“We’ll continue to the south,” he said with new conviction, “and begin inquiries of every villager and farmer we see. He could not have vanished.” Oliver offered him a hand up, and together they set off to the south.
Two days later, they found themselves speaking with a sheep herder who swore he saw such a scarred man riding toward Coventry, but he was certain that he rode alone.
“Are you certain that you didn’t see other riders, perhaps with two women, coming shortly after?”
“There’s no chance of that,” the herder said. “I was walking the animals along the road when he passed. He almost trampled one of the sheep.” They were crestfallen. If Sir Hugh had left the women with someone else, they would be difficult to find indeed.
“One more question, and we’ll thank you for your time,” said Samuel. “What is this place here on the hill?” He referred to a small castle that appeared to be poorly kept, wondering if Sir Hugh could have hidden the women there.
“That is Colinsworth Castle,” the herder said as he gathered some wayward sheep and continued his journey down the road.
“Do you suppose we should inquire of the castle?” asked Samuel.
“Why? We have our first solid information since Lincoln: We know that Sir Hugh is headed for Coventry. Let’s resume the search there.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” he said at last. “Let’s head for Coventry as quickly as we can.” He adjusted his bow across his back. “And this time he’ll find us a more deadly foe,” he added darkly.
Hours later, as the last light of day vanished, they found a small rock outcropping not far from the road that would make an ideal place to spend the night where they could not be seen. Samuel had agreed to stand the first watch, and Oliver had quickly fallen to sleep. Sitting in a wedge between two large boulders, Samuel had a good view of the road, and a full moon gave him plenty of light. But he had not realized how exhausted he was, and after only a short while he fell asleep as well.
Knowing within himself that something was wrong, he snapped awake at the sound of soft voices close by. Heart pounding, he cursed himself for falling asleep. Remaining perfectly quiet, he craned his neck to see if he could discern from where the voices had come, and to his chagrin he saw two dark shapes not more than a few paces from where he lay. His bow was at his elbow but the quiver was just out of reach behind him, and it would have been difficult to reach them without alerting the interlopers. Oliver snored, and Samuel’s heart sank.
“There! Did you hear it?” one of the intruders whispered. Samuel watched as they separated, each one sneaking around opposite sides of the outcropping. As they closed on where Oliver was sleeping, Samuel knew that once again he had to make a desperate move to save his friend. Lifting himself as quietly as he could to his feet, he picked the stranger on his right and waited until he was within a couple of feet.
“Oliver, wake up!” he yelled as he flew at the dark shape and crunched against the man with all his weight. Together they sprawled on the ground, Samuel landing blows as often as he could.
“Nigel! Help!” his victim yelled, trying to shield his face from Samuel’s relentless fists.
Astonished, Samuel recognized that voice and froze. The other man shouted from across the fire pit.
“If you value your friend’s life, stop and get off him!”
“Nigel,” Stanley called out, beginning to laugh, “it’s all right. It’s Samuel.”
“Nigel?” Samuel was stunned. “Nigel of Devon?”
“Yes, lad, it’s me. I thought Sir Julian would have taught you better than to let us sneak up on you.” Nigel helped Oliver to his feet. “Sorry to have frightened you, Oliver.”
“How in God’s name did you find us?” Samuel helped Stanley up.
“Let’s light a fire and we’ll catch up,” said Nigel. “There’s much to tell that you must know. These are evil times and we need your help.”
They gathered some dry wood and lit a small fire, warming themselves by its meager flames. He saw Stanley’s face, and felt horrible that he had raised several welts. One eye was almost swollen closed.
“I’m sorry, Stanley, that I beat you so,” said Samuel, “but you took me by surprise, and we have good cause to be jumpy.”
“We must press our business,” Nigel interrupted. “The kingdom is in evil hands, and the time to act is now.” Detailing the battle at Edgecott, Nigel relayed the events that led to the capture of the king.
“One thing is certain, then,” said Oliver after Nigel finished, “we will no longer be served by the king’s colors on your back.”
“That’s clear enough,” added Stanley. “I’ve already disposed of mine.”
“Tell me,” asked Samuel after a moment, “how did you come to find us?”
