The King's Dogge (49 page)

‘Northumberland has halted to reform his men into assault formation.'

The right-hook manoeuvre could begin very soon now. I willed Northumberland to hurry.

‘The duke is dead!' Norfolk's messenger panted out. ‘The Earl of Surrey commands the van now.'

What in hell's name was Northumberland doing? No one could take so long to perform such a simple manoeuvre.

‘He fears that his flanks are being turned.'

Northumberland was not manoeuvring at all. He had simply halted his men.

‘And he begs for reinforcements.'

I swung round to Richard.

‘Command Northumberland to continue his advance and fall in behind the Earl of Surrey's men!' I thundered.

I turned back to face the messenger.

‘There will be no reinforcements. Tell Surrey to hold his position until we can attack Oxford's flank.'

‘My Lord of Northumberland believes that His Grace's interests are best served if he maintains his current position,' the squire informed us.

I glanced at the static body of men to our left. They were at least a quarter of a mile from where we needed them. I stared at him.

‘But why?'

The squire squirmed.

‘He gave no reason, my lord.'

‘Possibly he fears that were he to leave his current location it would expose Surrey's flank to a possible attack by the Stanleys,' Ratcliffe hazarded.

I rounded on him.

‘That's nonsense! The Stanleys and their division have left their position and should be heading north-west to cut off…'

‘Can you see them?' he interrupted.

From our vantage point on the hill in excellent light, it would be impossible to miss 6,000 men marching up past the marsh. But where were they?

‘Try looking south.'

These words came from Harrington, who had arrived with Ratcliffe. We all peered to the south. Sure enough, about two miles south, beyond Northumberland's troops on the sloping terrain, a large number of men were in static formation – Stanley's men.

‘So Stanley's finally shown his true colours!' I burst out angrily and wheeled to face Catesby. ‘I thought you said he was loyal.'

‘He still might be,' Harrington, observed nervously.

But Catesby looked at us in despair. All traces of the clever lawyer had disappeared and he gesticulated wildly.

‘He swore his loyalty to his king,' he babbled. ‘He's…'

‘A traitor!' Richard snapped.

Catesby looked shamefaced.

‘Would you like me to try to persuade him again?'

Dear God, Catesby was brave; Lord Stanley would slaughter him.

‘No,' said Richard, ‘he's shown himself to be disloyal, and your life is too valuable to me.'

He glanced at Ratcliffe, who nodded slightly.

‘Kill Lord Strange!' Richard commanded Catesby.

‘Are you certain, Your Grace?' Harrington interrupted. ‘Surely, after the battle…'

‘After the battle?' I echoed incredulously. ‘Richard, we are losing. Northumberland is not obeying orders and Stanley could attack Surrey presently.'

‘But he won't while Northumberland is blocking his path. So what's your strategy?'

My mind raced furiously, trying to ignore the hubbub around me. If Northumberland was loyal to Richard, we could probably still manage the decisive right hook, which would bring victory. After all, provided that Surrey could hang on, the sheer unexpectedness of a flank attack, even by a few fresh troops, would be enough to shatter Oxford's men. It would be a massive risk though. Such reinforcements as we had also protected the rear of Surrey's division. The moment we moved to mount the hooking manoeuvre we were exposing Surrey's troops. If Northumberland was not loyal, he could take advantage of our absence to tear into the back of Surrey's men. Caught between Oxford at the front and Northumberland at the rear, Surrey's force would be slaughtered before we were ready to mount our attack on Oxford's flank.

I explained this to Richard.

‘I cannot recommend a strategy until I know which side Northumberland is on,' I concluded.

Richard had already removed his gauntlets and was tugging at his rings. Watching his strained expression and tightly pressed lips, I had an inkling of the mental agony he was going through. He had always trusted Northumberland and, until a moment ago, all that trust seemed fully justified. The next decisive move in the battle depended on one key question: was Richard correct in his assessment of Northumberland's loyalty?

