The King's Man (The Order of the White Boar Book 2)

by Alex Marchant

  ‘No, say nothing more. I heard what you said about the King. Have you no respect?’

  ‘But, sir —’

  ‘Don’t try to explain. Be off with you, boy!’

  Hugh was now easily a finger or two taller than Master Ashley and far broader, and he stood his ground a moment, staring at him, his chest still heaving beneath his royal livery. His lips moved as though he would speak again. But my master’s companion took a step towards him and Hugh thought better of it, proffered the slightest of bows and turned to Elen. His voice was icily polite as he said,

  ‘My lady, it has been a pleasure. We must ride out together again another time. Pray remember me to your esteemed friend, Lady Alys.’

  And, seizing her hand before she could snatch it away, he pressed it to his lips. Then he strode to the brown colt, whisked its rein from the groom’s hands, passed him the lantern, mounted and, spurring the horse’s sides, was gone.

  Elen wiped the back of one hand on the other, a deep red tingeing her cheek, just visible in the twilight.

  Master Ashley took her hand and, patting it once, drew it courteously through his arm.

  ‘My dear, you are trembling. You must come in and my wife shall give you a restorative. Matthew – follow us.’

  Murmuring a word to his companion, he led Elen through the gates into the courtyard. The other gentleman walked at her other side as though supporting her, and the groom, now dismounted, led the palfrey and his own horse towards the stables.

  I trailed behind my master, still clinging on to Murrey’s collar so she stuck close to my side, and wondering for the first time why Elen was here at all – and why Hugh had been with her.

  A servant had hurried ahead and Mistress Ashley met us at the top of the main entrance steps, her concerned face lit up by torches newly flaring to either side. Master Ashley relinquished Elen’s arm to her as she said,

  ‘Come in, come in, my dear. What has happened?’

  The mistress urged Elen into the dining hall, waving away her quiet protest that all was well, and I was left in the entrance hallway with my master and his companion, uncertain what to do next. They gazed after the ladies through the still-open door, then spoke together in an undertone. Their speech was not clear to me as I lingered near the main door, but its rhythms betrayed that it was not English.

  His hood now thrown back, in the glimmer of candles ranged in sconces around the hallway the other man was revealed to be not only tall and lean, but also the possessor of skin and hair as dark as Elen’s, perhaps darker even. He was attired beneath his fur-trimmed cloak in outlandish robes of vivid silks, and, with black eyes that glinted like the eyes of a hawk, he had the air of one used to being obeyed. It was no wonder that Hugh had had second thoughts about confronting my master when he stood beside such a man.

  He took his leave a moment later, and I watched with my master as he strode to the stables. There another man in similar robes held the bridle of a dapple grey stallion with a proud, curving neck, alongside his own, similarly noble horse. A groom helped the gentleman to mount and soon the gates clanged behind the two strangers as they rode away.

  Master Ashley placed his hand on my shoulder, driving out of my mind all thoughts of who they might be.

  ‘Shall we see how your young friend is? She is Lady Alys Langdown’s companion unless I am mistaken.’

  Given the closeness between his household and that of the King, I was unsurprised that he knew of Elen. I was perhaps more surprised at his next words, and the mild manner in which they were spoken.

  ‘And the squire? Is he perhaps Lord Soulsby’s nephew, Master Hugh?’

  ‘Aye, sir, he is.’ Though I did my best, my voice was not so calm.

  ‘I heard that you two had a disagreement while you were at Middleham. I see that it has not been forgotten. You would do well perhaps to avoid him while in London if you can. His family were ever ones to bear a grudge.’

  This also was no surprise to me, and no doubt excellent advice – if I could avoid all accidental meetings too.

  I followed him into the dining hall. Within, Mistress was fussing over Elen, now resting upon a bench, sipping deep-red wine from a crystal goblet.

  ‘Ah, husband, let Matthew come in. Elen here says she was on her way to visit him when this unpleasantness occurred. She has quite recovered herself now.’

