by Tony Riches
‘Sir Jasper Tudor. We are honoured to welcome you to our court.’
Jasper removed his cap and bowed. ‘Thank you, Your Highness. I am grateful for your kind hospitality.’
The queen regarded him with expressive pale blue eyes, as if not certain if he was joking. ‘The king is hunting,’ she looked out of the high, arched window to the castle grounds, towards the distant wooded hills, ‘sometimes he goes hunting for days, forgetting me and his duties.’ There was a hint of humour in her soft voice.
‘I’ve learned to be patient, Your Highness, particularly with regard to the king.’
She laughed and gestured for Jasper to be seated. ‘As have we all.’ She fed her dog a morsel of food from a silver dish. ‘You are not married, Sir Jasper?’
Jasper smiled at her unexpected question. ‘I shall find a bride one day, Your Highness, once my lands are restored.’ He noticed her glance at her ladies-in-waiting and suspected they might have been discussing him.
‘I was only one year old when I was betrothed to Frederick of Saxony,’ she smiled absent-mindedly at the thought, ‘I never married him. It was my destiny, you see, to become Queen of France, and I was nine when I married Louis. He was the dauphin then, but I always knew he would be king.’
‘Amor fati. Sometimes we must be guided by our destiny, Your Highness.’
‘Whatever happens to you has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time.’ She seemed to be addressing her little dog rather than Jasper.
He recalled the quotation. ‘Twining strands of fate weave together our existence and the things that happen to us.’ He had heard Queen Charlotte owned one of the finest libraries in France, yet her knowledge of Marcus Aurelius impressed him.
Her eyes met his and a rare connection flashed between them, unnoticed by her watching ladies, the bond of kindred spirits.
Queen Charlotte continued as if nothing had happened. ‘And you, Sir Jasper. What is your destiny?’
Again her question surprised him. ‘My mother was Queen Catherine of Valois, so it may be destiny that brought me here to know more of my family in France.’
‘King Louis has need of men like you, Sir Jasper.’ She picked up her little dog and seemed to be addressing it. ‘He despairs of his self-serving advisors, who tell him what they think he wants to hear.’ He saw an unexpected pleading in her eyes. ‘You would also be doing a great service to me if you help him find an agreement with Duke Charles. I am sure he will be most appreciative to have you at his side.’
‘I am honoured to serve the king, my lady.’
She let her lap-dog jump to the floor. It ran up to Jasper and he went down on one knee to stroke it. The little dog seemed to like it and looked up at him with bright eyes, then gave him a friendly lick, wagging its tail.
‘I can see you are a good man, Sir Jasper. You are most welcome in our household.’
‘Thank you, Your Highness.’
King Louis’ soiled hunting clothes meant he could easily be mistaken for a farm worker were it not for his ebullient presence the moment he entered the room.
‘Tudor.’ He embraced Jasper. ‘You find me in good spirits, and I hear you have been entertaining my wife?’
‘Queen Charlotte has been a perfect hostess, Your Highness.’
‘You seem to have made a good impression on her.’ There was no hint of disapproval in his voice. King Louis clapped his hands to summon servants. ‘Bring wine—no, bring us ale.’ he grinned at Jasper. ‘You are a soldier, you prefer a jug of ale?’
‘I would, Your Highness.’
‘Take a seat, we have much to discuss. How is my cousin, Queen Margaret?’
‘She is well, with the grace of God, and sends her warmest regards.’
A boy brought ale and pewter tankards and they waited while he filled and offered one to the king, then the other to Jasper.
King Louis drained nearly half his tankard and held it out for his servant to refill.
‘I heard King Henry is imprisoned in London. Is it true?’
‘He is, Your Highness.’ Jasper nodded. ‘I fear for his health and pray for him every day.’
‘We must see what can be done, Tudor. I will speak to the Earl of Warwick when I see him next.’
‘My understanding, Your Highness, is that Warwick’s men captured King Henry and placed him in the Tower of London.’
