“Lord Herbert has gathered a sufficient following of Welshmen to turn back this rebellion. They have gathered at Edgecott, where they wait for their king to join them. But we must not be late, Sire. We know that the Welsh will lose heart without the king to lead them.”
“Very well, William, prepare our escort. We leave within the hour.”
Hastings bowed and started for the door when the queen’s physician, an elderly gentleman with a red face, burst through.
“Your Highness!” He panted.
“Your news, Doctor. Quickly.”
“Your Majesty, the queen has given birth and God has granted her and the child a safe delivery.”
“Yes, and… ?” Edward had already surmised the news.
“The queen has delivered a princess.”
“We thank you, Doctor. You have our leave to return to the queen, and to tell her that we rejoice at the news and will visit her shortly.” The doctor bowed and hurriedly left the room.
“A male heir would have been a greater blessing, Sire.”
“God has otherwise ordained.” Edward knew that he would have to put this disappointment behind him and proceed with the business at hand. “Go, William, and prepare our escort. We leave within the hour.”
Edward went to the queen’s place of confinement and was shown his new daughter. He marveled that even moments after birth, she so clearly carried her mother’s features, and it was easy for Edward to forget his disappointment. He sat on the edge of the bed while the attendants moved to the corners of the room.
“I am sorry, my lord, that the child is not the heir we need.” While tired and still recovering from the birth ordeal, Elizabeth was as beautiful as ever. Her golden hair, damp from exertion, hung in strings around her shoulders, and her sharp blue eyes had lost none of their brilliance. He pushed a few strands of hair from her face.
“We have time enough to produce an heir. She is the very image of her mother’s beauty, and will be the envy of the court.”
“Have you chosen a name?”
“I had thought of naming her Cecily, after my mother, but after seeing her, I believe that she should be named Elizabeth.”
The queen smiled and shaded the infant’s face from the sun coming through the huge windows.
“We can honor your mother after I have borne you a few sons.” Edward kissed her gently.
“And now I must leave. There are matters of state that demand my attention at Edgecott.”
“What business calls you to there?”
“It is nothing to concern you, only some rumors of a disturbance that require my attention.”
“It must be some disturbance indeed to demand the attention of the king himself. What have you not told me?”
“Elizabeth, please, it is not wise to trouble yourself so. It is nothing, I assure you.”
“My condition will only be made worse by the aggravation caused by your silence. I pray you, sir, tell me what draws your attention to Edgecott.”
Edward relented. “There is news of an armed detachment of northern rebels headed this way. It is really nothing, my love. I have already gathered more men than I need to put down this rabble, which is all they are. Now do not concern yourself further in this matter, and I’ll be back within a fortnight to see to the christening of our new princess.” Kissing her once again, he stood to go.
“Do not underestimate your enemies, my husband. Unexpected is this uprising, and your cousin of Warwick has been too quiet of late to give me comfort.” Edward squeezed her hand and left.
*
Samuel had not been able to recover his bow, since the gates of the city had been closed before they formulated their plan. The gates would remain closed during the night, and even if he were able to convince the gatekeeper to let him out, he would not be readmitted before first light. He resigned himself to doing without.
His inspection of the King’s Bridge bakery had confirmed his fears that the place would be ideal for an ambush. The streets were narrow and there were nooks and crannies of all kinds where any number of henchmen could stay out of sight. The bakery was also near the south gate of the town, which would be open by the time the meeting was to take place, giving an excellent avenue for a quick escape. As Samuel considered how to proceed, he could only think of two courses of action. He could return to Oliver and call the meeting off, which would certainly result in the loss of any opportunity to find the women. Or he could seclude himself in one of the crannies of King’s Bridge Street now and wait to see who arrived toward morning, which would mean that he would miss his promised meeting with Oliver at the Three Lions. Would Oliver keep the appointment if he did not find Samuel there waiting for him? There was no way to know, but it was clear that the latter course of action was his only option.
As he approached the street near the bakery, he could but hope that no one saw him. The night was dark, and Samuel found himself wondering why he hadn’t been blessed with his brother’s uncanny night vision. He groped along the buildings on the left side of the street, able to make out only the faintest shapes of the buildings on the other side. The bakery was on a narrow alley that paralleled King’s Bridge Street, and could only be reached by the side street. He knew that he would need to position himself to command a good view of both the alley and the side street. When he arrived at the intersection, he found a narrow stairway that led to a door below street level. Standing at the foot of the stairs, the street was chest high, requiring that he stoop low to keep hidden. He sat at the bottom of the staircase and hoped that no one would be using this door until after first light.
At dawn, Oliver, who had not slept at all, walked out of his boarding room and headed to the Three Lions Tavern. He could already see that it would be another cloudy day, and a thin mist chilled him. He walked south along the market street, feeling very much like he did when they had fled Northwood years ago. When he reached the Three Lions, he waited for Samuel.