  With smiles and reassurances, Mistress Ashley retreated with her husband and I was left alone with Elen. A single candle on the nearby table cast a corona of light around her.

  ‘Are you well now, Elen?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, I thank you, Matthew,’ she replied, her colour rising again. ‘It was nothing, indeed. Just Hugh...’

  A pause, before she continued.

  ‘I did not wish him to accompany me. He was outside Lady Elizabeth’s stables as I left, chatting with the stable lads. When he saw me, he offered to ride with me. He said the way might not be safe.’

  ‘Although you had your groom?’

  ‘He was just being polite.’

  Another pause.

  To distract her from her discomfort, I pulled up a small stool for myself and then changed the subject. I had no wish to speak more of Master Soulsby.

  ‘And how is Alys?’

  ‘She is well, thank you.’ Elen brightened at the words. ‘She is the reason for my visit. Though she did not want me to come.’

  ‘Not?’

  My disappointment must have been obvious to her, for she went on hurriedly,

  ‘Only because she would rather have come herself. Or have written.’

  ‘But she has not?’

  The weeks without letters had bothered me more than I had known, for all that I had justified them to myself. The words cut as they came out, and Elen’s eyes flinched as at a wound.

  ‘She would have written if she could. Believe me, Matthew. It is not her intent to neglect you. She is as frustrated as you can be, but she would not let me write to you in her stead.’

  I regretted my words now. My tone softened.

  ‘Why? What has happened?’

  ‘She was thrown from her pony.’

  ‘What? But you said she was well.’

  ‘Don’t worry – she is not badly hurt. But the bones in her wrist were broken and so she cannot write. Her arm is all swathed in bandages. She says it does not pain her greatly, but it may be some weeks still before it is strong enough to hold a quill.’

  ‘I hope she may recover more quickly than that. But she was thrown, you say. Yet she’s such a good rider, and knows her pony so well.’

  Elen smiled her quiet smile.

  ‘Yes, Matthew, we all know she’s a fine rider. But – and she would tell me off for saying this – she was riding recklessly. She had just heard she was not to travel to Gipping, and she was annoyed. I believe she took it out on her poor pony and spurred him more than he was used to. He jibbed and threw her.’

  ‘Gipping?’ I racked my memory for a trace of the name.

  ‘To visit Lady Tyrell. It is her husband’s estate in Suffolk. Alys has not seen Lady Tyrell since she left the Queen’s household and they had become such friends at court. Sir James Tyrell is now master of the King’s henchmen. I’m sure Roger will have told you. He is his master now, and of all the pages.’

  I shook my head. Despite his promise, Roger had written hardly a letter to me since his return to the north.

  ‘I don’t often hear from Roger. And I have not seen him since the spring. Since he brought me news of...’ I swallowed, pushing away the memory. ‘Since he came to visit his parents.’

  Elen bowed her head and reached a hand down to stroke Murrey’s ears, but the tear growing on her long black lashes sparkled in the candlelight like a star on the darkest night. She blinked once or twice and after a moment, lifted her head again. Her emotion left no trace upon her face as she continued her tale.

  ‘Lady Elizabeth was to visit Lady Tyrell with her mother, Dame Grey. Naturally Alys was to join them. Bu
t Dame Grey sent word at the last moment that Elizabeth was not to go with her.’ She glanced about her, as though the shadows in the dining hall teemed with listeners, then went on. ‘The older ladies in the household say it’s because there is a rumour that a Portuguese Duke wishes to marry Lady Elizabeth. They say he has sent an ambassador to London just to see her.’

  I remembered Alys’s letter about the King’s marriage plans for his brother’s daughter – and her words about perhaps travelling abroad with Elizabeth herself.

  ‘Is the rumour true?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Elen replied. ‘There are always rumours swirling about at court – about this and that. Always gossip and intrigues, lords and ladies plotting and vying against one another for royal favour and attention. Alys says it’s one of the reasons why the King and Queen stayed away from court so much when old King Edward was alive. They do all they can to prevent it now, but Lady Tyrell said it’s impossible to go against centuries of tradition.’

