Jasper - Book Two of the Tudor Trilogy

by Tony Riches

  ‘Our only other option is a mass break-out. They won’t be expecting it and if we all head in different directions a good many could escape.’

  ‘And a good many more be killed or wounded?’

  ‘Yes. Morgan ap Thomas has used the past week well, as every road and path is barricaded and ditched to slow us down and make escape as hard as possible.’ He saw Henry’s worried frown. ‘This castle will not be breached, Henry.’

  ‘But soon we will run short of food?’

  Jasper glanced down at the stables and remembered the siege of Bamburgh. He didn’t tell Henry they could run out of water first. He should have dealt with the well, tainted and abandoned long ago, and their barrels of ale had gone far too quickly, despite the rationing. In another week or so they would need to slaughter the horses and the men would know it was the beginning of the end.

  When the attack came it took them all by surprise. Jasper was visiting Gabriel on his sickbed, and relieved to see his friend seemed to be recovering from his wound, although still unable to put his weight on the leg. The arrowhead had been difficult to remove but he was strong and the risk of infection was hopefully passed, thanks to the poultice of herbs.

  One of the guards came shouting for Jasper, and he rushed up to the parapet to look out across the ravaged town at a sight he thought he might never live to see. Morgan ap Thomas’s soldiers were being beaten back into their own ditches by an army of men with halberds and spears, axes and scythes.

  He heard a cheer from his men and realised, by some miracle, the new attackers planned to rescue them. ‘Archers to me!’ He yelled and beckoned with his arm. ‘Choose your targets well!’

  Jasper took a bow and grabbed a stack of arrows from a pile they had stored by the gatehouse. He had no idea who their rescuers were but they would need all the help he could give. As he notched the arrow he noticed from scorch marks on the shaft it was one of the salvaged fire arrows. He sighted on the men taking cover in the ditch below and fired, not waiting to see it hit before notching and shooting the next, then another. Archers to each side of him did the same, creating a hail of arrows onto the heads of their enemies.

  As he watched, a huge bear of a man charged the soldiers trying to shelter in the ditch, swinging a deadly poleaxe. One of the soldiers threw down his sword and fled the battle, followed by a second. Morgan ap Thomas’s men wavered. Jasper saw riders clash swords and heard the sharp ring of steel on steel as a battle raged, then more men began to desert, tipping the balance in favour of their rescuers.

  At last, a thick-set, bearded man on a fine black horse bellowed up to him.

  ‘Sir Jasper Tudor?’

  He studied the man but couldn’t recognise him in his armour and helmet. It could be a trick, but too many men lay dead and wounded for this to be an elaborate plot to lure him out.

  Jasper cupped his hands and shouted back. ‘Who goes there?’

  ‘Dafydd ap Thomas, for Lancaster!’

  Morgan’s own brother, with the last remaining Welsh Lancastrian army, had arrived to lift the siege. Jasper couldn’t believe his luck and signalled for the men on the gate to allow him to enter. Dafydd ap Thomas dismounted and led his horse through the great stone gatehouse and watched as Jasper clambered down to greet him.

  ‘We made it in time, my lord!’ His deep voice echoed in the castle ward.

  Jasper shook him by the hand. ‘I thank God you did, although it grieves me to see how York has turned brother against brother.’

  ‘We cannot stay, my lord.’ Dafydd ap Thomas glanced back towards his men, already busy looting supplies and gathering fallen weapons in the town. ‘You must ride with us, before York hears of this and sends reinforcements, as he surely will.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  June 1471

  Jasper rode the familiar back roads to Tenby through the night with Henry at his side. They dressed as commoners, in rough wool, their swords hidden in sacking bundles tied behind their saddles, containing all they owned in the world. Jasper chose to bring his precious armour, a gift from King Louis, as well as all the gold and silver he could carry.

  He had thanked his loyal men and released them from any obligation, telling them to return home to their families. Soon the castle was deserted except for the wounded in the makeshift infirmary, the few remaining servants and those who had nowhere else to go. He regretted leaving Gabriel behind, as he’d wanted to leave with them but they both knew he would only slow them down. At least he should be safe enough when York’s men came, and said he would track them down when he could.

