The King's Dogge

by Nigel Green

‘But, even if I wasn’t, the tour should still proceed.’

  Catesby’s eyes glittered excitedly and I sensed that his mood was changing. Clearly, the serious work had been dealt with, and now he was ready to play.

  ‘After all, we must naturally consider Master Ratcliffe’s feelings. Richard Ratcliffe is not only a friend and colleague, but, like all of us, he is one of God’s children.’

  He shook his head solemnly.

  ‘How cruel it would be for poor Ratcliffe to return to his Heavenly Father prematurely! Believe me, Francis, the cancellation of the royal tour would be a death blow to the man.’

  ‘It would? I accept he’s put a fair amount into it.’

  ‘It’s his masterpiece!’ exclaimed Catesby. ‘Hitherto I had no inkling that behind those homely features and the humble trappings of a dear friend and colleague lay the mind of a genius.’

  Catesby looked at me mistily.

  ‘Believe me, Francis, the plan that he has created is of such scope and magnitude that it is almost of a divine nature.’

  ‘You believe Ratcliffe to be divine?’

  ‘Well I’m not suggesting that the infant Ratcliffe was actually born in a stable.’ Catesby chuckled cheerfully. ‘Although I grant you that, judging by the odour that clings so resolutely to his person, it is not wholly inconceivable that he spent many of his formative years in one. But, my lord, believe me when I say that it is hardly credible to think that a child born of human parents could have created such a plan.’

  I thought for a moment. Presumably Ratcliffe was making the royal tour as magnificent as he possibly could in order to advance himself still further. Certainly his strategy was sound provided the tour was successful. On the other hand, by so clearly identifying himself as its creator, he would receive the blame were something to go wrong.

  I glanced at Catesby, who was now smirking at some secret joke.

  ‘I hope you haven’t encouraged Ratcliffe to make the tour too complicated,’ I said suspiciously.

  ‘Me?’ Catesby was a picture of wide-eyed innocence. ‘But why on earth would I wish to do anything to harm my good friend, the talented Master Ratcliffe?’

  I must have looked dubious for he assumed a hurt expression. ‘It really is too bad of you to think like this, Francis.’ He pouted. ‘Instead of contemplating such evil thoughts, you should be attending to the arrangements of how we will proceed to the first major point of the tour, Oxford University.’

  I shifted uncomfortably on my seat, earning yet another disapproving glance from the rotund Bishop Dudley, who had been placed next to King Richard. Presumably Ratcliffe had put him there so that he could amplify the points made, but by this time I suspected that even Richard’s interest in the proceedings had lessened.

  I looked round the great hall of Magdalen College where, after three hours, the first of Ratcliffe’s Great Debates was approaching the halfway stage. The young Oxford scholars were quietly awed by the presence of the king and his nobles, but I sensed that they were only pretending to pay heed to the sonorous tones of their Professor of Sacred Theology as he argued pedantically with his famous opponent, the eminently learned, albeit sharply spoken, Master William Grocin.

  Thoroughly bored by now, I glanced up. The small windows high up on the walls made the hall dark and oppressive. The high ceiling should have helped cool the room, but instead it seemed that the natural warmth of the summer, combined with the sheer numbers present, had turned the place into a furnace.

  I looked at the wine and water which had been put on a small table next to Richard enviously, and licked my dry lips. Beside me, Lord Stanley stirred restlessly on our hard wooden bench.

  ‘Tell me, Francis,’ he murmured, ‘have you any idea of what is to happen after this somewhat exhaustive examination of the various elements of moral philosophy?’

  ‘Ratcliffe’s second Great Debate.’ I swallowed uneasily. ‘Apparently it’s even longer.’

  ‘The thought of which almost makes me wish that I was back at Berwick,’ he said wearily. ‘Why does Master Ratcliffe insist on debates of such length?’

  ‘Catesby told him that the longer the debate, the more scholarship you exhibit. So Ratcliffe was most insistent with the university about it; he even threatened to divert the royal tour to Cambridge.’

  ‘Well, I suppose he’ll succeed in his wish to make these debates unforgettable,’ Lord Stanley observed dryly.

