by Tony Riches
Jasper looked up at the slender crescent of moon, surrounded by twinkling stars in an otherwise black sky, and said his prayers. The ship heeled in the wind and he nearly lost his footing, gripping the rail with both hands to steady himself. A stiff breeze tugged at the sails, adding an additional challenge for their captain as they approached the treacherous, rocky coast of southern England.
Gabriel had been talking to the crew and learned that the approach to the River Dart could be difficult at night, with the main landmark being a massive rock known to the locals as the Mew Stone. He pointed into the blackness at the indistinct shape as they gave it a wide berth.
‘The waters here are a mess of rocks and shallows where ships can run aground.’ He grinned at Jasper’s frown. ‘Sailors say it’s not the sea that kills you, my lord, it’s the land.’
He stared into the night and saw what Gabriel meant. A dangerous mass of rock rising from the water like a jagged castle, with another, smaller rock close by. His attention was caught by a distant light, which flickered then vanished, only to reappear in the same spot a moment later. He could see no other sign of life at such a late hour. They had timed their arrival well.
They watched as the ships sailing ahead of them cautiously entered the estuary, barely visible except when their masts and sails blocked the view of the moon. Their last obstacle was the old castle guarding the river entrance, connected to Kingswear by massive iron chains, which could be raised to prevent ships sailing upriver. If the chains were raised they would soon know. Jasper held his breath as the castle drew closer.
For once it seemed luck was on their side, as Warwick’s flagship sailed past without incident and the others followed, until they reached the wharf used by merchant traders. Archers and crossbowmen lined the rail as blindfolded horses were unloaded, their hooves thumping rhythmically on the gangplanks. Once satisfied they had not sailed into a Yorkist trap, Jasper took his first step on English soil since being force-marched to Scotland after the defeat at Bamburgh.
He glanced across at the serious young man riding at his side and saw an echo of his long lost brother Edmund’s features, although in character Henry was more like his mother, Lady Margaret. He shared her strength of spirit, evident despite his youth and slight build. The Beaufort steel merged well with his half-Welsh, half-French Tudor blood.
The loyal men of Wales gladly rallied to Jasper’s call when word of Warwick’s victory in London was trumpeted throughout the country. Edward of York and his brother Richard barely escaped with their lives to their allies in Burgundy, and a bewildered King Henry had been swiftly rescued from the Tower of London and returned to the Palace of Westminster. Jasper’s first act had been to ride with a hundred men to Hereford to find his nephew.
‘We must find you a good sword, Henry.’
‘I would be grateful, sir.’ Henry’s voice sounded well educated and carried only the faintest trace of a Welsh accent. He looked confidently back at Jasper. ‘My sword was lost at Edgecote...’ His voice drifted away as he remembered. ‘They made me watch while they cut off the head of Lord William Herbert. He went bravely to his death, may God rest him.’
Jasper bit his lip at a sudden memory of how they had said the same of his father. Secretly he was not sorry the man who murdered his father and other good men that day in Hereford market square met the same horrific fate, but he cursed Warwick’s men for making young Henry witness the act.
‘I thank God you were spared, Henry. Now we shall reunite you with your mother.’
‘My mother told me to always have faith this day would come, sir. She used to tell me to be patient, although Lord Herbert said you were dead, and I was not to ever ask after you.’
‘Well, as you can see, Henry, I am very much alive and your mother was right. There have been times when my faith was tested, yet I lived in hope of seeing your uncle King Henry restored to the throne, and I would one day keep my promise to your mother to see you safely returned to her.’
‘I am too old to live with my mother, sir.’ There was a note of protest in his young voice.
‘I agree, Henry. We’ll send for her when we reach London.’ He smiled. ‘You are my ward again, and I look forward to getting to know you.’
London seemed a riot of noise and colour as Jasper rode through crowded streets, flanked by Gabriel and young Henry, at the head of his army of men from all over Wales. Church bells rang and the crowds cheered and cried ‘God save the King!’ when they saw his colourful standard, the royal arms surrounded by his badge of golden martlets, although he doubted many of them knew who he was.
