“If he’s harmed I’ll pull your liver out before your eyes.”
The soldier’s excitement turned to fear.
“He is well, sir, I swear it. Took a nasty tumble from his horse, but he’s none the worse for it.” The captain released him roughly.
“Bring him here and see to it that he stays that way.” The soldier ran off much less happy than when he had arrived. “A word with you in private, Robin, if you please.” Robin nodded toward one of the few remaining tents and accompanied the captain in.
Simon turned to find that Christopher had lost all the color in his face.
“God in Heaven, man, what’s wrong?”
Christopher was frantically scanning the encampment, horrified to see all the dead bodies.
“Samuel,” he whispered, more to himself than to anyone else.
“Samuel? Who the hell is that?”
“Don’t you see? If the king was here, so were his guardsmen.”
“That’s a certainty. What of it?”
“My brother, Samuel. He’s…one of them.”
Simon was amazed. “Your brother is in the king’s guard?”
“If I’d known that we were fighting against the king himself, I never would have…”
Simon put his hand on Christopher’s shoulder.
“Come on, then. Many escaped and I’m sure he’s fine, but I’ll help you look through the dead. They’ll be easy enough to find — the guard wear a tunic with a large yellow sun.” They began the horrific search of the bloody remains, Christopher turning each face praying that it was not Samuel’s.
Back in the tent, the captain turned sharply toward Robin when they were both alone.
“The king and any other noblemen that we find alive are to be placed under my guard and escorted to the earl. Is that clear, my lord?” Despite the captain’s lower rank, it was expected that Robin would follow his commands. “The earl’s orders to me were specific in this matter.”
Robin knew that he had no choice. The earl’s instructions could not be ignored.
“You shall have him, captain, and any others that we find. But now I must find an explanation for this to satisfy the men.”
“That’s your problem, my lord, not mine. We’ll be leaving you at first light.”
Waiting for them outside the tent were King Edward, Lord Howard, Earl Rivers, and Sir John, all with wounds but none serious. Edward stepped forward.
“We are your king and expect your obedience.”
“Sire,” it was the captain who responded, “we acknowledge that we are all your subjects and you shall be treated well, but I must insist that you accompany me when I leave this place.”
“To where?”
“It shall be made known to you in good time.”
The captain signaled his men, who began preparations to break camp in the morning. Some grumbling could be heard from Robin’s men.
“Robin,” someone shouted, “the king’s a valuable bit of plunder. Where’s he taking him?”
“I’ll explain everything to you this evening,” Robin said. “I promise you we’ll benefit from this day as you never dreamed possible.”
The king and his friends were escorted away a few moments later, which was none too soon for the captain. He had detested every minute of his time with that undisciplined rabble, and he planned to let his master, the Earl of Warwick, know that he was owed a great deal for this assignment.
Back at the camp near Edgecott, as Christopher continued his grim search, one thing became bitterly clear to him: Robin was not what he seemed. Turning over yet another bloodied yellow-clad body who was not Samuel, he wondered if he would ever see Emma and the children again.
*
“My lady, the doctor expressly requires that you remain in bed.” The queen’s sister, Joan, who did not particularly relish her role as lady-in-waiting, was growing weary of trying to keep the queen from exerting herself too quickly after her ordeal.
“Be silent,” snapped Elizabeth as if swatting at a fly. It had been a week since there had been any news from Edward. Why would it take so long to dispatch these insignificant rebels? But she knew from painful experience that the fortunes of war were unpredictable at best. “Bring the keeper of my wardrobe. I wish to be dressed.”
“My lady, you must not!”
“Do as I say, Joan.” She was interrupted by the door opening behind them. The dowager Duchess of Bedford entered with an escort of two servants. Always one of the preeminent ladies of the realm, her mystique had grown even larger since her daughter had been crowned. The years had been kind indeed to a woman of her advanced years, not touching the smooth skin of her face. She was lavishly dressed in a low-necked green velvet gown with a lengthy train. On her head she wore a steepled hennin, which trailed a long mist of fine linen. But Elizabeth noticed only the look on her face where she had failed to conceal a worried frown.
“Mother, thank the Lord,” cried Joan. “The queen wishes to be dressed. Please speak to her.”
“What is it, Mother?” Elizabeth asked.
“Stop this nonsense, and return to your bed,” the duchess said softly. She took her daughter’s arm and led her back. “Despite the temptations, we are best served by indirect actions, and do not have the authority to act rashly. I have always thought it better that way, since the power of our sex, while less overt, is clearly stronger if we are patient.” She helped the queen into bed and brought the coverlet up to her chin. Sitting on the edge, she took the queen’s hand and stroked it gently.
“Tell me your news, Mother.”
“There was a battle near Edgecott, and the king’s party did not prevail.” Elizabeth clamped her eyes closed, her worst fears realized. “But there is no need to fear. I’m certain that the king is well, and that he will soon be back.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“It is rumored that the Earl of Warwick has him.” Elizabeth gasped. “If true, he will certainly be safe enough. But we may find that the earl now wields more power than we would have hoped.”
