White Boar and the Red Dragon, The (18 page)

‘The Herberts have been my real family. My mother left me at Pembroke with them when I was very small, when she remarried. Soon after, my Uncle Jasper had to flee. I was a most unhappy small boy for a long time—until I came to realise that these were good people I was with, who treated me like a son. My mother writes endless letters to me from her home in Woking, but she has never been there for me as the Herberts have.’

‘You have indeed been fortunate in living with them! And I am sure your mother does care for you really—it is just that circumstances forced her to give you up into the care of others.’

‘I know that. And I am sorry for her, really—and for myself—as she has such high expectations of me, which I do not think I will ever achieve!’

‘Mothers are like that with their sons—especially only sons! My mother too urges me on to achieve more and more. She is very like yours in that respect.’

‘But, my lord, you have achieved amazing things already! I have followed your exploits with much interest. My mother has kept me informed of your various commands and achievements. When I think you are only five years older than me, I wonder how I can ever achieve anything at all!’

‘But remember that I am the favourite brother of the king. He started giving me great responsibilities when I was barely older than you. He trusts me entirely, you see. He knows that I am utterly faithful to him. Sometimes, my spirit quails at the heavy weight of responsibility he thrusts upon me—but—I do my best!’

‘Are you going back to Westminster now that you have visited Raglan and offered your condolences to Lady Anne?’

‘Soon, soon—I have to. But I have yet to visit Monmouth, and then we will be on our way to Newport to take ship for London. I do not fancy riding all that long way home again. Your Welsh weather tends to spoil what should have been a pleasant tour of South Wales!’

‘My lord, in summer, it is glorious here! It is a pity you had to come here during the most miserable month of the year. I am looking forward to riding for miles on Owen, when the weather improves.’

‘I envy you that horse! Perhaps tomorrow we could go riding together, and you could show me his paces?!’

‘I would be greatly honoured, my lord. Let us hope the rain clears and I will show you the castle estates.’

‘And perhaps introduce me to some of its inhabitants?’

‘If that is your wish, my lord. Some of the tenant farmers would really appreciate a visit from you.’

Richard laughed. ‘And I would be greatly interested to meet them! Come now, let us find Lady Herbert again. Forget your search for the valuable manuscript for the moment. We can always ask her if she has any idea where Lord Herbert kept it. It is possible he kept it privily away from here.’

‘All I know is that it was in a silver inlaid box—and I have not come across that yet.’

‘Maybe Lord Herbert kept it in the state apartments? We can only ask her. If she does not know, then we will search again. Also there are many other wonderful manuscripts here I long to peruse!’

The next few days were like a wonderful dream for Henry. From the moment of their meeting, he felt that Richard and he understood each other. He felt strongly drawn to the young duke, who gave of his time unstintingly and his friendship openly. It was as if they had always known each other. The difference in ages was of little account. The box was found, also the key, as Lady Herbert knew of a secret cupboard in Lord Herbert’s bedroom, and Henry and Richard spent several happy hours poring over the rare manuscript and many others. Henry found that, like himself, Duke Richard had been well-schooled in languages, religion, mathematics, and the arts of music, singing, and dancing, as well as the knightly arts of horsemanship and weaponry. They rode together up into the hills around Raglan. Often, Lord Francis Lovell accompanied them—and the weather cleared enough for them to avoid a thorough soaking every time they ventured out. A royal hunt was arranged and Henry spent the whole day by Richard and Francis’s side, marvelling at their true aim in the hunt. That night—the last before Richard had to leave—a great feast was given in his honour, and the catch of the day provided the main courses. There was venison and hare, partridge and pheasant, and much else besides.

At Richard’s final departure the next day, Henry felt bereft. Never would he have believed that he could come so close to someone else in so short a time. They were like old friends—like brothers even—after only five days! The duke promised to write and keep in touch with Henry, who promised likewise. The fact that they belonged to opposing sides was entirely forgotten—did not seem to matter in the least. No differences ever arose. The differences were those created by others. They were just two young men who felt a strong friendly attraction for each other and, if circumstances had been different, Richard knew he would have liked to take young Henry back to court and present him to the king as his friend. But that, of course, was impossible!

