First of the Tudors

by Joanna Hickson

  ‘Lose the blade,’ I hissed at Dafydd, then yelled in Exeter’s ear, ‘Calm down, duke! The ship is damaged by the storm. It is not seaworthy. Unless you want to risk being drowned.’ Still half-strangling him I reached with my other arm and righted the chair he had overset then I pushed him down into it and held him there.

  He stared up at me, eyes popping. ‘That Welsh bastard pulled a knife on me. I will have him strung up.’

  At this point Evan made an appearance, pausing at the hall entrance to assess the situation before crossing the room at a run. ‘My lord! What has happened?’

  I stood back, releasing my captive. ‘His grace of Exeter is retiring, Evan. The wine does not agree with him.’

  Dafydd had retreated out of reach and returned the dagger to wherever he kept it. I was aware that Exeter had had a lucky escape; Welsh soldiers were famous for their skill with a blade at close quarters.

  ‘There was a misunderstanding,’ I said calmly, wandering casually over to join the constable by the hearth where the fire had died to embers. ‘A seaworthy ship will be acquired with all possible speed, your grace. Meanwhile the constable’s excellent food and wine have done their work and I for one am going to get some much-needed sleep. I suggest you do the same.’

  To my surprise and relief Exeter heaved himself to his feet, shook his head as if to clear it and lurched over to clap me on the shoulder. His temper tantrum seemed to have vanished like that of a small child but the slur in his voice had not. ‘Good idea, Pembroke, show me the way.’

  Between us Evan and I managed to get him up the spiral stair to his chamber where his squire took over without comment, as if this was a regular occurrence. I then returned to tell Dafydd I would be down at the harbour at first light.

  ‘Tell the captain we will take the ship to Abermaw. It will be just me and my squire and two horses. His grace of Exeter will not be joining us. I will send another ship to pick him up but he will have to pay the captain himself.’

  Dafydd nodded. ‘As you wish, my lord, but I would be grateful if you leave written instructions for his grace; if I tell him there could be another incident and I would not guarantee his survival.’

  Later, before allowing myself to sleep, I wrote three letters.

  To the Duke of Exeter from Jasper Tudor, Earl of Pembroke

  I have taken the damaged ship to Abermaw for repairs. From there I will send a ship and a captain of my acquaintance to convey you to the destination of your choice. I hold it your responsibility to pay the captain for his services, which should afford you no difficulty once you have recovered that which you left behind on landing at Mostyn. If you should shirk this payment I will learn of it and ensure that justice is done at a time of my choosing.

  I did not give this letter the distinction of a signature but merely used my Pembroke seal. Then I wrote two private letters, which I hoped the resourceful constable might find some way of conveying to the first recipient.

  To my lady Margaret, Countess of Richmond, from Jasper Tudor, Earl of Pembroke, brotherly greetings.

  I write this on the eve of taking ship to a destination I will not disclose for the security of us both. I beg you not to think that I am abandoning England and the Lancastrian cause, which I swear on the Virgin’s robe I will never do as long as there is breath in my body. We still have many allies both in this kingdom and in our neighbouring realms and it is my intention to seek aid from them all. It would be helpful if we could establish some form of courier service to carry our continued correspondence, men who are known to us both and unremarkable to the present regime. Perhaps you could give some thought to this matter, as will I.

  I cannot tell you how deeply I regret that the custody of my nephew, your beloved son Henry, has been forcibly removed from me and awarded to my sworn enemy, William Herbert. I hope you are at least a little reassured that he is still in the immediate care of Jane Hywel, who I dare to hope will continue sending you regular reports regarding his upbringing and progress. I give heartfelt thanks to Almighty God that the violence that brings so much sorrow and loss has so far not been inflicted on the heirs and children of the warring factions and pray that this situation continues.

  I am and will always remain, your loyal friend and devoted brother-in-law,

  Jasper Tudor

  Written at Harlech Castle this seventeenth day of October 1461

  P.S. I hope that you can find a way to deliver the enclosed note.

  I folded the second letter inside this one and inscribed Jane’s initials on the front. Writing its content brought tears to my tired eyes.