  Dafydd ap Thomas had offered them to ride with him back to his hiding place in the mountains, to continue to fight for a free Wales. Dafydd’s men were, by his own admission, a rabble of farmers and adventurers. They were united only by their hatred of York and their desire to make life difficult for those the usurper king rewarded by granting them Welsh estates.

  ‘If we had ridden with Dafydd ap Thomas we would have been choosing the life of rebels.’ He glanced at Henry to make sure he understood. ‘York’s soldiers would have hounded us, and we would always be on the run.’

  He didn’t like to talk about the inevitable day they would be captured. He was under no illusions. They would both be seen by York and his ambitious brothers as a threat and would be hanged as rebels without even the need for a proper trial. At best they might be taken to London and put in the Tower but there could only be one ending to his story.

  ‘Dafydd’s men have shown they can fight, but they must hit and run, always looking over their shoulders, with no real hope of stopping York.’ It sounded bleak, not the future he wished for Henry.

  ‘What shall we do if we escape to France?’

  ‘I’m half French and your grandmother, on your father’s side, was a French queen of the House of Valois.’ Jasper smiled as he recalled the stories his father told him about his grandfather’s madness but decided to keep them to himself, for now. ‘King Louis of France has been generous with his support and paid for our last expedition, so there is a chance he might be persuaded to do so again.’

  ‘My mother is wealthy, Uncle. Could she not help us?’

  ‘She could, but it’s important we don’t put her or your stepfather in danger of treason, for that is what they would call it.’

  The sky was filled with glittering stars and a full moon lit the tall spire of St Mary’s church as they drew close to the sleeping town. Once Jasper’s sanctuary and stronghold, he had learned from Dafydd ap Thomas that Tenby was now sworn to York, so held new dangers for them both. They must reach the harbour without being spotted and find a merchant ship bound for France.

  It would be an impossible task without the help of Jasper’s good friend Thomas White, who seemed to know the master of every sailboat in the harbour. His house could be reached down the narrow back streets but the problem was how to rouse him from his bed at such a late hour without drawing unwanted attention to themselves.

  ‘We have the advantage that they aren’t looking for us yet, but if they do, my house is the first place they’ll search.’ Jasper kept his voice to a whisper as he glanced down the deserted street. ‘I remember there are stables at the back of Thomas White’s house. If we’re quiet we should be able to reach them without waking anyone.’

  A cat screeched from the shadows of a doorway, startling their horses as they led them down a narrow alleyway to the stables, which were fortunately not locked. Two of the stalls contained Thomas White’s horses but there was plenty of room, so Jasper left Henry while he crept round to study the small windows at the rear of Thomas’s house. Like many in Tenby they overhung the lower floor and were shuttered, although one was open to let in fresh air, an encouraging sign.

  He tried the back door and it opened, so he slipped inside and waited until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He found himself in the wine-merchant’s kitchen, furnished with a well-scrubbed oak table. Red embers still glowed in the hearth and a brace of colourful cock pheasants
hung from the low ceiling beams, alongside an assortment of burnished copper pots and pans.

  Through an open doorway at the other side of the room was a small hallway and the stairs to the upper floor. One of the floorboards creaked loudly as Jasper moved and, aware that White could think he was being robbed, Jasper decided he would have to announce himself. He called up the narrow staircase as loudly as he dared.

  ‘Thomas White? This is Jasper Tudor!’

  He waited but heard nothing and was about to repeat his shout when there was the sound of someone moving around and a door opened. The glimmer of a flickering candle lit up the darkness of the hallway. Thomas White appeared like a ghost, wearing a thick cotton shirt, his feet bare on the wooden floorboards.

  ‘My lord?’ He held up the candle and peered down the stairs.

  Jasper held up a hand in greeting. ‘I am sorry to trouble you at this ungodly hour, Thomas, but we need your help.’