Men in Warwick’s livery with the badge of bear and ragged staff and armed with sharp halberds guarded each street corner as they reached Westminster. The duke had learned from past experience and would not allow York’s supporters to pose any threat this time. Warwick himself was waiting to greet them on the steps of the Palace of Westminster, wearing a black fur cape and a heavy gold chain, his badge of office.
‘Welcome to London, Sir Jasper.’ The earl greeted him warmly, like an old friend.
‘Thank you, Sir Richard, and well done.’
‘London threw open the gates to us,’ Warwick seemed pleased with himself, ‘so my brother deserves congratulations, as not one man dared to oppose us.’
‘You have informed Queen Margaret?’
‘I have, and I’ve also written to our ally in France, King Louis, expressing our thanks.’
Jasper nodded in approval. ‘And how is King Henry?’
‘He is well.’ Warwick lowered his voice to a whisper only Jasper could hear. ‘His highness has not fully understood recent events, so I would be grateful if you would help him to appreciate what I’ve achieved?’
‘You may count on it, Sir Richard.’
Jasper barely recognised King Henry. His once matted hair had been washed and cut, his beard neatly trimmed, and he wore a fine new hat and cloth of gold in place of the monkish habit Master Blacman encouraged. The greatest change of all was in his eyes, which had always been downcast and vacant, now studying Jasper and young Henry with keen interest.
‘Your Highness,’ Jasper bowed. ‘May I introduce my ward Henry Tudor, son of your late half-brother, Edmund?’
‘I am at your service, Your Highness.’ Young Henry bowed as Jasper had done, his cultured voice confident, despite the awe-inspiring surroundings.
‘We must have a special service to give thanks our little family is reunited here.’ King Henry studied their faces as if seeing them for the first time. ‘It is through the grace of God you have been saved, and I am truly pleased to see you safely returned to me, Jasper.’ He turned to young Henry. ‘And in you there is something of your father. He would have been proud to see how well you have grown.’
It was the most considered speech Jasper had heard from the king in many years, and it gave him hope all the hardship had been worth it. Good men and women sacrificed their lives to allow this day and it gave Jasper comfort to know they had not died in vain.
A messenger waited for Jasper in the hallway of Westminster Palace after his meeting with the king, and handed him a letter with the cross and portcullis seal of Lady Margaret Beaufort:
Sir Jasper Tudor, Earl of Pembroke. I thank you heartily that you bring my beloved son Henry to London and beseech you to visit me at the house of my good husband, Sir Henry Stafford, as soon as you are able. Blessed be God, the King and the Queen, and with God's grace, whom I pray give you good speed in your great matters.
Jasper understood why Lady Margaret was unable to welcome him in person on his arrival and appreciated Sir Henry’s nervousness. Although his mother was a Neville, like many who fought so bravely for Lancaster at Towton, he’d sworn allegiance to York in return for a pardon. Now he might be branded a traitor to the king by those less understanding.
Not wishing to delay reuniting Lady Margaret with her son, they followed her messenger through the narrow streets to an imposing house close to London Bridge. Aft
er announcing themselves to the housekeeper, they were shown into a richly furnished room with small leaded glass windows overlooking the River Thames.
Sir Henry Stafford had grown portly and his scarlet doublet, embroidered with silver braiding, drew attention to his bulk. He leaned heavily on a stick to support his weight as he stood to greet them. At his side stood Lady Margaret, dressed in a stylish gown of striking red velvet, the only reminder of her religious devotion a shining gold crucifix on a chain around her neck. Her eyes were bright as she studied her visitors, taking in every detail yet revealing nothing of her own feelings.
The sight of his brother’s widow brought back a rush of memories. In Jasper’s mind Lady Margaret had always been barely a woman, young enough to be his ward, yet nearly ten years had passed. He calculated she must be twenty-seven, and saw she now dressed as a woman of status. He had almost forgotten her great wealth from the Beaufort inheritance, as well as from Sir Henry.
