The Lord of Greenwich (The Plantagenets Book 5)

by Juliet Dymoke

  Humfrey rode still in silence, his bare head lifted towards the tang of the salt air. He wanted to rid his head of the fumes and the memory of last night, he wanted to think instead, use his brain. Why in God's name, he wondered, did his body drive him so fiercely when in truth he wanted more the things of the mind? He could not control the desires that rose in him, not in the dark hours did he want to restrain them, but out here, with the taste of salt in his mouth, the wind whipping his hair about his forehead, he wanted to dismiss the whole business from his mind. He had sent the Moorish troupe away, the master grumbling about the smallness of the purse but not daring to argue, and now he would go back and immerse himself in his books.

  What was it he was reading only yesterday with that quick-witted Italian from a newly copied work of Dante? 'So may grace quickly sift away the scum upon your conscience.' Our Lady's Grace! That was apt. He crossed himself and laughed. Then he saw his squire staring at him. Elys's black hair had been plastered to his head by the rain and his dark brown eyes showed utter bewilderment.

  'Stay in my service, Elys Foxton,' he said.

  'Aye, my lord,' Elys stammered, 'I . . . I had not wished for aught . . . else, but I thought you . . . you would be so angered after what I did . . . and . . . you have so many other squires of better standing . . .'

  'Any other would have been yapping his repentence to me by now,' Humfrey said. 'You seem to know when to hold your tongue and that commends you to me.' He gave the lad his quick mischievous smile as they turned back towards the castle and from that moment Elys would cheerfully have given his life for the Lord Humfrey.

  CHAPTER THREE

  All the chivalry of England, it seemed, was gathered at Southampton. In the crowded harbour the King's own ship, The Trinity, rocked gently at anchor, the sails furled, his banner not yet raised. Dutch and Spanish merchantmen had been pressed into service, also any barges, balingers and other ships that could be requisitioned. The town was seething with soldiers all eager to purchase their spears and basinets, good ash bows and the regulation forty grey-feathered arrows, and a good many of the traders only too eager to comply with their needs were the King's own commissioners. Every tavern was full, every bed occupied as knights rode in with their 'lances', each lance consisting of a man-at-arms, a squire and one or two pages, all eager to serve under the leadership of an energetic young king.

  It was a hot July afternoon when Humfrey entered at the head of his promised five hundred men, gathered from his tenants at Hadleigh, from his manors of Cookham and Bray in Berkshire, and from the Welsh borders. He now held vast Gloucester lands as well as the lordship of Pembroke and men scrambled to join him, the promise of fighting and plunder more tempting than the dull grind at home.

  He rode with a ducal coronet about his helm, for last spring in the Parliament at Leicester Harry had named John Duke of Bedford and himself Duke of Gloucester and Earl of Pembroke. It had been good to be at Kenilworth again, that great fortress of red sandstone that had been the royal brothers' nursery when they were children. Humfrey had taken a boat out on the mere, remembering the day when he had fallen in the water only to be pulled out by a perspiring man-at-arms who had seen him from a postern gate. But it had been serious business there this time with long discussions with the French ambassadors, and now the time for talking was over. Every man in his train proudly sported his ostrich feather badge, while above his head his banner fluttered in the light breeze, a magnificent piece of work newly made and bearing the arms of England bordered by silver and with his motto Loyalle et belle. It had been extremely expensive and he had instructed his treasurer not to settle the bill until they returned from France rich with booty. His soldiers had to be paid and he had vied with his brother, Thomas, in bringing a great number.

  As they entered the town and 'rode towards the harbour his erstwhile squire William, now Gloucester Herald, went ahead, shouting his master's rank. 'Make way for the Duke, a path for my lord of Gloucester', and as the crowds scattered, cheering him, Humfrey smiled and raised his hand and indicated that Elys should throw some coins among the people. He knew he was a shining and dramatic figure today in his burnished armour, his brilliant coloured tabard, a great plume in his helm, and he would have been less than a man if he had not enjoyed his popularity. Outside a fine stone house John Holland was talking with a group of young men as Humfrey rode by. Harry had restored him to his father's earldom of Huntingdon. 'God save you, Cousin Humfrey,' he called out, 'I am to sail with you in the King's ship.'