As the cavalcade wound out of sight on a blustery, but dry, early March day, Henry sighed. Everyone he cared for or admired always went out of his life. Why was this? Would he see Richard again soon? Somehow he did not believe it would happen. He was old enough to appreciate the political forces which would make it impossible—unless the duke came to Raglan again. Henry could never visit him in London. That he understood.

‘Well, my lord,’ said Francis Lovell, as they rode towards Monmouth, thence to Newport and a ship for London, ‘I think you have made a big impression on that young man. Hero worship shone out of his eyes from the moment he met you!’

‘Aye, Francis—if things were different, I would have brought him back with us to court. He and I have many things in common. But alas, that cannot be. The stupidity of war and opposing factions will keep him from my side—where I would have liked to have him. I wonder what his future will be? I am sure he will grow into a good and upright man. He cares for people, as I do. When we visited the tenant farmers, they were all obviously fond of him for his straightforward and friendly attitude to them. It is very sad to me that circumstances will mean it is unlikely that we will meet again—at least for a very long time—unless of course, this eternal war can be brought to a satisfactory and swift conclusion!’

‘Realistically, Richard, is that likely?’

‘No, Francis, I do not think it is, much as I would like it to happen. I fear many more good men will die needlessly while King Henry’s vicious Queen Margaret is determined to continue the endless power struggle! The man is not fit to rule, physically or mentally. But while he lives, his supporters will continue to fight to put him back on the throne and oust Edward! Where it will all end I do not know.’

Appleby Hall, Northamptonshire, March 1470

‘But, Mother, I truly believe he will come to me again! He was so sincere. We really love each other!’

‘What is love to a young girl is rarely anything but a passing fancy to a man! That is a bitter fact we women learn early! And someone in his position! Do you truly think he has given you any more thought since October last? Have you received letters from him?’

‘No, but he is so busy, Mother—he has such great responsibilities. He had to travel into Wales—no doubt he is there still! He would be too occupied to write. But I know he will come soon!’

‘Have you written to him and told him of the coming child?’

‘No, how could I? I have no idea where to send the letters!’

‘How about to Middleham or even to the king’s court in London? They would get to him eventually, no doubt. And if he really cares about you, as you insist, he should come here to you at once—if he has any decency in him! But I doubt it!’

‘He is the most decent man I have ever met, Mother! I believe he is truly a good person and would do right by me!’

‘Perhaps set you up in a house of your own in London and give you money for the child’s upbringing. But he would never marry you! He is the king’s brother! When he does marry, it will be to some princess or great landed heiress, at least! Do not hold out any hopes on that score, my girl! Even if he loves you, he would never offer you marriage—you would be nothing more than a kept mistress. Is that the kind of life you want? You have been brought up in a moral home. Your father will be mad with anger if ever he finds out about this pregnancy. You will have to go away, Kate, to have the baby. Your father will be home any day now—you know I had that letter from him only last week! Have you told your brother of this matter?’

‘No, he has been so ill after that dreadful wound in his thigh. And I hardly show yet anyway. I did not want to worry him!’

‘Thank God you are so slim. Five months gone and your waist has hardly thickened yet! But I dare not let you stay here for when your Father returns—if he should guess. He loves you, but I know he would probably take a whip to you! And he would swear to kill your lover—king’s brother or not!’

‘Where can I go? And suppose Richard comes whilst I am away having the baby?’

‘I would tell him where you are and hope he makes his way to you at once! There is your cousin Joanna in Northampton. She has several little ones now and may be persuaded to take you in until the baby is born. But you could never bring the child back here afterwards. Your father would never allow it! The best thing you could do really would be to have the child adopted. It is far too late now for you to get rid of it.’

