Despite the clamour of so many men, soon my head was nodding in the cramped, warm, smoky tavern room and I was wishing for my bed. Murrey had long ago curled up fast asleep beside my feet. Lord Rivers had perhaps also had a long day – how many extra miles had he ridden to Stony Stratford and back? – for less than an hour after the newcomers’ arrival, he took his leave to retire. He bid farewell to his host and departed with his companions into the gathering dark.
The two royal Dukes seated themselves again, either side of the long table, and my lord Buckingham waved the tavernkeeper across to splash more wine in their cups. When the man left the room to replenish the jugs, Duke Henry quaffed another mouthful, slammed his cup down, making the candle on the table beside it jump, then asked abruptly,
‘What news from London?’
‘The same,’ said Duke Richard. His voice was quiet, but with a little effort, blinking the sleep away, I could hear well enough. ‘Hastings tells me the old Royal Council has reassembled and take decisions under the watchful eye of the Marquess of Dorset.’
‘The old Council? That Woodville clique?’
Duke Richard nodded, but said nothing. Duke Henry blustered on, like the guttering flame of the candle by his fist.
‘They have no right. Surely Hastings knows that – he should stand against it. No matter that Dorset is also the Queen’s son. Only the new King can appoint his Council. And while he is here, with us —’
‘I'm afraid the King is not here.’
‘Not here?’ exploded Buckingham. ‘Then where?’
‘He rode on with his escort to Stony Stratford this afternoon – fourteen miles hence.’
‘Then they intend for him to reach London before us. To crown him before you arrive.’ His fist clenched tighter on his cup. ‘Why then is Rivers here?’
‘To assure me all is well. But also to delay me, I imagine. He gave some poor excuse about too few lodgings here for both parties. How many ride with you?’
Buckingham snorted.
‘Three hundred, no more, as you specified. Would now that I had brought four times as many.’
‘We are here to escort the King, not as an invading army.’
‘Yet Rivers brings two thousand? Hastings told me of it in his letter. That is not a simple escort.’
‘He has no more than fifty with him tonight. The rest – if there are so many – are with Richard Grey and the King.’
‘Stony Stratford is a Woodville manor. They will have ready access to even more men there. And assuredly there will be ambushes set. The road onwards will not be a safe one to ride in the morning.’
Duke Richard was silent for a moment.
‘I doubt they will go so far. Rivers —’
‘Is not the leader in this,’ cut in Buckingham, his bulky frame leaning forwards over the platters of fruit and cheese still on the table. ‘Dorset and the Queen – they sit in Westminster like a spider in her web. They will be directing all from there. And if the Duke of Gloucester suffers an accident in his haste to meet his King – who will question it, once they have the boy crowned and in their power?’
Lord Lovell, by Duke Richard’s elbow, spoke softly.
‘Lord Rivers showed some surprise when my lord of Buckingham appeared.’
Duke Henry threw a sharp glance at him.
‘Maybe he was too focused on your progress to think much on mine. One advantage to so small a party – we were able to press on at speed to join you.’
‘But now you are here, and they see our intent to do my brother’s bidding with the will of Parliament, they will not obstruct us.’
At Duke Richard’s words, Buckingham’s features twisted into a scowl, thrown into flickering relief by the light of the many candles.
‘With their prize so close to hand? A day’s ride, maybe two, and the new King – crowned – is theirs to control. They will not stay their hands now. Do not be naïve, cousin.’
Duke Richard’s face and voice remained calm.
‘I well know how the Woodvilles scheme. I have no need of your warning. Parliament and the people of London will not allow such manoeuvres. Their loyalty to my brother was steadfast. And if his will is well known...’
Buckingham drank deeply, then placed his cup down on the table, with care this time, and gazed across at Duke Richard. His next words seemed chosen in a more deliberate fashion.
‘And if the rumour I hear is true?’
‘What rumour?’
‘That your brother’s death was – suspicious. That maybe – and, as I say, it is only a rumour – that maybe he was... poisoned.’
