The King's Dogge

by Nigel Green

  ‘My men are exhausted,’ Northumberland said sulkily. We should remain here and let Tudor come to us.’

  ‘What do you think Tudor’s tactics will be, Francis?’ Ratcliffe tactfully intervened.

  ‘Assuming we remain here, Tudor will attack either our left or right flanks.’

  ‘He’d come straight at our centre!’ bellowed Norfolk. ‘I dare say you do things differently in Scotland, Lovell, but…’

  ‘He can’t cross that marsh!’ I snapped irritably. ‘Have you inspected it? A man could cross if he was careful, but for an advancing army it’s a natural obstacle. Horses and men-at-arms would be fatally slowed, while we showered them with arrows.’

  ‘But there’s an old road which runs through the marsh!’ someone objected.

  ‘You could cross there if you were marching in column,’ I responded, ‘but not if your army was extended in full battle array. Tudor will either head north or south when he comes to the marsh and work his way round it to fall on us.’

  ‘If he takes the southern route then Lord Stanley will deal with him,’ Richard observed.

  ‘Assuming he’s loyal!’ Norfolk boomed. ‘He might just join forces with him.’

  The noise inside the tent intensified as speculation regarding Lord Stanley’s true intentions was hotly debated. I turned to Richard, who stood beside me with a look of anger on my face.

  ‘Enough!’ he snapped and the noise was instantly subdued. ‘It is time to end this issue once and for all. Send a messenger to Lord Stanley and tell him that we require his oath of loyalty or his son will perish!’

  There was a thoughtful pause. Clearly such a message as this would need to be carried by someone of authority. Equally, in view of the content, the risk to the bearer was considerable; he himself might be held as a hostage or suffer a worse fate.

  Ratcliffe stepped forward tentatively.

  ‘I’ll go,’ he said gruffly to conceal his nervousness.

  The king quickly nodded, but, before he could speak, William Catesby stood up and turned to Ratcliffe. There was no trace of scorn or mockery as he faced his rival.

  ‘Your courage has never been in doubt, Richard,’ he remarked quietly. ‘Indeed, I have long admired it, but might I suggest that I take the message? You have many strengths, but it is possible that my own – which lie more in the field of diplomacy than martial abilities – might be more suitable on this occasion?’

  Catesby had few friends, but his bravery and praise of his rival drew approving glances from those in the tent. Undoubtedly, his mental ability and persuasive tongue made him the most suitable person to act as messenger.

  ‘Leave immediately!’ the king commanded. ‘Now Francis, how do you see the battle tomorrow?’

  ‘If Catesby succeeds in his mission, Your Grace, I would suggest that Lord Stanley remains in his present position and acts as our left wing. You, my Lord of Norfolk, will take the right wing.’

  ‘And my men?’ Northumberland broke in.

  ‘The centre, my Lord. Now, I suggest that we maintain the high ground tonight, but in the morning move all our troops down to the plain – except for the king’s own men, who we’ll use as a reserve.’

  Richard frowned.

  ‘But why will we not take advantage of our defensive position here? All the cannon are in place and Tudor would be forced to fight uphill.’

  ‘Because we have superior numbers, Your Grace. The space here is too confined for us to deploy our greater numbers to the best advantage. On the plain, we can spread our men to surround Tudor whether he attacks from the north or the south.’

  All men know themselves to be great generals, so it was not unexpected that the debate on the next day’s tactics went on for a considerable time. In the end, though, I had my way.

  Richard gestured for me to remain behind when the others departed. Devoid of men, I noticed how opulent his tent was with its tapestries, carved stools and golden cups set on a large table.

  ‘I want you to stand beside me tomorrow, Francis,’ he said quietly. ‘Norfolk, Northumberland and Stanley will only take orders from me, but I would welcome your advice.’

  ‘Of course, Richard.’

  He smiled gratefully, but, before he could speak further, the tent’s flaps were flung open and Catesby stepped in. One look at his smiling face was sufficient to tell us that he had been successful.

  ‘Lord Stanley’s sworn his loyalty!’ he announced happily. ‘He’ll fight for his king tomorrow.’

