First of the Tudors

by Joanna Hickson

  Before that moment I had not considered myself a vengeful man but I became one in an instant as the name seared itself on my brain like a brand. I took my hand off my sword and stepped back from my squire’s restraint. ‘Let us go to the church, Maredudd,’ I said in as calm a tone as I could muster. ‘I have a vow to make.’

  The little stone church on the seashore served the inhabitants of a number of farms scattered on the lower slopes that led up into the mountains of Gwynedd. Its churchyard contained only one fresh grave. I spent a few minutes offering prayers for Hywel’s soul; prayers unavoidably tainted by regret that he had accepted my annual purses and then betrayed my trust by turning his coat. It came to me that his action might have been in retaliation for me taking Jane as my mistress, which only made things worse.

  I left Maredudd at the graveside and entered the church, shivering in the chill of an interior that the sun’s rays never reached in winter. It lacked the wall-art of English churches and was dim and stark but a beautifully carved crucifix adorned the bare altar and I knelt before it, removing my gauntlet and putting my hand on the cold stone table. My voice echoed around the pillars of the empty nave and up into the timbers of the roof.

  ‘I Jasper, Earl of Pembroke, swear by Almighty God that I shall not rest until the man responsible for the murder of my father, Owen Tudor, on the block at Hereford, is dead at my hand, and I name him as Roger Vaughan of Tretower.’

  I rose to my feet and pulled two gold coins from the purse on my belt, tucking them under the wooden foot of the crucifix. I hoped that the next time the priest said Mass he would catch their gleam and I hoped he would not spend the money in the local alehouse but use it to embellish his plain little church in some way, to the glory of God. Out in the churchyard Maredudd was standing beside his father’s grave, staring over the churchyard wall at the restless waves that washed the pebbles on the shore.

  I walked up behind him. ‘I will release you from your fealty, Maredudd, if that is what you want. You are your father’s heir and your place is now here.’

  When he did not turn I knew he was going to accept my offer. His voice was gruff as he replied. ‘I do not want to leave your service, my lord, but my duty lies here, especially as Dai has become a Yorkist.’ He did turn then and his eyes were moist. ‘But I would be grateful if you would take Evan into your retinue in my place. He is young and obviously fit and he learns fast. I will be able to deal with Dai more easily if Evan is not here.’

  He did not expand on his last remark, nor did I wish him to do so. How he tackled the rift in his family was his affair. ‘I will take Evan if he is willing to swear allegiance,’ I said. ‘And the pension will remain the same.’

  We rode back to Tŷ Cerrig in meditative silence.

  28

  Jane

  Pembroke Castle & Tenby

  AFTER THE DISASTER OF Jasper’s defeat in the Marches there was a false peace. Bereaved families mourned their dead, tended the injured, welcomed home the living and then went back to their tasks in home, field and workshop. Meanwhile we heard that Edward of York had consolidated his flimsy grasp on power at a place called Towton in North Yorkshire, snatching a desperately fought victory in a long and bloody moorland battle, which was reported to have claimed over twenty thousand lives. My mind could not envisage fatalities on that scale. It was said that the streams ran red with blood for days. Scarcely a village in England can have been spared casualties. King Henry, Queen Marguerite and their young son fled from the field on horseback, struggling for days over snow-covered hills until they reached Scotland; forced into exile from their kingdom. As for their scattered forces – those men from the towns and villages who had fought under their royal standard and survived – they had no choice but to swear allegiance to a new and unknown king or face a short and brutal existence as outlaws.

  Jasper had not yet had to make that choice, were he indeed to be offered anything other than the scaffold. By early April he had completed his reinforcement of the Welsh strongholds that still held for his brother and returned to Pembroke, depressed and exhausted. I was profoundly shocked at the change in him. He had ridden out of the castle at the head of his liveried retinue, magnificent in shining armour, his father beside him and their banners flying proudly overhead. A thousand men had left that day; many of those who outran the rout returned directly to their homes and buried their weapons, some now served in the loyal castle garrisons and only seven rode back under the gatehouse. I was startled to see Evan among them rather than Maredudd and amazed at the transformation in my younger brother, now a man when I had left him a boy.

