by Tony Riches
Chapter 17 - Autumn 1462
Richard rode to Middleham Castle as soon as he heard of his mother’s illness. As always he travelled with his personal guard, a mounted force of his most loyal men. He had learned the value of what some called showmanship and the need to give people something to cheer about. He was now one of the richest men in the country and considered it a good investment to provide his men with fine black horses and red livery trimmed with gold braid. Scouts and heralds were sent ahead and fanfares played, so that each town they passed through became another opportunity to build his popularity.
Richard now liked to dress well and had black plate armour specially made by the best craftsmen in Germany. The black breastplate was cleverly designed to accentuate his muscular physique and he wore it now as much for show as for protection. He only used his heavy gold chain of office on state occasions although he always wore his sword and dagger. They were a reminder that although his time was mostly spent dealing with matters of diplomacy and the politics of state, he was still a warrior knight.
It had been a busy year for Richard, as Edward had asked him to take full control of the new reforms. He steadily replaced the council of selfish nobles and dithering clerics with respected men of learning and ability, including some of the most powerful merchants in London. They had rewarded him by bringing the finances of the country back from the brink of disaster and restoring confidence in parliament.
Now he could focus on his other great responsibility, the defence of the country. The threat from the north still hung over them like an ominous black cloud. King Edward decreed that Richard was to have whatever resources he needed to ensure the safety of England. As well as maintaining the largest standing army ever seen in peacetime, he continued to build his fleet at Sandwich and kept them in readiness as a precaution against an invasion from France.
He was welcomed by his brother John, who had become his right hand man and guardian of his estates in the north. John had always been the one who looked most like their father and now he had the same heavy build and assertive confidence. His voice had even taken on the same gruff tone that commanded unquestioning obedience. Richard was glad he could rely on his brother, who never showed resentment or complained at the huge disparity of their wealth.
Richard dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to a waiting groom. He pulled off his black leather gauntlets and shook his brother warmly by the hand.
‘It’s good to see you again, John.’
‘You too, Richard.’ He watched the army of men riding through the gates and filling the courtyard. ‘Have you brought Anne and the girls?’
‘Yes, and we have a special guest.’ He turned to watch the fine coaches following his men.
‘Edward has entrusted me with the wardship of his young brother Richard.’ He looked with mock seriousness at John. ‘I think he wants us to make a man of him.’
‘That’s not a problem, if he has an ounce of his father’s spirit!’
They watched as the black and gold coaches drew near, each pulled by a fine team of black horses and driven by liveried coachmen. First Anne, then Isabel and little Annie and finally Margaret were helped down by a footman. Richard felt a momentary pang of recognition as he saw Margaret, now fourteen and the image of her mother. They all wore fashionable silk dresses, with tall veiled hats that made them look older than they were. Anne wore a necklace of diamonds with a heavy solitaire pendant that flashed as it caught the late autumn sunlight.
Their young guest hesitantly climbed down and joined them. He was dressed in black and carried a sword that looked too long for him, its tip nearly touching the ground. He regarded them with the same questioning expression that reminded Richard this was the son of his uncle, the Duke of York. At his brother’s coronation the ten-year-old Richard had been named Duke of Gloucester as well as being made a knight.
John welcomed them. ‘Welcome back. Mother will be so glad to see you all.’
He took the trouble to shake hands with Richard. ‘Welcome to Middleham, Sir Richard. You’ve grown into a fine young man.’
The young Duke shook his hand. ‘I am honoured, Lord Montague.’
‘Are you good in the saddle, Richard?’
‘Yes, my lord.’ His voice was clear and confident.
John looked appraisingly at the young Duke. ‘We must ride together.’
Anne put her hand on his arm. ‘How is your mother, John?’
‘Some days she is better than others.’ John frowned and turned to Richard. ‘The physicians don’t seem to know what to do. They bleed her every day yet still she worsens.’
Richard brushed the road dirt from his sleeves. ‘Take me to her, John.’
The room was lit by the glow of beeswax candles which burned with a clear, bright flame and flickered gently in the cool air coming through the partly open window. A vase of freshly cut long-stemmed white roses stood on a table by her bed. Richard picked up their delicate scent and remembered they were his mother’s favourite. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to find them so late in the season. Next to the roses on the table was a miniature portrait of his father. He was surprised at the powerful mix of emotions he felt as he glanced at the picture.
His mother reached out and took Richard’s hand in her weak grasp. She smiled up at him from her bed. She looked pale and thin. John told him she had hardly left her room for weeks now, relying on her servants for everything. He knew as soon as he looked at her that she didn’t have long.
‘Thank you for coming, Richard.’ Her voice was a whisper.
‘How are you feeling?’ He put his hand to her brow to see if she felt feverish. Her forehead was cool to his touch, as if life had already passed from her.
‘There are some things I want to tell you, Richard.’
He could see speaking was an effort for her now. ‘You need to rest for now, Mother.’
‘I wanted to thank you for making me sail with you to Calais on that ship.’ Her eyes shone with the memory. ‘That voyage was a great adventure. It helped me understand how much you have achieved.’
