The King's Dogge

by Nigel Green

  Quite what he made of my crippled figure leaning on the crutch, I do not know. But his growling stopped and his hackles went down. He sniffed me curiously and evidently decided that far from being a threat, I plainly needed his help. He licked the sweat and tears of frustration from my face and then moved protectively to my side.

  Thereafter, in the two years that I spent at the abbey, he never left my side. He escorted me on my painfully slow journeys of exploration around the abbey. We fell into following the same familiar route, starting at the guest houses and stumbling towards the granary. At the brew house Esau would stop to allow me to catch my breath, and then he would nudge me on towards the almonry. I fell frequently, but on each occasion Esau was always there. He would stand over me protectively while I scrabbled for my crutch and then moved over so that I could use his bulk to haul myself up again. And it was the constant presence of Esau that gave me the confidence to venture further and further each day.

  But the confines of the abbey were stifling and I welcomed my wife’s letters since they exposed me to events in the world outside. It was from Nan that I learned that having defeated her Uncles Warwick and Montague at Barnet, King Edward had gone on to defeat a second Lancastrian army at Tewkesbury. There was a rumour, it appeared, that the former King Henry had been put to death by the victorious Yorkists and that, with his death, the wars were finally over. I had received the news indifferently since the wars had ended for me with the deaths of my Lords of Warwick and Montague. On re-reading Nan’s letter though, I could not but note how formally it had been written. Why, it could have been sent to a stranger. Then I supposed that we were in effect strangers to one another. We might have been married for several years, but we had only met on three occasions and knew next to nothing of each other. With Esau panting at my side, I resolved to write to Nan to tell her of my life under her Uncles Warwick and Montague and ask her about her own family.

  A few months later, after the exchange of a few letters, I was more familiar with their lives in Yorkshire and described my routine in the abbey in return. Clearly my letters amused Nan, which I had hoped for. She was glad I had a companion in Esau, but urged me to ensure that he got at least some meat to supplement his fish diet.

  As our correspondence increased, so did our confidence. We talked of where we would eventually live in the North when I inherited my estates and of my desire to serve on the Scottish borders before settling down. It had been Nan’s Uncle Montague who had trained me in that particular branch of warfare, and I owed it to his memory to put his teachings to good use.

  Gradually news of the outside world infused Nan’s letters. She wrote indignantly of King Edward’s lack of sensitivity in appointing his younger brother, Richard, Duke of Gloucester, to rule the North. Nan understood that someone had to fill the political vacuum left by her Uncles Warwick and Montague’s deaths, but obviously no loyal man would accept Gloucester as their successor. I shared her opinion. No one could replace Warwick and Montague in the North and no one would swear loyalty to Gloucester. I realised that this refusal, in my own case, would rule out any chances of serving on the Scottish borders, but that did nothing to shake my own resolve.

  As the months passed, Nan’s comments about Gloucester became less hostile and at times almost placatory. She wrote fair-mindedly of what she had heard about him.

  ‘…from all that I have heard men account him to be a good soldier who fought well at Barnet and Tewksbury and people here are impressed by that because we need good soldiers to keep the Scots at bay.

  And then people say that Gloucester will be no absentee landlord but rather he will look to make his home among us in the North. My brother Richard told me that he has heard that Gloucester is exchanging his holdings in other parts of England for estates in the North and Richard believes that this sounds promising for us here.

  But on top of all that Francis, everyone can see that King Edward is backing his brother Gloucester. He is positively showering him with honours and it is said that the king wants to make his brother even greater than Uncle Warwick and Uncle Montague.