  Jasper had written to tell me about my father’s death in the battle but he had not wished to burden me with Hywel’s defection to York and Dai’s hostility at Tŷ Cerrig. These he confided at our first opportunity for private conversation, his tone subdued, the voice of a defeated man, which wrenched at my heart, even more than the anger and hurt I felt at my father’s betrayal.

  Not for the first time I blessed the forethought that had included a bath chamber in the design for Jasper’s mansion. Servants had filled the stone tub almost to the brim with hot water and steam rose around us as I scrubbed the ingrained dirt from his skin, horrified by the sight of him, haggard and filthy and covered in insect bites after weeks living rough in barns and bothies. The clothes he had been wearing I had ordered consigned to the fire, hoping to prevent the bloodsuckers they sheltered migrating to the rest of us.

  ‘Is it likely you will be forced to flee Wales?’ I asked. ‘So far we have not received any attention from the Yorkists.’

  ‘Edward of York will soon turn his attention west now the king is fled. And believe me, Jane, I will be at the top of his reprisal list. For him my father’s head will not be enough revenge for the deaths of Wakefield.’

  I refused to let the tears rise, those for the deaths of both our fathers and the tears provoked by my dread that Jasper might soon follow them to the grave. It had not escaped me that he was now the only member of King Henry’s family still at large in the kingdom and surely a prime target for extermination by York. Despite Pembroke’s three portcullises being permanently lowered and a twenty-four-hour watch posted at all corners of the battlements, from now on I knew we would live in constant fear of an attack on the castle. However, I was also aware that I must for the sake of our children give serious thought to every future possibility.

  * * *

  As he recovered his strength and returned to his former vigour, Jasper became more than ever determined that his brother’s cause should not be considered lost. ‘There are still many supporters of the Lancastrian throne,’ he declared, ‘particularly in West Wales. It only needs one show of strength to bring them all flocking back to King Henry’s standard.’

  Edward of York did not wait to be crowned before commissioning his faithful lieutenant in Wales, William Herbert of Raglan, to seize all Jasper’s lands and castles. A proclamation to this effect was even posted in the Pembroke Market Place, until Jasper sent a posse from the garrison to rip it down.

  ‘What man dared to post Yorkist propaganda under my nose!’ he stormed. ‘I am still lord of Pembroke. Let Herbert show himself powerful enough to take it from me!’

  At the beginning of July, news came that the Duke of Exeter was preparing to embark from Flanders with an army of mercenaries, supplied as a result of Queen Marguerite’s personal plea to the Duke of Burgundy. They were expected to arrive before the end of the month at Harlech, a coastal castle on the shores of Tremadog Bay, north of Tŷ Cerrig, which still held for King Henry and which contained its own walled harbour. Jasper immediately began to muster a new force, in order to march north from Pembroke to rendezvous with them.

  ‘This is a risky venture, Jane,’ he confided, taking me in his arms. ‘Who knows when I may return this time, if at all.’ But I could not feel downcast or afraid because the face I so loved was restored, the red beard close-clipped, the cheeks filled out, the intense blue eyes smiling
into mine, and he said, ‘We deserve a little peace before we are consumed by war, do we not?’

  He suggested we spend a few days together at the house in Tenby. The Yorkists would not look for him there and we would be only a few miles away if Herbert made a move.

  At four-and-a-half Harri was of an age to detect changes in the emotional atmosphere. He had been fretful during Jasper’s absence in the spring and ecstatic on his return and now he was very aware of his uncle’s renewed restlessness. When he learned that we were both going away he grew distressed and tearful. ‘What will happen if you do not come back, Mistress Jane? Who will look after me? Where would I live?’

  These were questions fundamental to any child’s existence and I had no definite answers to give him. Harri’s future was a conundrum without Jasper and he sensed the insecurity. He was right to be anxious, I reflected. Of all the children, the biggest question mark hung over Harri’s future.