“I make it my business to be able to find people,” said Nigel, “and you were really not that difficult to track.” He added a small branch to invigorate the fire. “I had heard of the king’s need for men and responded as quickly as I could, but on the road to Edgecott, I met with Sir Julian, who had escaped the carnage.”
“Thank God for that,” Samuel breathed a sigh of relief.
“There being nothing that we could do at that point,” continued Nigel, “Sir Julian asked me to help you. He’s quite concerned for your safety, and Stanley asked to join me. So we journeyed to York and heard from your sister what had happened.”
“Is she well?” Samuel asked.
“Well enough for a woman with great responsibilities and no help to dispatch them.”
“Then Christopher was still not back?”
“She was alone. It was easy enough to follow your path after that. Everyone remembered the man with the scar and the men who inquired after him. I was afraid that you had met your end in Lincoln, but many remembered two men still making inquiries on the road south of town.”
“And I have a bloody face to show for my effort,” added Stanley.
“I’m glad you’re both here,” said Samuel, putting his hand on Stanley’s shoulder. “We need all the help we can get to find the women.”
“I haven’t told you the rest,” said Nigel. “I just heard from my scouts that Sir Hugh has joined Warwick, and he is there now as we speak.”
“But we know that the women are not with him,” Oliver spoke for the first time.
“That may be true, my young friend, but there is only one way we’ll find out where they are, and that’s by hanging the cur by his feet and beating it out of him. And the only way we’re going to get our hands on him is by joining with Sir Julian and the rest of the guard and waiting for our chance to rescue the king, which will be soon. I have it on excellent authority that Warwick will move the king to Middleham Castle soon, knowing that its remote location will be more secure. If he succeeds in bringing the king there, we’ll not see him again, I’m sure of that.”
“It seems we have little choice, once again.”
“I promise you, Samuel, that once the king is safe, I’ll lend you all the assistance that I can for finding your family, and bringing Sir Hugh to answer for his crimes.”
In the firelight, Samuel’s eyes found Oliver’s, who nodded his assent. They could only pray that the quest to save the king from Warwick would somehow help them find their women.
*
“It cannot be!” Elizabeth flung a crystal vase against the oak door, where it exploded into a thousand tiny shards. The queen buried her face in her hands, too hysterical to be consoled. Her mother, normally a tower of strength, sat by the fireless hearth, staring into space. Anthony, Lord Scales, who had brought the bloody news to his mother and sister, stood quietly by the leaded windows, engulfed by hatred, but feeling utterly impotent to do anything. He could not find words to console his family; he stood staring at the vast gardens
that stretched away from Windsor Castle, clenching his fists.
The duchess had lost a husband once before, but it had not been nearly as painful because the duke had died by nature’s course. This, this…murder of her beloved Rivers and her son, at the hands of Warwick, could never be forgiven.
Finally, she straightened her back, wiped her cheeks with her napkin, and stood with dignity. Crossing the room to where Elizabeth still lay in a heap on the carpet, she motioned for Anthony to help her, and together they lifted the queen into a chair. Sitting next to her, the duchess stroked her hair.
“We must have faith that those who have so wronged us and the king will learn the same lesson that has come so painfully to us, and we must be comforted by that.” Elizabeth was still buried in her napkin. “Now we must protect ourselves from further insult, and take sanctuary at the abbey in Westminster. We’ll be safe enough there.”
Anthony was furious. “Run and hide from the man that butchered my father? I’ll not do it!”
The duchess slapped him across the face.
“Control yourself,” she said firmly. “You are Earl Rivers now, and the Nevilles will not hesitate to take your head as well. We have no friends for the moment who will protect us, and you will not martyr yourself for foolish pride. Look at the queen. Would you have her mourn your death as well?” Anthony could only pace. It was true that he could count on only a few of the noble houses to support him, and even they, with the weakness of his position so obvious, would likely refuse any overt aid.
“What will become of us now?” asked Elizabeth between sobs. “How could this happen? Everything was going so well.”
“Perhaps the strength that you sought was best achieved through other means,” said her mother. “But these are questions that are better asked in a different place and time. Go,” she said to Anthony, “and make arrangements for our swift journey to the sanctuary. We will gather the children and whatever we need to sustain ourselves until fate has shown us a better way.”
