by John M. Ford
"Tyrell."
"My lord?"
"We'll go to Northampton. But we will not set an ambuscade, not for the rightful King of England. We'll hear what Anthony Woodville has to say for himself. At least he'll be well-spoken; maybe poetical." He paused; when he spoke again, his anger had faded. "Any objection to that, my lord of Buckingham?"
"None at all, my lord of Gloucester," Buckingham said, relieved.
The Dukes retired, leaving the three captains alone with the Armagnac. Over a large cupful each, Dimitrios said "I have heard of this Sir Anthony Woodville on the Continent, as a scholar and a good knight."
"The best knight in England?" Tyrell asked.
"Yes," Dimi said, a little embarrassed. "That was said. But it cannot be true, then... ? If he is... at odds."
Tyrell said "It probably is true. That's the trouble." He finished his brandy, rapped on the keg. "An you two finish this off, do your puking tomorrow out of my sight?" He grinned. "I can't abide bein' the only sensible man in a crowd." He went out.
Ratcliffe topped off his cup and Dimi's. "This much for me, and then it's your problem."
"About Sir Anthony Woodville—"
"Do you mean that after two years in Richard's service, no one's told you about Francis Lovell?"
Dimi shook his head.
"He was the Earl of Warwick's ward, at the same time Richard was in Warwick's household. A little younger than Richard, not much."
"The Duke told me he and Duchess Anne were the youngest."
Ratcliffe started to rise. "I think I've drunk enough and said too much."
Dimitrios caught Ratcliffe's sleeve. "I'll believe he had a reason not to tell me, if you'll give me some grounds to puzzle it out."
Ratcliffe sat down again. "You understand, I wasn't there when any of this happened. But the hell with it—in for a penny, in for a pound.
"Richard and Lovell were close, very, like two boys get sometimes when they're about to be men together—have you ever seen that? I have, though it never happened to me."
"I've seen it," Dimitrios said, trying to think of nothing at all but what Ratcliffe was saying.
"They even went into his... your religion together. I don't know any more about that, of course. But a year or so after that, there was a tournament, one of those Marvel things where everyone comes as a hero of the stories. Richard and Lovell were Balin and Balan, the brothers. And Anthony Woodville was the Warrior with the Gilded Spear—do you know of him?"
"No," Dimi said, but he was beginning to understand.
"He's one of the sons of Morgaine the witch, you see. And Anthony's mother Jacquetta was a witch—really she was; everyone knew it. So it was a strange sort of joke, but at tournaments strange jokes do well."
"I think I see now," Dimi said. "Woodville killed Lovell."
"Tilting. Everyone said it was an accident, and I mean everyone; Lovell's shield and head were so badly held that when Woodville's spear struck... away both of them went.
"After that was when he started mixing books with his war. Of course, later the talk started about black magic, tricked equipment, the usual nonsense."
Dimi nodded. "But if Richard's forgiven him, I suppose that's what matters. No matter what other people say."
"You still don't see it, then. The Middleham boys were Balin and Balan. Twins, in identical armor. And they decided to play the usual twins' trick: when Lovell ran the tilt, he was carrying Richard's shield and wearing his helm, with the crest. No way anyone could tell, till they fished the head out of the pot, that Woodville hadn't ridden at Richard."
"Rivers!" Richard said. "Anthony, good evening. Come in, it's cold. Though I daresay not so cold as Wales.... If I may insult Wales in your presence?"
Buckingham came into the entry, wineglass and meat pie in hand. "You may even insult it in mine, Dickon. Good evening, Rivers. Did you come hungry?"
"I admit I came curious," Rivers said slowly. "You said that you wanted to discuss the King, over dinner. I didn't expect an Irish wake."
"There's no corpse at this feast," Buckingham said.
Rivers said "There's Edward's."
"Yes. Well," said Richard, pressing his palms together. His tone became serious, but not angry. "Yes, I'm wearing black; I'm not done mourning Edward. But if you want tears, tread on my foot; I ran out of tears before brothers."
