by Diana Rubino
He turned back to the men and waved a withered arm. "Don't worry, lads! One war's as good as another; you'll die just as easy here as there! What would you have from Irish peasants anyway? Steal the peat from their bogs, would you? Nay, there's richer plunder here! To London and Henry's treasure chests say I. Thirty thousand! No! No! I'm quite sure I made it clear at the outset we would have three thousand men, not thirty thousand."
"But our food, supplies—"
"Can all be restored easily enough," he said with an airy wave. "The whole of the north is loyal to the Plantagenets and wants nothing to do with Henry Tudor's increasingly corpulent and tyrannical brat. Lady Topaz is the daughter of the most powerful earl of Warwick, a landed nobleman of the first order with fine estates that lack for nothing. You shall have more gold than you could ever imagine once you help her win that which is rightfully hers."
"Gold... Hmm... Maybe this is worthwhile after all," the captain said, his gaze never once leaving her face.
Topaz could hear the men muttering among themselves, clustering into a tighter huddle. "Aye, I've heard something about the English Crown Jewels being...."
Bridgeman turned to the sea captain, a crooked grin on his weather-beaten face. "Well, Captain Vogts, no matter what anyone says, since your powder seems to have destroyed your ship, it looks like you and your men have made your mind up for you."
"Clever old bastard, aren't you," the captain said with a shake of his head.
"Resourceful. I have faith in my cause and in this woman here. I would ask you to do the same and let us band together in a common cause."
The captain sighed.
Bridgeman twirled around to face Topaz, his sodden doublet slapping his skin in the breeze. "Now that that's settled, let me introduce you formally. Captain Franz Vogts, this is Lady Topaz of Warwick, the rightful and future queen! Lady Topaz, this is Captain Vogts, recently a commander of the Swiss Guard."
The captain flashed a look over in Topaz's direction, scratching his head, then threw another glance at John. Gathering himself to his full height, he regained composure, and began scanning his huddle of men.
In the end he stated, "We'll rest here tonight, but we'll have none of this madness! We march south tomorrow and by God we'll not stop 'till we reach the channel, and then just long enough to board a ship to Calais!"
Topaz took a few haughty steps up to Vogts. Even at his full height, she was at exactly his eye level and her stern gaze bored into his. "I'll not be sorry to see you go!" She jabbed him in the chest with her finger. "Why, our poor village fool is a braver man than ye. Why not trade your fancy doublets and polished armor for his fool's garb now? The bells would become you better!"
"'Tis an army well suited to fools, my dear," Vogts replied. She could see his cheeks flush hotly, his pale sallow skin turning blotchy with rage. "I'll not be one of them!"
They glared at each other for another silent moment and then stormed off in opposite directions.
She could see Bridgeman out of the corner of her eye strolling over to the campfire, emitting an amused guffaw.
"Just what entertains you so, you old vagabond?" Topaz shouted over the crackling fire and the confused mutterings of the men as they dispersed to set up camp. "What manner of men are these that you have brought me? They possess naught but cowardly swagger and loud mouths, which will be hungry come morning, no doubt!"
Bridgeman rubbed his hands and wriggled out of his doublet. It hit the sand with a soggy plop. "Men you wanted, Lady Topaz, and men you have got. They are the best Europe has to offer; strong men with bold hearts, each one worth four of Henry's men! Worry not, dear lady, I have not gotten to this age by poking at lions. Give our captain a good night's sleep on solid ground and methinks you'll find his manner much improved by morning."
"I hope so, Patrick. The whole kingdom rests in your hands."
She left the old man to dry out and went to join John in his tent to partake of the strong ale that was undoubtedly flowing by now.
Vogts appeared at Topaz's tent early the next morning. She was already awake, having bathed in the sea among the driftwood of the destroyed ship before the first light of dawn, and was now sipping the last of her breakfast ale.
"You come to bid me farewell?" Topaz eyed the smooth linen shirt slashed at the sleeves, light breeches tapering to fine glossy hose. "Be off with you! Not a groat more will you get from me!"
He shook his head. "I do not come here for the balance of my retainer. I've been thinking."
"Oh?"
"Wales is South, a Tudor stronghold and fierce loyal to Henry. I'll not tangle with the Welsh. For sure those flames were seen last night. Old Bridgeman is not so daft. He knew we would have no choice but to join your venture once he destroyed our ships, and so we shall. Your middle guard we will form, so I can keep my eye on you and protect our interests. We'll head away from here inland now, and lead you to London, but don't stand in the way of our plunder when we get there, Lady Topaz!"
She smiled to herself, draining her ale cup, pouring yet another for herself and her new ally. "I wouldn't dream of it. You can pillage the Tudors all you like once we get there. You can have all the jewels and wealth you like from old fat Harry. Just leave the crown for me."
CHAPTER TWO
Whitehall Palace
Henry and the Duke of Norfolk sat in the King's closet poring over maps that Norfolk, stricken with panic, had been clutching to his chest when he had bustled in.