“But what of Father and John?”
The duchess looked away, trying to keep her legendary composure.
“It is said that they were taken as well. I have not heard further of their fate, but we know that the earl holds no love for them in his black heart. I can only thank God that your brother, Anthony, was not with them.”
Elizabeth buried her head in the covers, unwilling to hear more. The duchess and Joan did their best to console her.
*
That night, exhausted and feeling wretched, Christopher staggered against a tree and wiped the blood from his hands. They had not found Samuel among the dead, though many were so badly mangled it was difficult to be positive. He had lost track of Simon some hours ago. Christopher noticed for the first time that he had wandered near the tent where the king and his party were being held, heavily guarded by the captain’s men. Something was not right about those men, and despite his need for rest, he decided to look around, though he stayed well clear of the prison tent. He walked casually toward the back of the encampment where there did not seem to be any guards, and looked into one of the tents that had a flap open. The faint candlelight within yielded no information.
“What are you doing here?” The voice from behind nearly stopped Christopher’s heart. He spun to see a guard with sword drawn walking toward him. As he came near, Christopher could see that his clothes were soaked in blood, and the rotting smell of it turned his stomach. “I asked you a question,” he snarled. Christopher had to think quickly.
“Robin asked that I keep a watch here.” He could only hope that the foul-smelling man did not decide to confirm his story.
“We have no need of help from vermin like you to patrol our camp. Be
gone or I’ll run you through without a second thought.”
Christopher took a step back and was prepared to flee as ordered, but his eyes were drawn once more to the gore on the man’s jerkin. It was then that he noticed the tear along the front. No one would have seen it when the soldier was wearing his armor in battle, but the armor was now removed and it was quite dark; the soldier was plainly not concerned anyone could see the heraldic symbol under the torn jerkin. But Christopher could. It was the red Ragged Staff of Warwick. Turning away quickly, he ran as fast as he could, hoping the foul man would not suspect what he had seen.
Once he was safely away, he searched frantically for Simon. Asking several of Robin’s men if they had seen him, one finally pointed to a bundle underneath a coarse wool blanket near a clump of hawthorn bushes. Sitting as quietly as possible next to him, he nudged the sleeping figure with his elbow.
“Simon!” he hissed. “For God’s sake, wake up.”
Simon poked his head from under the blanket.
“Christopher? What in Heaven’s name…”
“Robin has betrayed us. We must get away from here tonight!”
Simon was now coming wide awake. He narrowed his eyes in hopes of seeing Christopher better in the dark, but it was futile as only a few nearby campfires gave any light at all.
“What are you saying?” he asked sternly.
“The captain and his soldiers are Warwick’s men, I saw the insignia on one of them. I tell you Robin has betrayed us to the Nevilles.”
The magnitude of this revelation was almost too much for Simon to understand. Warwick’s brother held the earldom of Northumberland, which Robin had claimed he fought to regain for the Percys. That was clearly a lie if he was accepting aid from Neville’s brother and had even turned the king over to him. Robin was fighting for the Nevilles, and not for the Percys. “You must be mistaken. He could not do that to us.”
“I tell you I saw it. And if you think about it, it’s the only explanation for Robin’s behavior. Besides, you saw those men fight. They’re trained fighting men, not commoners like us. I’d wager they’re from the earl’s personal guard.”
Simon reluctantly nodded his head. It was the only explanation for the odd events of the day. He pulled his meager belongings and the bits of booty that he had collected from the dead into a knapsack.
“Let’s get out of here before it gets light. You can use those damn eyes of yours to get us through the woods.”
*
Edward and his friends, Earl Rivers, Sir John Woodville, and Lord Herbert, were escorted to Warwick Castle the very next day. The earl’s men were anxious to deliver their prize without delay or incident, and when they crossed the drawbridge into the main court, it was hard even for Edward not to be impressed with the earl’s keep. One of the largest castles in the realm, Warwick Castle was built to intimidate. Impregnable walls towered over the moat with pinnacles that commanded unimpeded views for miles in every direction. The earl wanted to advertise not only his power but also his wealth, and the grounds of the castle were impeccably adorned with gardens and statues that gave one the impression that they had journeyed to ancient Babylon. As the king’s party and its escort entered the courtyard, Edward found the earl and Clarence waiting for them with several retainers. They all went to one knee. With a sideward glance at his traitorous brother, Edward addressed the earl.
“That knee bends stiffly, it seems to us, cousin of Warwick.”
“We are loyal subjects, Sire, and you know me to be an honorable man. But I could no longer brook the corruption of your royal person by the upstart members of the queen’s family, and we are determined to correct the wrongs that they have wrought upon the kingdom.”
Edward glared at Clarence. “Goes your heart with this as well, brother?” the last word spat like a curse.