  To the beloved and neglected lady of my heart,

  This short message is a greeting, a farewell and a heartfelt apology. I left you to face my enemies alone and I cannot praise highly enough the bravery and steadfast loyalty you displayed in keeping faith with all your charges, risking your own life and freedom to accompany them into what you so accurately call the lion’s den. I dearly wish I could convey to you in person my deep love and profound admiration but my own duty to those I have sworn to serve now takes me even further away from you and for a length of time I cannot calculate. I assume that the lack of any communication from you means you have all remained together in the same restrictive custody and I will try to find some secret way to send and receive news. At the same time I will be working constantly towards restoring the true king to his rightful throne and our life and love to their proper course.

  Until that comes to pass, I send you my solemn promise to find a way to visit you and our children before you forget an ardent friend and they a loving father.

  I neither signed it nor used my signet ring but pressed my lips to the soft wax that sealed it, hoping their imprint would convey its own message.

  PART FOUR

  Two Crowned Kings

  1467–1470

  30

  Jane

  Raglan Castle

  ‘WHEN WILL THEY EVER come?’ Harri’s forlorn question was accompanied by a sigh. ‘I thought it would be today.’

  I lowered my sewing to look across the room to where the boy was sitting cross-legged on a cushioned window seat. Diamond-paned glass gave him a rain-blurred view over the rolling hills to the southeast and the road that led up to Raglan Castle. He was anxiously awaiting an arrival of enormous importance to him, but clearly Maud Herbert had no patience with such preoccupation. She approached Harri with an exasperated expression on her pretty round face. ‘Why not stop staring out of the window and come and play ninepins with me?’ she suggested.

  A steady downpour had put a stop to any of their normal outdoor afternoon activities, so the children were confined to an upper chamber of the Great Tower at Raglan Castle trying to entertain themselves, some with more success than others. The younger members of the household had been temporarily moved into the old moated tower because Lord and Lady Herbert were expecting important visitors, who would be occupying all the new apartments clustered around the recently completed Grand Court extension. It was these guests who were the object of Harri’s nervous anticipation.

  ‘Why not go and play with Maud, Harri?’ I suggested. ‘It will distract you.’

  The boy still found it hard to tear his gaze from the view. Harri Tudor was now a gangly lad of ten with a neat mop of thick brown hair, keen blue eyes and a ready smile and he was about to meet the mother he had not seen since he was a toddler and could not remember at all. ‘Do you think she will recognize me, Mistress Jane?’ he asked, for what must have been the tenth time that week. ‘I have no idea what she looks like.’

  I smiled at him fondly. ‘You hardly resemble the baby you were when she was obliged to leave you, Harri, but you know each other’s minds from all the letters you have exchanged. You know that she is a great lady who loves and cares for you and is proud of all your achievements. And when she sees what a handsome and well-mannered boy you have become she will be even prouder. Is that not so, Maud?’

  The girl still stood with her hands
on her hips, frowning. A little older than him, Maud was a lively, practical young lady who was good for sharing games and jokes but these worries of Harri’s, with which I could sympathize, were merely irritating to her.

  ‘Everyone likes you, Harri, so I suppose your mother will as well,’ she said, taking his hand. ‘Come on, the pins are set up and I am going to beat you this time.’

  As they set off to begin their game young Davy Owen suddenly sprang from behind a wall hanging and leaped onto Harri’s back. ‘Ha ha! Made you jump!’ he crowed, clinging tightly to the bigger boy’s neck.

  Harri wrested his hand from Maud’s and shook him off with an amiable grin. ‘Get away, Davy! You are too heavy.’

  The other boy pouted. ‘It was a good ambush though, was it not?’

  Harri tweaked his ear. ‘Yes, Davy, it was well planned; I give you that. Now let me get on with my game.’

  ‘Stop being a nuisance, Davy, and go and bother someone else. Harri is playing with me.’ Maud’s brow creased and she flounced the skirt of her green kirtle to express her annoyance before bending to pick up two wooden balls and handing one to Harri.

