by Tony Riches
Also absent were George, Duke of Clarence and his wife Lady Isobel. Jasper took a seat next to Countess Warwick and enquired after the health of her eldest daughter. The countess had regained a little of her former grandeur, although her lined face told him how the hardship of the past months had taken its toll on her.
‘I thank you for your concern, Sir Jasper. These things take time.’ She glanced across at her husband, surrounded by minor nobles seeking favours. ‘The Duke of Clarence has not taken kindly to his own misfortune but Isobel is strong willed, as must be my daughter Anne.’
Jasper glanced across to where Prince Edward was continuing to ignore his new wife. With a jolt he realised it was not entirely the boy’s fault, as despite all his mother’s attention and his long-suffering tutors, he needed a strong father to guide him in such matters.
‘Never say that marriage has more of joy than pain.’ He said it softly, thinking aloud.
‘You surprise me, Sir Jasper.’ She smiled. ‘I thought you were a soldier—not a scholar?’
‘My father was a self-educated man,’ Jasper admitted. ‘He taught himself to read and write, and insisted I studied both Latin and Greek, although it has thus far been of little enough use to me.’ He saw her expression soften and smiled. ‘I also doubt I’m destined to be a soldier, for I’ve never won a battle and it’s only through God’s providence and perhaps a little luck that I’ve escaped with my life.’
She looked again at her husband. ‘Sometimes I wish he was less determined to be a soldier. You know he intends to declare war on Burgundy for sheltering Edward of York?’
‘I did not, my lady, although the news doesn’t surprise me.’ A thought occurred to him. ‘That is what King Louis was plotting, before we left France?’
The countess nodded imperceptibly. ‘My husband treats this like a game of chess, always looking several moves ahead.’
Jasper wondered if Sir John Neville deliberately allowed York to escape to his allies in Burgundy. By now Duke Charles would be breaking the peace treaty by helping an enemy of France, giving King Louis the excuse he needed. He glanced at Queen Margaret and saw the satisfied expression on her face. He could only imagine how relieved she must feel to be returned to Westminster after so long in exile.
The Earl of Warwick may have kneeled before her and sworn fealty, yet he saw the queen as little more than a useful chess piece in his grand strategy. It seemed to matter little that, as in a game of chess, the queen could be lost, as long as he guarded his king. If the countess was right, to Warwick they were all his pawns.
The problem was Jasper witnessed for himself at Péronne how Duke Charles of Burgundy was even more astute at playing this devious game with people’s lives. A sharp mind worked behind the duke’s engaging smile, and his resources seemed to know no limits. An old and unwelcome misgiving gripped at Jasper’s chest. The war between Lancaster and York was not over while Edward of York still lived.
Chapter Sixteen
December 1470
The town of Tenby had prospered under York’s benevolent rule. Jasper noted several new houses on the main street as he took his once familiar walk down the hill to the little harbour, crammed with merchant ships and more fishing boats than he remembered. His old friend Thomas White had ensured his house was kept safe and, once again, Jasper made the comfortable lodge his base in West Wales.
Gabriel happily accepted the appointment of Captain of the Guard at Pembroke Castle, where young Henry returned from his stay with Lady Margaret, to resume his studies. The men of the Pembroke garrison, once loyal to William Herbert, welcomed Jasper’s return and swore fealty to King Henry.
There was also a new companion for Jasper’s nephew Henry. Shortly before they set out on the fateful march that ended at Mortimer’s Cross, his father confessed to fathering a child with a woman named Bethan, from Beaumaris. After his father’s death, Bethan returned to the house his father bequeathed her in Beaumaris until Jasper sent for her, together with her son, his half-brother David Owen.
Two years younger than Henry, David Owen had the rugged Tudor good looks and humour of his father. His mother did her best to provide him with an education, and his tutors said he was doing well studying at Henry’s side. The friendly competition between them was good for both, and they sparred with wooden practice swords in the castle yard, much as Jasper had long ago with his brother Edmund.