“You should have allowed me my proper place in your court. I want only that which is mine by birthright.”
“You lost your birthright when you lost your honor to this man.”
“You shall see my worth,” said Clarence arrogantly. Edward turned again to Warwick.
“What are your intentions with us?”
“Your Highness will be my guest, and will be afforded every courtesy, I assure you. As for these men who have advised you so poorly, their lives shall pay the dearest price.”
“They are entitled to the king’s justice, cousin.”
“They have already been judged by those who are nobler by far.” With a nod to his captain, the prisoners were dragged from their horses and bound in a wagon. As the king looked on in horror, Rivers, Sir John, and Herbert were wheeled out toward the main gate. Edward spun on him.
“Where are you taking them?”
“To Coventry for execution. Their crimes demand no less, and the people must see that we have corrected their great wrongs.”
“This is a foul deed, Warwick, and there will be retribution, I swear before God in Heaven.”
Warwick signaled to the guards. “Take the king to his quarters.” When they were alone, he said to Clarence, “We have crossed our Rubicon, my lord, and there is no turning back now.”
“I have no desire to turn back, cousin. He has been rightfully served.”
Warwick did not even hear Clarence’s response, being lost in his own glory. Now I have imprisoned two kings, and I will not be denied.
*
Three hours later, Earl Rivers, his son John, and Lord Herbert were read the charges against them in the central market of Coventry, while a throng of thrill-seeking townsfolk looked on. These lords were not popular among the common people in the best of times, and now, as they were being prepared for death, the town took on a holiday atmosphere. The men’s unpopularity aside, there was always a certain satisfaction among the commoners to see such high and mighty lords contemplating their own death and making their final peace with God, for as miserable as a common man’s life may have been in comparison, at least they would see the light of another morning.
First Rivers, then Howard, then Sir John were led to the block and without ceremony relieved of their heads, each drawing slightly louder exclamations from the crowd. And when the excitement was over, the heads and bodies were thrown into the wagon, which slowly rolled out of town, children running alongside seeking one last glimpse of the unfortunate lords.
*
If Castle Colinsworth had been moved to Warwick, it would have fit into the central courtyard of the earl’s massive castle, a fact of which Lord Colinsworth was painfully aware. But now he had his prize and with it came hope for the future.
“She doesn’t seem so haughty now, does she, Sir Hugh?” They were standing together looking through the small barred window of a stone cell in which Sally and Kate were chained loosely to a wall. A small slit in the outside wall provided the only light to their prison.
“I have delivered as promised, my lord,” responded Sir Hugh, “and I will expect the considerations that we discussed.”
“And you shall have them, Sir Hugh. Rest assured.”
Sir Hugh did not need his assurances, knowing that this man would never dare to cross him. They left the dark chamber and ascended several flights of torchlit stairs until they came out into the great room, light streaming in from high windows along the ceiling. Sir Hugh made himself comfortable in a large chair.
“Now tell me of this news, my lord.”
Colinsworth sat in a straight-backed chair opposite the knight. He worried whether his success had come at too dear a price. “Good news, indeed,” said Colinsworth, clearing his mind. “It is sure that Warwick has taken the king prisoner and slaughtered his favorites. If we tender our services to the earl, we will surely be handsomely rewarded. It is a rare opportunity, especially since it is well known that Katherine’s father, Fitzwalter, has never been
a supporter of the House of York.”
“Indeed,” Sir Hugh said as if to himself, “he will need all the fighting men he can get.” Then, having made his decision, he spoke as if making an announcement. “Yes, I will offer my services to the earl. You will keep my prize here, and I will send for her when I’m ready, for I have special plans for the Miller’s daughter.”
Colinsworth nodded in agreement, not caring what became of Sally. It was Kate who held the key to his future, and indeed a letter had already been dispatched to her father, asking what his wishes were regarding his wayward daughter. But one thing was sure: He’d be damned if he let her get away again.
CHAPTER XXI
Samuel stared helplessly down one road, then another, desperation clouding his capacity to think. Oliver wiped the sweat from his forehead and frowned. It was possible, even probable, that they had already taken any one of a dozen wrong forks they had passed, rendering this decision meaningless.
“We may be headed farther away from them with every step, Samuel. I think it’s time we admitted to ourselves that we lost them.”
“Are you suggesting that we just quit?”
“Of course not. But this wandering around the countryside is worse than futile. We must try to find news of them.”
Samuel collapsed on a large rock by the side of the crossroads, pulling his bow from behind him as he sat.
“If only I’d only had my bow in Lincoln,” he said, fingering the bowstring lightly, “the women would be with us now and Sir Hugh would be in Hell where he belongs.”
“We probably would have attracted Sir Hugh’s attention long before we did, and in all likelihood it would be us who would be conversing with our maker.”
Now as the trail grew colder, Samuel wondered if the entire encounter in Lincoln had been for naught.
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