  I was relieved when, finally, a hoarse Master Grocin stepped back from the podium. Both speakers bowed stiffly to the king and then to the chancellor of the university, Lionel Woodville.

  Eagerly I made my way out to join the others in the warm sunshine. Beside us the river looked both cool and inviting, and it occurred to me that Minster Lovell must only be a few miles upstream. Nervously, I ran though the arrangements for Richard’s reception there. Admittedly he was only going to be in my house for a day or so but, with Nan in the North, I was wholly reliant on the steward, Tawboys.

  ‘Lord Stanley seems popular, doesn’t he?’ Broughton’s cheerful tones broke into my thoughts.

  He pointed to where a small crowd of scholars were clustered round my neighbour in the hall. Even as I watched, I saw Catesby approach him grinning; he was introducing yet another group of young people to Lord Stanley. That was kind of Catesby; the young scholars would never have dared approach him by themselves.

  ‘I wonder why they all want to meet him.’ Broughton muttered.

  ‘I expect they want to ask him about his famous bears.’

  ‘He keeps bears?’ Broughton was amazed.

  ‘Quite a collection apparently. He brought one up to Berwick while we were there to amuse his men. Big thing it was too; it needed four keepers.’

  The sudden appearance of the tall chancellor of the university caused the young scholars to break off their questioning of Lord Stanley. Reluctantly, Broughton and I followed them back towards the hall.

  Broughton pointed at the chancellor.

  ‘I understand that his divinity lecture concludes the proceedings here?’

  ‘I imagine that he’ll say a few words of farewell to conclude the visit, but that will come after the divinity lecture. Ratcliffe felt it was essential that the visit concluded well, so he was adamant that the chancellor himself should speak so that this stage of the tour would conclude with appropriate gravitas.’

  Broughton glanced at Lionel Woodville’s retiring figure.

  ‘I hope someone’s told him which subjects he should avoid?’

  ‘They have.’

  Ratcliffe had been concerned that Lionel Woodville would use the opportunity of a public speech to play the martyr. After all, his brother, Earl Rivers, and his nephew had both been recently executed at the king’s command. Currently, two of his other nephews – the sons of King Edward – were incarcerated in the Tower, while his sister and his nieces were in sanctuary. Conscious of this and the fact that there might be an element of personal animosity – since Ratcliffe himself had overseen the execution of Earl Rivers – Ratcliffe sought to obviate danger. And he had been wholly successful. It was true that the university chancellor was not pleased to hear talk of violent reprisals against the surviving members of his family, if anything untoward was said, but he was a man of sense. After due reflection, he promised not to instigate anything that could be construed as being derogatory to the king or, indeed, detrimental to the career of Sir Richard Ratcliffe.

  ‘Nothing can go wrong,’ I told Broughton as we re-entered the hall.

  ‘It could have been worse.’

  I tried to reassure Ratcliffe as we rode together towards Woodstock a day or so later.

  He jerked his head round to look at me incredulously.

  ‘How?’ he bellowed. ‘Just tell me how it could have been worse?’

  ‘It’s just an expression.’

  Ratcliffe waved away my consolation and swung round to spit in the direction of the city of Oxford.

  ‘It was a disaster and you kn
ow it. I bring the king to Oxford to establish him as an example of learning and scholarship. I go out of my way to present him as a paragon of generosity…’

  ‘But Catesby’s idea was brilliant! It was clever of him to suggest that you make the offer to Magdalen College on behalf of the king.’

  ‘Of course it was a good idea!’ Ratcliffe exploded. ‘It was a perfect way to present Richard as a patron of scholarship. Sweet Jesus, with the king’s gift those fools could have had anything they wanted – lands or money or endowments even.’

  ‘Don’t torture yourself.’

  ‘And what do those idiots do? Anyone else would have just taken the money but not our university men. Oh no, what they want is to humiliate the king and make me look ridiculous.’ Ratcliffe thumped the pommel on his saddle furiously. ‘I can’t bring myself to think about it.’

