At the end of the morning’s joust-training Lord Herbert joined the spectators. There had been a call to arms to quell an uprising in Yorkshire and meanwhile another rebel force landed in Kent. Herbert along with the Earl of Devon had been ordered to intercept it. ‘I do not expect it to be a difficult task,’ he told the two boys. ‘So I have decided to take you both with me in my retinue to give you experience of a campaign. You will be assigned to a minder, who will tell you what is going on at every stage and I want you to pay strict attention to everything he says and does. The muster will take place here at Raglan and we will march east at the start of next week. Meanwhile you will each be fitted with body armour. The Master at Arms will call you to the armoury tomorrow. Is that understood?’
Predictably the boys responded enthusiastically in the affirmative but as they passed by on the way to the stables I heard Walter remark to Harri, ‘My lord father is only taking you in order to keep an eye on you. He thinks your uncle might try to abduct you if he leaves you here.’
I did not hear Harri’s reply but I could imagine that he was thinking exactly as I was. Did Walter know something we did not – that perhaps among the so-called rebels who had landed in Kent was Jasper Tudor?
Since our meeting at St Aedan’s shrine I made a point of going to the moat-wall letter drop whenever the bard Lewys made a visit to Raglan and I was rarely disappointed. That was how I learned that Jasper had managed to land a French army at Harlech the previous year and led an attempt to recapture Denbigh Castle, which had fallen back into Yorkist hands. When his raid failed he had made a ‘slash and burn’ expedition through North Wales and caused untold damage to the forest and farms of much Yorkist territory. A furious Lord Herbert had marched to confront him but Jasper and his followers had managed to escape by sea, whereupon Herbert had turned his army and artillery against Harlech Castle, which was finally forced to surrender. For ridding his kingdom of this last Lancastrian stronghold, King Edward had rewarded his faithful Welsh Lieutenant by granting him Jasper’s earldom, an act both Harri and I found hard to stomach.
‘It sticks in my throat to call Lord Herbert by Uncle Jasper’s title,’ Harri admitted during a rare moment when we were alone together in the small chamber he now shared with Davy Owen.
‘And mine,’ I confessed. ‘But it would not be sensible to offend him, Harri. We have to bide our time until King Henry is restored and Lord Jasper gets his earldom back.’
‘I fear it is too late for that, Mistress Jane,’ he said sadly, ‘and we will never see Pembroke again.’
‘Never say never, Harri, and do not tell anyone else how you feel. The Herberts have treated you well. It would spoil all Lord Jasper’s plans if you were suddenly to be considered a hostage rather than as you are now, a member of the family.’
His alarmed expression told me I had touched a raw nerve. ‘Do family members threaten each other?’ he asked. ‘Walter says if there is a battle he will hold a knife to my throat. I think he imagines I can somehow assist his father’s enemies.’
‘But there will be a knight with orders to protect you both,’ I reminded him. ‘Do you know who he will be yet?’
‘Yes,’ replied Harri with an ironic twist of his lips. ‘We are to have Lady Anne’s nephew to watch over us, Richard Corbet.’
I frowned, trying to fit the name to a face. ‘But he is not a knight, is he? He is only eighteen, a mere squire.’
‘Yes, he is a squire but also a close family member. There will be just him and Walter and me on some hilltop viewpoint, watching and waiting to see who wins.’
I stared at him, a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. There was a fraught silence, as if neither of us could actually voice the fear that was uppermost in our minds.
‘Will you have any weapon about you, Harri?’ I asked faintly.
‘Walter and I have been issued with daggers but Richard Corbet will also have a sword.’
I drew him into a tight hug and for once he did not resist. He is twelve years old, I thought, too young to find himself in such a potentially perilous position.
We sprang apart at the sound of footsteps approaching the chamber door. It was Davy, nursing a cut lip, the neck of his chemise smeared with blood. ‘Have you been fighting again?’ I asked him, as I pulled a clean shirt from a clothing chest and Davy sounded off about ‘That lying snake Walter’ who had claimed that Harri ‘was only going on the muster because my father does not trust him enough to leave him behind.’
