by Tony Riches
They had little money and no prospects, but Jasper hoped his Valois blood still counted for something. Perhaps it was time to find himself a wife, a wealthy heiress with a fine house and land where he could slowly build his fortune. Henry was also of marriageable age, and Queen Margaret’s father, Duke Renee of Anjou, should understand they had done what they could to support his daughter.
After a sleepless night in an uncomfortable canvas hammock, Jasper clambered on deck to find the sea had turned into a foaming maelstrom. Strong winds buffeted the sails and the crew balanced precariously on the wet yard-arms as they tried to reef the flapping canvas.
There was no mistaking the angry dawn sky, so threatening, the sunrise barely penetrated the thunder clouds. As he watched, a surging wave broke over the bows, sending a sheet of salty spray in the air and nearly washing one of the sailors overboard. Jasper decided it was safer in the cramped cabin and returned to see Henry awake and discussing their future with Gabriel.
The Irishman grinned as Jasper entered. ‘It’s looking a little rough out there, sir.’
Jasper wiped his face dry. ‘We are lucky Thomas White has let us take his best ship. I don’t envy the crew having to climb out on the yards in these conditions.’
Henry’s face was pale but he managed a smile, and showed Jasper a scrap of canvas with lines drawn on it in charcoal. It took him a moment to recognise it as a crudely drawn map of the south of England and the coast of France, marked with lines to show the territories of Burgundy and Brittany.
‘Gabriel has been showing me where we are heading,’ Henry glanced at the Irishman, ‘and telling me about King Louis.’
Jasper studied the map. ‘You see here?’ He pointed to the black smudge which represented Paris. ‘This is where your grandmother was from. Two days ride from Honfleur, where we will land.’
Henry nodded. ‘Do you think the King of France will agree to see us?’
‘I hope he will, Henry. He is our best hope and helped me in the past, but I must also tell you he is a complicated man, and I’ve not been able to repay his favours.’
‘What do we do if he won’t see us?’
‘Then we must travel to see Queen Margaret’s father, Duke René.’ He tried to reassure Henry. ‘It won’t be easy, but then anything worthwhile rarely is.’
A brilliant flash lit up the blackened sky, followed moments later by a crash of thunder, reverberating through the ship. Jasper looked up at the storm clouds as the deck pitched and another wave smashed into the bows, again sluicing the entire deck with sea water. They made slow progress in the stormy conditions and were well out of sight of land, their lives in the hands of the captain and his crew.
The helmsman battled to keep the Christiana heading into the rising swell as each wave grew larger than the last. Powerful gusts of wind buffeted the sails and Jasper heard the captain shouting orders to his weary crew. For the first time he realised they could be in real danger from the storm.
He’d not been able to think of Máiréad for a long time but he remembered her now, and thought how terrifying it must have been when the queen’s fleet was sunk off Lindisfarne Island. Another wave splashed into his face, the shock of the icy seawater making him gasp. He promised himself that if they reached France in safety he would light a candle in her memory and say a prayer for her.
The storm still raged when darkness fell and the captain sought Jasper out to break the news that they had been blown far off course. They must now head for the island of Jersey and seek shelter in the harbour. They anchored offshore in the bay and weathered the storm until morning, when a cloudless, pastel-blue dawn showed the first signs of promise. Jasper joined Henry and Gabriel at the stern rail.
‘We face a difficult choice. York’s ships patrol the English Channel, so we could take our chances or land in western Brittany.’
Henry nodded. ‘I would rather not go back out to sea.’
‘We’ll make a sailor of you yet, sir.’ Gabriel laughed. ‘At least you’ve survived your first long passage.’
Jasper looked towards the mainland. ‘I’m in favour of making landfall in Brittany. I doubt Duke Francis has agreed an alliance with York, so at least we’ll be fairly sure of a friendly welcome.’