‘Let me tell you something of the Earl of Warwick, Tudor. He looks at Queen Charlotte and sees a brood mare, nothing more.’ King Louis took another drink and gave a satisfied belch. ‘He looks at Edward of York, tall and handsome, and thinks he makes a good king.’ He stabbed a finger at his own chest. ‘I am not tall, and have never been described as handsome, and I know the Earl of Warwick takes me for a fool because of it. You are different, Tudor. You are family, and I can count on your loyalty?’
‘Indeed you can, Your Highness.’ Jasper judged the moment to be right. ‘I wish to spend time in your service, if you will allow me?’
‘Of course.’ He gave Jasper a knowing look. ‘Between us, we will be more than a match for the Duke of Burgundy, and then we will deal with England.’ He cursed in French. ‘Edward of York thinks he can deceive me?’ His voice was raised.
Jasper took another drink of ale. He’d not forgotten how Queen Margaret tried to deceive King Louis with her promise of Calais. ‘Warwick is his weakness, Your Highness.’
King Louis narrowed his eyes. ‘And the Earl of Warwick knows where York is at his weakest.’
‘You think Warwick would turn against York?’
‘He has as good as told me so, Tudor.’
‘Let us first find a settlement with Duke Charles of Burgundy, Your Highness, then perhaps we shall put Warwick’s ambition to the test.’
Late that night Jasper lay awake, recalling the words of Queen Charlotte. She thought it odd he was unmarried, as well she might. In another life he could have married Lady Eleanor Beaufort. She had been a perfect match, from one of the best families, charming, clever and beautiful, yet destiny intervened. He had been obliged to care for Eleanor’s cousin, his brother’s widow, although he would never have married Lady Margaret as, in truth, he always thought of her like a sister.
He thought again of Máiréad, who could have been at his side, if not for his selfishness. He had wanted her with him, even when it put her life in peril. He had truly loved her and still felt the pain of grief when he thought of her. He consoled himself with the thought that somewhere there was the woman he was destined to marry, who would combine the best qualities of them all.
He felt a new conviction that it was his destiny to play a part in brokering peace between France and Burgundy, and then, God willing, to reconcile the Houses of Lancaster and York. He had faced death many times, yet God chose to spare him for some purpose and he could think of none more worthy.
The Wheel of Fortune had turned again, and now he found allies in the most unexpected places. He wondered if he could ever find it within himself to forgive Edward of York, yet unless he did so there could never be lasting peace. It was beginning to look as if Sir Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick could be the key.
Despite all the protracted arrangements, the meeting with Duke Charles of Burgundy at Péronne did not have the best start. King Louis summoned Jasper to the rooms provided for him in a fine merchant’s house in the town. To Jasper they seemed grander than the king’s own summer residence, yet the king insisted on staying at the old castle.
King Louis led him to the window and pointed an accusing finger. ‘There, you see?’
Jasper saw the castle, high on a hill overlooking the River Somme. The flags of France and Burgundy flew from its towers, in honour of the meeting, but even from a distance he saw tiles missing from the roof and piles of rubble where stone had fallen from the battlements.
‘I made enquiries, Your Highness. It seems the castle is in a poor state of repair and is used as barracks for the duke’s soldiers and a prison, which is why we’ve been accom
modated here.’
‘This is how Duke Charles plans to demean us, Tudor.’ He gave Jasper a look of sudden suspicion. ‘He treats us like merchants.’
Jasper saw little point in disagreeing with the king. ‘I will explain to the duke’s staff, Your Highness. It should be simple enough to resolve, as long as you have no objections to less comfortable surroundings.’
King Louis continued to stare out of the window. ‘I know you think me petty, Tudor, but you must learn that such things matter.’ He looked at Jasper. ‘We all carry the burden of those who have gone before us. Your father was a servant, yet he was strong willed and married Queen Catherine of Valois. My father was a king yet he was weak. His men murdered the Duke of Burgundy, who trusted to meet him without armed escort. To this day they tar me with the same brush.’