‘Thank you for defending me, Davy,’ Harri said with a grin. ‘I can always rely on you.’
Over the next few days Raglan Castle changed from a nobleman’s palace into a military headquarters, gradually filling with the knights, troops, heralds, craftsmen, artillery, oxen, horses, carts and the mass of supplies needed to support a campaign army. Men marched in from all directions, pitched their tents or were allocated lodgings, and the waggons, guns, animals and fodder were marshalled in the outer baileys under the walls of the new towers. Pennants and banners bearing the arms of scores of Marcher families flew from tents and turrets and the great blue and red Herbert battle standard with its three rampant white lions was hauled down from its place of honour over the dais in the Great Hall and raised at the top of the Great Tower.
Any knights and foot soldiers approaching the castle for the first time must have marvelled at the size and splendour of the magnificent fortress that William Herbert had built over the last eight years on the skeleton of his father’s more modest stronghold. The enormous gatehouse was particularly impressive, with its soaring twin towers and alongside it, the mighty Treasury Tower. As well as providing a demonstration of his rapid rise to pre-eminence in South Wales, Raglan Castle had also become the seat of justice and the focus of authority in this hitherto unruly part of King Edward’s realm.
From the wall-walk at the top of the Grand Stair I watched with the younger children as the new earl’s retinue gathered in the court below. His phalanx of household knights was resplendent in armour, over which they wore uniform red and blue tunics bearing the Herbert white lion badge, their horses covered in matching heraldic trappings. Behind them their liveried squires lined up, bearing their knights’ shields and helmets, and at the rear, on their smaller ponies, came Walter and Harri mounted either side of their minder, Richard Corbet, a sturdy-looking young man on a bay cob laden with bulky saddlebags. I thought he looked as if the task he had been allocated was not much to his liking but he did smile at Harri when the boy spoke to him, although I could not hear their exchange.
‘My lord father says that the Earl of Warwick is leading the rebels,’ said Maud. ‘But I thought he was a Yorkist. Why would he be fighting us, Mistress Jane?’
I knew the answer to that from Jasper’s letters but I was not going to reveal my knowledge. ‘The motives of lords are a mystery to me, Maud,’ I replied, ‘you should ask your tutor.’
It took several hours for the column of fighting men, waggons, guns, and camp followers to clear the castle precincts, heading northeast on the Gloucester road. The image of Harri almost lost among them lingered in my mind’s eye, so small and vulnerable on his white pony. For once I found myself hoping that a Yorkist army would return victorious and with the lord’s two young pages safely among them.
35
Jane
Raglan & Weobley Castles
ON THE SECOND DAY of August a small party of armoured knights on lathered horses cantered through the castle gatehouse and news spread like wildfire from the Kitchen Tower to the Great Tower that Lord Herbert had been defeated in battle. The worst had happened. Then a little later, seeing Lady Anne, her inflamed eyes instantly told us, worse than the worst.
Eventually she was able to speak. ‘I have to tell you my children that your beloved father is dead.’ For the moment she could say no more but simply held out her arms and gathered all her children to her. I stood wordlessly by, desperate to ask after Walter and Harri – for Harri’s welfare and his very life I
now feared more than ever.
One of Lady Anne’s companions offered kerchiefs, and along with their mother the children made forlorn gestures of comfort to each other until all at once, the chatelaine drew breath. ‘We must be brave and we must help each other,’ she told the children firmly, then raised her head and caught my eye. ‘It will be necessary to pack their things as soon as possible, Mistress Jane. My lord’s retinue is scattered and it is no longer safe for us here. I am going to take all the children to my brother’s castle at Weobley. We will leave at dawn tomorrow.’
I bobbed a curtsy. ‘Yes, my lady. May I ask if there is any news of Master Walter and Harri. Are they safe?’
