by Anne O'Brien
‘Why do you not announce it to the whole castle and beyond?’ Edmund growled. ‘Then everyone will know of it!’
Accepting this criticism, I closed the door, leaning back against it. ‘So they will know more than I do!’ When Edmund’s eyes slid momentarily from mine, it confirmed all I suspected: ‘And if there is a conspiracy involving my family, of which I am indeed ignorant, why do I not know of it?’
Edmund chose to answer my initial question, depositing cloak, gloves and cap in a heap on a nicely carved coffer that had once belonged to our mother.
‘Yes, there is a conspiracy, as you put it,’ he admitted, now sure of our privacy. ‘The plan is to release the boys from Windsor and bring them here, under the protection of myself and Glyn Dwr. It is all arranged. Constance will oversee their escape and escort them west.’
‘To Ludlow?’
Would it not be the obvious place for Lancaster to seek them out in a fit of rage?
‘Or into Wales, if it is deemed safer. Constance will take them initially to her own lands near Cardiff.’
‘So you are the old friends she says she will meet up with.’ Before he could reply: ‘Why am I ignorant of this, Edmund? If it were not for Constance I would have known nothing of the venture until our nephews were at large. When was it decided to construct this plot without telling me?’
Edmund sank onto a settle beside the fire which I had had lit to warm the cold room.
‘Before God, that was a cold ride. Come and sit down rather than glowering at me.’ He grasped my wrist and pulled me beside him, touching my cheek with cold fingers. ‘You look as if you have grieved long and hard, sister.’ And when I pulled away, as if stung by a hornet, he sighed and said: ‘If you need to know, the Earl warned against involving you.’
I stiffened under his grip for he had not let me go. ‘The Earl? Since when have you been in contact with Northumberland? And he warned you against what?’
‘He said he no longer trusted your judgement.’
I thought about this, extricating myself so that I could turn to look at him. ‘There is nothing wrong with my judgement. Why would there be? And you believed him?’
‘He said you were out of your mind with sorrow over Harry’s death. We should go ahead without your knowledge.’
Was this so? Had I been so stricken that I had not been in my right mind? Yes, I had mourned to the exclusion of all else, but to hide this crucial development from me… I could not understand why.
But of course I could. Since Harry’s death the Earl and I had been at odds, much of it my own doing. Would I expect the Earl of Northumberland to forgive my striking him in openly expressed disgust? He would not willingly involve me in any of his dealings. He would not willingly involve a woman in his world where decisions were made by men.
‘The Earl does not approve of women being informed of his affairs,’ Edmund confirmed as if he were a mirror, reflecting my thoughts back at me.
‘No.’ I regarded my brother. ‘I struck him.’
Edmund’s brows climbed. ‘Which was either very brave or very foolish.’
‘It was very necessary. Or so it seemed at the time.’ Which brought my thoughts full circle to the other woman at the forefront of this scheming. ‘The Earl will not involve me, but he is eager to engage Constance Despenser, it seems. What is her interest in our affairs?’
Edmund shrugged, leaning his forearms on his thighs, turning his head to look up at me. ‘An opportunity to cause trouble for Lancaster,’ he said. ‘A chance to plot and connive, to take revenge for the death of Thomas Despenser after the rising. Nothing would please her more than to upset King Henry’s throne and tip him into the dust. Here we have a ready-made King to hand, to draw support. So she has become a Mortimer adherent.’
I did not think my brother naive, but did he see no more than that in Constance’s sudden allegiance to our cause? ‘I think her motives are far darker.’
‘How so?’
‘A chance to take revenge perhaps, but more to hold power at a future Mortimer court. Are her brothers involved? I would not wager against it, and there is no principle other than wayward ambition between them. Is Aumale pulling her strings?’
Edmund sat up, thus allowing me to see a depth of concern in his face that had gained marks of age, beside eye and nose, in the past two years. ‘I too am wary of them,’ he admitted. ‘But we need them. Constance has the opportunity to set all in motion. She can work for their escape without raising suspicions. Once they are free and we have removed Lancaster, then it will be a Mortimer ruler in England with Mortimer counsellors. Do you think I will bow to the dictates of Constance and her brothers?’