  Of course, dearest Francis, this will never be the case but while I am embarrassed to admit it, I do wonder whether I might not have been a trifle hasty in my initial reaction to Gloucester’s appointment…’

  Almost before I had time to consider this, yet more news arrived from Yorkshire. Gloucester had consolidated his position in the North still further by marrying Anne Neville, the younger daughter of the late Earl of Warwick. Nan was, of course, delighted with the news. She and her cousin, Anne Neville, had always been close and she was pleased that through the marriage Anne would regain her father’s old home at Middleham and her rightful place in the North. Of course, Nan admitted, the marriage was probably not a love match, but it was undeniably very advantageous to both Richard and Anne Neville. Clearly Nan was coming round to the idea of Richard of Gloucester ruling the North, but I was not. I had no antipathy to the man for I knew little of him. What I did know is that he could not replace my dead Lords Montague and Warwick.

  ‘One hundred!’

  I flung myself onto the bench in exhaustion and, ignoring the ache in my leg, looked triumphantly round the sunlit cloisters. Yesterday I had only managed fifty paces.

  The sounds of clapping came from the shadows on the far side of the rectangle. I glanced up curiously. A richly dressed man in a fur-lined cloak stepped out of the shadows. He looked strangely familiar. Richard Ratcliffe grinned at my amazement.

  ‘You have done well for yourself!’ I told Ratcliffe a while later. ‘As we’ve known each other since we were boys, I am not going to call you Sir Richard.’2

  I noticed that he was taller now with prematurely grey hair, but was still as boisterous as ever. He had demonstrated considerable acumen by attaching himself to Richard of Gloucester as soon as he had arrived in the North. He had been entrusted with a number of missions by the duke and the combination of his brains and energy had served him well.

  ‘The Duke of Gloucester has been good to me, Francis,’ he confessed. ‘He arranged my marriage to Lord Scrope’s daughter and presently I am to be made Constable of Barnard’s Castle.’

  ‘Well you once said that you needed a good lord and a better marriage,’ I laughed, ‘and you seem to have acquired both.’

  Against his tale of success, I had little to tell, but as shrewd as ever, Ratcliffe probed and prodded until he was totally familiar with my situation.

  ‘So you want to serve on the borders, but you won’t swear loyalty to Richard of Gloucester?’ he summarised. ‘A pity that; we could have used you in the West March.’3

  His mouth hardened.

  ‘We need to do something though; matters are going badly there.’

  I was intrigued.

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘The West March has been neglected and yet the threat of the Scots is still great there. Carlisle, our main bastion close to the border, has been allowed to decay and successive defeats have eroded morale. Most of the important people there were followers of the Earl of Warwick and have no time for Gloucester.’

  What an opportunity, I thought wistfully.

  ‘Richard of Gloucester is eager to have men forget their former loyalties,’ Ratcliffe continued casually. ‘The way we see it now is that the North will be much more secure and prosperous if people forget about Warwick and Montague and swear loyalty to Gloucester.’

  He gave me a sidelong glance.

  ‘So tell me old friend, how do you feel about that?’

  ‘I won’t swear loyalty to him.’

  Ratcliffe smacked the table impatiently.

  ‘Stop being so sanctimonious, Francis! Warwick and Montague are dead, whereas Gloucester – who incidentally was trained by Warwick – is very much alive in their place.’

  He rose to go.

  ‘Gloucester will send for you. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Why will he send for me?’

  Ratcliffe snor
ted impatiently.

  ‘I thought there was one thing you had not thought of.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Well, everyone knows the story of how you tried to save Warwick’s life when all his other followers had deserted him. Richard of Gloucester will believe that if you, of all people, transfer to his service and swear loyalty to him, then others will follow your example.’

  Ratcliffe flung back his cloak.

  ‘Make sure you give him the right answer when he calls you,’ he advised, ‘that is if you ever want to have a military career.’

  Ratcliffe’s prediction proved to be correct. Indeed, I had only been back in Yorkshire for a few months when Gloucester’s summons arrived.

  ‘I’m not entirely sure that you should refer to it as a summons,’ Nan said thoughtfully as we walked beside the river that evening.

  I bent down to lift her trailing blue dress. The path ahead looked slightly muddy.