Henry, roused from sleep, blankly followed Norfolk's finger as it traced the movements of Topaz's army, hardly able to believe what he was hearing.
"She left Warwick with three thousand men, then marched them up past Chester to Saint Annes. Two days after she arrived there, fiery explosions came from the ghostly hamlet and ripped into the night."
"The place where they saw the devil's hoof prints?" Henry said. "I'm surprised they did not find Anne Boleyn's footprints right alongside his." He snorted with bitter laughter.
"Aye, my lord." Norfolk nodded distractedly. "The next day, she left with almost six thousand men. The locals think Topaz did a deal with the devil himself and that these extra men came from Hell. That the flames were let out when the gates of Hell itself opened up to spew them forth!"
Henry's mind cleared rapidly and his finger stabbed at the map. "So she will likely take the road through Shrewsbury," he said, his eyes following the map's rendition of the well-worn road to London. "She's not about to trample through her own home in the Midlands. So she has to come through Chester to Shrewsbury and then on to London."
He swept the map out of the way, as it was lying on top of his breakfast, and turned to Norfolk. "Send word to Denbigh, Ludlow, and Stokesay. Have them raise troops and cut the rebels off at Shrewsbury. That will put an end to the matter. Now..."
He began stuffing his mouth with the roasted partridge that had been heaped up on the pewter platter. "On to more important things. Has the Lord Steward brought in that boar I killed yesterday?"
Whitehall Palace, later that evening
Amethyst was supping with the King privately. As he chomped away on his leg of pheasant and swilled his wine, she pushed her plate away, unable to bear the sight or smell when she was so sick with worry.
He quirked one brow. "Is the fare not to your liking, my dear? Three apprentice cooks have just entered our employ, but I wouldn't have known it had the steward not told me. The food has been even better of late. But if it is not to your liking, would you care for another variety of dish?"
"Nay, sire," she sighed, fingering the trim of her brocade gown.
"What ails you then?" he asked, wiping his mouth with his third linen napkin of the meal, the food was so greasy, and he such a devoted trencherman.
"'Tis Topaz and this uprising of hers," she admitted, turning away from him to gaze out at the setting sun. A trickle ran down her back with the cloying humidity. A rumble of thunder in the distance made her shiver; a storm was gathering and she took it as a
n ill omen.
"Uprising? 'Tis no uprising. 'Tis merely jousting exercise for my troops," he remarked lightly.
She did not return his smile. "Sire, I need to ask you something honestly."
He finally pushed away from the table and began twisting a gold toothpick between his teeth.
"What are you going to do about this?"
He placed the toothpick down and sucked at his front teeth. "Amethyst, I have not even given it the slightest thought. I've got much more on my mind."
"A lot of innocent people are going to be hurt."
His beady eyes narrowed in his fat cheeks. "What makes you think they're so innocent?"
She took a tiny sip of wine, enough to wet her lips. "Topaz can be, well, very persuasive. Can you not send an envoy there to force her surrender, or just put her under house arrest and order her followers to disperse?"
He waved the suggestion away with his befouled napkin. "'Tis hardly necessary, my dear. The matter will end at Shrewsbury. She'll crawl back to Warwickshire in disgrace and 'twill be the end of it. If in the unlikely event she does make it to London with her sniveling milksops, I trust 'twill be to beg my forgiveness on bended knee. Which I shall or shan't grant, depending on my mood."
He'd emphasized that last word, accompanied by his rise from the table. He stretched, yawned, and held out his hand to her.
"Topaz hasn't ever bent her knee for anyone, sire," Amethyst said softly as they walked over to the window seat, where a stream of raindrops had just begun pattering on the panes. A jagged bolt shot across the sky. The storm paralleled her turmoil within. Inside she was churning violently; her sister's life was in danger, she was sure of it, but she was afraid to tell Henry just how far she believed Topaz would go.
His not taking the matter seriously was both a curse and a blessing to her. For though she knew it would keep her sister alive a little bit longer, the lack of retaliation on Henry's part would only serve to provoke Topaz even further. Then who only knew what she might do, how many people she could harm with her relentless ambition. Oh, if it could only end at Shrewsbury…
"Then it will be in her best interest to learn, as she shall be planting a big kiss right smack on my crupper!"
He sat, gently pulling her down alongside him. He unclenched her fists. She hadn't even realized how tightly bunched they were.
He looked at her sympathetically. "This actually upsets you, my darling?"
She nodded. "Of course. I care so much about you both."
"Fear not; your sister is merely a wrinkle on my gooser. The minute my generals appear on the horizon, her ragtag army will disperse like they've got firecrackers up their poops!"
"But what about my sister?"
"She'll be banished back where she belongs, to Warwickshire to rusticate and stay far away from the seat English power. It's my throne, and by God, I shall keep it."
"She thinks she belongs on the English throne," she pointed out quietly.
"And I think she belongs in a lazaretto, her and her rebels, along with all the other scurvy, leprous vagabonds in my kingdom. But being the kind-hearted prince I am, I shall meet her halfway." He chuckled, squeezing her hand.