His urgency was infectious but I thought that he would be under considerable pressure if the plot came to any sort of fulfilment. I studied him. A man of some ability, of family pride, but I did not think that his ambitions matched those of the Yorkist offspring or of Glyn Dwr. It might well become a Mortimer rule with Yorkist counsellors. At fourteen years, the young Earl of March, lacking experience, would need advice and governance for a handful of years at least.
‘Will you give your weight behind it?’ Edmund was asking.
‘Why do you need me?’ I was surprised to feel a brush of hurt. ‘You were prepared to see it to the end without me. Why do you need my weight, as you put it, now?’
‘Because you are Plantagenet and Mortimer.’
‘So are you…’
‘And Percy. You have a wide influence, Elizabeth. Your connections are impressive.’
It was a salve of sorts, I supposed.
‘Will you join hands with me in this?’ He held out his hand palm up, for me to take if I wished. And I did.
‘Why would I not? We have always wanted this. But I fear for our nephews as pawns, used by Glyn Dwr. Used by Aumale.’
‘Better than pawns and prisoners of Lancaster. When Edmund is of an age to take power for himself, he need be a pawn of no man.’
‘Or woman.’ I could not imagine Constance readily stepping back from her role in this scheme of her own making.
‘Look, Elizabeth.’ He leaned forward again, his hands clenched on his knees. ‘We are no further forward in making young Edmund the king on our own resources. If the boys are free and in our hands, it will tip the balance and win men to our cause. We need this intervention if we are to see the fulfilment of the prophecy.’
‘Which prophecy?’
‘Merlin’s Prophecy. The Prophecy of the Six Kings.’
‘Oh, Edmund! Is this Glyn Dwr’s doing again?’
Of course it was. The Dragon from the North and the wolf from the west together with the lion from Ireland, all converging to overthrow the King who was the moldewarp, the common and ineffective mole. I had supposed that it had died a death when Harry had fallen at Shrewsbury; clearly it had not. So who was the conspiratorial Dragon from the North now? I remembered the coming and going of the couriers to Alnwick.
‘I see it all,’ I said, struggling for patience in the light of the conviction that now lit my brother’s face. ‘You have been in contact with Northumberland, as well as with Constance. Is that not so? Throughout the winter the Earl has been knee-deep in negotiations with you and Glyn Dwr when to the world at large he has been like an old hound, growing weaker in winter hibernation, refusing to communicate, refusing to obey Lancaster and the Council. I should have known that his isolation was a lie. Another diplomatic illness to cover his ambitions. And I did not see it happening.’
‘Never mind that. Do you not believe in such mystical signs?’
‘I believe that they can be made to magic any force, any future. For those of a mind to believe in magic.’
‘I was destined for greatness, Elizabeth. Here is my opportunity, to take control for young Edmund. To bring him the inheritance that is his.’
‘And be the power behind the throne. But only if Glyn Dwr and Northumberland allow it. Do you believe that they will? For I cannot. And how does Constance fit into this prophecy? Is
she the wily serpent, infiltrating with weasel words?’
‘Constance has no part in our negotiations. And how can Glyn Dwr and Northumberland not allow me my portion? I am the Lion out of Ireland. I am Mortimer. I cannot be pushed aside.’ But I saw the flush of colour in his cheeks. All was not as clear as might be. All grew more complex by the telling.
‘So explain to me this.’ I heard my tone harden. ‘What is it that you and the Welsh Wolf and Northumberland Dragon have agreed on? Have you already signed your life away?’
‘It’s still only a discussion, but we will sign.’ His eyes were bright as sun-washed agates. ‘We are talking of dividing England between us when Lancaster is removed.’
‘A division of England.’ It was as if a knife had been driven into the heart of all my hopes. ‘So if there is a division, what sort of a crown will come to young Edmund?’