‘Poisoned?
‘They say it has become all the rage at the Italian courts.’
Without a second’s hesitation, Duke Richard shook his head.
‘Nay, cousin, rumours are dangerous beasts and should not be believed lightly. Hastings’ messenger said apoplexy.’
Buckingham sat back again, revolving his wine-cup slowly with the fingers of one hand, while watching his fellow Duke.
‘Apoplexy can take many forms, so too can poisoning. But how often does a man recover from apoplexy, only to die of it a week later.’
‘Hastings did not report that.’
‘They say the King fell ill, then rallied. But after several days, and an evening spent in the bosom of his wife’s family... The first illness was a failed attempt – seven days later came success.’
A moment of quiet. The gentlemen from Yorkshire exchanged glances, the candlelight catching their eyes.
When Duke Richard remained silent, my lord of Buckingham ploughed on.
‘It is perhaps no coincidence that Dorset was made Deputy Constable of the Tower only weeks before. In preparation for seizing power – and the royal treasure. They say Edward Woodville has shipped half of the treasury away to his fleet in the Channel.’
‘I have heard that about my brother’s treasure also, and perhaps it is true. But I cannot believe the Queen capable of such a crime as murder. She loved my brother... at least, once she did.’
‘Yet now her charms have faded. You saw for yourself at Yuletide. Mistress Shore and others had become favourites. And they say Hastings himself has had a part to play in that. Elizabeth’s hold over Edward was perhaps broken and her family feared their grip on power ending. When so threatened, it takes little to drive a pack of dogs to turn on the hand that feeds them.’
‘But not to kill a king. That is a crime beyond all others. No, even the Woodvilles, for all their scheming, could not turn to that.’
‘Careful, cousin.’ One forefinger lifted from Duke Henry’s grip on his cup, as though in warning. ‘Do not forget the fate that has befallen other Protectors at the hands of kings’ families. Think of Humphrey of Lancaster – he also a Duke of Gloucester.’
‘Those were different days. Times have changed, I thank the Lord.’
‘And yet you fear for the lives of your wife and child.’
All this time, sleepily watching the faces of both Dukes in the fluttering of candlelight, I had not taken in the full import of their words. But now I learned – what? That the old King had perhaps been murdered – and that the same fate could befall my little friend Ed and his mother.
The very idea shook me awake. Until that moment I had not grasped how serious the situation was.
Duke Richard’s expression did not change, however.
‘They will be safe at home in Middleham.’
‘And you are willing to stake their lives on that?’
‘The Woodvilles can’t touch them there.’
‘Perhaps not. But we must do our job here well to make sure they remain safe.’
‘Not just for them, cousin. For my brother’s son and his kingdom.’
‘Aye, for the kingdom too,’ growled Duke Henry, draining the last of his wine before placing his cup back on the table with deliberation. ‘Though, the Lord knows, sometimes I wonder whether it deserves such care.’
Duke Richard rose. All the gentl
emen stood with him, my lord of Buckingham last of all, pushing himself up with his ham-like hands flat upon the table. Dog-tired though I was, I had dragged myself to my feet with the rest of the company.
‘The care of the kingdom is a sacred trust, cousin. And we neglect it at our peril.’ My master’s words had a firm finality about them, despite his quiet tones. ‘But now is the time for rest. We shall be ready to leave at daybreak.’
My lord Buckingham said quickly, ‘And you will send outriders before – to check for ambushes?’
Duke Richard’s fingers played with his red-stoned signet ring in that habit I now knew so well, but he didn’t speak. After a moment, Buckingham said,
‘And Rivers?’
‘I will sleep on it.’
‘You must deal with him.’
‘I said, I will sleep on it.’
‘If he manages to get a message to Dorset and the Queen —’
‘To say what?’
‘That...’ Buckingham hesitated, uncertain.
‘That I am performing my role as Protector? Perhaps it’s a message I would wish them to receive. If the Queen is loyal to my brother’s memory, she will act correctly. If not...’