Jasper left to make the arrangements, reflecting on the king’s words. It had not occurred to him they could be in danger. Their escort of some eighty archers were camped on the outskirts of Péronne, and of little use if the king was attacked by Burgundian guards, who seemed to be in every doorway. It seemed unthinkable, as the king hinted, that one could be a paid assassin. Duke Charles would express his regret but Jasper could find himself caught up in a conspiracy.
Although he would prefer to remain in the comfortable merchant’s house, he arranged a room adjacent to King Louis in the castle. Damp and draughty, little effort had been made to improve his accommodation. The furniture was a wooden cot with an uncomfortable straw filled mattress and a single, worm-eaten chair. He woke after the first night in Péronne Castle with the red bites of bedbugs on his skin, yet thought it a small price to pay for his proximity to the king, who could be heard snoring loudly.
As the negotiations progressed, Jasper took on the part of observer and intermediary, carrying messages between King Louis and Duke Charles. The duke refused to forsake other alliances and pledge support to a united France. He also added limitations that would make any agreement worthless. It seemed as if their position was weakening when the meeting was interrupted by a messenger with important news for the duke.
Duke Charles gave the king a cold, hard gaze. ‘I regret, Your Highness, to inform you that the people of Liége are rioting. They have murdered the bishop and their governor, my representative.’
‘I’m sorry to hear this, Duke Charles,’ King Louis seemed unperturbed, ‘although I fail to see why it merits interrupting our discussions?’
‘Quite the contrary.’ Duke Charles stood. ‘It is said the instigator of this treachery was none other than yourself. I must therefore insist that you remain in your rooms here at the castle until the truth of the matter has been uncovered.’
‘You are holding me prisoner?’ King Louis slumped in his chair in disbelief. ‘It’s an insult!’
Duke Charles remained calm. ‘Simply a precaution, Your Highness, for your own protection.’
Jasper detected a veiled threat in the duke’s voice and realised the king was right to be concerned. It would be a simple enough matter to contrive a riot in the troubled city of Liége and people would be quick to believe King Louis, with his reputation for intrigue, could be at the root of it. He took on the role of the king’s representative in the investigation and soon established that the allegations were false, as there was no evidence of the king’s involvement.
This seemed to be of worryingly little concern to Duke Charles, who insisted the peace agreement was compromised, even when the bishop was found to be alive and well, as was the duke’s representative. One of the few people allowed to see the king, Jasper found him in a black mood.
‘I curse the day I ever thought to trust the Duke of Burgundy.’ King Louis paced in his room like a caged beast and waved his fist in the air.
Jasper tried to be conciliatory. ‘It seems, Your Highness, it’s nothing more than a coincidence that the unrest occurred while we are here in Péronne.’
The king turned on him. ‘That may be so, but does it warrant my confinement in this castle for three days?’ He sat down heavily and held his head in his hands. ‘How well is this place guarded?’
‘Are you thinking of trying to leave, Your Highness? The duke has men at every gate, and the men we brought are archers, no use in this situation.’ Jasper tried to placate the king. ‘We need to take care not to play into the duke’s hands. We both know you are innocent of any involvement in the rioting at Liége, yet if you leave it will make it look—’
The king interrupted him, his hands held up in the air. ‘So what should I do?’
‘I suggest we offer to conclude these discussions and remind the duke he has provided us with safe conduct in Burgundy.’
‘Give in to his demands?’
‘If we must, Your Highness.’
‘It’s an outrage!’ King Louis began pacing again.
An idea occurred to Jasper. ‘You could propose that we all travel to Liége to end the problems there, Your Highness.’
The king brightened. ‘At last, Tudor, a sensible suggestion.’
The forty three pages of the peace treaty between Burgundy and France was prepared and sworn over a fragment of the true cross, supposedly once owned by Saint Charlemagne. King Louis agreed to pay a hundred thousand crowns in reparations to the duke and bells rang out across Péronne to celebrate. Watched by Jasper and King Louis, and supported by French troops, the army of Burgundy besieged the city of Liége and largely destroyed it on the pretext of quelling a rebellion.