‘Welcome, Sir Jasper, to our home.’ She nodded to her son. ‘Henry. I give thanks to God that you are safely here.’ Her eyes misted with tears as she fought to remain composed.
Henry seemed awkward in his mother’s presence. He’d told Jasper she visited him on several occasions when he lived at Raglan Castle with William Herbert, although more than a year had passed since her last visit. They had never been left alone together, as Lady Anne Herbert was always required to keep a watch over them.
He gave a slight bow. ‘It is my pleasure to see you again, Mother.’ He nodded to Sir Henry. ‘And I thank you, sir, for your hospitality.’
Sir Henry shook them both by the hand. ‘It’s good to see you. We’ve been looking forward to your arrival.’ He nodded to a waiting servant. ‘I trust you will be able to stay for some supper?’
Jasper glanced at young Henry. ‘We would be pleased to. I am keen to learn what has been going on in London while I’ve been visiting France.’
He smiled at Lady Margaret. ‘It warms my heart to see you looking so well, my lady.’
‘And you, Jasper. It seems your life in France has suited you?’
‘I’ve missed Pembroke,’ he admitted. ‘It has been difficult to be sure of news from England, with so many rumours, so I give thanks to God that, at last, we can meet as family.’
Sir Henry led them through to a large dining room with a polished walnut table set with four platters and goblets and invited them to sit. A log fire crackled in the grate to ward off the late October chill and beeswax candles cast their yellow, flickering light from a pair of tall silver candlesticks. Jasper sat in a carved and gilded crimson velvet-covered chair as fine as any in Westminster Palace.
Lady Margaret said a Latin grace, thanking God for the safe return of her son and brother-in-law, then a young maidservant brought red wine for Jasper and Sir Henry, with mead for Lady Margaret and young Henry. Once their goblets were filled Sir Henry raised his and proposed a toast.
‘To peace in this land, and the good health of King Henry.’
Jasper raised his goblet. ‘To peace and family.’
Sir Henry sipped his wine and nodded. ‘You’ve had some adventures since we last met, Sir Jasper, if only half the accounts I’ve heard of your exploits are not exaggerated.’
‘In truth, I consider myself fortunate to be here.’
‘We heard you had been killed fighting in the north.’
Lady Margaret crossed herself. ‘I prayed each night the news was wrong.’
Jasper smiled. ‘Well, my lady, your prayers were answered, as by the grace of God and with the help of friends I managed to escape the late Lord Herbert.’
He saw young Henry pale at the mention of the name and was glad the servants arrived with veal pie and a leg of mutton in a thick sauce. He waited while it was served, together with a trencher of freshly baked bread, still warm from the ovens.
Lady Margaret looked at Jasper. ‘How is the king? It is some years since I saw him last.’ She gave her husband a cautionary glance.
‘You might ask your son?’ He glanced across the table at young Henry. ‘He was presented to the king and will be able to give you an opinion of his uncle’s health.’
‘The king is well, Mother. He said my father would be proud of me.’
Lady Margaret nodded. ‘Your father would have been proud to see what a fine young man you’ve become.’ She caught Jasper’s eye and seemed keen to change the subject. ‘I would be most grateful if you would help us to ensure my son’s lands and title as Earl of Richmond are properly secured.’
‘Of course. I will speak to Earl Warwick when I return.’
Sir Henry glanced up from his supper. ‘Warwick runs the country?’
Jasper nodded. ‘King Henry has little enough interest in matters of state, and the queen and Prince Edward remain in France.’
‘So until we have a proper Parliament such matters fall to Warwick?’ Sir Henry’s deep voice carried a note of concern. ‘He is a vengeful man.’
Lady Margaret interrupted her husband. ‘We must put our troubles of the past behind us, Henry, and pray good sense prevails.’
Jasper tasted the well-cooked mutton, seasoned with herbs, and dipped his bread in the rich wine sauce. ‘Do you know what became of Henry’s lands, my lady?’