  Harri took it and turned to catch the attention of Cicely Herbert, sitting beside me. She was supposed to be getting on with her embroidery but it was lying idle in her lap and she was watching the others enviously. He called across to her, ‘Cis, why do we not play doubles? You could partner Walter and Maud and I will take you on.’

  I hid a smile. Maud was always jealous of anyone else claiming Harri’s attention and the inclusion of others in the game would avoid Maud getting too possessive of his company. I often thought it remarkable how Harri was able to steer a situation the way he wanted it and it did not surprise me in the least when Cicely eagerly laid down her embroidery and, with big-sisterly determination, dragged her brother Walter across the room with her. Maud sulked for a few minutes but it was not long before her strong competitive spirit overcame her resentment. The elaborate carving of the chamber’s ceiling vault was soon echoing to the rolling sound of wood on stone, the clack of falling pins and the cries of youthful triumph and frustration.

  I was particularly glad to see Harri draw Walter Herbert into the game, because although they were quite close in age and shared lessons together, there was no real camaraderie between them. Walter was still suffering from the abrupt departure of his older brother William – now married to Mary Woodville, the queen’s younger sister, and become a member of the royal household – and had so far spurned all Harri’s efforts to replace his older brother in his affections. Walter’s acceptance of an apparently casual offer of a game of ninepins was therefore a minor coup on Harri’s part.

  A big tester bed occupied one side of the large chamber and Isabel Herbert and my own two girls, Elin and Sian, had commandeered the cosy private space within the half-drawn drapes to play with their dolls, away from the teasing interference of the boys. Having been dismissed by the older children, young Davy had crept up with a hobbyhorse he had collected from somewhere and poked its head quietly through the opening in the curtains. He then started making horsey sounds and nodding the head up and down, which inspired hysterical girlish giggles. I finally abandoned my sewing completely and dumped the chemise I had been mending in the basket at my feet.

  Approaching silently behind Davy I demanded, ‘Exactly what do you think you are doing, young Master Owen?’ By now I had perfected the art of imitating the voice and intonation of Lady Anne, chatelaine of Raglan and mother of all the Herbert children. ‘I shall be obliged to report your behaviour to Lord Herbert,’ I went on, ‘and he sends naughty little boys like you to the dungeon for days and days and days.’

  Unfortunately I had chosen to stage my performance at the exact moment that the lady herself entered the chamber unannounced. To my consternation, from behind me I heard the real voice of the lady concerned. ‘Only for days and days, Mistress Jane? Actually I think it might be for years and years.’

  My heart began to thump in alarm, for she was my employer and also the woman who had been kind enough to allow me to bring my own two little girls and their orphaned cousin into her household. We all now looked upon Raglan Castle as our home and those children had made lasting friendships with the lady’s own children. For a few agonizing seconds I feared I had just brought an end to all that and then the words she had uttered and the way she had uttered them filtered into my frozen brain, for although her lips were snapped shut, her striking green eyes were dancing.

  ‘That was a very good impression,’ Lady Anne said. ‘Have you had a lot of practice, Mistress Jane?’ Behind her the older children had stopped their game and were casting gleeful glances at each other.

  ‘No, of c-course not, my lady,’ I stuttered. ‘I was just playing a joke on Davy.’ I felt rather like a naughty novice nun being reprimanded by the Mother Superior.

  ‘I knew it was not you, Lady Anne.’ Davy had withdrawn the hobbyhorse and stood with it held between his knees, like an angelic page practising at the quintain.

  The baroness favoured him with a stern look. ‘Did you indeed, Davy Owen?’ Lady Anne came from the class of Anglo-Welsh Marcher gentry who scorned to use the Welsh language and traditions. At Raglan Davy had become known as plain Davy Owen in the English fashion, without the ‘son of’ Welsh patronymic and as yet he remained unaware that it had been Herbert allies who had murderously executed his father without trial.

  ‘And you were not attempting to disturb the girls’ games at all?’

  The boy’s deep brown eyes grew large and round and he pushed the head of the hobbyhorse forward. ‘No, my lady; Dobbin just wanted to see what they were doing.’

