A sudden sense of guilt sent the blood rushing to my cheeks. ‘My little Elin and Sian! How are they? They must be growing beautiful, like their mother.’
She gave an indignant laugh. ‘It is too late to start flattering me like a sweet-tongued sailor, my lord! The girls are fine – they are happy within the routine of the Herbert brood, and they share their education. Elin takes after you, with her flame-red hair and her striking blue eyes but she has a temper to go with it. Sian is more like me, mouse brown and a little shy.’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘Huh! Not like you at all then. Perhaps she will be a late blossom. I like the sound of our flame-haired temptress though. How I wish I could see them! Perhaps I soon will. I sense the Wheel of Fortune turning.’
Jane wrung her hands awkwardly. ‘I am afraid their father is dead to them. As I told you, the name Tudor is best never mentioned in the Herbert household.’
She had written in one of her letters that she had lied about the identity of the girls’ father and although I knew it was wise, nevertheless it rankled, and one day soon I hoped to ram the fact down William Herbert’s throat, on the tip of a sword …
Jane gestured towards the closed door. ‘Is the lady aware of the wheel turning?’
Anxiously I ran my fingers through my hair once more. Margaret’s startled scrutiny had made me acutely aware of my dishevelled appearance. ‘I need to speak to her on that topic. That is part of the reason for this meeting. I am sorry, Jane, but I will have to have some private conversation with her.’
‘Oh dear, what a penance for you.’ Although her tone was sarcastic, she pulled a bone comb from her sleeve pocket. ‘Fingers will not tame that fiery mane, my love. Bend down and let me tidy you up.’
The feel of her hands in my hair almost had me pressing her into a close embrace once more but I bit my lip and resisted. I made myself a silent promise that the next time Jane and I were together it would be in less frustrating circumstances. Whatever she said about my feelings for Margaret, it was Jane’s joyful pleasure in the act of union that kept her persistently in my mind, even when the demon lust drove me to the stews.
‘Did you know that Lord Herbert has petitioned King Edward for a marriage between Harri and his daughter Maud?’ she asked, tugging at a stubborn tangle.
I winced, as much at the notion of the marriage as the pain induced by Jane’s combing. The very notion of Harri tied to a Yorkist wife, especially a Herbert, was anathema. ‘Does Lady Margaret know this?’
‘If she does she has not told me. Hold still.’
Under her fresh attention to my beard, my cheeks were soon burning and tight red curls were beginning to mingle with the dust on the flagstones. ‘Thank you, Jane,’ I said firmly, moving away. ‘I will be sure to mention it to her.’
‘Did you also know that the bards are beginning to hail Lord Herbert as Y Mab Daragon? Even Lewys Glyn Cothi was singing in his praise at Raglan the other day.’
I shrugged. ‘Lewys will do anything for a fat purse. Besides it is in our interests that he continues to be made welcome at Raglan. Who do you think gets the notes to you?’
Jane did not look surprised. ‘I had more or less guessed it was him. So he is playing a double game like everyone else …’
At that moment Evan burst into the vestry without knocking. ‘Riders approaching, my lord! They have seen the ladies’ horses but fortunately ours are too well hidden.’
‘We should take cover,’ I decided. ‘The ladies are here legitimately, even if their presence is unusual.’
With an effort Evan hauled open the lid of the vast wooden cope chest that stood against one wall of the vestry. ‘If we get in here Jane can use her skirt to sweep away the prints. If she and Lady Margaret are found in the church the men may not come in here at all but if they do they are unlikely to lift this lid. I only did in case it would serve this very purpose. After you, my lord.’
The squire indicated the dark, cobwebbed interior of the chest. Apart from the spiders at least it was empty but its present occupants hardly made it inviting. ‘This had better be necessary, Evan,’ I said, swinging my leg over the side and breaking down the intricate silk network. ‘Get rid of them quickly, Jane, please!’
‘I will do my best,’ she said, remaining commendably calm. ‘But suppose they are thugs or bandits?’
‘If you shout we will come with weapons drawn,’ I assured her. ‘Let us hope you will not have to.’
Evan followed me into the chest and we heard Jane grunt with effort as she lowered the lid, plunging us into darkness.
