The King's Dogge (47 page)

I made a final effort to make him see sense.

‘But that's even more reason for organising everything properly now? Summon your troops immediately.'

‘And have their families starve in the winter because I denied them the chance to tend their fields and harvest their crops?' Richard rebuked me. ‘Surely that would be a poor way for me to earn my own salvation?'

I sighed in sheer frustration; Richard had retreated into a world where I could never reach him.

‘Trust me, Francis, when I say that God is already helping me to make amends, I speak nothing but the truth. Our victory is certain and, since this is the case, let all other matters take their natural course.'

There was no way to argue with him.

‘When do you intend to proclaim Warwick as your heir?' I asked curiously.

‘When Tudor has been killed, of course. I would not have it said that I was forced to name my heir because I feared I would be defeated,' he answered swiftly. ‘Such talk would offend the Almighty.'

I turned in my bed. Richard might have been confident, but others were not. And then Catesby's words cropped up in my thoughts again. It had been one of our last meetings together and he had been as efficient as ever. The business was swiftly concluded and I recalled him leaning back in his seat as he dismissed the clerks.

‘Have you thought of transferring part of your estates to your wife?' he asked casually.

‘Why?'

He sniffed.

‘It seems to be quite the fashion at court these days.'

He saw my bemused expression and condescended to explain.

‘It's a precaution in case Henry Tudor wins. Obviously, a man like you would lose all his lands, but your wife can legally retain those lands that she holds in her name.'

‘It would look disloyal to Richard.'

He raised a cynical eyebrow.

‘Naturally it would, but your wife or widow would need somewhere to live.'

He had a point, so I agreed unenthusiastically.
²⁷
Catesby made a note of the manors that I suggested and nodded briskly.

‘I'll have the papers drawn up for you,' he said as we rose. ‘It won't take long; I've become quite an expert at it by now.'

I thanked him, but curiously he made no sarcastic comment. Instead his gaze was unfocused as he stood completely still. Presently he shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts, and gave me an embarrassed glance.

‘There's no need for thanks, Francis.'

It was so uncharacteristic a remark that I was curious.

‘You seemed so distracted just now?'

He gave a light laugh.

‘I was merely thinking of these land transfers and reflecting how prone men are to look to their own affairs at times like these.'

It seemed a commonplace observation, so I turned to go. But, as I reached the door, he spoke softly again.

‘But then, I suppose, a truly wise man would provide as much insurance for himself as he possibly could.'

At the time I assumed he was still referring to the land transfers so I walked on.

I rose at the first hint of dawn, hoping that light and movement would sweep away the dark fantasies of the night. It was, I thought in impatience, time to end speculation on men's motives and possible actions, and to confront the reality. Above all it was time to face Tudor in battle. I strode out purposefully to rouse Hoton and his men.

C
HAPTER
20

C
atesby sniffed ostentatiously.

‘You could have the decency to have cleaned yourself up, Francis, before rushing in here.'

I ignored his fastidiousness.

‘I see that Northumberland's troops have arrived; so what's the overall situation?'

Catesby's eyes narrowed as he carefully selected a scroll from a number that lay on the table in his tent. Even on campaign, he seemed to delight in surrounding himself with paperwork. His green eyes flickered down the scroll.

‘We'll start with Tudor,' he began. ‘The latest estimates put their force at about 6,000 men under the generalship of the Earl of Oxford.'

‘Only 6,000?' I gasped.

‘Apparently so. Now Tudor is currently camped a few miles west of here.'

‘But in your first message you said that Tudor was approaching Shrewsbury and a week or so later he's only got as far as here. What has he been doing?'

Catesby grinned.

‘I imagine that the pace of his advance slowed somewhat as he realised the paucity of his numbers. Doubtless he spent the time looking for allies.'

I smiled back at him.

‘Well he does not seem to have had much success, does he?'

Catesby regarded me thoughtfully.

‘I would urge against over-optimism, my lord. I am not wholly convinced that our own situation is perfect. Morale is not high and there have been desertions.'

I shrugged. On the eve of battle that was unsurprising.

‘And while the Earl of Northumberland has arrived,' Catesby went on, ‘the number of men with him is somewhat low.'

‘How low?'

‘4,000.'

‘Is that all?' I asked aghast.

Catesby eyed me neutrally.

‘Naturally, it would be wholly inappropriate for me to venture an opinion, but I hear that the Earl of Northumberland is claiming,' and Catesby lingered on the word, ‘that there was inadequate time to muster all the men of the North. Accordingly, most of the men who accompanied him here are his own personal followers.'

I ignored Catesby's insinuation. He knew nothing of the North and still less about the problems of mustering men quickly. Still, Northumberland and his men were here, as was Richard's most loyal magnate, the Duke of Norfolk and the men from London under Brackenbury. We probably vastly outnumbered Tudor.

‘On the face of it, Lord Stanley appears loyal to the king,' Catesby advised. ‘Initially he declined the royal summons claiming that he had fallen victim to the sweating sickness, but since then he has raised his men and placed them in front of the advancing Tudor army falling back slowly towards us.'

Lord Stanley could have been acting as a screen for Richard's army or, alternatively, he could have been doing the same for Tudor so that he could receive fresh recruits without reinforcements.

‘What about his brother, Sir William?'

‘Already declared a traitor. We know that he has been in contact with Tudor, but he has not joined him. At present, the forces of both brothers are camped to the south of us.'

This was a conundrum. If Sir William was a traitor and Lord Stanley supposedly loyal, why were their two forces allied together?

‘But even without the Stanleys we must easily outnumber Tudor's force?'

Catesby pursed his lips.

‘By about two to one, Francis.' He smiled without humour. ‘But were Lord Stanley and his brother to fight for Tudor, both armies' numbers would be broadly even.'

‘Do you think they will?'

Catesby rose and began to saunter about.

‘While we were at Nottingham, Lord Stanley's son tried to escape. We recaptured him and, under interrogation, Lord Strange confirmed that his uncle, Sir William, was a traitor, but swore that his father was loyal.'

Catesby stopped and grinned at me.

‘Did I believe him? No, of course not, but I knew what to do. So I put Lord Strange in the hands of my two dogs.'

‘Why?'

Catesby looked amazed.

‘Do you seriously imagine that I would entrust such a key hostage to the incompetent royal guards again? Had Lord Strange escaped, his stepfather would have immediately declared for Tudor. Now, safely chained night and day to my man, Bracher, there is no chance of that happening.'

That was true and, undoubtedly, with Lord Strange in our possession, Lord Stanley would not dare join Tudor.

‘Make sure you keep him safe!' I said. ‘Now I will go and inspect the likely battleground before we all meet in the king's tent.'

As I walked down the grassy slope towards the great marsh, I tried to put myself in Tudor's mind. He had advanced to a position less than half a day's march west of us. He would be upon us tomorrow. But how could he hope to win? His own spies would have told him our own numbers, and he would know by now that we held Lord Strange hostage. Surely Henry Tudor was not expecting his stepfather Lord Stanley to sacrifice his eldest son? Against odds of two to one, assuming that both Lord Stanley and his brother remained neutral, why was Tudor advancing? I pondered this as I stood for a while by the side of the great marsh; then it suddenly struck me – this was Tudor's final throw of the dice. He had tried once before and failed. If he ran away now, no one would support him a third time. Well, clearly he had courage, but it would be to no avail tomorrow. I carefully started to construct my battle plan to defeat Tudor's general, the Earl of Oxford.

It was crowded in Richard's tent and I had to raise my voice to make myself heard above the babble.