Sumerford's Autumn

by Barbara Gaskell Denvil

  Gerald shook him off. “And have you seen this absurd confession they’ve made the prince sign? It’s as full of holes as my hose. So I have to finish writing out the pamphlets at least, Lu. If I agree not to go to the Tower, will you simply allow me - ?”

  “You will not.” Ludovic spoke softly, eyes narrowed. “Do you hear me plain, my dear? For I’ll not let you out of my sight over the next four days. Not for the privy, not for sleep, and certainly not for leaving this inn. As it happens, I’ve given up a fair amount that matters a good deal to me, Gerry, in order to gallop up here and pack you off to safety. So until you sail, you’ll do nothing more to invite danger or I’ll murder you myself.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  For three days they talked, at ease in the hostelry’s peaceful comfort, fire blazing and candles lit while the gales gusted outside. The stench of the Fleet was safely locked away, the sleet and storms kept out. Even the sudden smoke from the chimney and the draught whining beneath the door barely ruined the warmth or the company. Ludovic paid for most meals to be brought to them, avoiding the clamour of the ale rooms, and at first even did as he had promised and accompanied his brother to the privy.

  Over jugs of wine and steaming hippocras, they remembered old stories, the laughter of childhood and the absurd humiliations of puberty. They spoke joyfully of past glory and achievement, practise with sword and archery, the rare moments of their father’s approbation, the glimpses of their mother dressed in her finery to attend the Plantagenet court. They remembered many things.

  “Goran Spittiswood,” said Gerald. “My groom, when I was twelve. We were almost the same age, so good friends. I had a new bay, first proper courser after riding ponies for ten years, so I went down to the stables as I did most days, keen to ask Goran how my horse was doing. Goran was flat on his face in the straw, with the back of his head kicked in. I spewed all over his back. Well, his brain was showing through wet and red and shining there in the dirt, and at twelve years old, I hadn’t ever seen anything like that before. He didn’t mind about the spew of course. He was dead. Old Ned was chief groom then. Said someone had hammered spikes into Angel’s hooves.”

  Ludovic paused, staring, then broke the lengthening silence. “I remember Angel. Father’s destrier before Turvey. A vicious bastard.”

  “Who? Father or the horse?”

  “Both.”

  “I thought of that last year, you know, when you kept asking about that other apprentice groom that was killed.”

  “You didn’t say. You should have.”

  “It would only have got you more fired up, Lu. I doubt it was true anyway. No one could have got close enough to either of those horses to go sticking spikes in their feet. They’d have been killed themselves.”

  “Maybe two men together, and one of them someone the horse trusted?”

  “You suspect Humphrey? But who in God’s good world would have helped Humphrey torture a damned great brute of a war horse?”

  Another silence stretched, the fire throwing its giant shadows across their faces. Finally Ludovic sighed. “What would you say, Gerry, if I decided to marry a commoner and cause another family scandal?”

  Gerald laughed. “As if I’d care. Besides, I’ll be in Flanders. You mean your little maidservant? Bring her over to meet me and I’ll sing at your wedding.”

  “I don’t know,” Ludovic said, half to himself. “Mother would never acknowledge her and Father would probably banish me from Somerset. But I’ve absolutely no ambition for power or Tudor recognition. What would it really matter to anyone, except myself?”

  “Follow your heart, Lu,” Gerald said, suddenly serious. “Challenging at first perhaps, ignoring a lifetime’s teaching, and awkward never facing Papa or Mamma again, but who wants to? Mamma would take the Bedfordshire property back but you’ve your own means of support, it seems. There’s no law against marrying your mistress, after all. Old King Edward got away with it twice, and the second was a commoner of sorts, though it mucked up the succession and here’s me caught up in the consequences. Strange though, since you were always the most arrogant of us all. But how many of us expect happy marriages in the normal way? Not one. Arranged alliances are a bore, and the best you’ll get if you’re lucky is a little friendship and a few ungrateful sons. Besides, no noble father is going to hand over his heiress to a younger son, nor give you the family beauty. Now I’ve followed my heart. You should do the same.”

  “She’s not my mistress,” Ludovic sighed. “Though she should have been.”