‘We will know what action to take.’
‘Indeed I will know.’
I caught the slight stress that the Duke laid upon the word ‘I’, and glancing at my lord Buckingham could tell he had too. His eyes narrowed, but he fought to keep a scowl from darkening his face.
‘Then I bid you goodnight, cousin. May the morning bring less trouble than I foresee.’
Duke Richard bowed his head and his fellow Duke swept out of the room past the grovelling innkeeper, his companions close behind.
The sound of their many feet retreated along the street towards the lodgings that had been found for them and I discovered that I had been holding my breath. As I released it, a sigh whispered around the room as though the gentlemen remaining there had done the same.
Lord Lovell was the first to speak.
‘He’s right, Richard. You should beware Rivers.’
The Duke dropped back into his seat. Taking up his goblet, he at last downed a great draught.
‘I’m sure that is wise counsel, Francis. But now I am too weary to think on it. All this talk of murder...’
He swallowed another gulp, then his eyes slid towards me at the moment I was ambushed by a yawn. The ghost of a smile flitted across his face.
‘And I see I am not the only one. We must all to bed. It will be an early start, and a long ride to London with our King. I wish you all a good rest, gentlemen.’
He stood and, as his companions stepped back to allow him passage to the stairs, he said quietly aside to Lord Lovell,
‘Join me, Francis, we must talk.’
I bowed low as he passed, then scooping up the sleeping Murrey, followed up the steps, a pace behind Lord Lovell. My palliasse had been laid across the Duke’s threshold by an inn servant, ready for me to do my page’s duty and sleep on guard outside his door. Stepping over it, Duke Richard turned back and placed a hand on my shoulder.
‘I have no need of you tonight, Matt. Take as much rest as you can. I saw you fighting sleep – and we’ll likely have a long day of it tomorrow.’
I was grateful for his permission to lie down and arrange my blanket. Lord Lovell stifled a laugh as his long legs strode across me, but I was too exhausted to care whether I was the cause. With Murrey a comforting weight upon my chest, my eyelids drooped and I drifted towards sleep. What seemed only a minute or two later there came a muffled apology from his lordship as, stepping back over me, his boot grazed my arm, but then, sinking down, down, into deep, warm darkness, I knew nothing more...
2 Ambush
Until... until... something hard and pointed prodding my ribs. A greyish glimmer from somewhere. The murmur of men and animals at a distance – no, nearer now, just beyond the walls. A whimper from Murrey as I moved. A quiet voice.
‘Matt, you’ve slept long. It is time to rise. Get what food you may before we ride.’
I struggled to my feet, rubbing my eyes.
‘But Your Grace, I must help you dress.’
Duke Richard laughed.
‘No need, boy, as you see.’
I did indeed. Even the dim half-light could not disguise that he already wore his sober black riding clothes. On his feet were the boots that had nudged me awake, and in one hand a sheaf of papers. Even his sword belt was already buckled on.
‘While you lay dreaming, I have already performed half a day’s work. Now up with you and run downstairs – you’ll find the tavern long awake.’
Ashamed, I gathered my things together and slunk downstairs after him, Murrey stealing along behind. How had I overslept? How had the Duke risen without waking me? What if his enemies had come to attack him during the night?
In the large room below sat Masters Kendall and Ratcliffe among several other gentlemen, all breakfasting already amid a murmur of conversation. Their faces serious, they stood to greet the Duke, who seated himself in their midst and bid them continue their meal.
I found a spare stool at a table alongside Master Kendall, not far from the cheering warmth of the banked fire. The innkeeper’s daughter bustled up with a plate of bread and cheese and a cup of ale.
‘There you go, sir. Better late than never.’
Was that a wink as she set them before me?
In the pre-dawn flickering of embers and candles I could not be sure – except of the sudden glow of my cheeks. But, taking no notice, the girl turned away to stir up the fire.