  ‘Then maybe there is nothing in it, just talk among idle folk.’

  How would I feel if it were true? If Princess Elizabeth were to marry and take Alys with her to Portugal or any such foreign land – and perhaps Elen too? And with Roger so far away in Sheriff Hutton. And Ed... Even after more than a year I had not made such good friends in London, for all that Simon and I worked together, trained together, lived and laughed together. Yet, I should not grudge Alys her chance to travel and see exotic lands if it should come. But how would it affect her future marriage too?

  Perhaps Elen read some of my thoughts scribed on my face, despite the dimness of the light cast by the single candle in its silver holder.

  ‘It may not happen. We must wait to see how the King’s diplomacy fares. Yet I for one hope Lady Elizabeth marries this Duke, or someone similar, soon.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Because other rumours say that the King offered her hand in marriage to Henry Tudor, in hope that in return he would come back to England, pledge his allegiance and give up his claim to the throne.’

  ‘What? King Richard?’

  Elen nodded.

  ‘Do not look so shocked. They say King Edward, her father, did the same when the French prince ended his betrothal to her – though he was no more successful than King Richard has been so far. If the rumour is true.’

  ‘But Tudor is an enemy. Why would they do that?’

  Elen’s lips twitched, though whether in a smile or a grimace I could not tell.

  ‘Because there are many ways of turning an enemy into a friend, Matthew. To offer them a young lady – and the land and wealth and titles that come with her – is one of them. Perhaps the best one if you are a king.’

  In the silence that followed my mind flitted to another such case. Almost without thought I asked,

  ‘Is that why Alys was promised in marriage to Ralph Soulsby?’

  Elen stiffened as though offended by the question, but maybe it was pain rather. Her dark eyes glistened like molten glass in the candle’s gleam.

  ‘In a way, perhaps. Though Lord Soulsby has long been an ally, not an enemy, of the King, and King Edward before him, for all that his brother was a traitor.’ She hesitated. ‘Yet perhaps that is another reason to hope Lady Elizabeth will marry someone other than Henry Tudor. Alys might go to Portugal or another royal household with her, if the Soulsbys would give up their claim to her. We can but hope it will happen.’

  Even though it would take her far from me too...

  ‘And,’ added Elen, casting a glance about her again with a small conspiratorial smile, ‘for Lady Elizabeth’s sake. She told Alys she would refuse to marry Tudor if she could. Not only has she never met him, but she says she knows his mother, Lady Stanley, too well to want her for a mother-in-law.’

  I joined her in her smile, Alys’s words about that lady’s actions at the coronation and after coming unbidden to my memory. Yet still the effect of such a change for myself pricked at my mind.

  ‘If it should happen, I wonder whether we can remain friends. Portugal is so very far away.’

  Indeed I had only a vague idea of where it was. I had not often encountered its merchants in London – never in York – although I knew them to be dark of skin like those of the Spanish kingdoms – and to be courageous seafarers who had for generations traded with distant lands.

  Elen’s eyelashes fluttered down again, hiding her eyes from my sight, as she said, her voice a little husky,

  ‘I’m sure we can. Whatever distance should separate us all. And we do not know what will happen yet.’

  Silence reigned. The candle guttered, throwing flickering shadows across the walls and making the fantastic beasts leap and gambol on my master’s fine silk tapestries.

  Then Elen stood, her abrupt movement dislodging Murrey, who had been lying asleep across her small booted feet.

  ‘I must go, before it grows too late.’

  ‘I’m sure my master will send a serving man with you to guard you.’

  ‘There is no need. My groom —’

  ‘Was no defence against Hugh.’

  She waited while I called a household servant to send in search of the mistress. As he scurried away, she laid a hand upon my arm.

  ‘Thank you, Matthew. It has been good to see you after all this time. I – I know Alys has missed your company, and she – we both welcome your letters, and all your news. Your life is so much more interesting than our own.’

