I took up the reins, thinking to follow the company just setting off, but my father had more to say. His face was sombre.
‘But remember, Matt, nobles can be fickle. They can change their minds on a whim, perhaps even one as steadfast as the Duke. If you should find yourself out of favour at the castle, don’t forget you always have a home here.’
I smiled. Oblivious to all his years of experience in trade and in the council, like all boys I believed I knew better than my father. And grateful though I was for his reassurance, I was confident I would never need it.
Just hours later, as Hugh Soulsby’s nose crunched under my fist, perhaps I should have thought again.
Chapter 18
A Lucky Escape
The journey back to Middleham was uneventful. At the prospect of seeing my new friends again after so long, may the Lord forgive me, all thoughts of my family left behind in York faded into the distance.
Passing the friary of Jervaulx was my cue to scan the countryside ahead, eager to see the pennon flying from the tallest tower of the castle. Before long, the Duke’s huge banner was unfurled above us in reply, and we were clattering up the cobbled street of the village towards the outer gatehouse.
Alys, Roger and Elen were waiting for us, perched on the parapet of the bridge across the moat. As we approached, all three hopped down and waved and called.
A murmur of laughter ran through the company. The Duke, leading the column, turned to say to his companions, ‘An advanced guard, gentlemen – we should be honoured.’
He swept off his cap and bowed to my friends, before spurring Storm into a trot and leading the way across the outer courtyard towards the cheering crowds at the far gateway.
Alys led the others as they wound their way among the riders to reach me. They hung on to Bess’s harness and stirrup leathers as we followed the Duke, chatting away all together.
‘What was it like at court?’
‘Did you really dance with the princesses?’
‘I want to see Murrey’s tricks.’
‘Why didn’t you write more often?’
‘What did you do with the songbird?’
‘How were your family in York?’
Delayed by them and laughing too much to answer their questions, I was the last rider to trail into the packed inner court.
We were just in time to see the Duke dismount, kneel momentarily to the Duchess to kiss her hand, before turning to his son and swinging him high into the air. Ed’s excited giggles soared above the cheers. Then his father set him back on the ground and took his wife’s hand, leading them both towards the steps up to the keep.
The other travel-stained gentlemen from the company threw their horses’ reins to waiting grooms and followed.
Master Guylford clapped his hands once to dismiss the assembled household. Soon, once an undergroom had relieved me of Bess, we four were all but alone in the courtyard.
‘So,’ said Alys, ‘how was it?’
She stood before me, hands on hips, fiery curls escaping from her cap as always, green eyes flashing with evident impatience. It struck me then how much I’d missed her.
Roger and Elen exchanged glances.
‘Not now,’ Elen said. ‘He must be tired from the ride. Let him wash and rest, and after supper we can talk.’
Shadow was twining herself around the hem of Alys’s jade-green skirt and Murrey stepped forward to touch noses with her bigger sister.
I stooped to caress her head, knowing Elen was right. But before I could respond, a sneering voice came from behind me.
‘Well, well, well. Look what’s turned up. I didn’t expect you to show your face here again.’
As I straightened up, I saw Alys dart a glare past my shoulder, Roger’s mouth open and close again in indecision, Elen’s fingers pluck at her skirt in discomfort.
My hands clenched into tight fists and I drew in a slow breath before I turned.
Hugh was standing there, his great feet planted squarely on the cobbles, one hand playing with the pommel of the knife he wore at his belt. Lionel as ever was at his side.
Almost three months I’d been away and I hadn’t missed them at all.
‘I thought the Duke would take the chance to be rid of you when he stopped off in York.’
A hand caught at my sleeve, but I shook it off.
‘Why would he do that?’
My voice was somehow calm, unlike my insides, which were churning at his words.
Hugh showed no emotion.
‘Because he’d found out what you’re like.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Why you were sent away in disgrace.’
I waited, saying nothing. But my mind was racing.
How did Hugh know? If he knew. Or was he only guessing? He’d never liked me. Perhaps the favour shown by Duke Richard in taking me to London was simply too much for him.
His face was still unreadable as he spoke again.
‘And when you’d spurned the Queen’s gift.’
I glanced at the others.
‘Her gift?’ Roger asked.
‘The finch?’ Alys raised her eyebrows at me. ‘What happened to it?’
‘Oh, didn’t he tell you?’ Hugh said. ‘That he let it go? And the Duke saw it and everything.’
‘How do you know that?’ I shot back.
Hugh smirked.
‘But you told me.’
‘What?’
‘Didn’t you? Let me see.’
He reached inside his doublet and drew out a small folded square of parchment.
Making a great play of unfolding it, he squinted down at it, passing the tip of one finger very deliberately along what was written there.
‘Oh, yes. There it is. “And it flew due north, as though it too were escaping London.”’
I guessed now what he held.
‘That’s my letter from York!’
‘So it is. And a very charming one too. I’m particularly fond of the drawing of all those people on the Minster steps.’ He peered at it again. I remembered the sketch I had attempted in response to Ed’s pictures. ‘Which one is Old Dick? It’s a little difficult to tell.’
Hot blood rushed to my head, but still I tried to remain cool.