‘I will sign in Edmund’s name.’
I knew immediately. There was no place here for the Earl of March. ‘And what will you sign your name to?’
‘Glyn Dwr will take the west and the Welsh March, Northumberland the north and I the south for my nephew.’
‘How much of the south will be left after those two have carved out their portion?’ I asked, making no attempt to mask my disenchantment with the whole ploy.
‘A substantial amount.’
‘Blessed Virgin! Young Edmund should be King of England, not some trifling amount left when the rest have gorged their fill. Nor have you the right to sign in his name.’
‘Who else would sign for him? You?’
A glint of anger had developed between us. Was my brother as ambitious as the rest? Did he seek to rule England in his own name, to pass the authority to his own children with Catherine? Or would he merely obey orders? Watching him, I thought him weak and as much a pawn as our Mortimer nephews.
‘You will never be accepted,’ I said, digging my fingers into his arm through his sleeve, trying for persuasion rather than anger. ‘You may be Mortimer but you are not the heir. Will you stand aside for your nephew?’
I did not think so. I suspected Edmund of working for his own ends, as much as the Earl and the Welsh Prince.
‘I will rule for him,’ I was assured. ‘I will restore him when he is of an age.’
‘He is much of an age now.’
‘Then my own rule will be a short one.’
‘But only of a third part of England. And you will have signed away the traditional Mortimer lands in the west to Glyn Dwr. You will have signed away young Edmund’s birthright for a mess of pottage.’
‘An extraordinarily valuable mess of pottage.’
It was a muddle of complexities, through which I could see no clear path, no outcome that would ever fulfil the hopes of which Harry and I had dreamed. But Edmund brushed it all aside.
‘I know you don’t like it. Nor do I, but I have no choice. You don’t see what has been happening while you have been shut away in Alnwick.’
‘So tell me now.’
‘Glyn Dwr is in negotiation with foreign powers. We have seen French and Breton ships off Caernarvon, to help our assaults on the castle and town. Glyn Dwr has signed a formal treaty of alliance with King Charles VI of France.’
Which changed the complexion of the whole rebellion against Lancaster, such that a chill ran along the tender skin beneath my cuffs. This was treason on a grand scale, inviting the intervention of a foreign power. My anxieties tripled in that one new development.
‘There is a proposition that the French will launch an attack against the south of England,’ Edmund explained, each word clipped as he admitted his own weakness, ‘while we attack from the west and the north. Do you think that I am powerful enough to stand against Glyn Dwr and Northumberland, coupled with France? I must accept what is possible, take what I can. And so I ask you. Will you give us your support? Will you give me your support?’
I did not like it. It was wrong, power falling into the wrong hands. Had Harry died for this? For England to be split into three, divided for all time? Would he have been won over by Northumberland holding the north in his own name, an inheritance for our son? The clarity of the Mortimer inheritance as I had seen it had been swept aside in a cat’s cradle of warring ambitions. French intervention on English soil was even more despicable, even if understandable. What would the French King demand in payment? How much influence would he expect in the future ruling of England?
‘You look sour, sister.’
Edmund was on his feet, looking down at me.
‘I like it not. What does France demand in return?’
All I received in reply was a shrug.
‘It will mean war and bloodshed. The battles could be never-ending. Young Edmund’s inheritance could be destroyed before he can grasp it.’
‘You have not been averse to war in the past. You are growing old, Elizabeth.’
‘Age has nothing to do with it. My own great loss has everything.’
‘Then let me try this. You have always been the strongest of us, dedicated to seizing the rights of young Edmund’s birth. With the aid of Aumale and Constance Despenser, Edmund will be free to manage his own future, whether it is to wear the crown of England or rule over a swathe of land in the south. Whatever the outcome, it will be a more formidable step than any we have achieved so far. Edmund can marry, get himself his own heirs to inherit after him. Better than living an unfulfilled life in Windsor behind lock and key every night. And if we have to curb the ambitions of some of our allies, then so we will. Will you give me your blessing, sister?’