  ‘Was it difficult?’ I asked.

  Catesby’s green eyes gleamed and he bore himself proudly; he knew that he had accomplished something that must have taxed even his own considerable abilities.

  He grinned at me.

  ‘Let’s just say, Francis, that after some time the loyal Lord Stanley was made to see where his best interests lay.’

  I smiled back. With Stanley on our side, we outnumbered Tudor by almost three to one.

  Dawn’s glimmer was only just visible as I raged through the camp, ignoring the chaotic scenes that surrounded me. Dear God, our sentries must have been drunk or asleep to have allowed Tudor to get this close.

  I pushed my way through the crowd in front of the royal tent, shouldering aside clerics, servants and sentries indiscriminately and burst into Richard’s quarters.

  ‘Tudor’s caught us by surprise!’ I shouted as I waved his priest away impatiently.

  ‘I have not yet taken communion!’ he protested in shock.

  ‘There’s no time for that now!’ I told him as I chivvied the priest toward the tent’s flaps. ‘We need to move quickly. We must get Norfolk’s men down the hillside. You must send word to Northumberland to advance his men.’

  ‘The men will not have eaten.’

  ‘They can eat later!’ I told him desperately. ‘The important thing is to advance our troops.’

  Ratcliffe hurried in.

  ‘Tudor’s turning back. He’s now heading to the northern end of the marsh.’

  A feint by Tudor – pretend to advance on Stanley’s troops and then turn north instead. Clever, but wholly unnecessary, for we had not even got our troops down to the plain, let alone arrayed them to face south. Tudor would have done better to have come straight at us. I turned to Richard frantically.

  ‘Give the orders now while I make sure that your household knights get their retinues ready.’

  ‘I’ll help, Francis,’ said Ratcliffe. ‘We can use Harrington and Marmaduke Constable to assist us.’

  ‘Right.’ I glanced at Richard. ‘I’ll send your squires and clerks to you now. You can dictate your orders while you get armed.’

  I ignored the loud bangs of the serpentines; they were proving useless, I reflected. Despite the best efforts of the Flemish gunners, Oxford’s force was too far away for their guns to have any effect, nor was there time to move them down the hill. Still, at least Norfolk had got his men onto the plain and I could see them deploying in long lines about half a mile below us. Brackenbury’s troops followed him.

  ‘Why did you insist that Brackenbury’s men fought in the rear rows?’ Richard asked me.

  ‘Lack of morale,’ I told him in resignation. ‘They are mostly Londoners and, given a choice, probably would not be here at all. I’ve put horsemen behind them to stop them running away. But it doesn’t matter because, as soon as Northumberland’s men move up, we’ll put them behind Norfolk.’

  ‘But we have men here. Why not use them to reinforce Norfolk and Brackenbury?’

  ‘Because as soon as Northumberland is in position, we’ll take our men from here and move north-west. Then we’ll attack Oxford’s left flank in a hooking movement. Oxford will be hit from the front and from the side. Outnumbered two to one, he’ll be quickly defeated.’

  I turned to an attendant squire.

  ‘His Grace requests my Lord of Northumberland to quicken his advance and take up station in support of the Duke of Norfolk.’

  I beckoned to another.

 
; ‘Ride to Lord Stanley and request him to move his force to the north-west of his current position. He should be ready to cut off Oxford’s retreat.’

  I watched carefully as Norfolk and Oxford inched towards each other. As far as I could see, Tudor had concentrated all his force in one compact division that was advancing on a narrow front. Our scouts advised that there were a small body of horsemen behind the marsh who presumably were either a flank or rear guard, but numbering less than 100, their effectiveness would be debatable.

  I turned back to the main battle anxiously. Norfolk had sacrificed depth of line for length, doubtless trying to intimidate Oxford. This was a mistake since many of his men would not actually be facing an enemy when battle was joined.

  ‘Norfolk puffs himself up like a bullfrog,’ I told Richard. ‘But once Northumberland gets in behind him, we’ll have the victory.’