Finally there was enough light to see clearly, and Oliver searched for some sign of his friend, to no avail. After waiting for as long as he dared, it became apparent that Samuel had not been able to meet him or even get a message to him. Praying that Samuel was safe, he pulled his cloak up around his ears to ward off the dampness and walked quickly toward King’s Bridge Street.
When he arrived at the narrow street leading to the bakery, he hesitated for a moment and checked for signs of life. Satisfied, he walked slowly to the alley in front of the bakery. Seeing no one, he began to wonder what his next move would be.
“A nasty morning, isn’t it?” The voice came from behind and scared him half to death. He spun to see the man with baggy eyes leering at him, still as dirty as the night before.
“Where in God’s name…”
“Sorry I gave you a bit of a fright there, but we can’t be too careful, that’s sure.”
“Just tell me what you’ve learned.”
“I’ve learned that the man you seek is close by.” Oliver was suspicious. “Come, I’ll show you the place.”
Oliver still saw no one else. But then, this wart of a man had managed to appear out of nowhere.
“Why don’t you just tell me?”
“It’s in a back street with no description that I can give you, you not being from this town.” Seeing Oliver’s obvious doubt, he said with a frown, “Come now, I’m risking my own life to bring you there.”
“Very well,” he nodded.
The man led him further down the alley and then turned down another alley even narrower than the last. They had taken but a few steps in that direction when a strong arm closed around Oliver’s neck, immobilizing him. A voice that dripped death spoke quietly in his ear.
“I have learned that it is not always a good thing to find what you seek. But found me you have, and
I’ll know the reason.” Releasing Oliver from his armhold, Sir Hugh spun him around, his huge hand still tight around his throat. The long scar on Sir Hugh’s face warped his mouth into a sneer that seemed to define him well. Oliver couldn’t have been more petrified. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that two other men stood behind.
“I know this face,” said Sir Hugh. “You’re the wretch who fled from me at Pontefract.” Oliver could not have confirmed or denied it if he’d wanted to, so tight was Sir Hugh’s grip on his throat. His vision was blurring. “So tell me, if you’re here, your friend the traitor must be near as well. Is it not so?” He loosened his grip just enough to allow Oliver to take some air. “Speak now or my face will be the last thing you see in this life.”
“He is with…the king’s guard.” Oliver thought it best to tell the truth, which might give Sir Hugh the impression that he was extracting useful information.
“A fitting place for a traitor. So tell me, why then do you follow me?”
Glad to have deflected the conversation back to himself, again he decided to speak the truth.
“You have taken…my wife.” He found the grip tightening again, and his face began to turn blue.
Sir Hugh began to laugh, then suddenly flung him against the opposite wall of the alley. Oliver tried desperately to keep his wits, gasping hard for air.
“You can be sure that I’ll tend to your lovely wife.” Then to his men, “He is no threat, just a dog with delusions. Kill him, and join us on the road. We ride at once.” Sir Hugh spun and, with one of his followers, disappeared around the corner. Too stunned to move, Oliver watched as the man with baggy eyes produced a small dirk from within the folds of his cloak and leaned over him.
“You should never have crossed the man with the scar. He always gets the last word.” The baggy eyes came close to his face, a look of deadly determination displacing the usual grin. Hoping that the dirty man would make a clean job of it, Oliver closed his eyes tightly and prayed that God would take mercy on Sally. Feeling warm drops on his face, he was surprised to feel no pain as he waited to die. He heard a painful grunt.
He opened his eyes and saw the dirty man lying on the ground, half of his skull missing, his baggy eyes bulging out of his head, never to see the light of day again. He felt his throat and was relieved to feel no cuts, though his face was covered with blood. The sound of a scuffle coming from around the corner drew him back to reality. Struggling to his knees, he crawled to the corner of the alley, where he saw Samuel struggling with the other henchman.
“Samuel!”
Distracted for a moment by Oliver’s yell, Sir Hugh’s henchman took his attention from Samuel to see what danger Oliver might pose. In that second, instincts honed by years of training under Sir Julian, Samuel drove the heel of his hand straight up into his adversary’s jaw, the blow rendering him unconscious. Checking to see that the man was indeed dispatched, he ran back to Oliver.
“Are you all right?”
“I seem to be bleeding,” he said, still not in complete possession of his wits.
“Stay here!” said Samuel urgently. “Do you hear me? I have to find Sir Hugh!”
When Oliver nodded, Samuel ran off toward the south gate of town. He arrived just in time to see four riders on two horses ride over a ridgeline and vanish from view.
“Kate!” he screamed, falling to his knees in exhaustion. But he drew only the attention of curious townsfolk.
*
Through the trees, Robin of Redesdale could see the entire field before him, his captain waiting patiently behind. He watched the Welsh soldiers go about routine chores, and reflected on the long road to this point. They had been marching for weeks with so little hope of success that he wondered if any of his men would have followed him if they knew the truth. But when the new men arrived, everything changed. At least now they had a good chance for success, especially since he had seen the enemy with his own eyes.
Backing carefully away, he signaled his captain to withdraw to where their horses were tethered. As they rode toward the camp, he puzzled over what they had seen.