  Gerald was intrigued. “Turn you down, did she? Good for her. You might be reckoned a handsome bugger, but you can’t expect every damned woman to fall at your feet you know Lu. And you can’t expect everyone in the world to like you either. Some don’t. Do you good to remember it.”

  It was the following day and a late dawn’s sullen sunshine was drying the puddles. Ludovic had a meeting with Captain Kenelm arranged; the final business of the smuggled alum and the morrow’s sailing to confirm. High tide was due early, but winter curfews were strict and the Ludgate would not open until six. Ludovic therefore proposed getting his brother on board the afternoon before, but he could not leave Gerald alone in the cabin overnight, with the Tower’s dark shadow looming directly over the dockyard. Too close. “Come on,” Ludovic said. “We’ll wander down to the ship now, finish what I need to sort out, and get back here for dinner. Then you can spend the afternoon packing before going back onboard this evening.”

  Gerald pulled a face. “I’ve nothing to pack. And walking the whole width of London three times in one day is a shameful waste, Lu. You’ve a damned good horse down in the stables. Leave me here while you ride over to the docks. Put what little I own in your saddle bags, save me carrying it by hand later on. It won’t take you long and I’ll be here waiting.”

  Ludovic regarded his brother with considerable suspicion. “I’d sooner walk, and take you with me.”

  “Don’t be a fool Lu,” Gerald smiled, shaking his head. “I’m off tomorrow and looking forward to it, so I’m not likely to do anything rash now and I won’t put my journey in jeopardy. You go and finish business with your captain, and then gallop back here for a pie and pottage dinner. I’ll be a good boy while you’re gone, I promise.”

  Then as the early calm slunk quickly beneath raging storm clouds rushing up from the sea, the breeze turned to hearty gusts, the thunder broke and the rain tumbled in an icy dark, so the decision seemed made for them. Ludovic, wrapped in his thickest coat, brimmed hat and waxed cape, trudged down to the stables, collected his reluctant horse and rode east into the unrelenting sleet. “You are to stay here. If I see mud on the soles of your boots when I get back,” he told his brother, “I shall save myself a deal of money by throwing you in the Thames and holding you down myself.”

  Gerald had grinned. “I could as easily drown in the wintry German Ocean on my way to Flanders.”

  “You wouldn’t drown in the Thames anyway,” Ludovic shook his head as he slammed the door on the chamber’s bright warmth. “You’d be poisoned by shit before you even sank to the bottom.”

  Kenelm was waiting for him, the Fair Rouncie uneasy at her moorings. Once past The Bridge and sleeking towards the estuary, the tidal river swelled in the storm and the ships bit at their ropes. Ludovic climbed onboard and accepted the cup of hot mulled wine offered him. “Then we’re agreed,” Ludovic nodded. “You keep a half of my profits from this last trip and it’s a fair price under the circumstances. I want my brother delivered safely to Antwerp and then it’s up to you if you manage to pick up any cargo on the way back. I’ll be in Somerset after Christmas if the weather holds. Come to the castle or send a message.”

  “That I will, my lord. There’ll be no problems, don’t you worry.”

  “And once I’m settled back home myself, I’ll pack Clovis off to your sister.” Ludovic sighed, stretching his legs to the cabin’s panelled limits. “I trust the weather won’t delay your embarking with tomorrow
’s tide?” The steady rain beat on the wooden decks over their heads, a distant echo of thunder and no promise of the storm abating.

  Kenelm shook his head with a smile. “Not likely, my lord. Wet above and wet below, it don’t bother me. A full gale out at sea, well that’s a hiccup as can turn a man’s bilges bright yellow, but a crack o’ thunder and lightning matters no more than a piss.”

  “I am exceedingly glad,” said Ludovic, “that I have no need to go to sea myself, my friend. This cabin is enough to make me bilious and we’re still in port.”

  Kenelm’s smile turned to a grin. “With your lordship doing the business on land, being your lordship’s place of greatest skills as it were, and me at sea being my own proper preference, well, we makes a good team I reckon, my lord, and I trust it’ll go on for many years to come, legal or otherwise. I’m a happy man since meeting you, my lord. My sister prays for you every night.”

  “I think,” said Ludovic, “she should speak a little louder.”