  ‘Thank you, my love. But Francis, I would have said that the message from my cousin was more of an invitation. Anne Neville bids us to visit her and her husband Gloucester at Middleham. She writes that she and I have not seen each other for a long time and that she wishes to meet the man who tried to save her father.’

  Nan looked at me proudly.

  ‘Who also happens to be my husband.’

  I smiled down at her sweet, upturned face and thanked God for the love that we were beginning to share. I gently steered her back towards the ivy-walled castle of Ravensworth.

  ‘Come, Lovell.’

  Richard was small, so I moved slowly. He waved his attendants away and headed over the drawbridge at Middleham. It was not until we were on the moors that he spoke again.

  ‘You would be amazed at the number of the Earl of Warwick’s supporters without whose defection and assistance the king and I would not have won either Barnet or Tewkesbury.’

  This did little to endear me to him, and perhaps he sensed it for he stopped and looked up at me. He had a strong face with a heavy chin. He regarded me steadily. His clothes were, I noticed, rich but without ostentation and his voice quiet and firm.

  ‘Warwick’s supporters have flooded to me,’ he said.

  It was a statement of fact, not a boast.

  ‘All of them pledge loyalty and commitment to me and ask me to be a good lord to them.’ He smiled, almost boyishly. ‘This means that they want offices or annuities, yet apart from your friend Ratcliffe, I don’t know which of them to trust.’

  It seemed hardly tactful to point out that if the duke and his brother, the king, had not killed Warwick they would not be facing this situation, so I maintained my silence and we walked on slowly.

  ‘Warwick was like a father to me,’ he said eventually, ‘as I hear that he and Montague were to you. He taught me much of men and their ways and how they should be governed. He took me into his family; he planned for me to marry his daughter.’

  Richard glanced up at me.

  ‘He treated me even better than he and Montague treated you, Francis.’

  ‘And, like you,’ Richard continued, ‘I never knew my own father; I was young when he was killed, and my brother Edward was always too busy with other matters to bother much about me. He made me a royal duke, and yet I had few lands and less influence. Warwick, on the other hand, promised me estates amounting to ultimately half his own lands were I to marry his daughter.

  ‘I think that, to be honest, I was frightened of Edward,’ continued the duke. ‘He is truly awe-inspiring when he is angry. Clarence, my other brother, could stand up to him for a while, but in the end he always backed down. When the final split between Warwick and Edward became apparent, my initial impulse was to side with Warwick and defy the king. I, like Clarence, would have worked with him to overthrow the king.’

  ‘What stopped you?’ I asked fascinated.

  He smiled at me.

  ‘All of us have a duty to our lord, who in turn has obligations to support us and reward us for that loyalty. Without that loyalty, Christian society ceases to exist and men become mere brutes.’

  His chain of thought echoed mine, but I made no response.

  ‘The question I faced,’ Richard continued in that quiet voice of his, ‘was whether I should give my loyalty to the man who treated me as a son and who had promised me a great inheritance, or a distant brother who had largely ignored me and offered me little but who was the king.’

  He shrugged.

  ‘In the end, the choice was obvious. With Edward, the anointed king on the throne, there would be a far greater chance of peace and stability in England than with Warwick and his faction ruling the country.

  ‘So I gave my loyalty to Edward and walked away from Warwick, whom I had loved as a father, with infinite sadness, but it was with the certainty that I had made the right choice. I tried to persuade Clarence to follow me, but he would have none of it. I think that Edward recognised my loyalty. He has given me much of the North to rule. I have offices and estates here and will create a greater power here than Warwick and Montague ever had.’ He looked at me calmly. ‘The difference, however, will be that I shall hold this land loyally for the king, not against him.’

  He smiled ruefully.

  ‘But there is much to do. The Earl of Northumberland has to accept the subordinate position. Lawrence Booth in Durham had to learn his proper station. We need to strengthen ourselves against the Scots and trade needs to be developed. The fleet needs to be built up and Scarborough made a more secure harbour. Oh, the list is endless, but I believe we can achieve all of this and more given time and effort.’

