White Boar and the Red Dragon, The (12 page)

The men looked at each other, slightly abashed.

‘No offence, Sire, just following orders, that’s all!’

They led him outside to where four more armed guards waited on horseback, then went back into the castle. A groom came forward to help the king mount a horse which he led by the reins. It was him! As the groom cupped his hands for Edward to mount, the king whispered, ‘Tell Duke Richard I go to Middleham!’ and pressed the pouch into the man’s palms as he bent to adjust a strap. The soldiers on horseback noticed nothing, being too busy watching a very comely serving maid walking across the courtyard with a basket of eggs, especially as she made a point of sending a seductive smile in their direction.

‘He will reward you well!’ he added, his own eyes on the girl. Even in his present situation, he appreciated a pretty face. The man turned briefly, walked towards the girl, whom he engaged in conversation, and then they were both gone. Edward wondered whether she had been deliberately employed by the groom as a diversion.

At that moment, Earl Warwick appeared, splendidly dressed, on a great white horse to accompany Edward. He rode next to the king as they set out. The horse was far more splendidly caparisoned than Edward’s, and the king knew a moment of anger. This was so deliberate, so obviously meant to make a statement—already Warwick was setting himself up as the greater of the two of them!

‘And so to Middleham, my lord!’ Warwick asserted, ‘with your own personal escort!’

Middleham Castle, Yorkshire, August 1469

The ancient walls of Middleham Castle came into view at last as Richard and his tired party of nobles approached. They had been hastily assembled when the news came of the king’s plight—how he had been captured at Olney, taken to Warwick Castle, where he had been kept a few days, and was now imprisoned in the Earl of Warwick’s Castle, Middleham, in Wensleydale, which was far enough from London to make Warwick think it secure.

The messenger had ridden non-stop to York, without break, changing horses several times on the way, and arrived in a state of collapse in the Duke of Gloucester’s presence. He had been handsomely rewarded by Richard, as the king had promised, given time only for a short rest and refreshment at the inn where Gloucester had been staying, then sent on his way back to Warwick Castle without delay, to put King Edward out of his uncertainty whether rescue would come before Warwick had him moved again or perhaps even executed.

With Richard were all the greatest nobles in the land sympathetic to the Yorkist cause, including Richard’s closest friend, Lord Francis Lovell, and King Edward’s best friend and Chamberlain, Lord William Hastings, the latter furious with the Earl of Warwick for having imprisoned his king. Messengers had been sent far and wide to assemble this influential body of men who meant to show Warwick that his behaviour was unacceptable and also to the queen in London, who immediately went into sanctuary with her child, fearing for all their lives.

As they approached the main gateway, they were surprised that no one had come out to challenge them. In fact, the constable came to the gate, recognised the Duke of Gloucester immediately, and ordered the portcullis raised at once.

‘My Lord of Warwick is away today but has given me no orders to prevent your entrance.’

‘Because he had no idea that we would be coming!’ Richard interrupted in a peremptory fashion. ‘Take me to King Edward at once. He is here, I believe? He is expecting me!’

Completely taken aback, the constable bowed, turned, and led the way to where Edward sat in the Great Hall, guarded by three burly henchmen. The king seemed quite relaxed, however, was even playing cards with one of them at a side table. At the sight of Richard and his company, he jumped up, scattering the pack in all directions, and hugged his younger brother in delight.

‘I knew you would not delay! You cannot guess how glad I am to see you! And you, Hastings—indeed, every one of you!’ He acknowledged the various nobles as they knelt and kissed his coronation ring. ‘The messenger was honourable after all—I felt he would not betray me but made sure by making him richer than he ever dreamed—with the promise of more where that came from!’

‘He was also rewarded by me, so he is well set up for life for a few days’ hard work. But of course, he will never dare to return to Warwick Castle, or Neville will have his hide!’ Richard replied smiling. They all laughed.

‘We have come to remove you from danger here, my lord, and accompany you back to London,’ Lord Hastings said, bowing low. ‘What Warwick has done is illegal. Somehow news of your captivity has already got to London and there is uproar among the commoners.’