  I shared his pain, as I cast my mind back to the college hall crowded with fellows and scholars who had gathered together to hear their chancellor’s valedictory address to their king and his party. The speech had been both formal and brief and, much to the relief of our group, nothing was said which could be considered even slightly contentious. Indeed, as the speech progressed Ratcliffe had become more relaxed. But his ease was premature.

  The king’s offer to the college of any gift they desired had been relayed to Magdalen College and the fellows and scholars had debated among themselves as to what form the present should take. Having decided on a suitable gift, they had requested for the chancellor to convey their response to the king, which, the chancellor announced, he was pleased to do so now.

  ‘I must admit to be surprised at their choice of gift,’ Lionel Woodville continued candidly. ‘But since Your Grace had made the offer to the college directly, it would have been inconceivable to have sought to influence their thinking and so regretfully I was powerless to intervene.’

  ‘As regards the college’s choice of gift, Your Grace, it would appear that my Lord Stanley’s celebrated collection of bears has been the main subject of conversation in the college ever since your royal party arrived at the university.’

  A tolerant smile lit up his austere features as he leant forward to address the king.

  ‘By all accounts, Your Grace, since you have arrived at the college, all the fellows and scholars have talked about is these great beasts and, accordingly, Magdalen College humbly requests Your Grace to ask Lord Stanley to send some of his bears, together with their keepers, of course, to Oxford for a visit.’

  A roar of spontaneous applause greeted the chancellor’s request, which swelled as Lord Stanley rose with a smile to his feet. He raised a hand and the clamour ceased in expectation.

  ‘I shall be pleased to arrange such a visit,’ he announced.

  Lionel Woodville allowed the rowdy cheering to continue for a couple of minutes before signalling for silence. He glanced at the stony-faced king.

  ‘I would like to apologise for the seemingly frivolous nature of the college’s choice of gift and provide a possible explanation for the choice,’ he begged.

  Taking an abrupt nod as a sign of permission, Lionel Woodville adopted a reflective stance.

  ‘I have noted with pleasure that a number of visits have been made to the university of late, and I am extremely gratified, as such visits by distinguished personages have added further lustre to this great seat of learning.’ A puzzled look came across his face. ‘But while I assumed that mine was a viewpoint widely shared, I was distraught to discover that there is indeed a school of thought that runs contrary to my own.’

  Lionel Woodville leant forward confidentially.

  ‘It appears, Your Grace, that, if the rumours are true, such visits afford little satisfaction to Oxford. There have been complaints about the tedium of the proceedings of a recent visit.

  ‘Indeed, unkind and malicious persons have been heard to remark that such visits were self-indulgent. Upon enquiring after the reason for these absurd statements, I was amazed to discover that this view originates from the erroneous belief that the only purpose of such visits is to attempt to promote the visitors as men of wisdom and patrons of scholarship.’

  He gave a dry chuckle to demonstrate his contempt at such stupidity.

  ‘Now clearly, Your Grace, these views are held by only a minority in the university, and you may be confident that the propagators of such evil gossip will be severely punished.’ Lionel Woodville spread his arms apologetically, ‘But it is just possible that this wrongheaded thinking has instigated a request for a visit by creatures, who naturally have no pretension to scholarship.’

  Lionel Woodville bowed graciously to the thin-lipped king.

  ‘I must, as chancellor, apologise for any offence that my words may have caused, but, painful though it is for me, my position demands that I give an account of the thinking behind the unusual nature of the choice of gift.’23

  I turned to Ratcliffe who was still hunched in a state of misery.

  ‘It will blow over,’ I said to try to reassure him.

  He looked at me dully.

  ‘The whole visit was planned so that the university could be impressed by the king. Can you honestly say that they were?’

  ‘It was certainly unforgettable.’

  ‘For all the wrong reasons!’ howled Ratcliffe. ‘I tell you, Francis, I’m finished. They told him that they would rather have a visit from a load of bears than the king.’

  We rode on unhappily for a while. After a while, he tugged savagely at his reins, and I moved over to hear his bitter words.

