The Red Rose of Anjou

by Jean Plaidy

  Margaret did not meet Alice’s eyes. She could not. Was it not she who had persuaded the King, because her father and her uncle had wanted the surrender of Maine? She had helped to bring about this situation and was partly responsible for the disaster which had befallen her friends.

  ‘The war could not have gone on,’ she said quickly. ‘We had to have peace. If we have lost almost all the whole of Normandy that is not William’s fault.’

  ‘The people will have their scapegoat,’ said Henry.

  ‘And they have settled for William,’ added Alice.

  There was silence for a while and then the King said: ‘I cannot order him to be released. There would be riots all over the country if I did. I can order him to be banished. Yes, that is the answer.’

  ‘Banished,’ cried Alice.

  ‘Yes, my dear. He can go abroad for a time and you can join him. In due course he will come back.’

  Margaret looked at Alice. She could see the dawn of hope in her eyes.

  ###

  The King had given the order of banishment. Suffolk was to leave England for five years.

  Alice came to see him in the Tower.

  ‘Don’t you see, it is a reprieve,’ she said. ‘Oh, William, I have been so miserable, so much afraid. But Margaret and Henry are our friends. Henry does this because it is the only way of fighting your enemies.’

  ‘To be banished from the country I have served...from my home...’

  ‘Hush,’ said Alice. ‘Be thankful and rejoice. They were after your life. Remember what they have done for others. They would have had your head but for the intervention of the King.

  The Queen was wonderful. She is a true friend...a loyal friend. She insisted that the King act and you know he does all that she tells him. You will go to France. There you will stay...perhaps not five years and I shall join you there. And perhaps the children...’

  ‘They will confiscate our estates.’

  ‘We’ll get them back, William. Be thankful. They have made you the scapegoat for inevitable defeat. But rejoice that you have escaped thus easily.’

  They sat silently together. Then he said: ‘You are a great comfort to me, Alice, and always have been.’

  He was in better spirits when they parted and settled down to prepare to leave his prison.

  The cool March air was exhilarating after the confinement of the Tower. Alice was right. All would be well. The walls of the Tower were enough to unnerve any man when he found himself a prisoner within them. In six weeks’ time he was to leave England. He would not be safe until he had done so, but those six weeks could be spent on his estate in Suffolk. There he could be surrounded by his family. He could put his affairs in order.

  One of the guards of the Tower came to him as he stood looking over the river inhaling the fresh morning air.

  ‘My lord,’ he said, ‘you must ride quietly out of the town. It would be unwise to go with your company. The people are muttering against you. Slip away quietly with one servant only. It may be then that you will not be recognized. Your attendants can follow later.’

  ‘God help me,’ said Suffolk. ‘Have I not suffered enough?’

  ‘You know what the mob can be like,’ was the answer.

  He knew it was wise to take the advice so he rode quietly out of the town with one servant beside him as two friends taking a journey together.

  He realized what sound advice that had been when he saw the gathering crowds and listened to their murmurings. He was however unrecognized and came safely to the country. The men of his company were less fortunate. As soon as his livery was recognized they were set upon.

  ‘Where is the Duke?’ the people cried. And it was clear what his fate would have been if they had laid their hands on him. Several of his servants were injured, but when it was discovered that the Duke was not with them they were allowed to pass on, while the crowd went to the Tower to wait for the Duke to emerge.

  Meanwhile riding eastwards he realized what a lucky escape he had had.

  He spent a rather melancholy six weeks in Suffolk. He could not forget that he was an exile but those weeks passed quickly and it was soon time for his departure.

  Alice had not left his side and she constantly assured him that they would not be parted for long. She would soon be with him.

  ‘I am going to write to our son, Alice,’ he said. ‘I know he is only eight years old but there are things I must say to him in case I never see him again.’

  ‘Of course you will see him again. It is only for five years and perhaps I can prevail on the Queen to make it less. I am sure she wishes to help us all she can and the King loves us too and he will do what the Queen asks him. Yes, write to little John and keep in good heart. Be thankful that you have escaped from the Tower. Remember the soothsayer. If you can escape from the Tower you will have a long and prosperous life.’

  ‘God bless you, Alice,’ said the Duke. ‘Now I will write to our son. And in the morning we leave for Dover.’

  ###

  It was a good sailing wind and the air was clear. He could see the outline of the coast of that land which would provide him a refuge from his enemies. It was so near and yet it would be so far because he could not leave it until the period of banishment was over. How often he would gaze with longing across that strip of water.

  But Alice would come to him. They would plan...and who knew she might prevail upon the Queen to get the banishment curtailed. The King would not do it unless prompted to. Poor Henry. He was a good and loyal friend, a good and saintly man, but he lacked the will and the power to act.

  In his heart Suffolk knew that he had been wrong to rejoice in a weak King because such a King meant power to his ministers. The country needed a strong King like the First and Third Edwards and the Fifth Henry. Hard, stern men all of them. It was no use putting a gentle scholar on the throne and expecting strong rule.

  He had been at fault. He had made the most of the situation.

  He had enriched himself. What man wouldn’t? He had wanted riches and power for his family.