‘I knew the people would not stand for it. They still love me well, though some have grumbled lately about the tax rises.’

Just then, the heavy wooden doors of the hall flew open with such force that it slammed back against the stone walls with a loud thud.

Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, strode in, his face contorted and livid with fury. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ he shouted. ‘What is going on here?’ Then he caught sight of Richard on one side of the king and Hastings on the other.

‘My brother has come to escort me back to London—and I think he has plenty of support in the matter. Do you not agree?’ Edward replied calmly, looking pointedly at the assembled lords. ‘And if you do not, no matter, because we shall be departing thence anyway, whether it pleases you or no—’

‘I am master here, and I will say if and when you can go. You are my prisoner!’

‘Until we arrived, that may have been so, my lord,’ said Richard. ‘But not any more, I would say. By virtue of greater numbers alone, we have the upper hand here now, I think you will find!’

So angry he could barely contain himself, Warwick, now purple in the face, looked round for something, or someone, to vent his spleen on. The unfortunate constable of the castle hovering in the doorway took the full force.

‘Have you no sense at all? What were you thinking of, letting them in?’

‘My lord, I could hardly stop them. And you gave me no orders to. I had no idea what they had come for!’ he stammered.

‘Fool! Can you not think for yourself for once? Show a little initiative? Get out—now!’ He slammed the door with such force in the constable’s face that the wooden rafters in the vaulted ceiling of the Great Hall shook.

‘If this were a game of chess, I would say that you had been well and truly checkmated, Neville!’ Lord Hastings remarked, highly amused. There was a loud guffaw from Edward, in which they all joined heartily, pleased to see this great lord’s discomfort and his overweening arrogance and pride brought low for once. There was not one of them there who had not felt envious of all he represented—not only his enormous estates and wealth, but the power he wielded. They had all been subjected to his high-handedness at least once in their lives. His attitude to those in lesser positions than himself had always caused seething resentment. It gave them great satisfaction to see him so powerless for once.

But he recovered his composure and confidence very quickly. ‘Well, Edward, you seem to have outwitted me this time, but it will not always be so—you will see. I have enormous resources, as you all know, and other plans which I can put into effect very soon with no trouble at all!’

With these cryptic words, he swung out of the hall another way and could be heard stamping up the great stone staircase to the upper floor to his state apartments, where his wife, Lady Ann, was awaiting him in the Solar with some trepidation.

‘I fear he will not be easily thwarted in his plans, brother,’ said Richard. ‘He is a most determined and arrogant man and has always been used to getting his own way in all things.’

‘So have I, Richard, as you know! And I also have one big advantage over him, powerful as he is—I am king!’ Edward retorted. ‘And with all you good and loyal gentlemen as my supporters and the people on my side also, who could ask for more?’

Raglan Castle, Gwent, South Wales, September 1469

Woking Old Hall,

Surrey,

29 September 1469

My Dear Henry,

Much has happened since I wrote to you last. I wonder if you get news at all until long after things have happened, being so far away!

The Earl of Warwick, the greatest and richest baron in the land, has rebelled against the king! Now the cracks begin to appear in the great alliance. This cannot but do our cause great good. And, would you believe it, the king’s brother, George, Duke of Clarence, has thrown in his lot with the earl. No doubt he hopes to be king next, with Warwick’s help!

The earl has helped him to get his wish to marry his elder daughter Isabel, which everyone thought could not take place, for it needed the dispensation of the Pope, as they are first cousins. Also, the king had forbidden the marriage—so George is openly defying his brother!

The king was captured by Warwick after the Battle of Edgecote, on 26 July, near Banbury, and he and George kept him prisoner, first at Warwick Castle, the earl’s great fortress in the Midlands, then at Middleham, his Yorkshire castle. No doubt Neville thought that he would be safer there, as it is so far away. But with the aid of his loyal brother, Richard of Gloucester, he has escaped!

Now he is back in London and Warwick is probably gnashing his teeth in impotent frustration after seeing all his well-laid plans to depose Edward and take over the country come to naught!