To my mind, Northumberland's lack of urgency in his advance and his refusal to obey orders indicated that Richard was incorrect, so I tried to help him.

‘You will be exposing Surrey's rear if you move our men from here.'

‘But if we don't make the attack on Oxford, we cannot defeat Tudor!' he protested angrily. ‘Northumberland is loyal, I am certain.'

‘As was Buckingham!'

Our angry glances locked. I charged my gaze with every ounce of willpower I could muster. He had to understand that the risk of mounting a flank attack on Oxford was simply too great in the current chaotic circumstances. Richard's mouth worked furiously for a moment and then he was still.

‘Our troops will remain in their present position,' he said bitterly.

I heaved a sigh of relief, but then frowned. We had to do something to assist Surrey who was clearly under considerable pressure. Surely we could release a few men from here to assist him. With their aid, he might still be able to batter his way through Oxford. I put this to Richard hesitantly.

‘Stanley's manoeuvring!'

A white-faced Catesby pointed to the south. I tore my gaze away from the main battle reluctantly. Oxford's line was beginning to bow under the weight of the extra troops, which we had flung against him, and I was beginning to dream of victory. But sure enough there was movement in the south.

‘Northumberland's turning to face him.'

Richard pointed excitedly at the troops to our left and turned to me.

‘Francis, advance the rest of the reserves. We'll sweep Oxford away while Northumberland holds off Stanley.'

I glanced at Northumberland's men.

‘No.'

‘No?' His bewilderment was yet to turn to anger and for a moment I felt desperately sorry for him. I gestured at Northumberland's soldiers.

‘They are forming a column, Richard, not a line. They are getting out of Stanley's way.'

In shocked silence we watched Northumberland's troops abandon their king and march away from the battlefield.

‘Look!' I think it was Pilkington who spotted the little cavalcade slowly advancing across the marsh. ‘Look at those standards; it must be Tudor himself!

‘Can't be more than sixty men with him.'

‘I thought he was with Oxford.'

‘Never mind that! He must be heading to join Stanley.'

‘We can reach him first. Bring up the horses!'

‘All knights forward!' Richard shouted. ‘Ratcliffe, get Harrington, Percy, Ashton and Grey. Hurry, man, hurry!' He was beside himself with excitement now. He grabbed my arm. ‘I told you that Tudor would be delivered into my hands, didn't I?'

He broke off to shout orders to his household knights, but I hesitated. Something seemed wrong. Why was Tudor so exposed and with such a small escort? And why was he moving so slowly?

‘We can reach Tudor long before the Stanleys do!' bellowed an exultant Ratcliffe. ‘Oxford's too far away from him to help either.'

‘My lord!' A frightened messenger tugged at my arm. ‘The enemy has reinforced his line. My Lord of Surrey begs for more men.'

Richard laughed when he heard this.

‘Take all the men, Francis, and lead them yourself. Once Oxford's men hear that Tudor's dead, they'll flee, but just secure the northern flank until that happens.'

He turned to his squires and prepared to mount. Still I hesitated; something was very wrong, but I did not know what it was. Impulsively, I snatched his horse's reins from his groom.

‘Let me lead the charge, Richard. You stay here.'

He laughed savagely.

‘No, Francis – God has chosen me for this task.'

He gestured imperiously; reluctantly I passed the reins to him. At that moment, the trumpets blew.

Despite my fears, I could not but admire the magnificence of that charge. Sunlight glinted on silver armour and the colourful banners billowed out as the pace of the horsemen quickened. There was no line or order to the knights, but all bore themselves proudly as, with lances outstretched, the king's elite thundered towards the enemy.

Tudor's escort belatedly seemed to realise the danger and increased their pace towards the advancing Stanleys, but the distance was too great and, realising this, Tudor's men turned to face the charging knights. Prudently, they too began to urge their horses forward, as to receive a charge while stationary is to court disaster. Even at this distance I could still distinctly hear the drumming of hooves as their powerful horses swept Richard's knights towards their prey, but then that sound was lost as with a series of crashes the two sides collided.