  It was too late now to regret.

  But I’ll come back, he told himself. I have escaped from the Tower.

  He went aboard. There was an accompanying ship and a pinnace. He began to wonder what his reception would be in Calais and decided to send the pinnace on to discover if there would be anyone there to greet him and whether he could expect hospitality or hostility.

  Then they set sail.

  They had not gone more than a few miles when he saw a ship bearing down on them.

  They were hailed and the master of the ship invited Suffolk to step aboard.

  Suffolk did so and as he climbed on to the deck a shiver of apprehension ran through him for he saw the ship’s name painted on the side. St. Nicholas of the Tower.

  It was the word Tower which had haunted him all the time he had been in that formidable fortress because he could not forget what the soothsayer had said.

  No sooner had he stepped aboard than there was a cry of ‘Welcome, Traitor.’

  Then he knew that his worse fears were realized. His enemies had determined not to let him go.

  The Captain spoke to him. He said that those who believed injustice had no intention of allowing him to escape to banishment. He had been tried and condemned and his last hours were near.

  They were Christian folk however and would give him the rest of the day and a night in which to shrive himself.

  He knew it was useless to appeal. This was the end.

  He asked for writing materials which were given him for men such as these did not want to deny the last requests of a man condemned to die at their hands. He wrote to the King protesting his innocence.

  He thought of Alice and his little son John. He was glad he had written to him; and he thought how fickle fortune was to raise a man to the heights of power and then as easily dash him down.

  The Tower. He had not thought of an
y other Tower. But here it was and the prophecy was true. He was here, a condemned prisoner in the Tower...St. Nicholas of the Tower.

  He faced his executioner, an Irishman with a cruel countenance which betrayed his delight in the deed he was about to perform.

  Suffolk looked at the rusty sword in the man’s hand and prayed that death would come quickly.

  It took six strokes to sever his head from his body and when the deed was done, both body and head were taken back to Dover and thrown on the beach there.

  ###

  The whole country was talking of the Duke’s murder. Many called it execution for he was judged guilty. He had worked for the French, it was said. He had surrendered Maine; he had enriched himself; he was a traitor to his country; he was the lover of the Queen and had been conducting an adulterous intrigue since her arrival in England. He, with her, had murdered the Duke of Gloucester who now, for no reason but that he was dead, had become a saint.

  Any ridiculous charge which could be brought against Suffolk was brought; his death was used to increase the unpopularity of the Queen.

  The King still kept the regard of the nation. He was good, he was a saint, he was deeply religious, he founded colleges and he hated bloodshed. Yes, they still loved the King. But he was weak and he was the slave of a wicked woman...an adulteress, a murderess...a French woman...and were not the country’s greatest enemies—and always had been—the French?

  Alice was heartbroken. The Queen tried to comfort her and Alice was relieved that not all the calumnies uttered against her husband reached Margaret’s ears.

  Henry did show a certain strength when Suffolk was attainted in an attempt to make his execution legal. The St. Nicholas of the Tower was a royal ship and it was certain that the captain and crew had acted on orders from someone in a high position.

  There was a whisper that Richard Duke of York was involved. He was in Ireland, it was true, but he had his supporters all over the country. He had been a great enemy of Suffolk. But then Suffolk had had so many enemies.

  Margaret kept Alice with her. The Queen was seething with hatred against those who had murdered her friend. She wanted to arrest the captain of the St. Nicholas and have him die the traitor’s death.

  Margaret was fierce in her denunciation of those whom she considered worthy of the most dire punishment. Her feelings went deep whether they were engendered by anger against her enemies or loyalty to her friends. She grieved with an intensity which matched Alice’s own.

  But it was useless. That would not bring Suffolk back.

  The King however refused to agree that Suffolk was a traitor and ordered that his body should be taken for honourable burial to Wingfield. A stone effigy was placed above it; and the King and the Queen, with Alice, continued to mourn.

  JACK CADE

  In his Manor House in the county of Sussex, Sir Thomas Dacre was seated at the long trestle table in his spacious hall entertaining his guests. It was summer and they were all tired after a long day’s hunting. The smell of roasting meat came from the kitchens behind the screens and serving-men and –women were scuttling to and fro with steaming dishes.

  Jack Cade, the Irishman, was giving orders. He was the sort of man who liked to give orders. He had started her in the Manor as an ordinary scullion but he had quickly shown his abilities and it was not long before the cooks were giving him special duties. He was in charge of the serving-men and –women; it was his task to make sure the dishes arrived hot at the table and to decide who should carry them.

  He was quick and clever; it was said that he had a little tucked away which he had managed to save here and there. He would ride into market and buy stores that were needed and everyone knew that he took a little profit on that. Never mind. A blind eye was turned to these transactions. Jack Cade was a clever fellow. Even Sir Thomas Dacre had said that if he had been better born he could have done well for himself.

  John Cade undoubtedly did well for himself in Sir Thomas Dacre’s household. He was a man to be reckoned with, a little Caesar, a man who was outstanding in his world.