Let them fight it out among themselves—the more they disagree, the better for the Lancastrian cause!

Your day is getting nearer, my son. I promise you, it will come! The Yorkists are digging their own graves by so much disagreement. Warwick even executed Earl Rivers, the queen’s father, and John, her brother, after the battle, at a whim. That will cause a rift between that Woodville woman and His Majesty, no doubt.

The one to watch is Richard of Gloucester. With George out of the running, for turning traitor to his brother (he was next in line to the throne), there is only Gloucester left to inherit, if the king should die young! He has remained loyal to Edward through thick and thin, so he is now the one in direct opposition to you.

I know you may think it impossible that what I predict could ever come to pass, but, with the Yorkists checkmating and eliminating each other, they themselves are unwittingly bringing that day ever nearer!

I hope you are keeping well, my son, and are in good spirits? Practice your sword skills regularly, so that, when the time comes, your skill will serve you well!

Your loving mother,

Margaret Beaufort,

Countess of Richmond

Kate of Northamptonshire, In the Forest, Late September 1469

Kate reined in her frightened horse with difficulty and listened, staring all round in the gathering gloom, but seeing nothing to account for her mare’s nervousness. There was only the familiar gnarled, moss-covered trunks of ancient oaks and elms, the smell of the first fall of leaves underfoot—already rotting, as it had been a dry summer and leaves had started dropping very early—and the small rustlings of shy woodland creatures in the bracken undergrowth. A rook flew by, squawking, up on to its night perch in a mighty elm to join its fellows, all pushing and shoving for space. But that was all. Nothing out of the ordinary.

She lifted the reins to continue the last mile or so back to Appleby Hall, and then she smelt it, the rank stink of an unwashed male body.

Before she had a chance to urge the horse on, he was upon her from a branch above, pulling her off the horse, straddling her on her back in the rotting leaves and trying to rip open her bodice. The filthy smell of his breath and rotting teeth so close to her face made her retch with disgust; his frantic efforts to probe her mouth with his tongue and push his hand up her kirtle set off a desperate reaction in her. She struggled violently, kneeing him in the groin with all her strength, hitting out at the sides of his head with her clenched fists, even biting his ear in a determined attempt to get him to roll off her. But he just laughed, undeterred, and with one hand untied the front of his ragged, dirty breeches—he seemed to be excited by her terror-filled struggle—it increased his determination.

In all her sixteen years, Kate had never felt fear—and now it dominated her whole being. She felt she was fighting not just for her honour, but for her life.

Now he had one of his disgusting hands kneading her breast and digging his nails into the nipples, the other in her groin, twisting his fingers into her most private places. Then they were roughly retracted, and he began to thrust his erect member where they had been. She screamed as the penetrating pain began—and then he screamed—one long, agonised screech as the knife went into the side of his throat! Then came a thick, gurgling sound—and he rolled off her. There was silence. She dared to open her eyes. There was blood shooting out from the severed artery in his neck, which he clutched fruitlessly with one hand—his last terrified action—to no effect. It sprayed the trees and bushes all around.

And then she did vomit, turning on her side and retching out all the anguish and horror.

Now she became aware of her rescuer. He was bending, wiping the dagger which had saved her from disgrace on the bracken and then putting it away in a small ornate scabbard on his jewel-encrusted belt. Then he turned towards her, knelt, and gently pulled down her kirtle to cover her.

‘Can you walk? I will get you away from—this.’ He pointed at the dead man. ‘Your horse is just over there. I will help you mount her. Then I will escort you and make sure you get home safely.’

He bent and lifted her easily and began to carry her towards the mare. He was obviously strong, in spite of his small stature.

.

‘Thank you, but I can walk. I am unharmed, thanks to your timely aid!’

‘Did he… ?’

Still shuddering with shock, Kate said, ‘No. I was lucky. Another minute or two, and he would have had his way. I thought he would kill me after.’

‘He no doubt would have, so that you could tell no tales. He was probably a deserter from one of the armies, fleeing from the fighting. If he had let you go, he would have been more easily caught when you reported his whereabouts and hanged for his desertion.’