Richard looked at his mother and wished he had not always been so busy. He should have spent more time with her. ‘I didn’t think you would come.’ He forced a smile, remembering how stubborn she had been.
‘I want you to know something, Richard, about your father. He was proud of all our children.’ Her eyes twinkled in the candle light. ‘He was especially proud of you.’
Richard struggled to control his emotions. ‘I miss him. We all do.’
His mother was silent for a moment, seemingly lost in her memories. She looked into his eyes. ‘You should know. Megan has been so kind to me.’
‘Megan?’ He was confused. He hadn’t seen Megan for years.
‘Yes. She came here when she heard about your father. Megan has been looking after me since your father died.’
‘Megan is here now?’
‘Yes. Take care of her, Richard.’ She looked at him as she had when he was a boy. ‘I’m glad you listened to me.’
For a second he saw the strong woman she had been.
Richard was out riding with John when they saw someone on a fast horse charging towards Middleham. It could be important news so they headed back to the castle to investigate. The messenger proved to be one of Richard’s informers from France, come in person rather than entrusting his news to a messenger. Richard met him alone in his study.
‘Queen Margaret sailed from Harfleur with a fleet of over forty ships, my lord.’
Richard did a quick calculation. Forty ships were enough to carry an army. Not enough to threaten London although if they took one of the Channel ports by surprise they could be a serious threat.
‘How long ago?’
‘A week, my lord.’
‘My God!’ He was thinking fast. She clearly hadn’t crossed the Channel.
‘Do you know where she was headed?’
‘North, my lord. We think for Scotland.’
&
nbsp; ‘They got past our patrols at Calais?’ He was thinking aloud now.
‘They sailed under the command of Marshal Pierre de Breze.’
‘Marshal de Breze knows to avoid Calais. I saw him off from there once.’
‘What are they planning?’
‘That’s all I can tell you. I don’t think even the crew knew where they were sailing,’
‘Thank you anyway. I appreciate the warning.’
He paid the messenger in gold coins for his trouble and watched him go. It seemed Queen Margaret managed to surprise him every time he thought his life had settled down. He had to admire her determination. Even now Edward had been crowned she was still clinging on to the idea of her son one day taking the throne. He called for his brother and told him the news.
‘We have to go north, John.’ He stared out of the window into the courtyard below where his girls were playing a game with young Duke Richard.
‘How long do we have?’
Richard turned from the window and frowned. ‘I wish I knew, John. The worst of it is that she seems to finally have the backing of the French. I’ll send word to the king in London for him to bring as many men as he can. My guess is that she’s planning to land somewhere up the coast and will try to win back her army.’
John knew what he was saying. ‘We still don’t have control of the far north, or Wales, come to that.’
‘It’s going to be up to us to hold them off for as long as we can. Whatever the cost.’
‘There is a way we can do it. If we take one of the northern castles we can use it as a base to rally our supporters.’
Richard agreed. ‘The worst thing we can do is sit here and wait while they consolidate their position.'
The impressive outline of Warkworth Castle loomed like a stone cliff over the town in the early dawn mist. Richard had never been so close to the home of his old rivals in the north before. In the heartland of the Percy family, this was their home and would have been a dangerous place for a Neville to be caught off guard. Richard immediately saw why Sir Henry ‘Hotspur’ Percy had originally chosen Warkworth as his base. The high, rocky site had the benefit of natural defences, with the river Coquet on three sides, less than a mile from Warkworth harbour on the Northumberland coast.
Encouraged by the news that King Edward was on his way north with an army of more than forty thousand men, they had chosen Warkworth as the ideal location from which to halt the Lancastrian invasion. Marching ninety miles directly north of Middleham Castle, Richard’s men had silently moved into position by the dim light of a quarter moon, sealing off the lanes into the town and effectively surrounding the castle.
Richard studied the three-story stronghold for signs of life. Only the tall central tower with its Percy standard flying on top showed any lights. He guessed these were where lookouts were posted. Whoever the men were, they had failed. His brother John returned and gave him a grin and thumbs up sign to show his men were also ready.
Richard had sent Tully and some men from his personal guard to the Anglo-Saxon church of St. Lawrence in the village. They had roused the grumbling old priest from his bed and he now stood terrified between two burly soldiers, apparently fearing for his life. Richard signalled for them to let him go.
‘I’m sorry to have disturbed you. I had good reason.’ He pointed up at the castle. ‘You might be able to help me save a lot of lives.’
The priest still looked dazed. ‘What do you mean, my lord?’
‘Can you see how many men we have?’
The priest glanced around. Richard’s men were behind every tree, heavily armed and ready to fight. As he was led to their position he would have also passed Richard’s cavalry, waiting in fields, as well as the hundreds of archers his brother John had brought from Middleham.
‘I want you to go to the castle. Tell them they are completely surrounded.’ He looked at the sky. The sun was starting to show in the east. ‘I’m not a vengeful man, so I’m giving them the chance to surrender. You can give them my word. On my honour they will not be harmed if they do. Understand?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
The priest looked unhappy at his task and was about to go and turned to Richard. ‘Who are you, sir? They will want to know who it is that has them surrounded.’