  ‘I wouldn’t have minded quite so much if I had been brought down by a rival,’ he moaned, ‘even if it had been that fat fool Catesby. But to have everyone laughing at me because my career has been ended by a bunch of bloody bears – it’s just too much!’

  I chose not to reply; I suddenly recalled the uncharacteristic pains Catesby took in troubling himself to introduce the shy scholars to Lord Stanley. I remembered that it had been Catesby who had suggested the idea of the king’s gift to Ratcliffe. I tightened my hands on the reins. With Ratcliffe disgraced, Catesby would undoubtedly turn his attentions to trying to unseat me. Side by side, we grimly rode on through Woodstock.

  CHAPTER 16

  Ratcliffe’s problems assumed less importance when we reached Woodstock later that day when Catesby, along with a messenger from London, found us. At the time the message seemed of little importance, but how could we have known that it was destined to bring about a catastrophic series of events.

  On the face of it, the matter was simple. There had been a failed attempt to rescue the two sons of the late King Edward from the Tower of London. Despite creating fires in parts of London to serve as a diversion, the rescuers had failed completely – four of them had been caught. It appeared some of them were former servants of the late king.

  ‘Initially, I viewed the report as inconsequential,’ Catesby advised us. ‘Indeed, it barely seemed worth bothering about. However, His Grace the King views the matter differently. He would appreciate it, Francis, if I could join him and you at Minster Lovell?’

  ‘Naturally, you’re both welcome,’ I told him politely.

  ‘Thank you. Now the king has commanded Ratcliffe to proceed to the town of Gloucester, so regrettably he cannot join us.’

  Catesby smiled apologetically at Ratcliffe.

  ‘Believe me when I say that I did all that I could to persuade His Grace that there was little chance of another repeat of Oxford, but His Grace insisted it would be best if you were personally to check, in detail, all the arrangements which you have made.’

  It should have been a happy time at Minster Lovell even without Nan but, while Tawboys had done his work well, there was no assuaging Richard’s worry. The humiliation at Oxford and the news from London was affecting him badly. I grew concerned as for the first time I realised how exposed and possibly vulnerable he was without the guiding hand of Anne Neville. She would have been able to get him to see both matters in perspe
ctive but without her Richard’s anxiety was feeding on itself.

  I tried to ease his worry; Catesby had more information about the plotters, and I was able to point out that a groom, a pardoner and two other low fellows hardly constituted major danger. All Richard had to do was write to the council in London and Bishop Russell could deal with them.

  Still he was unsatisfied and anxious, so I suggested strengthening the cordon round Elizabeth Woodville and her daughters in sanctuary. After all, if an attempt had been made to rescue the young princes, another one could easily be made to rescue the young princesses.

  I had not appreciated the scale of Richard’s anxiety though. Hitherto he had sought to appear interested in Minster Lovell and had demanded that I show him the site of the half-built tower by the river. From there I had taken him to the hall to show him my most prized possessions, the pair of tapestries with their silver and gold threads depicting the first King Richard and his crusaders. But if I thought the chivalry of ‘The Siege of Acre’ might have pleased him, I was mistaken. Immediately after I had spoken about the princesses, he tightened his lips and abandoned his inspection of the elaborate salt cellar shaped in the form of a castle. In silence, Catesby and I followed him into the adjacent solar. His agitation was by now quite marked, so I waved away the servants.

  ‘You’ve both failed me completely!’ he snapped. ‘I left Westminster reassured that an adequate surveillance system had been set in place to monitor possible trouble while I was away from the South. Yet, despite the costs it incurred, your allegedly efficient system failed to detect this insurrection.’

  ‘But you don’t know it was an insurrection!’ I protested.

  ‘Of course it was, Francis.’

  Richard’s face was very pale now against his black tunic.

  ‘If it had been a revolt there are signs we would have noticed,’ I told him. ‘There would have been reports of armed men gathering, of supplies being arranged. We would have heard tales of dissatisfied nobles.’

  ‘Yet His Grace might well be correct,’ Catesby silkily interposed. ‘After all, someone must have supplied money and weapons to those four traitors. There must have been people waiting to receive the two princes if the plotters had succeeded.’