  Thomas White descended the stairs and studied Jasper with surprise and interest. ‘We all thought you were besieged in Pembroke. You know it’s the talk of the town?’

  ‘I managed to escape, thank God, with my young nephew Henry.’ Jasper rubbed his eyes, realising he hadn’t taken a decent night’s sleep since the siege began. ‘We need your help, Thomas. We must find a ship to France before anyone starts looking for us here.’

  A frown crossed Thomas White’s face as he understood the consequences of Jasper’s words. ‘I own a barque, the Christiana, that would serve your purpose. She would need to be provisioned and is moored high in the harbour so you would have to wait for the tide.’

  Jasper produced his purse, heavy with gold and silver coins. ‘There should be more than enough here. Would it be possible to stay in your house until she’s ready?’

  ‘I would have to ask you to keep out of sight, my lord. There is my wine cellar where you would be safe unless York’s men made a thorough search?’

  ‘After what we’ve been facing in Pembroke Castle a wine cellar would be like a palace, Thomas, and it would be wonderful to have one good night’s sleep.’

  Jasper woke from a disturbing dream in complete darkness and for a moment wondered where he was. The cellar proved to be dry and spacious, with a low, arched ceiling and whitewashed walls hewn from the solid bedrock. Barrels of wine lined one side, with smaller casks on the other, and the air carried a rich, heady aroma from all the wine stored there over the years.

  Thomas White had provided them both with coarse wool blankets and fresh straw to fashion beds, and been generous with his wine. They had drunk more than they should, a welcome release after the tension of the siege, although what helped Jasper to sleep was the knowledge that for the first time since Chepstow he was safe, if only temporarily.

  As his eyes became used to the light he saw Henry still fast asleep. The boy was looking more like his father all the time, although Jasper thought it fortunate he had his mother’s temperament. They must find a way to let Lady Margaret know her son was safe and on his way to sanctuary in France.

  He tensed at the sound of footsteps outside the door and his hand went to his dagger. Henry woke and gave him a worried look, then Thomas White appeared through the entrance. He carried a wooden tray with bowls of pottage and some crusty bread, which he set down on the small table.

  ‘Good morning to you, sirs.’ Thomas managed to sound cheerful.

  ‘Good morning, Thomas.’ Jasper stood and took one of the bowls. ‘We appreciate the trouble you’ve gone to.’

  Thomas was dismissive. ‘I am sorry you find yourselves in such a predicament, my lord.’

  ‘We are indebted to you, Thomas. After we escaped from the castle you were our best hope.’ Jasper tore a piece of bread and dipped it in the pottage, which was hot and tasty, flavoured with herbs and with good morsels of lamb. ‘My only concern is that we put your good self at risk, so we must be gone from here as soon as we are able to. When do you think the ship might be ready to sail?’

  ‘There is a high tide this morning, my lord, but it would be safer to wait until tonight when the harbour is less busy.’

  ‘You are right, Thomas. We must take care, as we don’t know who remains loyal to our cause.’ Jasper shook his head. ‘I know they have little choice, but it saddens me to know your own neighbours would turn me in to York’s soldiers.’

  Thomas agreed. ‘These are difficult times, but you are safe enough here for now, and if there is anything else you need, please ask?’

  Jasper glanced across at Henry, who was hungrily eating the pottage. ‘Could I trouble you for ink and parchment? We need to send a letter to Henry’s mother, as she will soon hear of the siege at Pembroke and be worried for his safety.’

  ‘Would it not cause her trouble if we tell her where we’re going?’

  Jasper shook his head. ‘I shall write it to her clergyman and find words to reassure her, without revealing too much.’

  The wording of the letter occupied them both for most of the long morning, then Thomas White returned to tell them the captain of the Christiana and his crew would be ready for the evening tide, with just the horses to take aboard.

  ‘And you have a visitor, my lord, a most insistent one.’

  Gabriel appeared at the doorway, wearing a rough cotton coat over his heavy mail shirt and leaning on a stout wooden crutch. ‘Good day to you, sirs.’ He studied the cellar appreciatively, taking in the casks of wine and their comfortable beds of clean straw. ‘I can think of worse places to hide than the cellar of a wine-merchant.’