‘You can tell them I am the Earl of Warwick. They may like to know that King Edward will also be here soon, with his entire army of fifty thousand men.’
Richard watched him go and muttered a prayer under his breath. Warkworth Castle was probably the most easily defended fortress in the whole of the north. He had no information about how many men were in the castle. There was still no news of how far away Queen Margaret’s army was or if she had even raised an army. If he had to take the castle by force, they could have supplies to withstand a siege all through the winter. The thought of that didn’t appeal to him at all and he found himself remembering the icy conditions at Towton.
Tully pointed as lights began flickering at several of the castle windows. It could mean the priest was now there with his offer of amnesty. Richard looked across to where his brother John was waiting, a tense expression on his face. An audacious plan, it could work. If it didn’t, all they would have lost was the element of surprise.
As Richard was starting to wonder if the priest was ever going to return, they had their answer. The Percy standard flying from the high tower was lowered. He ordered his men to form up in ranks, men-at-arms to the front, archers providing cover and the cavalry of mounted knights to the rear. They cautiously approached the massive stone gatehouse in the centre of the south curtain wall. The drawbridge was down and the huge iron portcullis had been raised. It could be a trap. Ahead, in the centre of the castle courtyard, stood the commander of the garrison, unarmed and ready to surrender.
Richard rode across the drawbridge with a clatter of hooves, following his men-at-arms, who had secured the entrance. The men looked tense as he approached the grim-faced garrison commander. Many of the men seemed as if they had rushed from their beds. Some still carried weapons and appeared unsure of what would happen next.
‘In the name of King Edward, rightful King of England, I accept the surrender of the garrison.’
The garrison commander stepped forward and Richard saw the priest from the village waiting behind him. ‘You will allow my men to leave for the coast?’
Richard nodded. ‘I gave my word. Tell your men to lay down their arms. If any of them wish to remain, in the service of King Edward, they will be well rewarded.’
The garrison commander ordered his men to surrender and handed the massive iron keys of the castle to Richard. Those of his men who were still armed laid them to the ground. A few mercenaries who must have had no particular loyalty to the Percy family formed a group by the keep, ready to join Richard’s men.
The soldiers of the former garrison marched out of the castle and down the road towards the sea. One of Richard’s men let out a spontaneous cheer, that was soon picked up by the others and soon the high curtain walls rang to the sound.
‘A Warwick! A Warwick!’
Their plan had been an even greater success than Richard had dared to hope. Without a single arrow being shot they had secured the grandest of the northern castles and gained a base from which to besiege Alnwick. His brother John was appointed garrison commander and ordered a full accounting of the arms and provisions they had secured. As well as the castle, Richard found he had secured valuable bronze cannons, ammunition and gunpowder, as well as enough arrows to last them well into the following year.
He established his own quarters in one of the upper storey rooms in the tall central tower, with panoramic views across the town of Warkworth all the way to the sea. The old stone walls of his room had heavy tallow candles set in iron brackets and he watched as one of his servants lit them from a taper. An old tapestry of a wild boar hunt hung on one wall. It had seen better days although he realised it must have once been expensive. He ran his fingers over the surface of
the ancient oak table, feeling the scars of the centuries and wondered if this was the same room Henry ‘Hotspur’ Percy had planned his rebellion against King Henry IV sixty years before.
Richard stood looking into the night from his window and wondered if he had been too generous letting the garrison go free. He unbuckled his sword belt, removed the breastplate he was still wearing and loosened his tunic. The sun was setting after a long day and he felt tired. He had chosen the room because it had a comfortable looking bunk behind an old velvet curtain where he hoped to have a peaceful night’s sleep. He checked the feather-filled mattress for bed bugs and not finding any was settling down when there was a firm knock at his door.
A letter had arrived from Anne. It had been sent soon after they had left for the north. Anne was in the habit of writing to him if he was away for more than two or three weeks. He’d only been gone a couple of days, so Richard guessed the contents before he even read her neatly written words. His mother was dead.
He read Anne’s letter a second time. His mother had passed away peacefully in her sleep soon after Richard and John left for the north. Richard knew even if he had been at Middleham there was nothing he could have done. All the same he was angry at Queen Margaret for robbing him of the precious last few hours with his mother and swore to have his revenge.
Chapter 18 - Winter 1463
Warkworth Castle proved to be the ideal base from which Richard and his brother John could lay siege to the other northern castles. Easily supplied by sea, Richard could ride out and check on progress with the sieges, returning to Warkworth before nightfall. He found the well-appointed apartments to his liking and kept a roaring log fire burning in the huge stone fireplace in his room.
The massive stone fortress of Bamburgh Castle was on the Northumberland coast twenty-five miles directly north of Warkworth. Richard had spent weeks laying it to siege the previous year, only to see it lost as soon as he returned to London. His brother John took up the challenge to win it back for York and had now successfully taken Bamburgh from its commander, no less than Henry Beaufort, Duke of Somerset.