So simply put. So clearly. The outcome so inevitable. There was really only one reply, as I had always known. I stood to face him.
‘Yes, I will. He is of my blood and my inheritance. It is his right, and my duty. I cannot refuse you.’
I saw relief wash over my brother’s fine-boned face, for a brief moment smoothing out the lines of tribulation. ‘It will be a good outcome, Elizabeth. And who is to know what the future will bring?’
Who indeed. Had not Constance written exactly the same in her plea for my help?
‘What do you want from me?’ I asked.
‘Stay here in Ludlow. We will deliver the boys to you when Constance manipulates their escape. Then we can put out an appeal to the whole of the marcher lords, to raise their banners in the Mortimer name.’
‘Will you tell them that they will come under Welsh rule if your agreement comes to pass?’
Edmund shook his head. ‘We will live from day to day. We can keep the boys safe until we have the force strong enough to remove Lancaster. Glyn Dwr from the west. Northumberland from the north. When Lancaster is removed, that will be the time to reveal the stratagem for the realm.’
I was not convinced, but it was indeed my duty to support my brother, even as I tried not to contemplate the virulent language that this scheme would draw from Alianore’s marcher husband. ‘If I take them in here, they will be out of Constance’s hands.’
‘Of course.’ The austere lines of his face softened again into a smile.
I joined my hand with Edmund’s, resigned to a policy I did not like but one which would offer hope for the future.
‘Then let us do it,’ I agreed. ‘Now, since that has cleared the crucial business from the air, tell me about your wife and daughters.’
‘I thought you would never ask…’
But, however self-indulgent it might be, my thoughts were not with my brother and his domestic arrangements; instead they wove around Edmund’s confidences as I nodded and murmured in agreement with him. I had no faith in the altruistic natures of Constance Despenser, or her Yorkist brothers. My nephews, in their hands, would be for them a means to a Yorkist end with the crown in their sights. And then there was the shocking revelation of Glyn Dwr’s seeking of alliances across the sea. French ambitions in England merely added another layer of uncertainty and fear of Gallic ambition. But surely Edmund had the truth of it, that we could not progress without
the support of either York or France.
‘Elizabeth!’
I blinked and made a suitable apology, turning the conversation to life at Harlech, which would distract Edmund for some time, until I became aware that he had lapsed into silence, as if waiting for me.
‘Your happiness gives me great pleasure,’ I said, snatching at something that might be apposite and disguise my ignorance. My thoughts had been far from Harlech.
‘I’m sure it does. But I doubt you heard more than two words that I said,’ he replied.
‘You have given me much food for thought,’ I tried again.
‘Good! Think wisely,’ as he kissed my cheek in farewell.
I watched him go, an anonymous traveller to any who might see and consider his rank, a man of little power or wealth. I prayed that he would travel safely, back to the welcoming arms of his Welsh wife, wondering when I would see him again. And in what circumstances.
I raised my hand, suddenly thinking to call out, to bring him back for just a little while. But I did not. I let my arm fall to my side and walked back into the hall.
Bull Field near Shrewsbury: Early February 1405
It was not a long journey, nor a difficult one except in my heart; a route I knew well, so I needed no guiding, although I took a fair escort, choosing to stay that night at Haughmond Priory, an Augustinian community established by the FitzAlan family who had had such close connections with my sister. This visit could not be made in the early dusk of February, shadows closing in on me. There were enough shadows in my life. I needed the strength that came with the bright light of morning.
‘My lord the King spent the night here before the great battle.’
The Abbot was considerate of my loss, despite the passage of so many months, as if I would not choose to request a bed in the same ominous surroundings. I regarded him gravely, the compassion a balm to my troubled soul.
‘I am aware of it, my lord. Will you open your doors to me and vouchsafe me hospitality, even though I am the widow of a traitor?’
‘You are a Mortimer, my lady. We revere Hotspur’s name in this house. He was brave in battle, bold in words, dedicated to his beliefs. You are right welcome.’