‘How did you get it?’
‘Get it? It was given to me.’
‘Given? Who by?’
His eyes drifted to my side.
‘Why, my Lady Alys’s pretty little serving wench. Didn’t she say?’
My head snapped round.
There was a pink tinge on Elen’s cheeks.
‘Elen?’ Alys’s voice was sharp. ‘Were you bringing it to me?’
‘He – I – he said he’d…’
Elen stammered to a halt.
I turned back to Hugh. He was leering sideways at Lionel, in delight at his triumph over me.
Roger said, ‘Don’t, Matt. He’s just trying to —’
But, without thinking, I seized my chance.
I launched my balled fist towards Hugh’s face just as he turned back and it caught him full on the nose. The bone grated as it broke.
Taken unawares, he staggered back, and flailing out with his hands, toppled Lionel over beneath him, into a pile of waving limbs.
They were both back on their feet in an instant, but it gave me time enough to pummel Hugh with each fist before he could lunge towards me. As he reeled back again, Roger and Elen grasped Lionel by his arms and dragged him away.
A snarl disfiguring his bloodied face, Hugh flung a punch towards me. I ducked beneath it, before charging towards him, my head down.
As I drove into his stomach and all the breath whooshed out of his body, I realized I’d been spoiling for a fight since meeting John Burton. But looking up at Hugh now, rocking on his feet before me, I wondered whether I should have picked a different foe.
He regained his balance and his breath. Before I could dance away or duck again, he scythed me down with a great blow to the side of my he
ad.
My teeth rattled as I fell. All went black. Alys’s shriek broke through as if from a vast distance.
‘Hugh! Matt! Stop it!’
Daylight flooded back as I pushed myself up from the cobbles, swaying slightly like a man in drink.
The huge shadow of Hugh loomed over me, and just in time I flung up my left arm to parry his next punch. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I followed up with my right fist, catching him in the mouth.
Red spurted from a burst lip.
‘You runt!’ he spat, wiping his sleeve across his mouth, then hurled himself at me.
His weight thrust me back to the ground, where we rolled over and over in the mud and snowy slush. The hardness of the stones, the blows from his fists, the screams and shouts and barking, all whirled and merged together, until we slowed to a halt, Hugh above, me below.
He pushed himself up, cuffing me as he did, until only his knees still pinned me down. As I struggled to throw him off, his other hand reached for his dagger.
A mirthless smile curled his lips as he began to draw it.
But in a flash of green and gold, Alys struck first.
She flung herself at him, lunging at his hand, and the force knocked them both over in a tumble of skirts and mud and hair and legs and yells and two yelping dogs.
Metal rang on stone as the knife was thrown clear across the yard.
Before I could scramble to my feet as the weight was released, several dark figures hove above us.
‘Boys!’ a harsh, urgent voice shouted. Then, in shock, ‘My lady!’
Rough hands dragged me up, and Master Fleete and a number of servants were grasping Alys and Hugh to tear them apart.
Alys’s fine gown was muddied and ripped, her hair hanging loose without her cap, a red smear across her bodice.
Hugh’s doublet was also drenched with blood, both his and mine I guessed. One eye was already beginning to blacken. The two hounds were leaping around him, yapping, keeping just out of reach of his boots.
A servant bent to retrieve the dagger and handed it to Master Fleete.
The weapons master weighed it in his hand, eyeing up the three of us.
Elen released her hold on Lionel and stepped forward.
‘Sir, it was Hugh —’
But he silenced her by raising his hand.
‘This is a matter for Master Guylford. Take the boys to his office. Wait with them till he comes. As for you, my lady…’
His words to Alys were lost to me as his servant hauled me away.
As I glanced back over my shoulder, Hugh was being manhandled after me by two servants as he struggled and swore. He aimed a kick at the dogs, still jumping and barking at him. Roger dived in to scoop Murrey out of the way before she strayed too near his great boot.
‘Cur!’ Hugh hissed, followed by another loud curse, before he was quietened by a sharp word from one of the men. His face sullen, he allowed himself to be led behind me across the yard to the steward’s office.
It seemed an eternity, standing there, a servant between us, waiting for Master Guylford to arrive. An emptiness in the pit of my stomach reminded me it had been almost suppertime when we arrived. Perhaps that’s why the steward was long in coming.
But that hollow feeling wasn’t caused just by hunger. It was also the fear of what might happen.
Once before I had waited like this, standing next to a boy with blood streaming from his nose, while my own jaw ached with the memory of his fists, and bruises began to blossom across my body.
I circled my shoulders, and winced. This time it wasn’t me who had come out of the fight best, for all that I had had the element of surprise at first.
Then I remembered the knife.
It could have been so very much worse for me.
But, knife or not, it was me who had started it. I had landed the first punch – again.
That hadn’t been tolerated before, and probably wouldn’t be now. And once more my adversary was richer and more powerful than me – not the son of an alderman only, but this time the son of a noble.
By the time Master Guylford arrived, I had persuaded myself that I would be back with my family in York before another day had passed. That I had ruined everything.