Rivers was impassive for several heartbeats. Then he said "I'm being a very bad guest."
"Let's call it false dawn, then, and begin over." With exaggerated cheer Richard said "Well met, Anthony Woodville, Lord Scales, Earl Rivers. Are you cold and tired and hungry?"
Rivers was smiling now. "Anthony's hungry, Scales is tired, and the Rivers all run cold."
Richard laughed. "Well, all right then. Let's not let Harry get a lead on us in there, or we'll both stay hungry."
Dimitrios followed, at a discreet distance, as the lords went into the hall.
Dimi leaned against the wall, a few steps behind Richard's chair. He had an excellent sight of all the doors and windows in the room. His light Damascene sword was buckled on, and a billhook was in the shadow of the hearth chimney. He had paced out the room earlier today: he could kill the first man through any door, and hold the rest with the polearm.
He was not sure how to count the odds in the room itself, with eating knives to hand, and furniture in the way. In such conditions no three elegant fighters were worth one good brawler; Richard was not, Buckingham did not have the look, but Rivers might be. But Ratcliffe would be here two breaths after the alarm, while Tyrell made sure Rivers was not reinforced further from his camp.
And if it came down to knives over the soup, Dimi supposed that one blow from behind would not be counted foul, even against the best knight in England.
Richard was saying "If you believe I'm condemning your stewardship of the Prince, you're wrong, Anthony. I'd rather have had you teaching him than a collegeful of dusty men who never smelled a horse. But all at once the student is out of the schoolroom."
Rivers said "The schoolroom has no walls, and the pupil is always in it."
Buckingham said "And what does that mean, Woodville? Are you preparing to keep—"
"Henry, shut up," Richard said agreeably. "Just my meaning, Anthony; a king can't live in a library, or a temple. Henry the Idiot left us overproof of that. But now Edward's on the throne, with all the powers and duties, armies and coinages, and what's England to do while he learns what to do with them?" He leaned toward Rivers, said "He's just at the age when power and duty aren't connected at all. Don't we remember that time?"
Dimi watched Rivers carefully. The Earl tapped a hand on the table without rhythm. It could not be seen, certainly not heard, as a signal to men outside... unless one of the Earl's rings was magicked to do that. Dimi had worked for an Austrian prince who had such a thing.
Rivers said "What is it you want, Richard? Kindly name something in my power to grant: I cannot raise the dead." Dimitrios was startled; the Earl's voice had been very nearly a cry of pain.
Richard sat slowly back in his chair, mouth a little open; Buckingham's lips were compressed, it might have been with fright.
After a long, long pause, Richard said "I want... the custody of my brother's son, for the trip into London."
"All right," Rivers said, calm again. "Your claims are as strong as mine, after all; they're both rooted in what we think Edward wanted."
Richard nodded, picked up his cup. "Then I think I would like to drink... to the health of the King, and of England's Galahad—"
"Not yet, Richard," Rivers said. "Now I have to tell you the rest. The boy's health, Richard—"
Buckingham said quickly "What's the matter with his health? Is he ill?"
Rivers did not acknowledge the interruption. "We have a doctor's opinion that he's.. .dying, Richard."
"You have what? One doctor's opinion? Whose? And dying of what?"
"It's a disease of the blood system, a rare one. None of the house physi
cians knew of it at all, though you know how little that means around Elizabeth's doctors. This was an Italian physician, of the best reputation. She was traveling with that Welsh sorcerer you know: Peredur."
"A woman doctor? White-haired, good-looking?"
"I daresay."
Richard said "Dimitrios," and Dimi took a step forward to stand at Richard's right. "My man knows them both. Go ahead, tell me what they said."
"The sorcerer had nothing to do with it. The doctor said that Edward might live some months, or a few years, but—"
"Enough of what the doctor said," said Buckingham. "What did he do?"
"She," Rivers said, in an irritated tone. "And there was nothing she could do. There was an examination, and a surgery—"
"A surgery?" Buckingham said, astounded.