There were shuffling sounds as Jane dragged her skirts over the footprints on the vestry floor followed by the noise of the door closing behind her as she joined Margaret in the church; then silence – dreadful, chilling silence. In a sliver of light I saw the whites of Evan’s eyes only two feet away, wide with alarm. I could see his hands, white-knuckled and clasped chin-high over his knees. A spider scuttled across them, black, long legged and gone in a flash. To shift my position I put my own hand to the floor and felt something squish under my palm. For several minutes my heart thudded like a drum in my chest, as I tried not to let my thoughts dwell on our claustrophobic confinement by concentrating on who might be approaching and what would happen if we were discovered.
Fortunately Jane soon reported back. ‘A couple of monks from the local priory. Once they discovered we were pilgrims they did not stay long. I believe they are still genuinely frightened of the plague.’
Lady Margaret had followed Jane into the vestry holding her costly skirts high off the floor but dust devils already clung to the gleaming fabric. She watched us clamber out of the chest, frantically brushing cobwebs and creatures off our clothes and hair.
‘I have little time left, my lord,’ she said, backing off in distaste. ‘Shall we discuss our business now? I should like to go outside where the air is sweeter. Jane and your squire can keep a watch.’
33
Jasper
St Aedan’s Church, Bettws Newydd
LADY MARGARET SPOKE LIKE the noblewoman she was, accustomed to giving orders. I made a courtly bow. ‘As you wish, my lady.’ The flourish must have looked absurd coming from a dishevelled soldier because she shot me a look of wry amusement before leading the way out into the daylight.
Jane and Evan left the enclosure and began climbing the hill to acquire the all-round view offered from its crest, while Margaret and I took a precautionary position in the deep shadows of one of several venerable yew trees that flourished on the high side of the sloping churchyard. Their gnarled trunks looked as if they had weathered at least a thousand winters and I wondered if they had been planted in some Druids’ grove, before St Aedan had converted the heathens.
Margaret plunged straight into her chief concern. ‘King Edward has been wooing me with gifts,’ she began. ‘Yet he refuses me the only one I really want – my son.’
‘Yes, I heard he had granted you the manor and palace of Woking. That must have been hard to resist.’
She ignored the irony in my voice. ‘Why should I resist?’ she retorted. ‘I can play the grateful Yorkist with the best of them. Besides it is convenient for my duties as lady in waiting to the queen.’
‘My lady of Richmond dancing attendance on a girl from Grafton; that must take some swallowing.’ I was trying to rile her.
She shrugged. ‘They call Elizabeth a commoner but her mother was a duchess – your royal brother’s aunt. She is as noble as you are, Jasper.’
‘Touché.’ I grinned. ‘And she is ennobling her family at the gallop I gather.’ Then in hope of an honest answer I sprang it on her:
‘And how do you like the notion of Maud Herbert marrying Harri?’
Margaret’s brow darkened. ‘About as much as I like Henry being called Harri,’ she snapped. ‘His drop of royal blood does not need diluting, although I fancy that is Edward’s plan. If he is to build a York dynasty he wants no hint of competition.’
‘Can Harri –
your pardon, Henry; there are so many Henrys that it becomes confusing! – can he really be considered a contender for the throne?’
Her grey eyes turned glacial. ‘I have a blood claim to the succession and therefore so does he. And his claim grows all the stronger while Edward’s queen continues giving birth to girls. Perhaps Elizabeth should consider making a pilgrimage here to St Aedan. He certainly granted your brother’s prayers.’
‘Ah, you confirm my guess that Edmund came here to pray for a son.’
‘Indeed he did – and I come here now to seek the saint’s intercession for that son. Even though you do call him Harri, if I cannot have custody of my Henry I pray for you, his uncle, to restore your brother to his throne and regain wardship of my son.’ She laid her hand urgently on my arm. ‘And I have reason to think that day may not be far off.’
‘You have a great deal of faith in a long dead Irish saint, Margaret.’ Irony had not left me.
She laughed. ‘I do not rely solely on St Aedan. In fact I put much of my trust in a more worldly champion; the Earl of Warwick.’