I could hardly blink back the tears. Not at the soreness and stiffness creeping through my body thanks to Hugh’s fists and the hard cobbles. At my own stupidity.
Hugh got to tell his story first.
All of it was true, if not complete. Until the drawing of the dagger.
The letter wasn’t mentioned, only that we had exchanged words. And that I had struck first.
But then he had me on my back on the snowy ground – me, weak and desperate – me lunging for his knife. And Alys entering the fray to stop me murdering him.
When he finished, Master Guylford was thoughtful for a moment. Then he spoke to me.
‘Well, Master Wansford, is it true? Did you strike first?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And the rest?’
I remained silent.
There was nothing I could say. I couldn’t speak of the letter without revealing how Hugh had come by it and that would be unkind to Elen. And as to the knife – it would be my word against Hugh’s – the aggressor’s against that of the noble victim.
‘Well?’
My breathing raced, my heart thumping in my chest at the injustice, but I wouldn’t speak.
Master Guylford waited. Then a shadow passed across his face.
‘Very well, then. You shall both be beaten. Report to Master Fleete immediately after Mass tomorrow. Master Wansford, I believe it is your first offence, but you began the fight – and the drawing of a weapon on a fellow page cannot be overlooked. Your punishment shall be most severe. Now you may go – and find what supper you can in the kitchens.’
Hugh flashed me a triumphant smirk as we left the room together and then he strode off across the courtyard towards the kitchens, his head held high.
I – although it seemed I had escaped the worst punishment – I preferred to slink back to the pages’ chamber. I only grunted at Roger’s questions as he passed Murrey to me, a length of rope now tied to her collar to keep her safe.
Crawling on to my mattress, I hid my head under my blanket in shame. It was an age before I drifted into uneasy sleep.
*
When I woke, I had no idea whether I was expected to sing at Mass, but I readied myself as if it were any other day at the castle.
In the vestry Sir William greeted me in a friendly manner and there was the usual quiet banter among the choir members as we dressed in our robes. It was good to be back in the familiar surroundings of the castle chapel. As I added my voice to the responses and songs of the Mass, I thought perhaps, once my ordeal with Master Fleete was over, my life might return to normal.
But after Mass, as I shrugged off my surplice and heard the empty rumble of my stomach, a messenger arrived.
‘Master Wansford is required to attend His Grace in his office.’
I couldn’t suppress my groan.
Sir William glanced at me with sympathy, but said nothing, simply waving me to hasten on my way.
In a minute or two, I was knocking on the Duke’s office door.
When I entered, he was in conversation with Master Guylford. They both cast a look my way as I bowed and, collecting up some papers, the steward took his leave.
The Duke sat on the edge of the table, as he had on that first day I had seen him. This time he didn’t invite me to sit.
‘Matthew, Master Guylford tells me that you and Master Soulsby fought yesterday on our return and that you are to be beaten for it. He says you admit to striking the first blow, but you will not say why. Will you tell me?’
I wasn’t prepared for this. For all that I had gone over yesterday’s events again and again, sifting through my reasons for staying quiet, it hadn’t occurred to me that the Duke himself would become involved. Disputes among the pages and minor misdeeds we
re usually dealt with by the masters.
‘I would prefer not to say, Your Grace.’
‘I hear there were words between you. That Master Soulsby may have provoked you.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘What did he say?’
The Duke was speaking as though Hugh were responsible. But at the same time I was ashamed of what I’d done and didn’t want to involve Elen. So I said nothing.
‘Come, Matt. Once before you tried to protect him by not speaking. Don’t try again. I would spare you the beating if I can.’
‘It’s not that, Your Grace. It’s just that…’
‘Well?’
‘It’s just – well – it’s a matter of honour.’
‘Honour?’ His eyes narrowed in puzzlement. ‘How so?’
‘There was a letter. A private letter. And a lady…’
‘A lady?’
‘Yes, sir, a lady. And I don’t wish her to get into any trouble.’
‘So you’ll tell me nothing more?’
His eyes were still on me. There was silence between us. Then,
‘I’m disappointed in you, Matthew. That you should resort to blows rather than words to settle such a dispute. Violence should be a last resort – not the first.’
I hung my head,
‘And yet, it is chivalrous, to protect a lady. Especially when, were you to tell the truth, it might spare you a beating. But I have heard that Hugh’s story about you drawing the knife is a lie. You could have told me that.’
Raising my head again, I caught the fleeting trace of a smile before he lent across to take a quill and write on a scrap of parchment. He warmed a stick of red wax in the flame of a candle, smeared the end on the parchment and pressed the ring on his smallest finger into the molten wax. When he handed it to me, the scrap held only his signature – R. Gloucestre – and a seal depicting his boar symbol.
‘Give that to Master Fleete and tell him I would have you punished for a first offence only. And the lady, no doubt, will thank you for your good deed. Now go.’
I bowed and stammered my thanks, and bowed again.
As I passed out of the door, Master Guylford came back in. I heard him say my name as the door swung to. But I didn’t care what they said. All that mattered was that I was still here in the castle. And perhaps my soreness and bruising from the fight would not be made any worse by a beating for a first offence.
The Order of the White Boar Page 17