  Her words surprised me. For me the life of a simple apprentice could never match that lived by fine ladies and gentlemen at court.

  ‘But,’ she went on, ‘Alys says it would be safer to use the code more often now. She says we can never know what spies there may be in Elizabeth’s household – or at court. I think she is being perhaps a little dramatic. But all these rumours and intrigues have to start somewhere.’

  Master Lyndsey the steward himself came to escort Elen to the stables. There her palfrey and groom stood waiting, along with one of Master Ashley’s own stable lads, hefting a halberd in case there should be cutpurses or footpads lying in wait on the journey back to Westminster. Affixed to the groom’s saddle was a covered basket, no doubt a gift of fruit and autumn blooms picked from the garden for Lady Elizabeth’s household.

  Once mounted, Elen leaned down to offer me her gloved hand. As I pressed my lips to it in farewell, she said softly,

  ‘Stay in touch, Matthew. And be sure to tell us of your mother’s happy event when it comes. I so long to hear news of your new baby brother or sister.’

  I watched her ride away into the darkness flanked by both grooms, until the twinkling of their lanterns turned a distant corner and could be seen no more. And as I retraced my steps to the light and warmth of my master’s house, I marvelled for the first time at all she had said. In the many months I had known Elen, she had not uttered half so much before. Yet in all that evening, only once, perhaps twice, had she spoken of herself.

  Elen’s prospects, her future, were at least as uncertain as those of Alys, or the Lady Elizabeth, yet her thoughts and words were only for them. What were her own dreams and desires?

  But then she, like myself, was but a small person, entangled in the lives and affairs of those greater than ourselves. We had little say or sway over events, or even, sometimes, choice in the paths that we had to follow.

  14 The Light Fades

  Another autumn. Another Advent. Another Christmas-time.

  Another chill, grey London winter.

  Alys was as good as her word – or as Elen’s, at least. Once the physician pronounced her wrist healed, she took up her quill again and penned more of her usual lively letters – even if they were shorter and not so frequent as they had once been. Perhaps her duties were more onerous now she was a young lady at court, or perhaps it was the tedium of always writing in code. But, still, they were full of the colour and finery of the royal festivities of which she and Elizabeth were a part.

  And her words about the
King and Queen heartened me, filling me with the good cheer suitable to the Christmas season – although amongst her happy news was the faintest of shadows on the horizon.

  During Christmas they have looked happier than I had seen them for months, at least since that terrible time in the spring. The Queen and Elizabeth and all the ladies have been wearing the most sumptuous gowns of cream and gold, while the gentlemen have dressed mostly in blues and greys. But on Twelfth Night – what a spectacle! We were all clad in red or gold, like flames in the great fireplaces of the palace. The Queen had made a gift to Elizabeth of a gown exactly like her own, and the King had presented them both with the most beautiful jewels. He then led both of them out to dance while everyone cheered and clapped.

  We learned later that earlier in the day the King had been brought reports that Henry Tudor is again planning an invasion in the summer. Lady Tyrell told us that the King was pleased, saying he wished to deal with that problem once and for all.

  I do hope you have enjoyed Christmas too. Did Master Ashley and his family wait on you apprentices topsy-turvy fashion like last year? I meant to suggest that to the King and Queen this Christmas season. I hope your new baby brother is still well. The Queen laughed with delight when I told her your father had named him Richard in thanks for all that the King has done for you. She said that on her next trip to York, she will visit your mother to thank her, though that will not be before springtime at the earliest. Do you think that will be time enough for your mother to prepare?!

  In friendship,

  Alys

  And so 1484 had turned into 1485.

  Then, with no warning, came shattering news, as heartbreaking in its way as the news of Ed’s death almost a year before.

  A glorious morning in early spring. I was at work with Simon and Master Ashley in the counting house. A huge leather-bound ledger lay upon the table before me and I was busy tallying up the figures neatly written in long columns on the open page. But gradually the numbers grew dim and the sunlight streaming into the room faded.

  A quizzical look touched Master Ashley’s face and he went to open the door.