‘Abort Richard’s child? Never! It is the fruit of our love! And if he never should return—though I cannot believe that could possibly happen—it will be all I have left of him…’ Kate trailed off miserably.

‘I will write a letter for you to take with you to Joanna’s. She may be glad of your company and help with her little ones. Since her husband died so recently in battle, she has no support and only one servant to help her. It may all work out very well—I can think of nothing else. Why did you leave it so late to tell me, girl—with your father expected at any moment?! It is difficult to make proper plans now!’

‘I am sorry, Mother, but I had thought Richard would have come by now and taken me away with him!’

‘You truly believed that this would happen? I feel you are very deluded, girl! Now you had better go and pack your most necessary belongings quickly. I will tell Robert to have the litter ready for you first thing in the morning to take you to Northampton to Joanna’s. There is no question of you riding in your condition—it could be dangerous—but then, if you should lose this baby, it may be for the best in the end.’

‘Mother! I am sure you do not really mean that! You love babies! How could you wish harm on a little innocent?’

‘No, I suppose not, but it would solve a lot of problems, you cannot deny!’

‘I will be all right—I know it! Richard will come! And when he does, you must direct him straight to Joanna’s house and tell him what has happened!’

‘And he will probably ride off in the opposite direction! I know I sound harsh, girl, but I am aware of the ways of the world better than you! Noblemen do not want to be saddled with the bastards they so easily father! They want the pleasure without the consequences—it is an accepted fact!’

‘Not this nobleman, Mother. Richard is different—he is caring and considerate—he would never abandon me!’

‘Well, we shall see! Now, go and pack—you will have to start out early tomorrow morning! And I will compose the letter to Joanna.’

Northampton, Late August 1470

‘It is no good, Joanna. I know I am more trouble than I am worth to you! It was very good of you to take me in, but it is not really working, is it? I just want to go to London to find Richard. I can think of nothing else!

‘Mother says he has not come there. I must find him. Something must be wrong, or I am sure he would have come and Mother would have directed him here! And my mind is not on helping you—not really. You have helped me so much, especially when the baby came. I could never have coped without you. And Ruth—she is a tower of strength!’

‘She may be getting on in years, but she knows all about babies and will stand by you, whatever happens!’

‘She is more than a maid—she has become my friend! I could not manage without her now!’

‘I have heard that Duke Richard has only just left Wales,’ said Joanna. ‘So he could not come to you—maybe he has not even received your letters yet, as he has been in Wales so long? You directed them to Westminster and Fotheringhay Castle, did you not? He has probably been touring all round South Wales, visiting the chief towns and meeting the nobles and most important townspeople in each district. He took ship from Newport to London, so it is not likely that he will come here until he has had your letters—if he comes at all!’

‘You are just like my mother! You think he has forgotten me. But I know him. He is not like that!’

‘You are very young and trusting, Kate—did not your mother tell you how fickle men are once they have got what they want from a girl? Do not hold out too many hopes of his ever coming to you again—the odds are against it!’

‘I trust him, Joanna. I know he loved me as much as I loved him.’

‘Even if he does want, or intend, to come to you, many important things have happened while he has been in Wales to occupy his attention,’ answered Joanna. ‘Warwick and Clarence rebelled again in February, but later, the king forgave Clarence when he came begging forgiveness and even promised him Warwick’s lands. The king is easily duped, methinks!’

‘Richard told me how much the king loves Clarence—as well as himself. He wants to believe there is good in Clarence!’

‘There was another terrible battle called Loosecote Field in March, and King Edward dispersed the rebels. In May, Warwick and Clarence fled to France in fear of their lives. That Duke of Clarence is a turncoat of the worst kind—he is sure to come to a bad end—king’s brother or not! It is said that on 26 July, Warwick made a deal with the wicked Queen Margaret in France. He has betrothed his younger daughter, Anne Neville, to Edouard the French prince, Margaret’s son, the Dauphin. The news is also that Duke Richard is to become Warden of the West Marches towards Scotland.’