  The captain refilled both their cups. The hippocras had cooled but the sweet smell of spices remained and Ludovic drank deep. The final arrangements now settled, a strangely pleasant sense of peace and accomplishment was returning with the wine. Alysson’s smile was once again glowing in his mind, and the likelihood of having her once again in his arms within the week. He was setting his empty cup on the desk when a sudden stamping of hurried footsteps and the sound of Gerald’s voice came thumping over his head, someone half sliding down the steps to the cabin, and the door swung open with two wet faces pushing into the gloom. Rainwater streamed to the cabin’s boards.

  Gerald was muffled inside his hooded cape and recognisable only by the sharp tip of his slightly hooked nose. It was the other man who spoke first. “Sumerford? Thank God, so this is the right ship after all,” groaned the Earl of Berkhamstead. “Close your hatches man, and answer to no one.”

  Four men within the cabin made it impossible to move. The captain, flurried and finding no space to bow, stepped abruptly back to the bed and sat. Ludovic grabbed Gerald’s shoulders and pushed off his dripping hood, peering into his face. “Gerry? What on earth?”

  “They’re onto us,” Gerald gasped. “Tudor’s armed guards came to the inn. I saw them ride up and I heard what they demanded. I had time to run, but I’ve an idea they saw me.”

  Ludovic’s eyes narrowed. “You were outside already?”

  William had collapsed on the bench. “We were just getting back. Two moments earlier, and we’d both have been taken.”

  Still holding to Gerald’s shoulders, Ludovic shook him furiously. “What were you doing?”

  It was William who answered again. “Came to find me,” he said. “Wanted to give me his pamphlets to finish, and explain where he was going. There should have been no harm done, but someone in the king’s pay knows more than they should. We weren’t seen leaving court, I’m sure of that for we couldn’t have been followed in this weather without me noticing. Clearly the guards were on their way to the hostelry before we left Westminster. They knew where to go, they knew the place, and they knew the name. We got away, or Gerald would already be under arrest.”

  Ludovic glared at his brother, cold eyed. “You deserve arrest, you fool. You promised to stay indoors and wait for me.”

  “I only promised not to nail up the pamphlets or to go to the Tower,” Gerald spluttered. “And if I’d stayed indoors as I should, I’d be in the Tower myself by now.”

  “If it’s urgent, I can sail tonight, my lord,” interrupted Kenelm, trying to follow the discourse. “The crew’s already mostly onboard, and with this storm the rest’ll likely leaves the taverns within the hour.”

  “Right then,” said Ludovic. “Tonight it is, whether the crew’s drunk or sober.” He turned to William. “And you, sir? Are they after you as well?”

  The earl shook his head. “I don’t believe so. I’ve been at court for an age and they could have taken me anytime over the past month if they’d wanted. I may have a few questions to answer on my return, and maybe they’ve looked for me, and frightened my poor little Gwen, but no – I don’t believe I’ve any need to run just yet. Now I know you’re both safe, I’ll hurry back to my wife.”

  “Good,” Ludovic nodded. “Then I’ll scout outside before returning to the inn. No doubt I’ll have questions to answer myself if they come looking for you again, but with luck I may be able to help allay some of the suspicion.”

  There was a pause. William looked at his feet. Gerald gazed upwards at his brother. “No, Lu. You can’t go back,” he said softly. “It was your name they gave at The Horn. The lords Ludovic and Gerald Sumerford. There’s a warrant out for both of us.” Ludovic stared back, each man’s forced breathing and the creaking of the ship’s hull the only sounds. “Your name first.” Gerald’s face was white in the small stub of candlelight. “I was trapped between the courtyard and the doorway, so I heard everything they said. Will and I stood there in the shadows, frightened to breathe, just listening.”

  “There’s a warrant out for the arrest of the lords Ludovic and Gerald Sumerford for High Treason, signed in the king’s name,” William whispered. “Wanted for immediate questioning under close confinement. Anyone assisting their escape is also subject to arrest.”

  The one lantern swung gently from the ceiling beams. Its guttering candle lit Ludovic’s hair in streaming flax but shadowed his face. He stood in stunned silence, swaying slightly as he balanced loosely against the gentle roll of the ship.

  “So how did they know where to come?” said Gerald. “I hadn’t even been at The Horn for some weeks previous. I’d moved to Southwark.”