As well as being a fluent Welsh speaker, David Owen could ride a horse and sail a boat on the Cleddau as ably as men twice his age. His mother Bethan wished to remain close to her son and was appointed to oversee the castle servants, a responsible position, as most of the town of Pembroke worked at the castle in some capacity. Bethan was attractive and popular yet Jasper still found it hard to remember she had a relationship with his father, as she was some ten years younger than himself.
As he reached the harbour Jasper saw Thomas White at the quayside. Dressed in a long brocade jacket, a sign of his wealth, Thomas had recently stepped down as Mayor of Tenby, only to have his place taken by his son, John White.
‘Good day, Lord Tudor.’ Thomas raised a hand in welcome.
Jasper smiled. ‘I’ve never seen this harbour so busy, Thomas.’
‘Supplies for Pembroke Castle and all those men you’ve been recruiting.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘What’s the latest news from London, my lord?’
‘The riots have ended and life there seems to be getting back to normal now the new Parliament has met.’ He smiled. ‘They declared York a traitor, all his goods and lands forfeit.’
‘There’s a story going around that Edward of York is dead?’
‘It was rumoured I was dead yet here I am. I heard York fled to Burgundy. I won’t believe he is no threat until I see his coffin.’
‘Do you think he will return?’ Thomas looked concerned. ‘They say war is good for business—but I would settle for a few years of peace.’
‘That’s why I’ve been given a commission of array and am so busy recruiting men. We must be watchful, Thomas, and not only for Edward of York. His young brother Richard escaped with him and I’ve not forgotten men like Roger Vaughan are still at large, and here close by in Wales.’
Jasper didn’t add that Vaughan, until recently constable of Cardigan Castle, had openly bragged about leading his father to his death in Hereford. He had not been able to confront William Herbert with his crimes but part of him hoped one day Sir Roger Vaughan would also be held to account.
Christmas and the New Year proved busy times for Jasper. A grand banquet filled the great hall at Pembroke Castle, which Bethan decorated with garlands of holly tied with red silk ribbons and more candles than he had ever seen. His guests of honour were Lady Margaret Beaufort and her husband, Thomas White and his wife, as well as the mayors and aldermen of Tenby and Pembroke with their wives.
Minstrels played and the local troupe of mummers entertained with songs and a Christmas play, with Bethan as Mary, Gabriel playing the part of Joseph, leading a real donkey, and young Henry and David dressed as shepherds. Fat ‘golden’ geese covered in butter and saffron were served with hundreds of woodcock, followed by Christmas puddings known as ‘frumenty’ of currants and dried fruit spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg.
Jasper gave a speech of thanks and proposed a toast to success in the New Year. He was in a celebratory mood, for in addition to recovering his former estates and title of Earl of Pembroke, he had been granted all the lands and properties of the Herberts in Wales and the Marches, and made a Justice of the Peace. Since his possessions were reduced to only the clothes he wore he appreciated what his new wealth could do, not only for him but for those dependent upon him.
He remained in regular correspondence with Queen Margaret in France, reporting on progress and developments in England and Wales, and sat at his desk by the window of his house in Tenby as he prepared another. Although he employed trusted men to carry his letters to France he was aware they could fall into the wrong hands, so chose
his words with great care.
He sharpened the nib of his quill with his knife and dipped it in black ink, then began with the usual formality expected by Queen Margaret. He proposed it was time for her to return to England with Prince Edward without further delay, as with God’s grace the country was now at peace. He re-read what he’d written, pleased with his letter’s sense of urgency.
Jasper understood the queen’s distrust of Warwick and had become increasingly concerned at how the earl controlled Parliament and acted in the king’s name. He had personally benefitted from such favours, of course, and now effectively ruled the whole of Wales. Others had more questionable rewards, as Warwick replaced all the grants and appointments made by York to the family of his wife with those of his own choosing, not always on the basis of merit or ability.