  ‘How are you, Gabriel.’ Jasper looked at the bandage on the Irishman’s leg. ‘Are you well enough to sail with us?’

  ‘Try to stop me, sir. It was a nasty wound but healed well enough, and I saw my chance to get out of the castle while I could. I’ve brought some of the men with me, sir, as well as your servants, already on board the ship.’

  Jasper nodded thanks to Thomas White. ‘I’ve been thinking about what happened. Morgan ap Thomas isn’t the sort of man to flee at the sight of his own brother’s army.’

  ‘There’s been no sign of him since, sir.’

  ‘That’s the thing. Dafydd ap Thomas was most insistent we should leave the same night, before York could send reinforcements.’ Jasper cast his mind back to the battle. ‘Although several men were killed and wounded by our archers, I didn’t see any actually killed by Dafydd’s men.’

  ‘You think it could have been a plan to deliberately let you escape?’

  Jasper smiled. ‘We can’t be sure but I suspect the brothers plotted the whole thing together, so they could be seen to be loyal to both York—and Lancaster. It’s one way for Morgan ap Thomas to save his face and make sure their lands and family would survive, whatever happens in the future.’

  Thomas White had one more surprise for them once the sun set and the people of Tenby took to their beds. He led them through a narrow passageway, barely high enough to stand upright, which led deep under the street, safe from prying eyes. They followed him through the dark tunnel, roughly hewn through solid rock and lit only by the flickering lantern carried by Thomas, which took them all the way down to the harbour where his ship was moored and waiting.

  ‘I wish you luck, my lord, and God be with you all.’ Thomas White shook hands with Jasper.

  Henry stepped forward and also shook Thomas’s hand. ‘Thank you, sir, for all you have done for us. I will not forget it.’

  They watched as Thomas slipped back into the tunnel entrance, so cleverly concealed it was impossible to see. Jasper studied their waiting ship, a black-painted, three-masted barque with square rigged sails, more than capable of a long sea voyage. He took one last glance back at the sleeping town that had been his home, then followed Henry and Gabriel up the gangplank to start his new adventure.

  They headed out into the night and watched as the silhouette of the Tenby skyline, with the spire of St Mary’s church and row of rooftops on the crest of the cliff, faded into the darkness. Jasper took a de
ep breath of the fresh sea air and felt a powerful sense of relief. The nagging uncertainty about what they should do was now resolved. He thanked God they had been spared the choice of starvation or the shame of surrender to Morgan ap Thomas, with its unthinkable consequences.

  Gabriel joined him at the bows. ‘I’ve checked on the horses, sir, all’s fine below decks.’

  ‘Henry is in the cabin?’

  ‘He is, sir.’ He looked out to sea, where a rolling swell was slowly building. ‘He’s no sailor though. He told me the only time he’s ever been on a boat is on the Thames with his mother, so I told him to get his head down until morning.’

  ‘He’ll be right enough once he can see the horizon, and we should be round Land’s End by then.’

  ‘Is there a plan, sir, when we reach France?’

  ‘No better or worse than last time, Gabriel. We need to stay out of trouble until I can secure an audience with King Louis, and I’ve no idea what mood I will find him in.’

  Secretly Jasper worried that since he was last in France King Louis might have agreed a treaty with York’s ambassadors. If he had, it could mean their arrest and imprisonment. There was no one to pay a ransom now, so the best they could hope for could be protracted negotiations for their exchange for his cousin Queen Margaret, followed swiftly by York’s revenge.

  The one glimmer of hope was the king’s hatred of York’s brother-in-law, the Duke of Burgundy. He also remembered how the king would listen to his wife. Queen Charlotte had shown him kindness last time he saw her, so might support his plight, despite the fact he had so little to offer. He glanced back down to the cabins where Henry lay sleeping. Henry had been right when he said his claim to the throne was worthless while Edward of York lived, and there were his ambitious brothers, George and Richard, as well as the sons Edward would undoubtedly have.