  We rode to Tenby with a small escort, which included Evan, with whom I had so far found no opportunity to talk privately. On entering the town the first thing Jasper wanted to do was to inspect the work that had been done on its walls, for which he had contributed a considerable slice of the finance. There was now a stout tower overlooking the harbour and I noticed that cannon were already in place on its battlements, even though the roof was not yet complete. Precautions had also been taken against imminent attack from the sea, and all these new defences cast a shadow over my spirits – until we dismounted outside the timbered facade of my house, where I proudly wielded the big iron key that turned the lock on the heavy oak door. Jasper handed the reins of our horses to our escort and then they trotted away and we were alone together.

  Once inside, to my delight Jasper seemed to shed the cares of the world. He kissed me and I smiled and kissed him back. Wordlessly, he took my hand and we ran, laughing, up to the next floor two steps at a time. By the time we found the main bedchamber we were both breathless and the shadow of imminent danger seemed to spike our lovemaking with extra zest. Knowing our time together might be short inspired a fresh and eager passion between us and before long the fear of what might be to come vanished in a summer storm of sensuous pleasure.

  We hardly left the house for three days, but I spent some welcome time with Evan, walking and talking by the shore, while Jasper wrote letters to his supporters in North Wales, seeking recruits to swell the Flemish force that was due at Harlech. It was then that my brother told me the truth behind our father’s defection to the Yorkist cause.

  ‘He accused Lord Jasper of using you, Sian.’ Evan’s cheeks grew pink under his dark stubble when he said this. ‘Like the Norman conqueror claiming droit de seigneur. He said he felt ashamed that he had taken gold for the kind of service you were providing. I’m sorry, Sian, it’s best you hear it from me rather than find out later from wicked tongues. Had you come to Tŷ Cerrig he might well have refused you entry.’

  I felt as if someone had punched me hard in the stomach. ‘But, Evan, you have sworn fealty to Lord Jasper. What do you think?’

  My brother kicked a stone on the beach and sent it spinning into the water. ‘I liked Lord Jasper the first time I met him – same as you did. And he did not change when he became a lord. Our father did not read him right.’

  ‘So you would not betray him?’

  He shook his head. ‘I wanted to enlist in Owen Tudor’s archers but Father would not let me. Even so I could not believe it when he marched off to join William Herbert’s muster.’

  ‘He was an old fool,’ I said bitterly. ‘Too old to fight. Why did he not send Dai?’

  ‘Because Dai is no soldier. Besides Father said that if Owen Tudor was fit to fight then so was he.’ Evan shrugged and made a hapless gesture. ‘It turned out neither of them was.’

  ‘At least Hywel died on the battlefield and could not have been involved in Owen’s execution. That would have been terrible indeed.’

  ‘I hope he would have refused to be party to that. What will you do, Sian, if Lord Jasper is captured?’

  Evan’s blunt question took me by surprise. Since we had come to Tenby, Jasper and I had avoided this topic, but he had told me when he first returned to Pembroke that he wanted me to take our children to Tŷ Cerrig and if Myfanwy does not come back, Davvy too. With Maredudd now head of the household I supposed he believed we would be safe there. But I could not bring myself to confide, even to Evan my own entirely different intentions. I had learned that in general men became dictatorial if a woman showed any sign of defiance.

  ‘And little Harri? What will happen to him?’ Evan asked.

  I frowned. ‘Since Lord Jasper is attainted, I think wardship of Harri reverts to the crown and no doubt some noble person will be granted his custody. I hope it might be his mother but I think it unlikely, sad to say. One thing is certain though, I will never be permitted to remove King Henry’s nephew to a rustic farmhouse in Gwynedd. Even one that has a grand new tower!’ I gave Evan a rueful smile. I had a suspicion that Harri might rather like to grow up on a farm.

  On the way back to the house I stopped at a baker’s shop and bought a mutton pie for our dinner, fresh bread and ale and some strawberries, picked fresh that morning and lying like polished rubies in a woven rush basket. I found a young courier in the hall, waiting for Jasper’s letters and recognized him as one of the brave messengers who still made rounds of the lordships and families of north and West Wales remaining loyal to King Henry.

  ‘Any news, Jenkin?’ I asked him. These couriers were our chief source of information from outside the earldom.

  ‘Carmarthen has opened its gates to Herbert’s men,’ he replied glumly. ‘I only just got out in time or I might be a prisoner now.’