He signed the letter and, satisfied the ink was dry, folded the parchment and melted red wax before pressing his personal seal to it. He held the letter in his hand. It looked ordinary enough yet could trigger a sequence of events that would change the country, and he wondered how the Earl of Warwick would react when Queen Margaret began to curb his power, as she surely would.
He worried about Prince Edward, who seemed to have grown even more unsuitable as the next king under his mother’s care. He also worried about George, Duke of Clarence. Warwick’s unstable son-in-law absented himself from Westminster and would be next in line to the throne if anything happened to King Henry. George was also Edward of York’s brother, a liability.
Jasper studied the middle-aged man before him, trying to decide if his story was a pack of lies. He’d heard many such cases since being appointed magistrate and had developed a good instinct for distinguishing fact from fiction. A wealthy landowner died intestate and without an heir. Now his family members argued and fought over the details as they divided their inheritance.
‘He made promises to me, my lord. He said I should have his house and land after his days.’ The man sounded convincing, although he avoided Jasper’s eye.
‘He left no will stating this was his wish?’
The man shook his head. ‘He could neither read nor write, my lord, but I swear it’s true.’
People muttered at this and someone in the crowded courtroom shouted it was a wicked lie. Jasper brought the room to order and frowned at how the townspeople liked to treat the magistrate hearings as entertainment. They were held in public for the law to be seen to be administered fairly, yet he found that often he must pass his judgement based on his instinct of what was right or wrong, rather than proper evidence.
‘Swear what you tell me is the truth, in the sight of God.’ He saw the man’s hesitation and the flicker of doubt in his eyes. ‘You know the punishment for perjury?’
Again, the man avoided Jasper’s eye. ‘I wish to reconsider my claim, my lord.’
Jasper waved for him to be dismissed. He could have the man imprisoned for wasting his time, yet he let him walk free. In truth, he was more concerned with the reply he had received from Queen Margaret, thanking him for his advice and saying she had decided to send Edmund Beaufort and Henry Holland ahead to ensure England was safe for her return.
He read the letter several times alone the previous evening at his house in Tenby, and could not ignore the thinly-veiled insult within her carefully chosen words. It was true he had been busy with his commission of array, raising a new army in Wales, and was a little out of touch with the finer politics of Westminster. He could imagine Henry Holland slyly suggesting to the queen that he should pave the way for her. Edmund Beaufort was a good man but not beyond reminding the queen of the many favours Jasper Tudor received from Warwick.
He called for the next case and tried to count his blessings rather than dwell on his lonely life since the sad loss of the woman he loved. He had his growing family in Pembroke, Henry and David Owen, and often visited to share meals with them. Bethan enjoyed arranging banquets and Gabriel was always good company with his stories, yet there was no one he could confide in and discuss his worries without feeling judged at times such as this.
The new plaintiff demanded the eviction of a tenant farmer for non-payment of rent. A swarthy bull of a man with deep-set eyes, he complained loudly and at length about how he’d been cheated from money owed to him, although his heavy, overweight build and fine clothes suggested he had not suffered unduly.
The defendant could not have been more different. He spoke plainly of the hardship he endured and how his requests for understanding were met by threats to his family. Jasper’s eye strayed to the family, a thin, pale-faced woman with two young boys, waiting to hear his verdict. The boys reminded him of himself and his brother when the soldiers came. Although they wore ragged clothes and no shoes, they tried to stand straight and tall. Their mother wrung her hands anxiously as she watched her husband provide his testimony.
He waited until the farmer finished presenting his case, then took one of the papers in front of him and made a pretence of studying it.
‘I have been advised a benefactor will settle this debt in full. The case is dismissed.’
He would instruct his agent to purchase the farm from the landowner and grant it to the farmer. There was no need for them to know the identity of the benefactor. As he watched the bewildered family leave he hoped this small act would improve their lives and offer the boys the future they deserved.
