Queen of the North

by Anne O'Brien

  ‘What’s happened?’ He was suddenly on the alert, as if a herald’s trumpet had blown to summon him to arms. The flush faded from his cheeks, leaving his face lean and intent as at last he sensed my anxieties.

  ‘There’s been a battle in the west. At Bryn Glas, north-west of Wigmore.’

  His brow furrowed in thought. ‘I know of it. Not a place I would choose for battle. All hills and valleys, the perfect place for an ambush.’ His attention was now fully on me, gripping my hands, sensing the horror that had built within me for some days. ‘What happened at Bryn Glas?’

  ‘It’s Edmund. And it’s not good news. On the King’s request, my brother called out his own retainers and the men of Herefordshire to push back Glyn Dwr. They met at Bryn Glas, where Rhys Gethin, one of Glyn Dwr’s captains, had positioned his archers on the top of the hill when Edmund was marching up the Lugg valley. Edmund was beaten. It was a desperate outcome.’ I moistened my dry lips. It seemed that I had lived with this for a lifetime. ‘It is said that the Welsh women defiled the bodies of the Englishmen killed.’ Distress was beginning to take over as I recollected all I knew.

  ‘I can imagine. But what in God’s name was he doing to get himself beaten?’

  ‘I was told that Edmund decided to take them on by launching an attack up the hill, to displace them.’ Even I could see the disadvantage in that. I swallowed hard. ‘I was told that perhaps close to one thousand men were killed by Welsh arrows. I know not the truth of that, but it was a notable victory for Glyn Dwr.’

  ‘God in heaven! Did Mortimer know no better?’ Then: ‘Elizabeth.’ Harry was surprisingly gentle, as if the thought had suddenly sprung into his mind, as he remembered the recent loss of my sister. He was now stroking a hand down the length of my arm, as if I were a mare that needed soft treatment. ‘What of Edmund? Is he dead?’

  This was not gentle. I had lost my sister; now it was uncertain whether Edmund still lived. ‘Not that we know, but nothing is certain. He was taken prisoner, we think. The messenger did not know where. Probably into one of Glyn Dwr’s refuges in the mountains of Snowdonia.’

  That was the worst of it. I had no knowledge of where he was, whether living or dead.

  ‘Well.’ Letting me go free, Harry drew his hands down his cheeks, considering the possibilities as I knew he would. ‘We’ll know soon enough. If Edmund is alive, Glyn Dwr will send out word for a ransom. All we have to hope is that he survived the attentions of the Welsh harpies and kept his genitals in one piece.’

  ‘So I pray.’ I was grasping Harry’s sleeve, feeling the surge of energy there, encouraged by it even though it had not changed the outcome of the disaster. ‘Rescue, so the messenger intimated, is impossible, by some minor force of arms. Glyn Dwr’s base in the mountains is remote and well defended. It is not to be possible, unless the King will consider a full-scale invasion.’

  Harry grimaced. ‘Does the King know?’

  ‘He was told.’

  ‘But we don’t yet know what he is doing. He can’t ignore it. King Henry needs Mortimer in the March. The young Prince has much promise, but he needs good men under his command. Although what Edmund was thinking…’

  ‘What do we do now?’ I gave him no opportunity to continue his damning of Edmund’s tactics.

  ‘If he is a prisoner, and we presume he is or his body would have been returned to Ludlow, Glyn Dwr will be more than keen to ransom him. He needs the gold. That’s what I would do.’ He pressed his lips to my brow in a preoccupied salute. ‘All is not lost. What we have to do now is persuade the King to raise the ransom. It’s cheaper than an invasion in the long run. I don’t see why he can’t be persuaded.’

  ‘Do we ride south?’

  ‘We do indeed. I should have known there would be no rest. The Earl and Dunbar can keep the northern March in check while we’ll have conversation with King Henry. By God, he owes me.’

  ‘What does he owe you?’ I did not know what he meant, but it was not a priority. ‘I will come with you,’ I said.

  ‘Of course you will. I never thought otherwise.’

  The Earl was less than enthusiastic. ‘Why waste time and energy over a lost cause?’

  ‘Why should it be lost?’ I challenged. ‘Do I leave my brother at the mercy of the Welsh?’