  That will please Aunt Elizabeth, Humfrey thought, and waved a greeting but he did not draw rein. If he halted to speak to every young sprig he knew in this crowd he would never reach Harry by the supper hour.

  At the harbour he paused, gazing at the mass of ships, the masts like a great forest, the sea sparkling, the fresh salty breeze lifting his bright banner. 'What a sight,' he said over his shoulder to Lord Berkeley, and then to his astonishment, became aware of his brother not twenty yards away, clad in a soldier's jack, his shirt open at the neck, no sign of royal rank about him and striding among the load of stores on the quay. He was followed by several harrassed clerks with tally sticks in his hands and had paused by a barrel, ordering a man to open it. As Humfrey came up he was peering inside.

  'Well!' Humfrey said, 'Have you not clerks and stewards to do this for you, Harry?'

  The King looked up. He was sunburned, his eyes very keen and a smile came into them as he saw Humfrey. 'Aye, in plenty, but attention to detail from the top of the tree is what makes for sound roots.'

  'I'm sure you're right.' Humfrey peered into the barrel. 'Phew! Herrings! Need you count each fish head!'

  'There are rogues in every trade,' his brother said, 'but if they see their King walking here and looking at random they will not dare to cheat. From what my spies tell me the French are ill prepared. The King's officials know nothing of barrels of herrings or stocks of arrows. That is why we shall beat them.'

  Humfrey laughed. 'What a mundane attitude to the glory of war! Harry, you deserve a victory.'

  The King stood leaning against a stack of chests containing some of his own furnishings. 'Amen to that.' And, suddenly grim he added, 'By Our Lady, I swear King Charles will live to regret his gift of tennis balls. If he thought to mock me he has a poor sense of humour. He shall have cannon balls in return.'

  'And good English arrows.' Humfrey was watching great bundles of them being carried aboard. 'By the way, what became of those tennis balls?'

  Harry tucked his arm into his brother's. 'I gave them to Cambridge and I wish you'd seen his face. He was not sure how I meant the gift.'

  'He was always addleheaded,' Humfrey said, 'and hand in glove with his brother-in-law Mortimer, since you gave Edmund his freedom.'

  'A campaign will teach Edmund to be a man. I've a liking for him, though the Mortimers were against my father. Our cousin of York is straining at the leash as if he scented the quarry already and Richard won't be outdone by an elder brother.'

  'I fear I shall,' Humfrey retorted promptly. 'I cannot excel you in arms. Nor do I want to – you are the King.'

  'By God,' Harry said, 'I am more fortunate in my brothers than the King of France. God knows how often he has been cuckolded by his! We lodge at Porchester Castle, Humfrey, so ride out with me. We can squeeze in your own retinue but your steward must see the rest of your fellows settled somewhere here.'

  By mid-afternoon the King was sufficiently satisfied with his preparations to ride the twelve miles to Porchester. The great square fort, reminder of the days of Roman power with its defensive towers and Norman Castle within its walls, was seething with knights and men-at-arms. Booths had been set up to supply food and wine and arms. There were tents for the better off, the common soldiers bivouacking round camp fires, their cooking pots slung across, while the castle, improved and enlarged in King Richard's day, housed the large number of followers without whom no King could travel. Almost all the vast collection of the Crown's jewels
had been laid out as pledges to pay for this vast expedition, and Harry had given Humfrey a fine set of solid gold goblets from Windsor Castle as an earnest of his promise to pay all expenses out of the plunder of the campaign.

  They went at once to the great hall; the massive and less comfortable keep being left to the vast train of knights and squires. The hall, as any building erected under King Richard's artistic eye, was light and gracious, and supper was already laid out on the long tables. Humfrey chose a place beside his old friend, Dean Courtney and was soon deep in conversation about Oxford and the need to extend the studies of the students to include pre­Christian writings.

  'All knowledge is not necessarily good.' Courtney said in his gentle voice. He had a manner which deceived some men into thinking he was too unworldly, too scholarly to stand up for what he considered worth fighting for.

  'Wasn't it Master Peter Abelard who disagreed with St Augustine,' Humfrey suggested, 'and said "understand that you may believe and not the other way about"? I cannot see that a reasonable reading of Plato and Plutarch who did not know our Lord Christ can do harm to any man's conscience.'

  'I am not disagreeing with you, my lord Duke. I merely think we need safeguards against the temptation to lax thinking which leads to heresy.'