She shook her head, frowning. ‘I do not know. I wish to take the children to the chapel now, Jane, but please come back to me later, when we will speak some more.’
Judging by her expression there were things she wished not to say in front of the young ones and I made another curtsy in acknowledgement before taking my leave. Not long after their return, when I had already made good progress filling two travelling chests with their essentials, I was once more summoned to Lady Anne’s chamber, dreading what additional bad news I might be about to hear.
Her young lady companions were absent and she invited me to sit on a stool beside her armchair. Although her face was still puffy from weeping, she was composed and tearless and had taken time to change her usual white gauze veil for a sombre black one. I was grateful when she addressed my chief concern straight away.
‘I know you will be anxious about Harri, Jane, as I am about Walter, but I am sure we will soon hear news from my nephew Richard, who was charged with their care. Unfortunately I do not know what instructions he had in the event of this outcome but he is a sensible and trustworthy young man and he will have kept the boys safe, I am certain of that.’
‘Let us pray that is so, my lady, and may I say how sorry I am for your loss.’ They were trite words but it was all I could think of to say. Because he was Lord Jasper’s sworn enemy, Lord Herbert had not stood high in my estimation but I knew Lady Anne’s mourning would be more heartfelt than social convention required.
Her eyes instantly filled with fresh tears but her voice was harsh and fierce. ‘It is more than just a loss it is a desecration! My lord was not killed in the battle, he was captured and the next day he was taken before the Earl of Warwick in Northampton. There was no trial, no reference to a higher authority. It seems that not only has Warwick invaded the king’s peace, he has wickedly taken the law of the kingdom into his own hands. He arbitrarily sentenced my lord to death for treason, along with his younger brother Richard, his second in command.’
There was a pause while she drew several deep breaths to steady herself. ‘I am told that Lord William pleaded on his knees for his brother’s life, saying that only he was responsible for any perceived offence, but Richard was marched out there and then to the scaffold. He was only twenty-eight. William was given time to write a codicil to his will and then he, too, met the axe. I can imagine King Edward’s fury and despair when he heard of these deeds, for my lord and his brother were his most faithful servants.’
Shocked and horrified by what Lady Anne told me, I was at a loss for words. Finally, after a long silence she reached out and clutched my hand, whether to offer comfort or express her anger I could not tell. Her eyes were screwed tight shut as she added, ‘I cannot think how I am going to tell my children of this terrible deed and I do not know who to go to for help or redress.’
At length I found my tongue. ‘Does anyone know where King Edward is, my lady? Will he bring a force against Warwick perhaps?’ I was clutching at straws, hoping as well that Jasper had not been involved in these executions and hardly believing that it would be possible.
With an effort Lady Anne removed her hand from mine and resumed her composure. There were nail marks in my skin where her fingers had gripped me painfully. ‘The king has been detained by Warwick’s brother, the Archbishop of York, and taken to Middleham Castle. He was apprehended a few miles from Northampton, heading to London with a small escort, and was overpowered.’ She shook her head in bemusement. ‘At present it would seem that England has no king, or else the Kingmaker has usurped the role himself, an uninvited and unanointed tyrant.’
‘And two young boys are wandering somewhere in a country that is in a state of anarchy!’ My exclamation was an involuntary cry of despair.
She silenced me with a grim stare. ‘We must maintain control, Jane. Let us hope we hear some news soon. Richard’s family has many branches living in the March and he could have sought shelter with any one of them. I have despatched a message, asking my brother to send out men from Weobley to enquire. All we can do is wait and pray there is news when we get there.’
As I completed the packing and supervised the loading of the chests onto a cart I could not rid my mind of the spectre of Harri lying with his throat cut at Walter’s feet. I repeatedly told myself that they were only boys and that Walter’s threats had been mere bravado but the vivid image kept returning and my desolate mood deepened.