  ‘You’ll do as you wish,’ he replied, compassion as lacking as enthusiasm. ‘But if you manage to wring any ransom money from our King it will be a miracle worthy of St John of Bridlington himself.’

  King Henry had been busy. We met up with him and the Earl of Worcester, together with an impressive force at Lichfield. The King was looking harassed but determined, falling immediately into details of the massed attack that he intended against the intransigent Welsh. A cold fury inhabited him, his words, his brisk actions, as we met outside his tent. His planning was meticulous, as with everything he undertook. His forthcoming marriage to a Princess of Navarre had been put aside until better days.

  ‘I’ve a mind to crush this insurrection before winter sets in,’ Harry announced when we had barely dismounted, reminding me of his vision in the days at Doncaster. ‘I have one force gathering at Hereford under Arundel and Warwick. I’ll lead a second myself from Shrewsbury, while my son Hal will lead a third from Chester. I’m weary of these constant incursions. We’ll go in with a three-pronged attack and lure Glyn Dwr from his bolt hole.’ His jaw was tight with passion. ‘Once I have him in my hands, he will not see freedom again. So I swear by the Holy Trinity.’

  Harry, after acknowledging his uncle, was content to ask questions and give advice. There would be no role for him in this campaign. My cousin seemed to have no thought of why we were here in Lichfield, rather than keeping the Scots at bay in the north.

  ‘Henry,’ I said at last, when a brief pause developed in the planning. ‘We are here to talk about my brother Edmund Mortimer.’

  For a moment a line appeared between the King’s brows, then it was gone. ‘Forgive me. I should have commiserated. You will understand my preoccupation with Glyn Dwr’s predations.’

  ‘I do understand. But mine is my brother’s future. His life, if that is under threat.’

  King Henry’s reply was immediate and far from conciliatory. ‘A pity Sir Edmund’s men proved fickle when under fire from the Welsh archers. If they had shown more backbone I would not be faced with this added complication. I hear that the troops Mortimer had raised from Maelienydd betrayed him in the thick of battle, going over to the Welsh.’

  Startled by this unexpected attack on a loyal soldier, I pursued my objective. ‘Whether they were fickle or overcome by a stronger force is beside the point. My brother is now a prisoner in their hands.’ So much we had learned. Edmund was alive and imprisoned, and Glyn Dwr was offering his life for a substantial payment.

  ‘Edmund Mortimer hadn’t the sense but to attack uphill, without cover, under a barrage of archer fire. He deserves to be a prisoner for his foolhardiness,’ the King retaliated with a soldierly absence of compassion.

  Harry silenced me with a glance, even though he had expressed the same disgust at Edmund’s lack of tactics. ‘What do you plan to do, my lord?’

  ‘Rescue him if we come across him.’

  ‘You will offer a ransom, of course, for my wife’s brother. Glyn Dwr will be willing to negotiate.’

  The King’s response took me aback in its complete rejection of any such plan. ‘By God, I will not. The money I have to hand will be spent on this expedition, and on your defence of the north. You’ll get what’s owed to you. But I’ll not let it run through my fingers by ransoming Mortimer.’

  I sensed Harry stifling an equally curt reply; although he seemed to move easily from one foot to another, his response was less than agreeable. ‘We have seen little of this coin so beneficently offered so far, my lord. You are full of promises but there is nothing to show for it. When you gave me authority in Wales, I promoted the siege of Conwy Castle, with your son, at my own expense. It cost me all of two hundred pou
nds, and I have yet to see any recompense. Surely there is enough money in royal coffers to redeem the life of a marcher lord of repute.’

  A taut silence hung in the air between them.

  ‘It is difficult, Sir Henry. Sufficient money is not easily come by—’ Worcester, solidly formal, attempting a benign influence over all. And failing when the King interrupted.

  ‘You will be paid eventually, Percy. Even though I did not care for the manner of the outcome at Conwy.’

  Harry’s expression had darkened at this overt criticism. ‘Because I negotiated a conciliatory agreement to end the siege?’

  ‘Because you allowed the Tudor brothers, traitors both and cousins of Glyn Dwr, to escape from Conwy with their lives.’