  'That's more likely to come from such men as Oldcastle than from ancient Greece,' Humfrey said. 'God knows how we escaped with our lives at Eltham on Christmas night when he and his men planned to seize us. I always knew he was a Lollard but never a traitor, and I believed him too much Harry's friend to plan so devilish a thing.'

  'Lollard is from the Devil,' Courtney answered solemnly, 'and leads to devilish works.'

  'Aye. Harry does not like leaving Oldcastle at large while we are away. I wish we knew how he had managed to escape the Tower after his trial.'

  'It was a sorry business,' the Bishop agreed. 'I pray God the Kingdom will be safe. Well, your brother my lord of Bedford and Bishop Beaufort are not men to be played with.'

  'Sober John will be watched as usual though I doubt he liked being left behind.' Humfrey was hungry and ate rapidly, enjoying the good food on Harry's table, and after the meal retired with him to the smaller Constable's chamber. Edward of York followed them and settling himself in a chair was soon sleeping off the effects of his huge supper, while Thomas and the Earl of Warwick, both in their element in military matters, spread a map of France on the table. Thomas was pointing out various landmarks, roads that were good or bad for transporting an army. 'You will make for Calais?' he asked.

  Harry was looking intently at the map. 'That is what they will expect us to do, but our own town borders Burgundy's Flemish lands and I don't want to antagonize him. And Calais is too far from our objectives in this chevauchée, so is Bordeaux, our other port. No,' his finger came down on Harfleur, 'here is where we will land.'

  'Hostile territory,' Thomas said.

  'Aye, but a great harbour and a town to give us a foothold where we need it. It will encourage the men to seize such a place at the very start.'

  'If we take it,' Humfrey said.

  'We shall take it,' the King's voice was confident.

  There was a discreet knock on the door and the Earl of March came in. His rather pasty face seemed even paler than usual and his eyes held an expression bordering on panic. Harry did not notice but, absorbed in his map, said in a kindly tone, 'Come in, Edmund, come in. You are always welcome in my chamber.'

  'You look like a scared coney.' Humfrey was astride a stool, his long legs stretched out. 'What in God's name is the matter?'

  'Something of great moment … a terrible matter . . . Edmund Mortimer became aware how shrill his voice sounded and stopped to begin again. 'Sire, if I might speak with you . . .'

  'You are speaking with me,' the King said. He put Edmund's gauchery down to the fact of his youth and long years away from society. 'Come, what is it that is so urgent?'

  Edmund glanced at the royal brothers, at the large and gently snoring figure of the Duke of York, and then at the upright Warwick. He passed his tongue over his lips. 'I thought I must come, Sire, but I cannot . . . cannot countenance . . . nor lend my name . . . it is treachery!'

  'Treachery?' The half indulgent smile left the King's face. 'Whose? And what do you know of it?'

  'Nothing until . . . Well, it was last week . . . and for my poor sister's sake . . . and my nephew's.'

  'The Lady Anne?' Thomas asked blankly. 'What can she have to do with it? God assoil her soul, she's been in her grave these two years and her son is a mere child.'

  The King became suddenly alert. 'Then this must concern her husband, my cousin Cambridge? Speak up, and quickly.' His voice was so swiftly stern that Edmund's panic grew, and he blundered on.

  'Aye, your grace, it is he who with Sir Thomas Gray and Lord Scrope they said Oh, my lord, for God's sake wake up!' He ran to the sleeping Duke and shook his arm. 'Your brother is plotting treason.'

  Edward of York's mouth was open in sleep and it stayed open as he woke in surprise. 'Eh, what's that? What did you say? Treason? Richard? You're out of your mind, boy.'

  'And Lord Scrope?' Harry asked incredulously. 'Edmund, come, sit down and try to tell us calmly.'

  And Thomas added, 'If it is so grave a matter we must hear every detail.'