We were all melancholy during the two day journey from Raglan to Weobley. A couple of Raglan servants drove the baggage carts, with a nursemaid looking after baby Katherine in one and little Philip, Elin and Sian up beside the driver of the other. There were two grooms to help with the horses and ponies ridden by the rest of us but that was hardly protection, should we run into any trouble. It was safe around the villages where field-workers were out labouring to bring in the harvest but every empty moor or common we crossed and every wood or forest we entered we dreaded being confronted by rebel soldiers hunting for fleeing royal troops. However we arrived at Weobley without incident in the late afternoon, the younger children hot, tired and tetchy and the rest of us simply grateful to stretch our legs after dismounting in the extensive outer bailey, while we waited for admission to the inner precinct.
Compared with Raglan, Weobley Castle was an old-fashioned fortification, located high on a motte, its grey stone walls built in a classic square with four round towers at each corner, perched over banks that fell steeply into a dry ditch. The stables and other wooden outbuildings were located all around us in the outer bailey and the single entrance to the fortress itself was via a raised drawbridge and narrow wooden stairway, which traversed the ditch and ran up the steep side of the motte to an arched pedestrian gateway. The heavy oak gate was soon opened, the drawbridge was lowered and we were able to climb into the shelter of the thick walls. Inside, in the busy courtyard, Lady Anne’s brother Sir Walter Devereux, created Lord Ferrers by King Edward, was waiting to greet us and beside him stood his nephew and namesake Walter Herbert. And next to him, the Virgin be praised, stood Harri Tudor. My heart seemed to bounce off my ribs in relief.
Lady Anne was embraced and welcomed by her glowering brother. ‘It is a black day that brings you here, sister,’ he said, his angry words loud and echoing off the surrounding buildings. ‘But I thank God you and your children have reached the safety of my walls.’
‘We thank you for their refuge, brother,’ she replied in softer tones. ‘And I thank God you have Walter and Harri here also. Their safety has been an added burden on my mind. Come, let me bless you, my son,’ and Walter stepped forward to kneel for his mother’s blessing.
From the expression on Harri’s face in that moment I knew that I had a story to hear from him, but at this time of crisis Weobley was a closed and congested castle, with archers patrolling the battlements, troops camped in the courtyard and busy officials and servants crowding every passage and stairway. Finding somewhere to speak alone with him would not be easy and then fate intervened …
Lady Anne had wisely dispatched all but one of her female companions to their homes and she had been allocated only a small chamber for herself and the single female companion she had brought with her. The morning following our arrival she sent for me. Somehow she had acquired black mourning apparel and sat on the only seat the tiny room po
ssessed, a deep stone shelf under the narrow glazed window.
Her hands were folded tightly in her lap and she fixed me with an accusing stare I soon learned the cause of it. ‘My brother tells me that you have been Jasper Tudor’s mistress and that your little girls are his bastards.’ I saw her lip curl in distaste and felt anger surge, only with difficulty stopping myself from crying out in defence of my children. She pursued her complaint. ‘You have taken advantage of my generosity and, under false pretences, brought the children of my husband’s enemy into my household. You have utterly abused my kindness by lying to me over an extended period.’
I could contain my indignation no longer. ‘I do not believe you can accuse me of taking advantage, my lady, when I have given you eight years of faithful and unpaid service and cared for your children as if they were my own.’
‘Silence, jade!’ The lady’s calm demeanour had vanished entirely. ‘I have not brought you here to plead your cause. I wish you to take your children and leave my employ and that includes removing young Davy Owen, whose true parentage I hardly dare to guess at. Take the three of them and go from this place. I do not wish to see your face again.’
‘But what about Harri?’ I cried. ‘He will be left alone among his father’s enemies.’
‘Harri is still my husband’s ward and will remain here. I will write to inform his mother where he is and that he is safe with us. Collect your things together and take only what you can carry. I do not care where you go but wherever it is you will have to walk and I urge you to consider your sins along the way.’
First of the Tudors Page 30