Chapter Twenty
June 1471
The bustling harbour at Le Conquet might not be their intended destination, yet Jasper said a silent prayer of thanks as they tied up between the battered old fishing boats laden with old wicker lobster-pots. Hard-faced crab and lobster fishermen were soon joined by an unwelcome crowd of curious onlookers as the whinnying, blinkered horses were led ashore.
Jasper sensed the mood of the local men and was keen to be on the road as soon as they were able to, although he now found they had an entourage of servants and soldiers. Gabriel, still leaning on his wooden crutch, shouted orders as he supervised the men, who had brought as many of Jasper and Henry’s possessions as they could from Pembroke Castle in wooden chests.
‘How are we supposed to carry this lot, Gabriel?’ Jasper studied the heavy chests waiting on the quay.
Gabriel grinned. ‘I know you didn’t want me to burn your papers, sir, and the rest would have been looted by York’s soldiers if we left them behind.’
‘Your intentions were good, but it’s going to slow us down.’
‘I’ve thought of that, sir.’ Gabriel pointed behind them with his crutch. ‘I’ve already been haggling with the local merchants for a high-sided wagon.’
Jasper watched as a pair of rugged Breton carthorses were harnessed to the wagon. It would still make slow progress but at least there should be room for the servants to ride rather than walk. Gabriel was right, there had been no need to let York’s men take his last possessions in the world, and some had more than sentimental value.
It was noon before they left the town and headed for the city of Brest. Henry rode at Jasper’s side and peered down the stony, tree-lined avenue stretching for as far as they could see.
‘How far is it to Paris from Le Conquet?’
‘A long ride, Henry.’ Jasper frowned as he calculated the distance. ‘Paris is some four hundred miles to the east.’
‘Do you think, Uncle, we will find King Louis there?’
‘I hope to discover the king’s whereabouts before we reach Paris. He has palaces at Angers and Chinon which are half that distance.’ He glanced back at the slow, heavily laden wagon and the soldiers riding behind. ‘My plan had been to travel light and fast with only you for company.’ He smiled at Henry. ‘At least now we look like the refugees we are, rather than having to travel in disguise.’
‘Are we safe here in Brittany?’
Jasper glanced behind again. ‘I won’t lie to you, Henry. Duke Francis is a suspicious man and distrusts both King Louis and the Burgundians. He should welcome us as family, although he is as likely to arrest us once he learns we are here.’
‘What good would that do?’
‘York will request our return, while King Louis will endeavour to prevent it at all costs. We would become pawns, Henry, in the game of chess that’s been played out between Brittany and France for generations.’
They were on the road for less than three hours when a group of fast-moving riders appeared in the distance. As they approached Jasper saw they were armed soldiers, one carrying a banner with the distinctive ermine badge of Duke Francis. He looked at the tired faces of his retinue, who stopped in their tracks at the sight of the advancing patrol.
For a moment he wondered if they could escape, rather than face possible imprisonment. He’d heard stories of men driven half mad in squalid cells while they waited for a ransom that would never be paid. His own father spent a long time in Newgate Gaol waiting for Parliament to decide what to do with him. He would never talk about it but Jasper remembered the haunted look in his eyes whenever the subject was mentioned.
Gabriel had brought a dozen armed men all the way from Pembroke but there was no question of fighting the duke’s
guards, and he had no wish to. Too late he realised his own soldiers should have stayed at home. It was time to risk placing themselves at the duke’s mercy. He approached their commander, a distinguished looking man with a blue riding cape and a large grey moustache, and spoke to him in Breton.
‘Good day to you, Captain. I am Jasper Tudor, a cousin of Duke Francis. I request an escort to meet with him.’
The captain studied them, taking in the mounted men, the overloaded wagon, and the servants waiting to see what he said. ‘Good day, Sir Jasper. I remember you. We will escort you to Nantes, although I cannot guarantee the duke will see you.’
‘I am grateful to you, Captain. That is a risk I am prepared to take.’
He rode at the captain’s side as they made their way to the city. ‘Tell me, Captain, what has happened in Brittany since I was here last?’
