by Diana Rubino
They were able to resist the first charge of Topaz's army, and gradually began to thrust back. The tide of battle became a stalemate, with each side trying to outmaneuver the other. The sun was soon directly overhead, and still the battle raged on, neither side giving quarter.
"Hampstead lives up to his reputation, my lady!" Vogts said as he approached Topaz in their earthworks and squatted beside her, keeping an eye on the men charging forward around them. "What a fighter! He screens his maneuvers in the trees and hillocks. We know not where they are, or where they'll hit us next. We're in a battle that won't be long forgotten."
Topaz wound a tourniquet around a wounded soldier's leg and he winced as she pulled it tight. "We're holding our ground now, but what will happen when Lord Clifford arrives?" she asked Vogts, her eyes not once leaving the appalling wound. "He can't be far, and he will be behind us in all likelihood. We'll be like the filling in a pasty."
Bridgeman lumbered up to the ditch, tumbling in, landing on his backside. He scrambled to his feet, brushing himself off. "They've turned our vanguard. The line is breaking! And Cliff's been sighted. He'll be on us within the hour! It doesn't bode well. I fear we're losing."
Topaz left Bridgeman to finish bandaging the soldier's wound and then she and Vogts climbed out of the trench. He protectively guided her over to the next hillock where they could see their vanguard retreating under the pressure of Hampstead's attack.
"I'm not surprised," Vogts said. "'Tis mostly Cliff's former army in our vanguard. They're tired and never were well trained, for all their pretentious crests."
"There's another attack forming! Look there!" Topaz exclaimed, pointing to the horizon.
The fighting lulled as both sides turned to watch the legions riding down on the battlefield. Clifford's unmistakable crimson crest streamed from the incoming army's banners.
Suddenly a cry rose up from Hampstead's ranks. "Treachery, Treachery! Clifford rides against us! More of the red crested devils are upon us! Treachery!"
The cry of treachery echoed down the line. Topaz gaped as she saw Clifford and his men get met with a hail of arrows and gunshot from both sides. Within moments they were forced to defend themselves against Hampstead and her two enemies began to fight one another.
Within moments, Hampstead was in retreat, panicked by the seeming reinforcement of the rebels.
Vogts decided to make the most of the utter confusion and called for a charge. Topaz's entire army pushed as one into the field of battle in pursuit of Hampstead, whose men were still battling all the men in red they could find.
The enemy was soon routed and cut down as they retreated. Bridgeman clamored up the hillock, limping towards Topaz and Vogts. "What is going on? I thought we were being pushed back. I come up here and see we're routing them!"
"Even you won't believe what happened. This is even better than one of your tall stories, Bridgeman," Vogts replied. "Just as we were being pushed back, Clifford rode down upon us. We all thought we were done for. So, too, it seems, did Hampstead. He'd been there battling Clifford's red crests all morning long and must have thought he joined our side.
"As soon as Clifford came into view, Hampstead attacked him and they've ended up fighting each other instead of us! We just waited and finished them off. We turned a narrow defeat into a crushing victory, but a hard-won one."
Topaz scanned the battlefield, shuddering at the sight of the dead, arrows thrust through their chests, strewn about the ground mingled with the wounded, crying for help.
"So this is real war! 'Tis not so glamorous as the old timers tell in their stories of the Wars of the Roses. We lost many good-hearted and valiant men today."
"'Twould have been much worse if Sir Cecil had not thought that Clifford was with us!" Vogts retorted.
She nodded. "'Tis a good thing he saw Lord Clifford's ostentatious crest all over our ranks," Topaz said. "With so much of his livery alongside ours, 'tis only natural he'd think the worm had turned!"
"Henry's armies are both now in complete disarray! London is ours!" Bridgeman crowed, throwing his head back, nearly tipping over.
"We're all tired now," Vogts said, helping Topaz to her feet. "Let's tend to the wounded and rest this night. Tomorrow, too. We'll bury our dead and rest our spirits. Then I fancy we'll be in a mood for London."
Topaz nodded, and allowed him to take her arm and lead her to the battlefield to offer what comfort she could to the fallen men, who began to cheer her as she passed.
She thanked her lucky stars for the way things had turned out that day, but she could not expect her good fortune to last forever with so few able-bodied men to help. Still, they had come this far. As Vogts said, the capital awaited. And with it, her crown.
Topaz awoke the next day in better spirits. The casualties were heavy but much had been captured in terms of ordnance and supplies. They now had even more cannon, fresh stores of powder, balls and arrows, plus handguns, swords, maces, poleaxes, pikes and battleaxes.
They'd also procured spears, leather jerkins and iron helmets for the archers. The plate armor, helmets and shields they had stripped from the dead or collected after the two confused enemy troops had headed off to London were all of the finest quality. Her army was now re-equipped and stronger than ever, for though many were dead, still more now began to join them from the north to support the Yorkist cause.
Vogts greeted her with a warm, lingering kiss on the hand and reported that their army was still seventy-four hundred strong and better supplied than ever, enabling them to begin the march on London.