‘Warwick!’ Now I was incredulous. ‘He boasts that he put Edward on the throne in the first place! Why on earth should he want him off it now?’
‘You are out of touch, Jasper. The cub king has become a lion and no longer does Warwick’s bidding. First Edward made a commoner his queen and let her appropriate all the best manors and marriages for her kin and now he offends even further by refusing to allow Warwick’s daughter to marry the Duke of Clarence.’
‘Is everyone building dynasties around the Yorkist throne?’ My mind was racing.
Margaret pursed her lips. ‘Not if Edward can help it. That is why Warwick will be lured to our cause. We need to conjure a meeting between him and Queen Marguerite.’
My reaction to this notion was utter disbelief. ‘Impossible! Marguerite hates, no loathes, the Earl of Warwick – has done for years. They will never be allies.’
‘It seems unlikely, I agree, but consider this; Warwick is on the verge of rebelling against Edward and Marguerite is desperate for her son to sit on the throne of England. All it would take is an alliance between them to achieve what they both want. It will not happen overnight but I want you to go to Marguerite in France and start a process of gentle persuasion. She listens to you. And I will work on Warwick.’
The sheer audacity of her idea amazed me. I thought it through. The great Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, who had risked his life and fortune to put his cousin Edward of York on the throne of England, was now considering rebelling against him and Margaret honestly thought he could be brought to kneel at the old queen’s feet? I was not so sure; if Warwick wished to marry his daughter to Edward’s brother George of Clarence, was it not more likely that he really wanted to put George on the throne and make his daughter queen? Warwick did not call himself ‘Kingmaker’ for nothing.
I said to Margaret, ‘I will go to Anjou to see the queen but I do not hold out much hope. Marguerite is living off her father who squandered his wealth trying to make himself King of Sicily. Her gowns are patched and her courtiers get only bed and board. And I am sorry to say that my cousin, Louis of France, is completely unreliable. He makes grandiose promises of aid but when it comes to the pay-out you find his purse strings are suddenly tied.’
Margaret’s brow knitted. ‘I thought he had granted you a pension.’
I laughed bitterly. ‘He gives me a hundred livres a year but I spend all of that traipsing around Europe on his missions.’ I ran my hands eloquently over my battered brigandine. ‘As you see I am hardly dressed in silk and satin.’
She shrugged. ‘Well I have money but not enough to fund a rebellion. However, if Warwick joins our party I am sure Louis will open his coffers. Let us work on that.’
‘Very well, I am prepared to do anything to get my brother out of the Tower. Is there any chance you might be allowed to visit him?’
It was Margaret’s turn to laugh bitterly. ‘Absolutely none! But my doctor has a colleague who tends him and he tells me King Henry is well treated. He lives in his own royal apartments and spends most of his time on his knees in the oratory. I think if he were to be restored to his throne it would only be as a puppet king.’
‘An anointed puppet of true royal blood is better than an upstart usurper,’ I retorted. ‘And at least he has a son and heir.’
‘Yes, what of the prince, who I believe his mother insists on calling Édouard? I imagine she must regret having chosen that Yorkist name now.’
‘Perhaps, but Marguerite is not one to admit it. He is nearly fourteen and greatly impressed King Louis when they met. I would say that her son is the only reason Marguerite gets any money at all from the French exchequer. Louis called him a “promising prince”.’
‘That is something I suppose.’
I guessed Margaret’s half-hearted response was due to a maternal bias towards her own son.
She added slyly, ‘Since Yorkist Edward has been on the throne, rumour about Édouard’s conception has been less active but that does not mean to say it has gone away. What is your opinion, Jasper – is he truly your brother’s son?’
I answered her emphatically. ‘If you saw the prince you would have no doubt who his sire was.’
‘Good.’ She gave a brisk nod, apparently satisfied. ‘Let us walk towards our horses. Jane and your squire should see us and come down. I really must get back to Raglan.’ We had walked several paces out of the shadows when she suddenly tucked her hand into the crook of my elbow and drew me to her. Then to my utter surprise I felt her lips on mine.
