presence of such overwhelming magnate supremacy. With the deftness of any serving wench, I refilled the cups, then laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder, remaining behind him when he placed his hand to cover mine. Whether in warning or acknowledgement I was unsure. Worcester predictably rose to his feet with words of welcome. The Earl, equally predictably, keeping his seat, granted me a brusque nod of his head.
‘So tell me the good news, my lords. Has our payment for services rendered been acceptable?’
King Henry’s more-than-smooth accession still rubbed against my skin.
I took in the evidence at a quick glance. There were documents in the coffer on the table between them, some spilling out where they had been read and abandoned. Royal seals were evident, the figure easily recognisable as the King seated between two lions. How generous had King Henry been? I thought of perusing them for myself but that would spoil the Percy liking for pride and self-promotion. Harry was smiling at me as he took my arm, bringing me closer into the Percy council so that I perched on the arm of his chair. He pushed his own cup of ale into my hand.
‘Come and drink to our achievements.’ He rescued one of the documents, unrolling it for me to see. ‘I am confirmed as Warden of the East March and Governor of the castles at both Berwick and Roxburgh. I have also the castle of Bamburgh to hold for life.’ As he allowed the document to re-roll, I could not mistake the glow of satisfaction. ‘My father holds the West March as we would expect, and the town of Carlisle. Between us we will dominate the north in the name of King and Percy. We could not ask for more.’
‘My congratulations.’ Raising the cup in a smart little salute, I drank, as I must; it would be churlish not to do so, for it was a substantial reward indeed, to put a seal on Percy ambitions. All that Richard had allowed us had been confirmed by Lancaster as King, and more. Between them the Earl and Harry held the military and civilian power in the north in their combined fists. As well as the Earl being Constable of England.
The Earl was not moved to be too complacent. ‘It is regretful about Ralph Neville.’
From which I presumed that King Henry had not been backward in recognising the debt he owed to his brother by marriage. I waited. When the Earl merely grunted his displeasure through a mouthful of ale, it was Worcester who explained it for me, settling easily into his habitual laconic manner.
‘Neville has been made Marshal of England and given the lordship of Richmond for life. We would rather he had not – Richmond is a strategic castle – but it is a drop in the ocean. He’ll be no threat to us.’
So Henry was placing Neville as a tame hawk in the centre of the Percy raptors. Even though the office of Earl Marshal was a prestigious one, at the head of the King’s forces, as my lord of Worcester admitted, it was no real threat to us. Yet it was a resourceful move on the King’s part to keep a watchful eye on which prey the Percys might consider gobbling up.
‘And you, my lord?’ I asked Worcester. ‘What is your reward? Your repudiation of Richard was formidable, and your work for Henry as his attorney must be recognised. Are you content?’
‘The King has been generous. With five hundred marks to line my coffers every year for life, I am made Steward of Henry’s household.’
‘As well as Admiral of England, Treasurer and Keeper of the Privy Seal,’ Harry added. ‘You won’t have a moment’s time to spend your five hundred marks. Our King will keep you hopping.’
‘True.’ Worcester’s acceptance was calm, but I could see the sleek gratification writ large as he proceeded to re-roll the documents, neat as any legal man. ‘Our King has ambitions too, to make his mark on the country. He looks to secure his borders against intransigent Scots, and the Welsh, thus to bring in a period of golden peace and fair government. If that does not strengthen his support throughout the country, nothing will.’ His light smile might have held a touch of cynicism. ‘I will do my best to smooth his path.’
‘A fine achievement,’ I agreed, as indeed it was. All was much as I had expected, and I could not deny the Percy triumph. ‘Where is Richard in all this?’ I asked. ‘Will he be allowed to r
etire and live privately?’
Idly, picking up one of the rolls that had escaped Worcester’s attention, unfurling it, I read it in a cursory fashion, taking Harry’s seat when he rose to refill the cups, discovering a new one for himself. From the date it was one of the documents of intent, issued by Henry as King shortly after his coronation, with his signature and seal.
I allowed my eye to travel down the clerkly script.
‘King Henry intended to transfer Richard from the Tower to his own fortress at Pontefract Castle,’ Worcester was explaining from his position as head of the royal household. ‘I expect he’s there by now.’ He caught my glance. ‘He is in no danger. He’ll be well looked after.’
But I was no longer listening. It was not Richard that concerned me, for my eye had caught on a date, a date that surprised me. I spread the roll more firmly, flattening it with both hands, and read again.
‘Is this correct?’ I asked, my mind racing.
‘Yes.’ The Earl answered since it was pertinent to his promotions. ‘It confirms my supremacy in the West March and at Carlisle.’ His mouth twisted. ‘In case there is any who will question it. It is stated clear enough.’
‘Yes. It does confirm it. It is very clear. It is the date that gives me food for some uncomfortable thought.’
‘There’s naught to concern you. The last day of October. A week ago.’
‘As I see.’ I looked up at the authoritative visage. ‘But this is confirmation of an earlier agreement.’ I looked at Harry. ‘Did you know about this?’
‘What is there to know?’
Harry shrugged his ignorance. Worcester was unimpressed; Northumberland blandly dismissive as he held out his hand for the document. It was a direction to parliament much to the Earl’s benefit, and the date to me was most pertinent. Retaining it, I read aloud:
Henry by the Grace of God, King of England and of France.
Since our very dear and faithful cousin Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland, by force of our commission made unto him under our seal of the Duchy of Lancaster has had the custody of our castle and town of Carlisle and of the West March from the second day of August last past, we order you that to our same cousin you should cause to be paid from our treasure for the duration of the said time…