"Aye, to London indeed," she said, gripping his hand hard, her crown of destiny now feeling even more securely within her grasp now that this remarkable captain was at her side.
CHAPTER FIVE
Whitehall Palace
"A message for Your Majesty." The page timidly held out the parchment and the King snatched it out of his hand, breaking the seal, not bothering to observe it but guessing accurately who it was from.
"From Norfolk? Does he not have the mettle to deliver it himself?" the King muttered.
The page stood rigidly, staring up at the King as he scanned the message. He crumpled it, waved the page aside and stomped back into his privy chamber.
"Heads will roll!" His voice echoed through the corridors of his chambers as the page turned and scampered away.
Kenilworth Castle
Matthew eyed the cream colored parchment with the royal seal sitting on his writing table as he entered his solar. He tossed his cloak aside and rushed up to it, nearly tearing it in his haste to open it.
Amethyst was anxious to have him call on her immediately. She begged him for a visit of just a few days. The King himself was riding out to battle to thwart this insane plan of Topaz's and she needed a friend.
Matthew mentally ran through his list of tasks for the following fortnight. Could he make it to London and back in time to finalize the purchase of lands he was making from the Duke of Gloucester? Never mind; business could wait. The boys were safe here, though naturally concerned about all they had been hearing of their mother's rebellion.
He thought for a moment longer, then made up his mind to go. Amethyst needed him.
Without another moment's hesitation, he ordered his servers to pack some trunks and ready fresh horses. Before the hour was out, he was on his way.
A day and night of riding brought him to Whitehall Palace. He then waited eagerly for her in her receiving chamber, checking his appearance once more. He had longed to see her at once, but had schooled himself in patience and bathed and changed from his travelling clothes first.
The thought of her being so near made all thoughts of banqueting vanish as he strode past the great hall and merely glanced at the servers scurrying around readying it for that evening's meal.
A maid opened the door and Amethyst appeared from the inner chamber, resplendent in a gown of dark blue shot through with gold threads and cloth of gold lining the upturned sleeves. Sapphires glowed at
her throat. He stood, consuming her with his eyes. She radiated beauty like a thousand glowing stars at midnight. Oh, how he wanted her!
"Matthew." Then she was in his arms and he fought the impulse to devour her with his frustrated passion. Struggling manfully against a surge of raw desire, he gently broke their embrace.
"Tell me what has happened. I heard no news on the way here. Has the King led an army out?"
She nodded. "Aye, Topaz is planning to march on London. The King rode north just this morn."
They sat in her solar, and he kept a respectable distance. He refused all offers of food or drink, but listened intently as she poured out all her anxieties.
"'Tis out of your hands, Amethyst," he attempted to assured her as she worried about both of the people she cared so much about on a collision course, each more strong-willed than the other. "He wouldn't heed your advice. Now 'tis all up to him."
"But I worry for my sister's life, Matthew. She's outnumbered two to one, and she's bound to do something to spur Henry's anger. She doesn't know his temper. One wrong word and he'll... Oh God!" She pressed her trembling hands together as if in prayer.
He ached to hold her, but still, he kept his distance. He tried to comfort her as best he could from where he sat.
Matthew shrugged one shoulder. "I am sorry for her. I cared for her once and she is the mother of my sons. But alas, there is nothing either of us can do. She's made her decision. She knew that when she went ahead with this, her life would be in danger. She knew all that before she ever undertook this rebellion. She also knows Anne Boleyn's fate. And I am sure she will be more careful than our ill-fated queen, lest she become her new cellmate."
"But I worry for Henry too. He did not have to ride out into battle to personally defend his crown! I keep thinking of my great-uncle, King Richard."
"Amethyst, this is hardly the same thing."
"Matthew, you don't know what this is like, to have two people you love dearly going out onto a battlefield, fighting each other with armies! With swords and maces and cannon!" Her eyes darkened and a tear splashed onto her lap as she lowered her head.
"I'm sure it will be all right. All we can do is pray." He instinctively reached out to comfort her, gathering her in his arms, inhaling deeply of her flowery scent, running his hands over her satiny gown.
Her body relaxed and softened against his, and his hand roamed upward, his fingers playing through the ringlets that escaped her headdress.
She pulled away slowly, their eyes met and she managed a smile.
"You're feeling better now?" he asked, struggling to keep his voice steady, for he was close to losing his senses. He had already admitted it to himself, what he'd been planning on telling her for so long—he was in love with her. But God only knew what would happen if he ever told her…
"Let's go to the chapel and pray, Matthew," she said, gripping his hand.
He nodded. "Aye, for Topaz, and for us all, that we may one day have our heart's desire."
"Amen to that."
He followed her out of the apartments through the splendid palace. They reached the chapel, and he knelt and prayed... For peace, and to one day have the woman he loved.
Saint Albans
King Henry, clad in his best Milanese plate armor, marched north, gathering supporters, the sons of those who had fought beside his father at Bosworth, through every village and hamlet along the way.