  Dear God, why was Northumberland so slow in his advance? Already Norfolk and Oxford’s lines had crashed together after a volley of arrows had been fired by both sides. Though the din of battle was plainly audible, in that mass of men it was impossible to make out what was happening. Fortunately, Norfolk had enough experience to send back messengers. The first had advised that their initial assault had pushed Oxford back. The second, a short while later, reported stubborn resistance and requested reinforcements.

  Richard looked at me but I shook my head. We would need all our troops for the devastating right-hook assault.

  I turned to the messenger in his white lion tunic.

  ‘His Grace requests that my Lord of Norfolk contains Oxford while we prepare to take the enemy in the flank.’

  I chewed my lip nervously. The squire who had been sent to Lord Stanley had not reported back yet, but by now his force would be preparing to advance to the North-West. As soon as Northumberland got into position behind Norfolk, it would be time to spring the trap shut. Richard gestured to our immediate left.

  ‘Northumberland has halted to reform his men into assault formation.’

  The right-hook manoeuvre could begin very soon now. I willed Northumberland to hurry.

  ‘The duke is dead!’ Norfolk’s messenger panted out. ‘The Earl of Surrey commands the van now.’

  What in hell’s name was Northumberland doing? No one could take so long to perform such a simple manoeuvre.

  ‘He fears that his flanks are being turned.’

  Northumberland was not manoeuvring at all. He had simply halted his men.

  ‘And he begs for reinforcements.’

  I swung round to Richard.

  ‘Command Northumberland to continue his advance and fall in behind the Earl of Surrey’s men!’ I thundered.

  I turned back to face the messenger.

  ‘There will be no reinforcements. Tell Surrey to hold his position until we can attack Oxford’s flank.’

  ‘My Lord of Northumberland believes that His Grace’s interests are best served if he maintains his current position,’ the squire informed us.

  I glanced at the static body of men to our left. They were at least a quarter of a mile from where we needed them. I stared at him.

  ‘But why?’

  The squire squirmed.

  ‘He gave no reason, my lord.’

  ‘Possibly he fears that were he to leave his current location it would expose Surrey’s flank to a possible attack by the Stanleys,’ Ratcliffe hazarded.

  I rounded on him.

  ‘That’s nonsense! The Stanleys and their division have left their position and should be heading north-west to cut off…’

  ‘Can you see them?’ he interrupted.

  From our vantage point on the hill in excellent light, it would be impossible to miss 6,000 men marching up past the marsh. But where were they?

  ‘Try looking south.’

  These words came from Harrington, who had arrived with Ratcliffe. We all peered to the south. Sure enough, about two miles south, beyond Northumberland’s troops on the sloping terrain, a large number of men were in static formation – Stanley’s men.

  ‘So Stanley’s finally shown his true colours!’ I burst out angrily and wheeled to face Catesby. ‘I thought you said he was loyal.’

  ‘He still might be,’ Harrington, observed nervously.

  But Catesby looked at us in despair. All traces of the clever lawyer had disappeared and he gesticulated wildly.

  ‘He swore his loyalty to his king,’ he babbled. ‘He’s…’

  ‘A traitor!’ Richard snapped.

  Catesby looked shamefaced.

  ‘Would you like me to try to persuade him again?’

  Dear God, Catesby was brave; Lord Stanley would slaughter him.

  ‘No,’ said Richard, ‘he’s shown himself to be disloyal, and your life is too valuable to me.’

  He glanced at Ratcliffe, who nodded slightly.

  ‘Kill Lord Strange!’ Richard commanded Catesby.

  ‘Are you certain, Your Grace?’ Harrington interrupted. ‘Surely, after the battle…’

  ‘After the battle?’ I echoed incredulously. ‘Richard, we are losing. Northumberland is not obeying orders and Stanley could attack Surrey presently.’

  ‘But he won’t while Northumberland is blocking his path. So what’s your strategy?’

  My mind raced furiously, trying to ignore the hubbub around me. If Northumberland was loyal to Richard, we could probably still manage the decisive right hook, which would bring victory. After all, provided that Surrey could hang on, the sheer unexpectedness of a flank attack, even by a few fresh troops, would be enough to shatter Oxford’s men. It would be a massive risk though. Such reinforcements as we had also protected the rear of Surrey’s division. The moment we moved to mount the hooking manoeuvre we were exposing Surrey’s troops. If Northumberland was not loyal, he could take advantage of our absence to tear into the back of Surrey’s men. Caught between Oxford at the front and Northumberland at the rear, Surrey’s force would be slaughtered before we were ready to mount our attack on Oxford’s flank.