Chapter Fourteen
June 1470
Jasper expected their diplomatic failure at Péronne to have consequences, yet King Louis placed none of the blame on his shoulders and granted him a pension of one hundred livres tournois a month. Duke Charles retained his allegiance with York, on condition it did not harm the interests of France, yet the peace was a fragile one. King Louis would find some clever way to avenge how he had been treated by the duke.
Their brush with danger was a timely warning and he sent for Gabriel, who had remained in Queen Margaret’s household to help recruit and train more men for her personal guard. Gabriel arrived with a letter from the queen that confirmed the rumours which crossed the Channel to Jasper and King Louis at Arcis in Champagne of unrest and intrigue in England.
There were many frustrations of Jasper’s long exile, particularly the unreliability of news from England and Wales. Rumours needed to be considered with suspicion, as York could easily spread them to his own advantage. Even the rare messengers, who travelled at great personal risk, could not be trusted to carry entirely accurate accounts. The letter, written in the scholarly hand of the queen’s scribe, only added to his questions.
Queen Margaret praised God she and her son Edward were in good health and went on to explain that Edward of York’s brother, George, Duke of Clarence, had married Warwick’s daughter Isobel, against Edward’s orders. Jasper knew little of York’s younger brother, although he remembered meeting him once in Westminster and thinking him a drunkard and a gambler. Although he easily saw Warwick’s plan, the latest pawn in his game appeared a far from ideal choice of husband.
It also seemed Warwick’s simmering discontent with his treatment by York erupted into open rebellion. In an amazing reversal of loyalty he had mustered an army of two thousand men and seized London, holding the city for some weeks before York won the country back. Jasper read the queen’s letter twice. Signed only with the letter M and bore her royal seal, it offered no clue about what became of Warwick afterwards.
‘Tell me, Gabriel, there must be more. I want you to repeat every detail you’ve heard, rumour or not.’
‘Sir John de Vere, Earl of Oxford, was the latest to arrive from England. He says your enemy Lord William Herbert is dead, sir, captured in a battle near Banbury with Warwick’s men and executed in Northampton, along with his brother Richard.’
Jasper’s mind filled with urgent questions. He had mixed feelings about the execution of his old adversaries by Warwick but a new concern occurred to
him.
‘What of my nephew? William Herbert took him to Harlech Castle. I pray he wasn’t with the Herberts when they confronted Warwick?’ Jasper prepared himself for the worst news. ‘Have you heard anything of the fate of Henry?’
‘I’ve not, sir. The queen’s court is full of nobles fleeing from York but there’s been no mention of young Henry.’
Another question occurred to Jasper as he struggled to see the implications of the news. ‘When York regained control, did Warwick escape? Is he dead, or is he in the Tower with King Henry?’
‘It’s said that York was held in Warwick Castle, yet he persuaded Warwick to free him in return for a full pardon. The duke leads a charmed life, that’s for sure.’
‘I do wonder, Gabriel, what kind of hold Warwick has over Edward of York. There must be more to all this than we know.’
He cursed his isolation in France at such an important time for England. ‘I must know what is going on across the Channel. It’s my duty to do what I can for King Henry and my nephew—and I can’t rely on rumours and gossip when they could both be in grave danger.’
‘I could go, sir? I might learn where Henry is?’
‘I would not ask you to, Gabriel. The country is full of York’s spies, watching for anyone carrying messages from Queen Margaret. If they caught you—’
‘I won’t carry any messages, my lord, it would all be safe in here.’ He patted his head. ‘You’ve seen how little interest they take in Irish mercenaries?’
‘I appreciate your loyalty, Gabriel, perhaps there is a way...’ An idea formed in his mind. ‘Lady Margaret Beaufort, Henry’s mother, will make it her business to know what has become of her son. She might even rescue him from Herbert’s household.’ Jasper recalled his last memory of Lady Margaret. ‘She is a determined woman, and her husband has influence.’