  ‘In exchange for nine of their accomplices who were put to death. It ended the siege cheaply and effectively. If you had thought to put a trustworthy garrison into Conwy, it would never have been captured by the Welsh, which brings us to the inescapable conclusion that there would never have been the need for a siege in the first place. The Tudors took it while the English garrison was at prayer.’ Harry’s temper was rising to a dangerous level, his choice of words unfortunate. ‘God’s Blood, man! Complacency in a garrison is hard to forgive. And now, my lord, you are uncommonly free with your blame. Would you have been happier if I had left Conwy in Welsh hands?’

  ‘It would never have ended in negotiation if I had been in command.’

  ‘Well, you were not, my lord. And it did. Effectively, I would say.’

  This was disintegrating into a morass of disrespectful accusation and counter-accusation on both sides. I might know nothing of the events at Conwy but it had left bad blood between Harry and the King. The possibility of persuading my cousin to rescue my brother was fast disappearing in a cloud of ill will.

  Harry was not finished. ‘And what’s more, my lord—’

  I interrupted.

  ‘Are you then saying, Henry, that you will leave my brother’s fate in the hostile hands of Glyn Dwr?’

  ‘If I have to.’

  ‘So you care nothing for your marcher lords and my peace of mind.’

  ‘You know enough about border politics, cousin.’ His ire was turned on me. ‘He’s in no danger. Edmund Mortimer is too valuable for Glyn Dwr to kill. Why worry? He can wait on my pleasure, when I have the money to spend on him.’

  I thought as things stood that would never be. ‘But he’s not valuable at all if you won’t pay the ransom.’

  ‘I won’t pay because I can’t. As soon as I have Glyn Dwr in my hands, then all will be resolved.’

  ‘If you are ever fortunate enough to discover Glyn Dwr’s stronghold.’ My own temper was alight, leading me to some equally ill-advised comment. ‘I would not wager my rings on it.’ I had not thought that the King would be so intransigent.

  ‘Perhaps you should sell the rings, which I anticipate being of some value if they are Percy heirlooms, to raise Mortimer’s ransom. Or perhaps you would be even better advised to get your husband to talk to Glyn Dwr. He has a closer relationship with him than I have claim to.’

  It was bitterly said, a sour twist to my cousin’s mouth.

  ‘My lord…’ Worcester placed a warning hand on the King’s arm but was shaken off, while I looked at Harry, expecting him to deny it. He did not.

  ‘Sometimes it is better to talk to the enemy rather than threaten him with a mailed fist.’ Harry’s jaw had clenched again.

  ‘If you had taken him prisoner rather than indulging in some cosy exchange of views to your joint advantage, it would have saved me a deal of trouble. All I got out of it was a wagon of worn armour and a parcel of Glyn Dwr’s Welsh servants. What good is that to me? And now you wish me to spend money to remedy Mortimer’s mistakes. I’ll not have gold pouring into Glyn Dwr’s coffers, to be pouring out again for that Welsh magician’s vicious pleasure in slaughtering my subjects. Mortimer can remain where he is until Glyn Dwr is beaten. That is the end of the matter.’ But it was not the end. Eyes cold with fury, Henry added: ‘If you saw fit to treat with Glyn Dwr, I would see it as treason.’

  Harry’s response came swift and sure. ‘Do you accuse me of treachery, my lord? If so, say it plain.’

  There was a hiatus of held breath.

  ‘Are you with me or against me, Percy?’ the King demanded.

  ‘Do I have any choice, my lord?’ was snapped back.

  ‘None. Since I have an army at hand in full military array, and you only an escort, formidable as it might be. But I have to be sure that you will remain loyal when you have returned to your northern lands, out of my sight and hearing, when it would take you no time at all to raise your banner against me.’

  ‘My lord. I beg that you would consider…’ Worcester’s calm was vanishing like mist in the morning sun, while I was horrified at this sudden disintegration into hot rancour.

  ‘Do you doubt my loyalty?’ Harry took a step forward that could have been called threatening. ‘After all I have done to promote your power and your hold on this land that was not yours until three years ago.’

  ‘No one doubts your loyalty, Sir Henry.’ Worcester still attempting to smooth out the unsmoothable, but at least it seemed to bring the King back to the need for conciliation.