The captain sat back in his saddle and reflected before answering in his gruff Breton accent. ‘Brittany has prospered, and King Louis has learned to respect Duke Francis, as he should.’
Jasper appreciated the captain’s loyalty but imagined this was not truly the case. ‘Has the duke seen envoys from Edward of York?’
The captain replied sharply. ‘I cannot say, sir.’
His reticence told Jasper all he needed to know. York had already sent ambassadors to negotiate an alliance against France, information which Jasper knew would be in his favour when he was eventually able to meet King Louis.
‘Does Duke Francis know we are here?’
‘I doubt he does, Sir Jasper. This is a routine patrol, so it was chance we happened to find you.’
Jasper nodded. Fate had blown them off course and brought them to the shores of Brittany. They needed time to recover from their narrow escape from Pembroke Castle and although Henry put a brave face on it, Jasper suspected he had been terrified by the storm and their perilous sea voyage. He would follow his destiny and make sure that by the time he met the king it would not be as a refugee seeking more favours.
Duke Francis looked a little older, and although he was Jasper’s age his hair was already turning a silver grey. He dressed more like a king than a soldier, in a fashionable cap, a cloak of dark velvet and a heavy gold chain, studded with rubies. They arrived late in the evening at the magnificent Château de l’Hermine in Vannes after a full and tiring day’s ride from Nantes, where they stayed the previous night.
The château was the duke’s main residence and it was hard not to be impressed by its ambitious scale, from the towering walls to the glazed windows. As they entered they saw the former fortress had been transformed into a palace, with floors of decorative Italian tiles and colourful Flemish tapestries of hunting scenes adorning the walls, illuminated by hundreds of candles in gilded chandeliers.
A formal welcoming reception had been arranged for them, with a guard of honour and a gathering of Breton nobles with their colourfully dressed wives, civic dignitaries and church leaders. Trumpeters played a fanfare as Jasper and Henry, dressed in their best clothes, arrived looking more like visiting royalty than refugees. Jasper bowed in deference to the duke, who studied them both with interest.
‘I am honoured, Sir Jasper, that you have chosen to seek exile in Brittany.’
‘Thank you, Duke Francis.’ He nodded to Henry who stepped forward. ‘May I present my nephew, Henry Tudor, who will inherit his late father’s title of Earl of Richmond when he comes of age?’
Duke Francis nodded, his face thoughtful. ‘You are welcome, Henry Tudor.’
‘Thank you, sir, for granting us your generous protection.’ Henry spoke in perfect French and seemed to have a new confidence.’
‘Did you know, Henry, that the first Earl of Richmond was a Breton?’
‘I did not, sir.’
Duke Francis smiled. ‘Alan ar Rouz sailed with William of Normandy, whom you will know as William the Conqueror, and was rewarded with the earldom of Richmond.’
‘I will be honoured, sir, to continue his legacy.’
Duke Francis seemed pleased with Henry’s response. ‘You will both be granted safe conduct throughout my territories, and may rely on my protection for as long as you remain in Brittany.’
Jasper wondered if Henry had spotted the care with which the duke chose his words. He’d not forgotten how Duke Francis placed his own interests above all other considerations. He had given his word to protect them while they were in Brittany, but that could also effectively make them his prisoners, unable to leave for France without his consent.
He looked at the lavishly furnished Château and decided that, for now at least, there were far worse places to stay and plan for a new future. It would be good experience for Henry to learn something of the complex politics of France before he met King Louis, and Jasper had seen enough of what England and Wales had become under the rule of York.
Jasper gratefully accepted the duke’s offer of an apartment at the château for himself and Henry but was concerned to be told that his servants must return home. It was another sign of the duke’s real intention to control their movements. It was no hardship, as he had already provided them with servants from his household, although Jasper knew they were also spies, loyal to the duke.
They were permitted a final meeting with Gabriel, who was also under instruction to leave Brittany on the Christiana, which had been held at Le Conquet. He tried to remain cheerful as he came to say farewell, although Jasper knew him well enough to see his concern for them.
‘Will you be heading back to Waterford, Gabriel?’