‘York granted them to his brother, George, Duke of Clarence.’
‘That is a problem. Clarence had the promise of the throne snatched from within his grasp, so Warwick will be reluctant to also take the lands he had been given.’
Sir Henry signalled to the serving girl to refill their goblets. ‘I heard he is to be made heir apparent, after Prince Edward, is that not enough to appease him?’
Jasper wiped his platter with a hunk of bread and took a bite while he considered the question. ‘Prince Edward is a young man, and an ambitious one. In truth I doubt George Neville will gladly agree to relinquish an acre of land, unless he is forced to.’
‘You will ask, on our behalf?’
‘I will, my lady, although you must expect the answer may not be what we wish.’
He took another sip of wine and turned to Sir Henry. ‘Will you tell me what I’ve missed while I’ve been away?’
Sir Henry laid down his knife with a clatter on the hard table. ‘I must confess that life settled down well enough under York.’
Lady Margaret agreed. ‘Edward was kind to us, Jasper. I think it important you know that.’ She glanced at her husband, who nodded agreement. ‘He granted us the manor at Woking and came to visit us there once. I asked his permission to visit King Henry and he told me if not for the Earl of Warwick he might have moved the king to a priory somewhere, to live out his days in peace.’
‘Now we have to keep our wits about us.’ Sir Henry helped himself to a generous portion of the veal pie. ‘I can tell you it has not been easy. York’s sympathisers opened the prison gates and bands of ruffians roam the streets, with nobody able to stop them.’
Jasper took a sip of his wine. ‘I heard villages beyond the city walls have been ransacked.’
Sir Henry nodded. ‘We plan to leave for the country as soon as we can.’
Lady Margaret looked at Jasper. ‘I would wish for my son to travel with us, as it has been such a long time?’
Jasper smiled, recalling his conversation with young Henry, and nodded. ‘Of course—and then he must return with me to Pembroke.’
‘Thank you, Jasper.’
It was the first time he had seen her smile since she held her newborn baby in her arms at Pembroke Castle.
George Neville, Archbishop of York and Warwick’s brother, led the service of thanksgiving in the cathedral of St Paul’s, offering thanks to God for saving England and blessing what had become known as the re-adeption of King Henry. Choirs sang and every space in the huge cathedral was packed with nobles and their ladies, all keen to show their loyalty.
Although the idea of a service was the king’s, Warwick quickly turned it into a public spectacle, a chance for the people of Lond
on to see their restored king with him, their self-appointed new Protector of the Realm. He made sure the streets were thronged with cheering crowds as they made the short ride through the city in procession, their horses followed by five hundred soldiers dressed in the blue, red and gold royal livery, with drummers and trumpeters adding to the noise and sense of grand occasion.
The king dressed in his full regalia and wore his heavy crown for the first time in many years. Warwick was right, as King Henry seemed not to understand what he had been through, yet looked happy enough as he waved to his people. It was as if Edward of York never existed. Warwick had even ordered all coins bearing York’s face to be withdrawn, to be melted down and re-struck for King Henry.
After the service Jasper made his way in the slow procession back down the long aisle of St Paul’s and froze as he saw Warwick’s younger brother, Sir John Neville, dressed in his regalia of the Order of the Garter. In a flash of memory Jasper recalled they were knighted there together with his brother Edmund in the same ceremony by King Henry.
He also recalled the nightmare siege of Bamburgh, where he almost starved and nearly froze to death until John Neville chose to spare him. Their eyes met, only for an instant, yet Jasper saw acknowledgement in the eyes of his former captor. It was time to set aside their differences, although his memories would take longer to fade.
Jasper felt disappointed to see the king absent from the banquet. Instead, Prince Edward sat at the side of the queen, a gold coronet and fur-trimmed cape making him look older than his seventeen years. At his side sat Lady Anne, in a fine new gown. She caught Jasper’s eye and the sadness he saw there told him all he needed to know. He made a mental note to keep watch over her, as although the marriage had not been his idea, he had helped to make it happen.