  Ludovic said, “Brice. He knew you were at The Horn. He paid your shot, and sent me there to look for you. He knew exactly where we’d both be staying.”

  Gerald shook his head a little wildly, raindrops flying. “Don’t be bloody stupid, Lu. Brice is a clever bastard, but he wouldn’t do that. Not Brice.”

  “A clever bastard, and very rich from his very secret business. Spying for the king pays damned well I hear. And what better way to earn your fortune, with a damned naïve fool of a brother admitting his treasons freely within the family?”

  “We’ve no time for this,” William interrupted. “If you can set sail this evening, all the better. I need to get going myself before the guards hurry back to court and frighten the life out of poor Gwennie again.”

  Ludovic nodded, thin lipped. “Then take my horse. I’ll have no more need of him, it seems.”

  Kenelm, having stayed diplomatically quiet for some time, now stood and came to the centre beside his own desk. “Well, my lords, if you’ll forgive me, the case seems clear. ‘Tis both you two young lords must come to Flanders with me and we’ll set sail within the half hour, full crew or no. I shall give my orders now and set the ship to rights. We’re banked in, and if I’ve to slip my ropes quiet like, I need a man on shore and the crew to their places. Those as needs to go must take to the land now if it pleases you my lord, and those as is staying must make themselves as comfy in here as can.” He turned, bowed, and stomped off up the steps, the ill hung cabin door swinging shut behind him.

  Ludovic sank down on the bed. “Damnation to hell,” he muttered, though only to himself. “Well, that’s a fine end to everything.”

  “Not an end, Lu,” Gerald bent over him, still dripping from cape and hood. “I’ve no words to express how sorry I am, little brother. I’ve played you an ill trick, and would have done anything in the world to avoid it, had I realised. But they say Flanders is a grand place. You don’t care about mother or papa, and no one cares about poor old Humphrey. I can’t believe Brice betrayed us, but he’ll not be missed one way or the other. Neither of us expected to inherit much, and maybe we can get back one day if this blows over. What’s left to miss?”

  “Only my life. My dreams. So to hell with hope.” Ludovic stared up at him from the shadows, his green eyes glazed and as cold as the sleet. “You’re a bastard fool,
my dear,” he said softly, “but then of course, so am I.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Deep hidden within winter’s chilly dark, the small cog slipped her moorings and sailed downriver, slowly as the yard arm was hauled up and the sail raised. Wary past the Tower’s artillery, the waters parted, wavelets slapping the clinkered hull as the sail cracked against the mast, flattened, took the wind, and billowed. The drizzle hung like a cobwebbed mist in the starlight and from behind the clouds the moon’s aura hinted at an eerie silver sheen. The river took the reflections, a huge black silence as they entered the battlemented shadows of the Tower, and then on towards the estuary and the open sea.

  The strong wind had dropped, but in the fretful night breeze the ship picked up speed. Kenelm took the tiller, keeping his orders brisk and quiet. A crew of nearly thirty, half of them half drunk and half asleep, worked the decks, sliding quickly down the wet rigging, callused hands long accustomed. London’s closed reek was gradually left behind and the breezes blew fresh.

  In the small cabin below decks at the stern the two men kept their silence. Ludovic stretched prone on the bed, hands clasped behind his head and eyes firmly closed. Gerald sat. He balanced rigid, glaring at the door creaking on its uneasy hinges. An oil lamp hung suspended from the low beamed ceiling, swinging as the ship pitched. Its small flame flared out and shrank back. The shadows streaked pale, the men’s faces hidden in gloom.

  “Come to bed,” Ludovic said softly, eyes still shut.

  Gerald jumped as if slapped. “I’m all right. I’m not tired. You sleep. Besides, the bed’s too narrow for two.”

  Ludovic opened his eyes. “Don’t be a damned fool, Gerry. You intend sitting up for the next three nights, determined to wallow in guilt? It won’t help either of us if you make yourself ill, my dear, and your suffering won’t help me. Besides, I don’t hold you responsible. Not entirely, anyway.” He sat forward with a sudden grin. “And we’d better make sure we get on, since Kenelm’s solution for shipboard murder is to rope the killer to the corpse and toss them both into the ocean.”