As I sat there chewing and dropping morsels down to Murrey, a great clamour of hooves arose in the street outside. As one, the gentlemen jumped up, clapping hands to sword hilts, before Lord Lovell and several others burst through the doorway, their riding gear freshly bespattered with mud and dust.
The Duke sat still at his table as Lord Lovell strode forward. The men nearby made way for the newcomers, resheathing their part-drawn weapons, some seating themselves again, all remaining watchful.
‘Well, Francis?’
‘We found more after I sent word to you, Richard. No livery again, but undoubtedly Woodville men. We...’ he paused, his eyes scanning the gathered faces, ‘We questioned the leaders of each band. They all admitted their purpose was to stop you reaching Stony Stratford – by any means. Though none would name who gave their orders.’
Duke Richard rose to his feet. The candlelight played across a strange expression on his face. Sadness I could see. Perhaps also apprehension, determination?
‘Thank you, Francis. Sadly it seems my lord of Buckingham was correct – at least in one way. We cannot be sure who is behind these attempted ambushes, but we cannot afford to take any chances. Arrest my lord Rivers!’
The Duke’s words were spoken almost in an undertone, but they rang in my ears like a clarion.
Lord Lovell and his men left the inn in an instant, followed by others, until only Duke Richard and a handful of gentlemen remained. To one of these, the Duke turned.
‘Go raise my lord of Buckingham, and tell him what has occurred – if he is not already aware. We will leave for Stony Stratford by sun-up.’
To Master Kendall he passed the papers that had lain untouched on the table since we had come down.
‘They are signed and sealed, John. See that they are sent. Now that the road towards London is clear, let the messenger also give word to Lord Hastings that we meet with the King this morning.’
Master Kendall nodded and hurried out, but I waited, quiet in the corner, watching.
The Duke stood for a few seconds in complete stillness, no expression now on his face. His eyes were fixed on the fire flaring again on the hearth and one hand rested on the pommel of his sword. I was reminded of when the message had come that his elder brother, the King, was dead – the utter quiet of that moment, the tension in his lean frame, like a bow-string before release. Then he reached out for his cup of ale and draine
d it, and all was in motion again.
‘Come, gentlemen. We must be on our way.’
Outside the inn all the horses – including my pony, Bess – were waiting in the morning twilight, ready saddled by the inn servants. Gathering also from the surrounding dusky streets were the men who had ridden with us from York. The innkeeper himself was directing matters and as we emerged, came over to hold the bridle of the Duke’s pale grey stallion, Storm, while his most illustrious guest mounted. He bowed deeply at the Duke’s words of thanks for his hospitality and in a few moments the party was on its way.
The hooves rang loud at this early hour, the echoes bouncing off the buildings overhanging the road. Local people who were already up and about their business ducked into the shadows or dragged their beasts or wagons to the side to let us pass.
The Earl’s inn was at no great distance. As we approached, rosy-tinged clouds could be seen above the grey road stretching off to the east.
Several dozen horsemen surrounded the inn, silent but for the occasional stamp of a hoof or jingle of bit or buckle. The nearest riders parted to allow the foremost members of the Duke’s party through. I urged Bess forwards to ensure I was among them. As we entered the circle, a commotion exploded through the doorway opening on to the inn yard.
Voices raised in anger, a sharp rebuke, scuffling, and men spilling out on to the cobbles. Earl Rivers and Lord Lovell walked calmly side by side, but beyond them, a number of the Earl’s companions struggled and cursed in the firm hold of Lord Lovell’s men. Their sword belts had been taken from them, carried now by squires in the rear, but the Earl’s was still strapped to his waist, the hilt of his weapon gleaming in the mellow early light. His face in shadow, Lord Rivers turned his head to view the ring of silent horsemen.
Duke Richard had reined Storm to a halt just within the encirclement, forcing the Earl to step across the muddy courtyard to reach him. To my surprise, the Duke did not offer him the courtesy of dismounting as he approached, but gazed down at him unspeaking. His face was unreadable, though I sat astride Bess only three or four horses away.
The King's Man (The Order of the White Boar Book 2) Page 2