She forced herself to be glad he was making such light of it.
"What can I do to lift you out of this sullen mood, my dear? You barely touched your repast. Would a few cream-filled tarts be in order?"
"No; I couldn't eat—"
"What, then? I am at your disposal. Shall I call the jugglers, the mummers? A romp, then?" He tossed his head in the direction of the bedchamber.
"Can we sing, sire?" Music, only music, could dispel her dark thoughts right now as the storm raged outside and she thought of her sister marching on the capital to harm the man she loved.
He smiled indulgently. "As you wish. A romp later, perhaps, but for now, music it shall be."
They went to the conservatory and she took up her lute. He sat and positioned his fingers on the harp. She closed her eyes and once again, lived her lifelong dream. Music, the King, Amethyst, and no one else existed.
Three days later, Norfolk entered the King's chambers and demanded to see him. The Yeoman of the Guard let him through and he entered the outer chamber where Henry was playing dice with three other men.
"Your Majesty, I must see you!"
"Not now, Norfolk, we are playing for Saint Paul's Bells and this Miles Partridge rogue is about to win them from me!"
"But Your Majesty, 'tis about the war!"
"War!" Henry looked up, the dice cup in his hand falling dead silent. "Has France invaded?"
He shook his head. "Nay, I meant Lady Warwick's uprising!"
Henry laughed, spilling the dice out of the cup, watching intently as they tumbled onto the table. Snake eyes! "Are they not done with her yet?"
"Nay, my lord, she did not come through Shrewsbury. Word has it they've turned north, looped about the Great Forest and are coming down the east following the River Trent, picking up every malcontent in your realm along the way. I fear that by the time they get to Lincoln..."
The King turned to face Norfolk, shifting uncomfortably in his large chair at last at this sudden turn of events.
"Aye, she'll pick up support there, all right. They still harbor me a grudge since the bloody Pilgrimage of Grace."
"I just rolled a seven, sire," Partridge spoke up.
Henry struggled his bulk out of his chair and drained the last drops of ale from his goblet. "Oh, take the bloody bells, Partridge, there'll be plenty more where they came from anyway."
The King turned to Norfolk and led him into his receiving chamber, musing out loud as he went. "Not a bad plan, as traitorous plots go. First she lands mercenaries near Preston, the last place anyone would expect foreign ships to land."
They approached the table where maps were spread among the goblets and plates heaping with meats and fruits. "Then she has the wits to go north and avoid my Welsh hordes." He traced Topaz's route on the map with his finger.
"Now she's threading through every pocket of discontent in the kingdom. Hmm. We'd best act now before she musters an army worth its salt! All right, Norfolk, send an emissary to young Lord Cuthbert Clifford of Tutbury. He can muster eighty-five hundred men, more than enough to take care of Topaz and her meager band."
"Aye, she's known to have just over five thousand."
"Clifford has yet to earn his battle scars for all his might at jousting, but let's see if he can wield a sharp sword as well as a dull one. If he wants high office in my kingdom, he'd best put a swift end to this rebellion. I'll lose my good graces if I hear of this matter one more time. Now off with you!"
Henry waved Norfolk away and stuffed a bunch of grapes into his mouth.
CHAPTER THREE
Lincolnshire
Topaz and her growing army continued their march south across the open field dotted with buttercups, daisies and clover. The broiling sun beat down upon them and Topaz wiped her brow with the hem of her sleeve.
The thundering of hoof beats approaching from the opposite direction caught her attention and the column came to a stop as the rider neared.
Vogts squinted and called over his shoulder to Topaz, "'Tis only Muller. I sent him ahead to scout the lay of the land. Let's see what he has to report." '
Muller reined in his horse. The sweat glistened on the animal's back and he was foaming at the mouth.
"Fetch water for this horse!" Topaz commanded, as Muller regained his breath.
"Lord Clifford and his battles are marching to meet us," Muller reported. "They're only a few hours behind me."
"How can you tell who it is?"
"I know it's Clifford, for one of Lady Topaz's pages scouting with me recognized the crimson standard edged with yellow. He must have close to ten thousand men with him. We are outnumbered."
"Where is my page? Has he been hurt?" Topaz demanded.
Muller shook his head. "Nay, he's just not a good a rider as I am. He'll be upon us soon."
&n
bsp; Vogts glanced about. "Well, if they outnumber us, we'd best dig in and have them come to us. We can't attack if we have the fewer men. We need to find the right spot to defend and force them to wear out their men trying to take our position."
"That valley we just passed through not ten minutes ago would be a perfect place!" Bridgeman offered, maneuvering his horse in between Vogts and Muller. "We'll take the high ground on the far side and as they come into the valley we can swoop down upon them."
"I suppose that's as good a place as any," Vogts agreed. "It will be hard work for them to struggle upwards to get us, at any rate, and boulders and logs will make good weapons too." He looked at each of his companions and nodded. "Pass the word along. We shall move on back there. Put the men to digging right away so our earthworks will be ready by the time Clifford arrives."