‘I think not, sir. I plan to find work in Tenby with Thomas White and wait there for the day when you return.’
‘You might have to wait a long time,’ Jasper glanced at Henry, ‘although you could do us a great service by helping to carry messages to Lady Margaret. It would be at some risk but we know how resourceful you can be, Gabriel.’
The Irishman brightened. ‘It would give me cause to return here, and I can bring you news of developments in England?’
‘That would be truly useful, Gabriel, for as pleasant as this place is, I fear the duke wishes us to be hidden from the world.’
Jasper’s words proved prophetic when the duke decided to transfer them from Vannes to his fortified château at Suscinio. The isolated castle was a luxurious residence, with more than enough room for Jasper and Henry. With high, conical-roofed towers surrounded by a wide moat, the Château was next to a freshwater lake and surrounded by forests stocked with game for the duke’s hunting parties.
Jasper’s new room was a simple one compared with the extravagance of Château de l’Hermine, with whitewashed walls and plain, functional furniture. His window overlooked the open, high-walled courtyard, which housed the stables and kennels for the duke’s hunting dogs. These gave plenty of warning of any new arrivals, although he had often been woken early by their persistent barking.
He walked with Henry to the wide, sandy bay of the Gulf of Morbihan, a natural harbour guarded by the island of Belle-Île, with its smaller sister islands of Houat and Hoëdic. The seafront was deserted except for a flock of small sandpipers hunting for shrimps and crabs at the tideline. The natural beauty of the scene lifted his mood and reminded him a little of the long south beach at Tenby in West Wales.
Henry picked up a seashell, bleached white in the sun. ‘Why do you think we’ve be sent here, rather than staying at the duke’s palace in Vannes?’
Jasper looked out across the tranquil blue Atlantic, so calm barely a ripple disturbed the surface. He was growing used to Henry’s constant questions and encouraged him to learn as much as he could about their new home, although he didn’t always have answers.
‘Duke Francis said it’s for our own safety.’
‘Are we in danger?’
‘York’s agents are regular visitors to Vannes,’ he saw Henry’s worried look, ‘and word of our presence here will surely have reached York. I suppose the duke wants to keep us out of the way, for now.’
Henry gla
nced back at the duke’s armed guards, who followed them everywhere. ‘I feel more like a prisoner, Uncle, than the duke’s guest.’
‘You are right. It’s not going to be as easy as I thought to meet with King Louis, unless I can persuade Duke Francis there is some advantage for him in it.’
‘What will we do while we wait here?’ Henry pocketed the seashell and stooped to pick up a handful of the fine white sand, letting it trickle through his fingers. ‘Time is precious. We must wait for the duke to decide our future?’
‘I shall continue your education, Henry.’ Jasper smiled. ‘You can thank your tutors for your knowledge of the classics. Now you must learn how men lie and cheat each other, the complicated politics of this troubled land.’
‘I would like you to teach me about the ways of women as well, for I must one day choose a wife.’
Jasper stopped in his tracks at Henry’s request. It was the last thing he expected to hear. ‘I don’t pretend to understand women, Henry.’ He recalled his failure to commit to Lady Eleanor and the deep grief he still felt at the loss of Máiréad. ‘You are right, though. A favourable betrothal will be important.’
‘You would agree for me to marry?’ Henry sounded surprised. ‘And what about a wife for yourself?’
‘I would be happy to marry, if I could find a woman who would have me.’ Jasper picked up a flat stone and skimmed it out over the water as his father had once shown him. It hit the surface and skipped twice, covering a good distance before disappearing below the calm surface. ‘The thing is, Henry, you have youth on your side but I have little to offer a bride.’
The woods came alive to the excited baying and barking of the duke’s hounds as they raced through the undergrowth in pursuit of the unseen boar. Jasper rode at the duke’s side as his guest, with Henry following behind with a dozen minor nobles. These ambitious young men, eager to win the duke’s approval, formed teams of flanking riders, ready to head off the boar if it tried to escape.