  Lady Anne waved a finger at him to indicate that she was not charmed by his little pleasantry, although she probably was, and turned back to me. ‘I have not come to exchange foolish remarks with a silly boy, or to listen to their governess attempting to imitate me, amusing though you all apparently find both.’ This at least was true because by now the rest of the children were sniggering. ‘I have come to tell you that our guests have been delayed and will not get here until tomorrow at the earliest. All this rain has swelled the Severn and closed the Chepstow ferry crossing.’ She put a sympathetic arm around Harri’s shoulders. ‘I know you will be very disappointed by this. But the Severn is a fickle river and not to be trifled with. No doubt the Countess is just as frustrated as you are.’

  ‘My mother said in her letter that she had to wait for royal permission to visit me.’ Harri blushed, clearly building up to an awkward question. ‘Why has it taken so long, my lady?’

  I bit my lip, hoping the query would not annoy his guardian, but also very curious how she would answer it.

  She took her time but then explained quite simply. ‘Your mother and her husband are relatives of the old king, Harri. It has taken some time for the new king to trust them but now he does. You should be very grateful to King Edward.’

  It took even longer for Harri to deliver his response, his eyes flicking about as he carefully considered how to word it. ‘I am very grateful to have an opportunity to get to know my mother, my lady.’ He made no mention of the Yorkist king who had deposed his uncle and namesake.

  Lady Anne’s dark brows knitted under her elegantly wired gauze veil but she gave only a brief nod, removed her arm from Harri’s shoulder and moved towards the door. I could not help admiring a woman who managed to keep tabs on every aspect of her large household in addition to producing a child almost every year. The Herberts’ ninth child was due before Christmas.

  As she swept out, leaving a waft of flowery scent behind her, I dropped a curtsy and hoped she was out of earshot when I heard Walter’s voice raised in anger behind me.

  ‘You refused to acknowledge the king’s kindness, Harry Tudor. That is treason in this house. You are lucky my lady mother does not have you locked in the prison tower.’

  Harri had gone pink. ‘I did not refuse. It was not the king who moved mountains to grant my mothe
r permission to visit me; it was the queen, the lady Elizabeth, who sympathizes with my mother’s long separation from her only son.’

  I sighed, hopes of a rapprochement fading. Harri wanted to be friends with Walter but he was also staunchly loyal to his Lancastrian roots and tried never to mention King Edward’s name, a provocative stance in this Yorkist family. Equally, Harri had never spoken of his uncle Jasper or his grandfather Owen, nor mentioned them in his letters to his mother, which were carefully vetted by his tutors. He had been obliged to learn at an early age the enormous value of being able to keep secrets. I myself had never revealed the true father of my children but told the Herberts that I had been married to a Pembroke Castle cook and widowed soon after the birth of Sian. Luckily when we left Pembroke both my girls and Davy had been too young to be aware of their fathers’ names. Only Harri knew who they were and he was not telling: he and I shared this secret and also some of the information which reached me in Jasper’s infrequent letters that were smuggled to me.

  Later that night, I read again the most recent one, squinting in the flickering light of a single taper. At Pembroke Jasper had been used to relying on clerks to pen his correspondence but now that he was an outlaw and an exile he did not trust others to write for him and he had crammed the words onto a single sheet of paper in his characteristically quirky hand.

  My dearly beloved and woefully neglected lady, it seems so long since I kissed your lips that my own are sadly withering and my heart is sorely aching. But I write to tell you that I have made plans, which I hope and pray will bring us briefly together again. My sailing skills have improved and I am now confident of steering my own ship towards a rendezvous with those that I love most in the world. I cannot say where or when I will make landfall but God willing I will see you soon and hold you in my arms, my sweetest Jane. I trust that you are not too closely watched and that you are able to make excursions outside the castle walls without arousing suspicion. In the hope that this is so I will send word of my arrival in the vicinity. It may be that a certain other person, well known to us both, will also be visiting your hosts and I hope you will be able to liaise with each other. I dare write no more on this and have only space to assure you of my unending devotion to you and to our children. If you think it safe, please assure the boy that I think of him constantly also and please, my sweeting, burn this after you have read it and taken from it this ardent kiss, which I make in lieu of signing.