“It hardly seems believable, but it appears that you’re right, Captain.”
“I’ve been about this business all of my life, my lord, and I can read an enemy camp as well as anyone, I’ll wager you.”
“No need, Captain. I’d not take that wager. But why would they camp here without the archers? Unless their leader is a consummate fool.” He looked sharply at the captain. “You’re certain that this is no trap to lure us in?”
“As certain as the day is long, my lord. It’s much more probable that the archers have not yet arrived.”
“If that is the case, when they do arrive, they’ll find the battle already fought and lost.” He spurred his horse to a gallop.
Arriving at their encampment, Robin gave the call to arms and organized his men into two units. The mysterious men who had recently joined them formed one of the bodies, heavily armed with bows and short swords. The other group consisted of Robin’s rabble, Christopher among them, some armed with swords, but most with truncheons and pikes best used for close fighting. Robin passed the word that the enemy was a Yorkist column that had been gathered to hunt them down, and this was their best chance to strike first.
Robin’s army made smartly through the woods to within striking range of the still unsuspecting Yorkist camp. The perimeter guards were carefully taken out by a specially trained unit of the first column, whose archers then took up position within arrowshot in strategic locations. When the word was given, the first volley of deadly accurate missiles were sent through the air, and before those in the camp even knew that they were under attack, dozens of them lay dead or disabled on the bloody ground. By the time the alarm was sounded and those in command attempted to array them in a semblance of order, dozens more lay dead from the second volley. With no archers of their own to return fire, the Yorkist army was helpless to defend itself, and fell into turmoil. Robin ordered the general charge and the army erupted from the woods. Christopher ran as fast as he could to close ranks with the enemy. With Simon by his side, they swung their truncheons with bloody abandon, crushing skulls and other bones indiscriminately.
*
In the moment before the first arrows flew, King Edward sat in the royal tent with Lord Herbert, Sir Julian, Hastings, Earl Rivers, and Rivers’ son, Sir John, who had recently scandalized the nobility by marrying the aged dowager Duchess of Norfolk. The king was furious, but it was Hastings that expressed his displeasure for him.
“Why in God’s name would you agree to billet the archers separately from the rest of your men, my lord? It is a fundamental error in judgment.”
Herbert addressed his response to the king. “Sire, there was nothing I could do. Their captain refused to camp in this place and led his men off. But I assure Your Highness that they will join us now that you have arrived.”
“You should have agreed to go along with their captain and camp where he suggested. He is a most accomplished soldier,” Hastings said.
“I would have lost face before my men,” insisted Herbert angrily. “Such is not the face of leadership required by a fighting force.”
“Lord Hastings,” the king interrupted, “send a messenger to the captain of the archers and instruct him to come at once, by the king’s command.”
“I’ll see to it myself, Sire.” He bowed and left the tent, but a moment later came running back. “Defend the king! The camp is under attack! Follow me to your horse, Sire. Quickly!” he yelled.
They ran outside to find the sky raining arrows. Herbert called for his captain, Rivers and Sir John helping where they could with swords drawn. Meanwhile, Sir Julian, Hastings, and members of the guard escorted the king to his horse through the chaos. It was then that the woods exploded with men charging from sever
al sides, and Sir Julian held the king’s horse while he mounted.
“Fly, Your Highness, or we’ll surely all be taken!”
Edward spurred his horse and fled toward the rear of the camp. But before he got far, his horse took an arrow in the hindquarter and stumbled to the ground, throwing the king head over heels in front of him. Sir Julian, Hastings, and a few members of the guard, including Stanley, saw the king fall in the distance, and Sir Julian was about to spur his horse in that direction, but was restrained by Hastings.
“The king is taken. We can’t help him by dying in this place.”
“We have a duty, my lord!” Sir Julian was shocked.
“If he lives yet, they will not harm him. He’s too valuable to them as ransom. If he’s dead, then we serve no further purpose here. We must flee to serve him again another day.”
Dozens of men swarmed between Sir Julian and the place where the king had fallen. He could not have reached him now if he tried. Yelling to the guardsmen who were left, he raised his sword.
“Let’s send some to hell, and leave this cursed place!”
The battle was over as quickly as it had begun. The Yorkists that held their positions were massacred, as the king’s guard and Hastings made their escape. As Robin and his captain entered the remains of the camp, hundreds of bodies lay mangled, and his men interrupted their scavenging long enough to cheer him heartily.
To Christopher’s chagrin, Simon ran forward and grabbed the purse of a decapitated soldier. He retained the contents of his stomach only with great effort. He wondered bitterly if it was for this that he left his wife and children. A man ran to Robin, not able to contain his excitement.
“Robin! We have him, we have him!” he panted loudly.
“Calm yourself and give me a proper report,” he said as the captain of the mysterious men joined him to hear the news.
“The king, Robin! We have the king himself!” There was an incredulous silence for a moment, before the captain of the first column took the man by the tunic.
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