There was nothing casual or brief about her kiss, or the way she caressed my neck as she granted it. ‘Thank you, Jasper,’ she said, drawing back with apparent reluctance. ‘You have given me encouragement to pursue my plan. Send me word when you are with Marguerite and I will write with the latest news for you to collect there. And let us thank the angel Gabriel that our courier service still operates without incident.’
I was bewildered. There had been many times when, as a younger man, I might have fantasized about a kiss from Margaret such as the one she had just bestowed but now my feelings were mixed. Rather than being thrilled to the core, I was more concerned that Jane might have seen the incident. I even wondered if Margaret had intended that she should, although I could not fathom her motive.
Meanwhile she was casually chattering on as if nothing had happened. ‘I am very impressed with my Henry’s skill with the bow and Lord Herbert has all the young boys practising at the quintain as well, though as yet only on foot. On my return to Woking I think I will send Henry a pony. He is not tall but it is not too early for him to begin jousting at the ring, is it?’
‘Not if the pony is well trained.’ Ungallantly I pulled away from Margaret’s attached hand, left her beside her horse and went to meet Jane and Evan as they approached. I told Evan, ‘We will escort the ladies until we come near where their guards are waiting, but we cannot afford to let them see us. And Jane, I must speak with you before you go.’ Her gimlet gaze alarmed me.
‘Do not be long,’ Margaret called, seeing us move back within the churchyard, where Jane hissed, ‘I saw you kiss her,’ before I could open my mouth.
‘No, sweeting, she kissed me. I have no idea why.’
‘Because I was looking,’ Jane retorted. ‘She is jealous of our relationship. She does not want you but she wants you to want her.’
‘Jane, we love each other. Surely that is what matters. Margaret has changed and I am no longer the romantic youth that put her on a pedestal. It is you I love.’
‘I am glad, Jasper, but I am realistic and it often puzzles me that you do love me, when you mix with glamorous, powerful women like Lady Margaret, who dress in silk, read the works of Aristotle and can organize a spy network.’
I laughed. ‘If I do mix with such paragons, few of them have time for a penniless exile …’
Reaching up she planted her lips on mine. Our kiss was brief but in
tense and bore no resemblance to the one Margaret had so mystifyingly planted on me. When she broke away she said breathlessly: ‘Hurry up then, Jasper Tudor, and win the throne back for your brother so that we can love each other to sleep again. Of such simple pleasures is the world made wonderful.’
I nodded emphatically. ‘I will,’ I said. ‘I swear I will.’
34
Jane
Raglan Castle
‘SLOWER MASTER HENRY! DO not let your mount dictate the pace. Lean back, rein him in!’
The roar from the Master at Arms was so loud that it hurt my eardrums but Harri, galloping towards the quintain with the visor of his helmet pulled down, probably hardly heard him. He was wielding a half-size lance but it was clear that he was having difficulty controlling the long white-painted pole and at the last minute his horse swerved, the lance tipped upwards and the point missed the board of the quintain. There were disappointed groans from some of the spectators but whoops of joy from others, who were not supporting his team.
Harri pulled up the pony his mother had sent him after her visit to Raglan. The Welsh gelding was called Cirrus after the wispy white clouds seen high in the sky on a sunny day and Harri loved him. Even though he had swerved offline and caused his rider to miss the target he still received a pat on the neck as Harri brought him to a halt beside Walter’s bay cob. An attendant took the unwieldy lance off the boy.
‘Sorry, Walter,’ Harri said quietly so that I barely caught the words. ‘I lost control of the lance.’
Walter blew out his cheeks and made a rude noise. ‘No, you lost control of the horse, Harri, which is why you should not pat him like that. He should know that you are displeased with him.’
There was still no love lost between Walter and Harri. The older Herbert girls had both gone off to their marriages with wealthy barons, but Maud was still waiting and hoping that the king would approve her marriage to the future Earl of Richmond. I had heard her boasting once to my girls that she would be Harri’s countess one day but so far there had been no betrothal and, knowing Lady Margaret’s opposition to the match, I wondered if there ever would be. Harri himself kept very quiet on the subject, ensuring that no one discovered his opinion on the matter, least of all Maud.
First of the Tudors Page 29