  He paused for a minute.

  ‘And, of course, loyal men to help, Francis. Would you be such a one?’

  I hesitated.

  He laughed.

  ‘I saw you with Warwick at Barnet. In fact, it was I who pulled Clarence away from you. Warwick had to die, Francis, but it would have been better if he had died in battle, not as he did. But what was shameful was that at the end he had but one attendant – you.’

  I kept silent.

  ‘You were loyal to Montague and Warwick and I respect that, but they are dead now.’ He looked round at the rolling countryside, resplendent in its variety of colours. ‘I love this place, Francis. I was brought up here, and when I die I will be buried in York. Before I die I have a dream, which I wish to fulfil; I want to build the North up into a rich, prosperous land where men can live safely, move about without fear of harm and their families dwell in peace and security. A land where men can freely obtain justice and where there are great monasteries to care for the sick and well-run churches to prepare men to meet their maker.’

  He gestured for me to sit. After a while he looked at me.

  ‘To do all of this, Francis, I need men. If I asked for your loyalty, would you give it to me?’

  I stared back at him. From all that I had heard of Gloucester and what he had told me, I had no doubt that he would be an excellent ruler in the North. Despite my instinctive reluctance, I found myself liking him for his openness and directness. Additionally, he was correct – Warwick and Montague were dead and I had no other loyalties. To pledge loyalty to him would undoubtedly lead to an offer of a military role. In time, I came to a decision.

  ‘No, my lord.’

  His head snapped up.

  ‘No!’ he said in a surprised voice. ‘And why, may I ask, is that?’

  I hoped my ineloquence would not make me seem blunter that I wished to appear.

  ‘Because I do not know you, my lord,’ I said. ‘I was with the Earl of Warwick and Marquis Montague for four years and in that time their kindness and care made me want to give them my loyalty. It did not happen immediately but grew over time, and it was, I believe, reciprocal. At Barnet, Montague made sure that my life was spared.’

  Conscious of the fact that I was damning my future I blundered on.

  ‘If I agreed to give you my loyalty today, my lord, it would only be because I wished you to send me
to fight on the borders, and that would not be the honest way to agree to give you loyalty.’

  He looked at me silently for a while and I knew that I had probably offended him very deeply. I sighed. I had quickly come to respect Gloucester and felt the potential of growing to like him immensely.

  Then he smiled; his small, even teeth gleaming white in that strong face.

  ‘I did not say, Francis, but I probably admire honesty more than loyalty as a quality. I wish I had more such as you; it would make my task here easier.’

  He rose to his feet and we walked back slowly towards the squat castle of Middleham in the distance.

  ‘If you refuse me loyalty,’ he said after a while, ‘would you give me something else?’

  ‘Of course, my lord,’ I said.

  ‘Without even asking what it is?’

  His eyebrows rose. I stared down at him.

  ‘No, tell me what you want and I will give it.’

  ‘You won’t give me your loyalty, and yet you will give me something else. It could be the lands you stand to inherit or your wealth or something else you would not want to give up. Why is that then?’ he teased.

  I paused.

  ‘I suppose I respect you, my lord. I admired the way you fought at Barnet and, from what I hear, at Tewkesbury. I respect the loyalty you showed to your brother, and I admire your vision of how you will make the North peaceful and prosperous.’

  I paused, a little embarrassed.

  ‘I like the way you have spoken today,’ I added. ‘You had no cause to be so honest.’

  It was a pity that it had all been in vain, but I would give him what he wanted and depart.

  ‘So what is it that you want from me, my lord?’

  He smiled.

  ‘Your friendship, Francis?’

  It was the last thing I expected.

  ‘Why?’ I said without thinking.

  Gloucester laughed at my astonishment.

  ‘I have hundreds of followers and, until today, no one has ever said no to me. Men protest their loyalty and some may mean it but most do not. By saying what you have today, I know that I can trust you.’