  If he had a weakness it was for women, and he had little difficulty in satisfying his desires in that quarter. He was an outstanding man, good-looking, debonair, fond of fine clothes, often his master’s valet gave him some garment of which Sir Thomas had no need and which would not fit the valet. He was forceful, powerful; and eager that everyone should recognize his power. He often hinted that he was of noble birth—his father was a duke who had got him on a serving-girl and had then failed to acknowledge him. That was his story. He was not going to say who the duke was. There were not all that many and that would be fining it down a bit. Suffice to say that he was part noble birth and part humble and this combination had made of him the very fine fellow he was.

  On this occasion he was a little uneasy. There was one of the serving-girls who was giving him some trouble. The silly young creature had become pregnant and wanted him to marry her.

  Why couldn’t she have gone to the witch in the woods nearby who had a very good way of dealing with unwanted babies? Some of the more accommodating girls had had their babies and smothered them at birth, burying them respectably in some secret place; others had the little bastards and accounted it just a way of life. But this one—she had to shout and threaten. He would never have started with her if he had known what she was.

  Willing enough after a time, a shy sort of wench, she had needed a lot of persuading. And now...she was threatening to go to Lady Dacre to tell her all and ask her to force Jack Cade to marry her. It really was disturbing, because although he had no intention of marrying the girl it would be very awkward if Lady Dacre insisted on his doing so.

  The girl was there in the kitchen now turning the sucking-pig on the spit. The cook wanted it hot and succulent by the time it was required to carry to the tables. That would be in fifteen minutes’ time, after they had worked their way through the partridge pie and the beef and mutton.

  She caught his eye as he was about to pass her, and there was that in her expression which made him pause. It was half pleading, half threatening. He knew from experience that it was those quiet ones who were capable of strong action. He had to go carefully with her.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ he muttered.

  ‘You know well. Jack Cade, and ‘tis of your doing.’

  ‘I reckon you played your part in it, eh.’

  ‘We both did and we both should have our part in what’s coming.’

  He gave her a playful push.

  ‘Come on. You was willing enough.’

  ‘Talk like that if you will, Jack Cade. I shall go to my lady.’

  ‘Now listen. You go too fast. I want to talk to you. I’ve got plans.’

  ‘What plans?’ He saw the hope springing into her eyes.

  ‘Listen. When they’re served and lolling over the tables listening to the minstrels, slip out to the shrubbery. See you there. I’ve got something to say to you.’

  ‘All right. Jack. I’ll be there.’

  He was thoughtful. What could he say to the girl? He was not going to marry her. That did not fit in with his plans at all. She would be no good to him. He was going to get on in the world. When he married it would be the daughter of some gentleman of standing. That was the way to get on in the world and Jack Cade was going to get on in the world. Let no one make any mistake about that, and he was not going to do it by marrying one of the lowest serving-girls in the Dacre household.

  It was very unfortunate that this girl had got herself with child. She was a determined little piece, too. He hadn’t liked the look in her eyes when she had said she would tell Lady Dacre. It would not be the first time her ladyship, who believed in forcing morality on the poor, had insisted on a marriage. He wanted to stay at Dacre Manor. He was doing well here. He was not ready to pass on yet. He had found a profitable way of life with the tradesmen.

  And now this slut threatened to spoil it all.
/>   He would have to find a way of dealing with her.

  When he went out to the shrubbery she was already there.

  ‘Jack,’ she cried, and flew at him, full of affection now, thinking that he was going to give in.

  ‘Now listen here,’ he said, ‘you’ve got to get one thing straight. There’s going to be no marriage. You’ve got to go off to the old witch. She’ll give you something...and then in a little while you’ll be slim and straight as a virgin.’

  ‘It’s too late, Jack. You know what happened to young Jennet. She left it too late and it was the end of her.’

  Would to God it would be the end of you, he thought.

  She was looking at him pleadingly. ‘Well, what then?’ she asked.

  ‘Well then...you’ve got to have it, that’s all. What’s one more little bastard in the world?’

  He was unprepared for the blow he received at the side of his face and staggered under it. The girl had strength.

  He seized her arm and their faces were close, glaring at each other.

  ‘Don’t you talk about your baby like that,’ she said.

  ‘That’s ripe, that is, from someone who a minute ago was talking of doing away with it. Besides, how do I know it is mine?’

  Her eyes glinted at him. She looked murderous. Here was one he would have to handle very carefully.

  ‘It’s your baby and it’s mine,’ she said, ‘and it’s not going to be a bastard because I’m going straight to Lady Dacre tomorrow and she’ll make you see where your duty lies.’

  ‘You’ll not go to Lady Dacre.’

  ‘I will. I promise you. Jack Cade, I will.’

  She would. Yes, there was no doubt of that. He gripped her arm and twisted it behind her. She continued to look at him in spite of the pain.

  He released her suddenly and as she was about to run from him, he caught her. He shook her. ‘You’ll not go to Lady Dacre.’

  ‘I will,’ she cried. ‘I will. I will.’

  It had all happened in a few moments. His hands were at her throat. She opened her mouth to protest and then was silent. Her eyes seemed to be coming out of their sockets; her face was growing purple...and suddenly she was silent.