Clifford and Hampstead both gathered the remnants of their routed armies and joined Henry there. The next morning Henry's army was just north of the town, numbering thirteen thousand six hundred by now. They were poorly armed, since Clifford and Hampstead's men had lost most their weapons, but were well equipped with cannon that the King had brought with him.
Henry set up his battle lines on a ridge, a perfect wide-open field of fire for his heavy guns. "We'll let the traitors come, then blast them where they stand!" Henry exclaimed from atop his armored mount, slamming the visor down on his helmet. "That Warwick witch won't find my crown so easily plucked."
Topaz's army continued its march south to capture London, her long-coveted crown nearly within reach.
"Saint Albans lies just fourteen miles south, then London!" Bridgeman shouted over the rhythmic clatter of hoof beats.
"My dream is coming true," Topaz proclaimed, to whoever was listening. "Soon cruelty and treachery will be cast out. A monarch with wisdom and kindness will sit on the throne instead of a despot, and all England can rejoice. The rightful ruler will see her people better served. For 'tis not the people that should serve their sovereign but the monarch that must serve his...or her...subjects!"
"Ho!" Vogts said. "Save all that. The column halts and here comes Derbyshire. What news?"
"You'd best come see for yourself, Vogts!" the soldier replied.
Vogts, Bridgeman and Topaz followed Derbyshire to the front of the column of mercenaries. "See you yonder! The milestone!"
Carved into the limestone marker was the number twelve, slightly larger than the "St. Albans" carved above it. Next to the milestone stood a gaggle of men surrounding two poles, eight feet apart. As they neared the scene, she could see the poles were pikes set on end, a head mounted atop each blade. She gasped at the sight of the familiar face on the left, pale and bloodless in death. Clifford! A banner tied between the pikes read, "Death to all Traitors."
"'Tis Henry's welcome!" Bridgeman cried.
"The King himself?" asked an incredulous Vogts.
"Look closely at this pike," Bridgeman said, pointing to a blood-soaked emblem just below each head. "That is the royal seal on each of these pikes!"
"'Tis Clifford on the left, but who is the other one?" she whispered, her mouth as dry as the scorched road before them.
"Hampstead," Vogts replied solemnly. "Out of the King's pride, he has committed a grave error. No better man could have led his troops."
"Why, you forget Henry himself," Bridgeman said. "For all his faults he is a lion in battle. He'd slay a dragon and need no help from Saint George to do it. He'll make Hampstead look like a knight's squire in comparison."
"Underestimate me and my men, would ye?" Vogts snapped, casting Bridgeman an annoyed glare. "We'll make Henry wish he had gone hunting doe. Why, we've cannon enough now to breathe fire down old Hal's neck from dusk 'till dawn!"
"My, my!" Topaz said. "He'll think he is fighting a dragon! We'll be sure to scorch him with the flames! He may as well taste them now, so he'll be prepared for Hell this time tomorrow. I rejoice at the chance to blast him to bits on the field of battle and at last have what is rightfully mine."
"His lines cannot be far away," Bridgeman said, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand, looking out over the fields. "We'll pitch camp here, rise before dawn and attack at first light."
"No!" Topaz said. "Let's go on now and get it done while we still have momentum and not allow him time to prepare. I am so near the throne I can fairly taste it! I cannot wait. My people need me!"
But both men hesitated.
"The men and the oxen are tired," Bridgeman said.
"A good long rest will do us all good. This oppressive heat wears on man and beast. I can't recall when last it rained. No, Hell can wait a day for Henry! England too must wait for you, Lady Topaz."
He lowered his voice but Bridgeman crept up closer to hear. "Come to my tent tonight. We need discuss my booty. I've some pretty plunder in mind for myself!"
She pushed against his chest. "Wait till I'm queen, Franz, then I'll give you a royal screw!" Topaz quipped, spurring her mount on, leaving Vogts and Bridgeman in an angry swirl of dust.
Topaz awoke and roused her men in the darkness. They marched to the field of battle in a ghostly muffled silence, setting up their lines in the stone-gray shadows fused with a muted pink flicker of daylight. Soft light diffused through a silvery mist cloaking the battlefield. She could sense an ominous presence nearby. She knew Henry's men were beyond the nearest hill. Her fate awaited her. In only a couple of
hours it would all be over, one way or the other.
Henry's grooms strapped the last of his plate armor in place. Holding out his hands, they slipped the cumbersome gauntlets over his meaty forearms.
"Tell me again, you've heard the maneuvers of man and beast in the fog below?" the King asked one of the lookouts, still panting from his run to Henry's tent.
"Aye, my lord, I'm sure of it. There's an army moving in the valley below."
Henry left his tent and lumbered over to his row of cannon, the gunnery crews having just prepared them for their first firing of the day. "Well, men, shall we greet our guest? Let's see how the woman who would be queen handles the King's balls, eh? Let her have the first volley!"
Thundering booms shook the earth as the first cannon shots disappeared into the mist.