Rivers turned to Buckingham, mouth open to speak; but he shook his head instead and turned back to Richard. "Elizabeth never told your brother. And the Prince doesn't know-—we didn't have any courage to tell him before his father died, and we're not notably braver now.
"The Queen insisted that a new physician be brought, another Italian, and he should be in London by now. I hope he will be some comfort for the boy." In a faraway voice he said "So you see, gentlemen, all the countermarching has been for nothing. When it becomes known that Edward will never reach his majority, how much will his Protectorate be worth?"
Richard said "Peredur was with her. What did he do?"
"As I said, not much. He was present at the examination and the surgery."
"And he did nothing?"
"He gave the doctor some light," Rivers said tiredly.
"And the two of them just walked on, after this."
"Rode, actually. I gave the lady a white horse."
Richard seemed to be struggling with a thought. Dimi's own mind was clouded. Of course there were things that doctors could not cure—he needed no more proof of that. But this man seemed to be saying that Hywel and Cynthia had not even tried.
More than that: he was saying she had cut a child, for nothing. Dimi knew Cynthia had been disturbed, hurt—but Hywel had said he was going to Wales to help her, and he had also said there were things he would not let her do.
And Dimi would not believe she had gone so cruelly mad; not if there was anything like a god in the cosmos. He found himself not even believing the story about the white horse. Rivers did not look like a man who had been slapped.
Richard said "Why did you wait to tell us this, Anthony?"
"I told you, Elizabeth didn't tell the King himself—"
"I'm not interested in what your sister didn't say. Why didn't you tell my brother?"
"It might have killed him sooner," Rivers said, without feeling.
"Or kept him alive," Buckingham said. "Edward did have a care for his sons. And for England."
Rivers said "Damn England. The boy was in my care."
"Oh, too late for that, Anthony," Richard said, anger finally surfacing. "You've played your trumps for tonight. So, Richard's going to press his claim as Protector? Well then, let him be Protector of dust. It's not just treason, Anthony, it's vomitous. Even Scotsmen let us drive back the cattle they fail to steal; they don't kill them in the road for spite."
"Burning God, Richard!" Rivers was halfway out of his seat. "Do you want to know why I waited, tonight? I wanted to hear what you were going to say. Three thousand armed men out there, and you ask me to dinner."
"We'd have given you a battle," Buckingham said clearly, "but we thought you'd prefer the tiltyard."
Rivers's chair went over backward, with a crash that rattled the draperies. He took a step toward the door.
Richard said "Captain."
Dimi caught the Earl's arm. Rivers turned; Dimi twisted the arm into a wrestler's lock. He pulled, and pushed, and took Rivers down to the floor. The Earl's mouth was open, twisted. Dimi was surprised; the hold should not be that painful. His armlock slipped a bit.
"Don't let him cry out!" Buckingham said, coming around the table very rapidly. There was a brandy bottle in his hand; he smashed it over Rivers's head, spraying brandy and potsherds all over and thickening the air with fumes.
Rivers was still conscious, but badly dazed. Dimi pulled off the Earl's rings and tossed them aside, pushed a linen cloth into his mouth. Another napkin tied his hands. Dimitrios made certain that Rivers was not choking on the gag, then said "He's a strong man, Richard. These won't hold him long."
"We have rooms for that," Richard said. "You did that very well, brother."
Dimi saw the turn of Buckingham's head. "Thank you, my lord." He was still puzzled: Rivers had hardly given him a fight, nor was he struggling now. He wondered if the man could be a coward, despite his fame; wondered what other sort of man threatened children for his ends.
Ratcliffe had appeared, with men behind him, backing him. "Dick," Gloucester said, "take the Woodville lord to a room with no windows, and lock him in. Take that whole squad with you; if he leaves this house, or even signals from it, the King may be murdered. If he pauses before a window, cut him down." They led the staggering Earl away. Richard said "Dimitrios, you stay."
"Sir?"
"The King's at Stony Stratford. We're riding there now, to fetch him out before anything can be done to him. I suppose they've got some black sorcerer... we must hope that they're not ordered to hurt the boy if we appear without Rivers."