  I gave him a sympathetic glance before climbing the stairs. The present hostilities doubled the risks he faced and his narrow escape set my mind racing. If the Yorkists were in Carmarthen they were only thirty miles from Pembroke. The net was closing on Jasper.

  Jenkin had delivered a letter from Lady Margaret, which Jasper showed me in our private chamber, and I could see from his expression that our idyll was coming to an end. It was little more than a note, ink-spattered and in her own handwriting, with no formal greeting.

  Jasper,

  Despite my pleading and my husband’s decision to take the royal pardon, the usurper Edward has dismissed my petition for custody of Henry and sold it to William Herbert for a thousand pounds, placing financial gain above a mother’s love. How can a common Welshman afford such a price? I am appalled that Henry thus falls into the hands of the man who ordered the death of his father. I imagine you know that William Herbert also has a royal commission to seize your lands and take Pembroke castle? I am torn between begging you to surrender without exposing my son to the dangers of a siege and urging you to blow the murderer’s head off with one of your cannons. If Henry is still in your hands, Jasper, and if you are in any position to steer his future, then I beg you to remember how precious he is to me, my only son, the only child I will ever have. I have no choice but to put my trust in you and although I cannot condone your relationship with her, if Jane Hywel is able to remain as his nurse and governess it would have my approval, and she should continue to write to me about my son’s activities and well being.

  In great haste,

  Margaret, Countess of Richmond

  I folded the letter and handed it back to Jasper with a grimace but this was no time to be offended by her haughty tone.

  ‘She has given you a terrible choice to make, Jasper,’ I said. ‘What will you do?’

  ‘I have already decided,’ he replied. ‘I must go to Harlech to meet Exeter. With his Flemish mercenaries and my Welsh recruits we have a chance to secure the principality for King Henry – I cannot put Pembroke before that necessity. I can no longer protect Harri, and he is too young to be taken on campaign, so I have instructed Constable Skydmore to surrender the castle and little Harri to Herbert when he comes. As for Margaret’s hope that y
ou will stay with the boy, I want you and our children to come north with me when I go, Jane. I want to know you are safe at Tŷ Cerrig, rather than being Herbert’s hostage.’

  I stared at him in horror. ‘And leave Harri at Pembroke? I would be neglecting my duty. Lady Margaret more or less ordered me to stay with her son. Besides, from what Evan tells me I do not know that we would be welcome at Tŷ Cerrig. No, Jasper, I cannot come with you. Lady Margaret would never forgive me – or you.’

  Jasper was on the verge of contesting this refusal but my final remark – the prospect of giving offence to his honoured lady – proved too much for him to contemplate.

  When Jasper left for the north a few days later I remained at Pembroke with the children, waiting for fate to play its hand.

  29

  Jasper

  The wilderness of Gwynedd;

  Caernarfon & Harlech Castles

  I HAD WAITED IMPATIENTLY for a fortnight, expecting him to arrive at Harlech, only to receive a message from the Duke of Exeter that, inexplicably, he had landed further round the coast at Mostyn in Flintshire, the estate of a Lancastrian family loyal to King Henry. Unfortunately it was surrounded by Yorkist lordships; his Flemish army would have to fight its way across North Wales. In fury, I disbanded my men. Why should they kick their heels, waiting for a duke who gave no thought to an agreed rendezvous?

  Herbert’s men were everywhere but Maredudd then brought me where none would think to search now winter was coming. Evan stayed with me while I waited, showing me how to survive in the hostile, bracken-smothered territory where our ancestor Owen Glyn Dŵr had sheltered from the English sixty years before. In a small stone hut where a shepherd sheltered in summer, all I had to occupy me, apart from playing cards with Evan, was keeping watch, keeping warm and cursing the Duke of Exeter. Occasionally we heard Jenkin’s signal whistle and stepped out to receive the latest communications and fresh supplies. In the second week of October a letter reached me from Jane, addressed via her brother at Tŷ Cerrig. The letter was unsigned, undated, neither of our names was written – but her greeting was warm and loving. Every day when I re-read it to remind myself how different life had been only a few weeks ago, I was shaken once more by the momentous news it contained.