  The young Earl, glad enough to take a stool, hesitated for a moment, fidgeting and aware of the three brothers and the Duke all watching him closely, to say nothing of Warwick whose dignity and standing filled him with awe. It was Warwick who said quietly, 'Mortimer, the King is waiting.' And then the tale poured out. It seemed that the long discontent of the north, always against the encroachment of Lancaster, had burst into flame. Henry Scrope had neither forgotten nor it appeared forgiven the beheading of his uncle, the Archbishop, while the Earl of Cambridge, who seemed to have no reason other than an old affection for his cousin and namesake King Richard, had been persuaded that the Crown was on the wrong head. Even if King Richard was not alive in Scotland, Edmund babbled on, they said the true heir was himself. Consequently they had approached him, sworn that they would make him King and furnished him with a list of men able and willing to aid him. There was to be a swift rising the very next day, Cambridge and Scrope had their men in readiness outside Southampton. 'You are to be taken and slain, sire,' he finished, 'and your brothers too while I . . . am to be crowned.'

  'Good God!' York exclaimed and his face grew even more ruddy. 'Is my brother gone mad?'

  'Aye, mad,' Humfrey said, 'or jealous. I've always thought he was that. He could do nothing as well as you, Harry. But what a fool!'

  'More than a fool,' Thomas added, 'a traitor. What will you do, Sir?'

  The King's face was set and stern. 'I believed him loyal,' he said, 'and as for Scrope – we shared many a scrap in Wales, ate at the same table, slept in the same bed. He was my friend. How could he lend himself to this, wish they all of us dead?' There was a bitter note in his voice but after a moment he mastered the personal emotion. 'They must be arrested, he and Cambridge and the rest. As for you, Edmund,' he looked down at the distraught youth, 'What am I to do with you? Richard is your brother-in-law and he wants to see my crown on your head, eh?'

  'But I do not want it so.' Edmund was trembling, stung by the contempt in Harry's voice. 'I never wanted to be King, not even when I was shut up at Windsor. Believe me, Sire, for sweet Jesu's sake believe me. If it were not so would I have come to you tonight?'

  'Maybe there is a fine line between loyalty and a sudden fear for one's own skin,' Humfrey suggested and Edmund burst into tears.

  Thomas turned his back on the weeping youth. 'It should be done at once,' he said glancing at the King, and Harry who had taken the paper from Edmund's slack fingers began to scrutinize it. 'By God, they set their nets wide. Even the Scots are to be brought in with young Harry Percy at their head! I can't credit that – only last spring I restored Percy's lands and title and allowed him to wed the Neville girl.'

  'You slew his f
ather at Shrewsbury fight,' Humfrey pointed out.

  'Aye, but in a fight of Hotspur's choosing, and I've carried this scar ever since. There are Nevilles here too. Ralph will disown them, I'll warrant. He is loyal to me and his eldest boy is in your own train, isn't he, Humfrey?'

  'The north is a nest of Nevilles and Percies.'

  Humfrey got up from his stool and began to read over Harry's shoulder. 'But these are lesser men and – Holy Cross, there's Oldcastle's name! Did you not see it?'

  'I saw it,' the King said, and Warwick added, 'we must stamp out these vile heretics once and for all.'

  Harry held out the list to Clarence. 'See to it. Bring Cambridge, Scrope and Gray here to me.

  And you, Richard, take all the men you need to seize their followers. Great God, Cambridge boasted of the number he would bring to my cause!'

  Warwick and Clarence made for the door and Edward of York cried out, 'Handle my brother gently. He is not yet condemned.' But Thomas seemed not to have heard and disappeared back into the hall followed by Warwick. York turned to the still figure of the King. 'Harry –'

  'I am sorry,' his cousin said, 'but I will have no mercy on traitors, Edward. I cannot have the realm in danger and I will not at this stage turn from France. I'll brook no delay.' He began to stride up and down, his mind grappling with the horrifying revelation. It was no peaceful kingdom over which he ruled, no united people, and he was determined to scotch the seeds of rebellion at once, for that the majority loved him he was sure. 'A messenger must ride at once to my lord Westmorland, he will know how to deal with any trouble in the Marches. And he must be told,' he added harshly, 'that his daughter, Lady Gray, will be a widow by the time my word reaches him. Humfrey, see that a court is convened tomorrow at Southampton, all the peers here present, a jury from the county, a justice – Williams should be at his lodgings.'

  Humfrey went out and on the way across the courtyard saw the bustle, the marching men, the stunned prisoners on their way to the keep; and then entering under King Richard's gate and surrounded by guards, the ringleaders of the plot. In the lantern light all three looked pale and shaken. Cambridge cried out, 'Humfrey help us. Tell Thomas it is a mistake . . . for God's sake, listen . . .'