A link formed in Dimi's mind. "When we passed through France, Your Grace... Hywel spoke to your King Henry's widow. There was a sorcerer involved, and Queen Elizabeth's children "
"Margaret's in this?"
"I can't remember anything more of it now... it's been a long while. But Professor von Bayern was with Hywel; he might know."
"We'll ask him when the King's safe," Richard said, and started down the hall. Without looking back, he said "Bitch-goddess of Anjou! I told Edward, when he sold her back to the French spider: some people are just too dangerous to leave alive."
"No, Uncle," said the King of England, "I do not understand why you have taken away my counselors, and I do not know why I should not have them back. They were given me by my father,
whom I loved and trusted, and were favored by the peers and my mother—"
"The peers and your mother," Buckingham said sharply, "are all of the same enormous and conspiratorial family. Their entire wish is to control your person, Sire, and through you England; and if they could not control you they meant to kill you."
The King shook his head. His gold hair was long and loose; he had been in his nightshirt when Richard, Dimitrios, and Buckingham arrived, but insisted that they wait until he had put on a white silk doublet bearing the Rising Sun in gold. He wore sword and dagger as well, sized to a ten-year-old boy.
"You ask me to believe that my mother would kill me, like the queen in the story. Really, Sir Henry."
Dimitrios felt himself smiling. Edward was doing his best to be kingly, as his father would want, and succeeding very well. But then, Dimi thought, Edward's father had died suddenly and far away. And his father's brother was a brave, intelligent lord. And Edward was really a king.
"We do not blame the Queen," Richard said, "except as she may have trusted too much in her brother."
Buckingham said "It's a womanly habit, to trust for flimsy causes."
There was a moment's startled silence. Dimi thought that Henry Stafford was indeed the model noble cavalryman: only a soldier could be so tactless and only a nobleman could get away with it so often.
Edward said "I trust my Uncle Anthony with my life, and I do not think the cause is weak. Why, when I was lately sick, so sick I thought I would die, it was Anthony who brought the lady doctor."
Richard glanced at Dimitrios. "You were sick, then?" he asked the boy. "But a lady came?"
"Yes."
"What did she look like? What did she do?"
"She had really white hair, but she wasn't an old woman. She
was very pretty, I think " The formalit
y began to slip out of
Edward's voice. "She looked at.. .examined me, and it hurt some but not as much as when Doctor Hixson does it.
"Then the next day she gave me some medicine, and a thing to breathe into that made me sleep. Arid while I was asleep she did a surgery. On my side, here. I had to wear bandages for a while, and underneath it's sewn up with silk thread. Do you think common people are sewn up with cotton thread?"
Richard said "Do you know what the surgery was for?"
"Uh huh. Lumps."
Richard said "Lumps?"
"Uncle Anthony had a little jar of alcohol, on the shelf with his medical books. There were some lumps in it, that he said the doctor took out of me. They looked like fish guts."
Dimi saw Richard's lips form a word, did not need to hear it. Richard said "And after the surgery... you felt better?"
"Not right away. But later. I'm not sick now."
"No, of course," Richard said. "And the doctor? Did she go away? Before you started to feel better?"
Edward looked thoughtful. "I think I saw her right after I started to wake up. But I was sleepy for a long time. Anth—Earl Rivers told me she left on the same day, with her companion the wizard. ..."
If he has hurt her at all, Dimitrios thought, if he has hurt Hywel, we'll see how good Rivers is with a knife in a locked room. Then he saw the King staring, realized he had spoken the thought aloud. "Your pardons, Your Graces, please "
"I like your humor, Captain," Buckingham said.
Tyrell came into the room, which had been already crowded with four. "My lords Vaughan, Grey, and Haute are accounted for," he said to Richard, as if no one else were present. "If there was a wizard, or a black doctor, they've slithered off."
Edward said "What are you going to do with my counselors?" Fear cracked his dignity, and Dimi felt sorry for him; but at least now he would live and be King.