  I explained this to Richard.

  ‘I cannot recommend a strategy until I know which side Northumberland is on,’ I concluded.

  Richard had already removed his gauntlets and was tugging at his rings. Watching his strained expression and tightly pressed lips, I had an inkling of the mental agony he was going through. He had always trusted Northumberland and, until a moment ago, all that trust seemed fully justified. The next decisive move in the battle depended on one key question: was Richard correct in his assessment of Northumberland’s loyalty?

  To my mind, Northumberland’s lack of urgency in his advance and his refusal to obey orders indicated that Richard was incorrect, so I tried to help him.

  ‘You will be exposing Surrey’s rear if you move our men from here.’

  ‘But if we don’t make the attack on Oxford, we cannot defeat Tudor!’ he protested angrily. ‘Northumberland is loyal, I am certain.’

  ‘As was Buckingham!’

  Our angry glances locked. I charged my gaze with every ounce of willpower I could muster. He had to understand that the risk of mounting a flank attack on Oxford was simply too great in the current chaotic circumstances. Richard’s mouth worked furiously for a moment and then he was still.

  ‘Our troops will remain in their present position,’ he said bitterly.

  I heaved a sigh of relief, but then frowned. We had to do something to assist Surrey who was clearly under considerable pressure. Surely we could release a few men from here to assist him. With their aid, he might still be able to batter his way through Oxford. I put this to Richard hesitantly.

  ‘Stanley’s manoeuvring!’

  A white-faced Catesby pointed to the south. I tore my gaze away from the main battle reluctantly. Oxford’s line was beginning to bow under the weight of the extra troops, which we had flung against him, and I was beginning to dream of victory. But sure enough there was movement in the south.

  ‘Northumberland’s turning to face him.’
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  Richard pointed excitedly at the troops to our left and turned to me.

  ‘Francis, advance the rest of the reserves. We’ll sweep Oxford away while Northumberland holds off Stanley.’

  I glanced at Northumberland’s men.

  ‘No.’

  ‘No?’ His bewilderment was yet to turn to anger and for a moment I felt desperately sorry for him. I gestured at Northumberland’s soldiers.

  ‘They are forming a column, Richard, not a line. They are getting out of Stanley’s way.’

  In shocked silence we watched Northumberland’s troops abandon their king and march away from the battlefield.

  ‘Look!’ I think it was Pilkington who spotted the little cavalcade slowly advancing across the marsh. ‘Look at those standards; it must be Tudor himself!

  ‘Can’t be more than sixty men with him.’

  ‘I thought he was with Oxford.’

  ‘Never mind that! He must be heading to join Stanley.’

  ‘We can reach him first. Bring up the horses!’

  ‘All knights forward!’ Richard shouted. ‘Ratcliffe, get Harrington, Percy, Ashton and Grey. Hurry, man, hurry!’ He was beside himself with excitement now. He grabbed my arm. ‘I told you that Tudor would be delivered into my hands, didn’t I?’

  He broke off to shout orders to his household knights, but I hesitated. Something seemed wrong. Why was Tudor so exposed and with such a small escort? And why was he moving so slowly?

  ‘We can reach Tudor long before the Stanleys do!’ bellowed an exultant Ratcliffe. ‘Oxford’s too far away from him to help either.’

  ‘My lord!’ A frightened messenger tugged at my arm. ‘The enemy has reinforced his line. My Lord of Surrey begs for more men.’

  Richard laughed when he heard this.

  ‘Take all the men, Francis, and lead them yourself. Once Oxford’s men hear that Tudor’s dead, they’ll flee, but just secure the northern flank until that happens.’

  He turned to his squires and prepared to mount. Still I hesitated; something was very wrong, but I did not know what it was. Impulsively, I snatched his horse’s reins from his groom.