The first bright yellow daffodils of spring signalled an end to a long, cold winter as worrying rumours from London began to reach Pembroke, carried like the glowing embers of a bonfire in the air to settle on the dry tinder of the people’s concerns. Bethan said she overheard them talking in the marketplace, then Gabriel was told in a tavern and decided he should repeat the story to Jasper, as that’s what you did with rumours.
‘They are saying Edward of York has landed in the north, sir. I heard he doesn’t have an army but has returned to reclaim his title.’
‘Which title would that be, Gabriel, King of England?’ Jasper had heard so many stories about York he felt it difficult to take any too seriously now.
‘Shall I ride to London and find the truth of it for you, sir?’
‘So that’s what this is about? You find Tenby a little tame after the big city?’
‘The thing is, sir, if it was true, the first we would hear is rumours.’
‘If York does land, we’ll find out soon enough, as Warwick will want our army, but to be certain, you can have your ride to London, and be sure to take some good men with you.’
After Gabriel left, Jasper continued working on his papers, checking the numbers of men, quantities of supplies, writing notes in the margins of things to be done, but he felt uneasy. He crossed to the window and looked out over the muddy brown estuary of the River Cleddau. The tide was out and the only sound was the haunting call of a solitary curlew, picking through stones on the foreshore.
Barely six months had passed since their midnight landing at Dartmouth. Although it seemed much longer, Jasper recalled how long it took to recruit men and find enough ships. There was no way Edward of York would be able to return before the summer and by then they would be ready for him. All the same he decided to double the guards as a precaution.
Gabriel had still not returned and Jasper’s commission took him to Hereford when a rider arrived from London with the letter bearing Warwick’s seal. He gave the man a silver coin and broke the crimson wax seal with a growing sense of foreboding. The letter was written in the earl’s own hand, a hurried scrawl:
We greet you well and desire and heartily pray that in as much Edward, the king our sovereign lord’s great enemy, rebel and traitor, is now landed in the north of this land and accompanied by Flemings and Easterlings, and Danes numbering some two thousand persons, you will forthwith after the sight hereof make toward me with as many men as you can readily make. May God keep you. Warwick.
Jasper called to his servant for his horse to be made ready. He would have to return immediately to Pembroke, over a hundred
miles away, and rally his men. By the time they reached London it could already be too late for King Henry, although he was comforted by the knowledge Queen Margaret and her son were still safely in France.
He rode on through the night, almost losing his way in the darkness, and reached Pembroke Castle at dawn. Immediately summoning his officers, he ordered them to ready the men and wagons of supplies for a long march. Even though they had been preparing for this moment since he first came back to Pembroke it felt unreal. Edward of York had returned too soon.
Jasper found young Henry and David, woken early and wide-eyed as they saw him approach already dressed in his full battle armour.
‘Will we come with you, sir, to fight?’ Henry sounded hopeful.
Jasper shook his head. ‘I need you here to keep this castle safe for the king.’ He saw them glance at each other. ‘It will be a one-sided battle. York has not much of an army, only a few Flemish men-at-arms, while we have our Welsh Army and the Earl of Warwick has ten times as many.’
Even as he said the words he doubted the truth of them. He wished to reassure the boys yet had seen how easily men turned from Lancaster to York. Even good men, loyal to King Henry, like Sir Henry Stafford, were quick enough to take a pardon to save themselves. He never said as much but knew in his heart the people hated Warwick, mistrusted Queen Margaret and had long since lost faith in King Henry.
Gabriel returned to Pembroke at noon, his face grim and his horse in a lather from being ridden too hard. He asked to see Jasper in private as soon as he dismounted. As they climbed the stone steps to his study he prepared himself for the worst news.
‘York has taken London, sir.’ Gabriel sounded breathless. ‘The rumours were true—the Duke of Clarence has rebelled and left Warwick in the north to join his brother.’