  ‘Forgive me. I doubt everyone’s loyalty. It seems to me that I am under attack from all sides,’ he said, more equably now, breathing hard. ‘Loyalty is in the quality of the support I get, not in empty words. I made you my Lieutenant in North Wales, giving you control of a handful of my castles. Does that have the stench of mistrust about it? Would I make a man I did not value my representative in so perilous a province? I would not.’

  ‘Yet you paid me nothing to cover all my expenses accrued in your name. How should I feel valued?’

  ‘I gave you my son, into your care. How would I give a man I did not trust the guardianship of my precious heir?’

  ‘Yet you use the word treason easily enough.’

  ‘And I will again, if given due cause.’

  I could not believe how quickly we had become submerged in belligerence. It seemed far too extreme, for Lancaster to threaten, for Harry to issue a challenge that my cousin would not be where he was without Percy backing. For Worcester to see the need to stand between them. The King still glared his displeasure. I glanced at Harry who looked equally recalcitrant as he made his parting shot.

  ‘Then there is nothing more to say, my lord. You do not value your friends highly. I’ll take my empty words and go home.’

  ‘I value Percy friendship very highly.’ I watched as the King again grappled with his ill humour. ‘Will you add your forces to mine? To drive into the centre of Wales? That would be proof indeed.’

  Harry’s lowering brow was pure Percy magnate. The Earl could not have done better. ‘Not if you want me to hold the north as well, my lord. Our victory at Nesbit Moor will not go unpunished by the Scots. I’ll spend the money I have on the defence of the north and my own lands. We will await news of your success in Wales.’

  Before we turned to go, for clearly Harry was not intending to linger to exchange pleasantries: ‘Where are my nephews?’ I asked.

  Their safety had become even more paramount to me if Edmund might not survive.

  ‘Safely tucked away behind the walls of Berkhamsted. With my younger children. They are safe there.’

  ‘Safe from whom?’

  The King marched away. Worcester raised his hands in some quality of desperation and followed him. But not before imparting some unsettling information.

  ‘You should know, Harry – the King has confiscated all Sir Edmund’s plate and jewels, if you were hoping to realise some ransom money from them. He is very thorough over all matters of finance.’

  ‘Which is as close to a death sentence for my brother as a rook to a raven,’ I said.

  ‘It is,’ Harry agreed, ‘if the Welsh Prince is of a mind to test the thickness of your brother’s neck.’

  ‘So what was
all that about?’ I asked as we rode north, our failure a constant irritant like pollen on the wind. I was remembering the dangerous spark of fire between Lancaster and Percy.

  ‘Nothing worth talking of.’ Harry’s face was grim, as it had been since we left Lichfield.

  ‘The King all but accused you of treason.’

  ‘He did. And he was wrong. I met with Glyn Dwr, that’s all.’

  ‘So what was it, that wasn’t treason?’ I would not let him slide out of this.

  ‘I tried to open a negotiation with Glyn Dwr, to bring him back to the King’s allegiance. He was not unwilling, but Henry was not of a mind to grant a royal pardon or even a lull in the fighting. Or his Council refused – it came to the same thing. It was considered neither honourable nor benefitting the King’s majesty, to treat with so great a malefactor. The Council would rather have Glyn Dwr dead. So my attempt at conciliation was thrown on the midden and the taint of treason was attached to my name for suggesting a meeting of minds in the first place. That’s all I have to say on the matter.’

  What more was there to say about the failure of our venture? All was as clear as light through a crystal: the young Earl of March still locked away, however comfortable his sojourn, with Henry’s children. Edmund a prisoner somewhere in the Welsh mountains without hope of ransom. I could see Lancaster’s scheming as easily as if he had written it down for us, although I disliked what I was reading. He had no intention of ransoming Edmund. I doubted that he would ever make much of an effort to rescue him. My heart was sinking lower by the mile, until eventually as the towers of Alnwick came into view Harry turned our conversation once more back to the political.

  ‘You see what the King’s doing, don’t you?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. I see it.’

  ‘It’s in King Henry’s interests to hope that Edmund never emerges from Wales with his skin intact. Or his head attached to his body. Henry will be toasting Glyn Dwr and a job well done if Edmund conveniently disappears. Our King has decided that on this occasion a dead Mortimer is of more value than a living one.’