*
In the great hall of Warwick Castle, the earl and his brother George, the Archbishop of York, sat at a long table eating the evening supper. The main offering that night was a whole suckling pig surrounded by countless other dishes containing fowl, meat pies, fresh cod and herring, and fruit dishes with apples and peaches from the castle orchard. Warwick still had an ample supply of wine from Bordeaux, which was getting harder to find. The archbishop spoke through a mouthful of bread.
“I wonder that we haven’t heard from our brother John since we put the king under our control. I pray every night that he will relent and join with us.”
“I have already heard from him,” Warwick said casually.
“And you felt no need to inform me? What was his disposition?” George looked at him sharply.
Warwick shrugged his shoulders. “He will not join with us, you can be assured of that. As I feared, he’s grown quite comfortable with his new earldom and even went so far as to call our actions dishonorable. This is my thanks for maintaining good government.”
“He would make a formidable foe, and we must not divide our family. The scriptures warn against such folly, and for good reason.”
“If he had any inclination to move against us, he would have done so by now. No, rest assured that he will not interfere, and, unlike poor Edward, he knows where his loyalties should lie.” A page entered the room and crossed over to whisper in Warwick’s ear. The earl nodded and he left. “It seems that the nobility is flocking to our banner. The smell of power attracts them from all over the kingdom.”
“It should not come as a surprise to you that such people wish to protect themselves from another power shift. Lesser men will always seek to find advantage where the powerful have fallen. It is a lesson that should not be lost on us, Richard.”
“I am the greatest power in this land. When men follow me, they can expect great rewards and little risk of failure.”
The archbishop took a long drink of wine.
“I only ask that you not underestimate the weakness of your position, and to remember that fate has the constant characteristic of being unpredictable.”
The door swung open and two men stepped in. As they approached, the earl and the archbishop stood to greet them.
“Lord Fitzwalter, you are most welcome to Warwick!”
“I thank you, my lord, and hope that I may show my gratitude with service to your righteous cause.”
“Your service would do me honor. And you are welcome as well, Sir Hugh. I have heard much of your prowess on the field of battle, and of your service to the Cliffords. It is far better to have you on our side of this brave struggle that we have undertaken for the sake of our realm.” Sir Hugh bowed his head in acknowledgment.
“My past service to the Cliffords was honorably dispatched, and I pledge the same to you, my lord, if you are so inclined.”
“I am indeed,” said Warwick.
“May God be with you, Your Grace,” said Fitzwalter to the archbishop, who extended his ring for them both to kiss.
“And with both of you, my sons,” he said. “I trust that your journey here was without incident.”
Warwick, impatient with the formalities, interrupted.
“Sir Hugh, I have a task of ponderous importance for your first service, and your reputation gives me the greatest confidence that you are the one to undertake it.”
“You have only to require it, my lord.”
“Good. You shall know of it shortly. Lord Fitzwalter, how many of your men may we expect to help in our cause?”
“Within a fortnight, I can muster a thousand men-at-arms and archers; perhaps more, given additional time.”
“Excellent. It may be that we do not need them, but prudence dictates that we prepare ourselves. You must both be tired. You may avail yourselves of any service that I can provide, and I will summon you when the time is at hand.” They both bowed their heads and left. Warwick and his brother reseated themselves and continued their supper.
“These former pillars of the House of Lancaster do not sit well in my gut,” offered the archbishop.
“Nor in mine, but it’s best that we take advantage of the help until it’s safe to discard them for more savory friends.” He pulled a piece of meat from the pig.
“If the news were better from Northumberland, we would not need them at all,” his brother said. “Perhaps I will journey north and plead with our brother to at least lend us some of his considerable resources.”
“You can do so if you wish, but I can tell you now that he will not. He’s as headstrong as a mule and I know that it would take more than gentle persuasion to alter his thinking.” He filled his mouth with meat and drained his pewter chalice of its contents.
“Still,” mused the archbishop, “it may be worth the effort.”
“Perhaps,” Warwick shrugged his shoulders. “You can accompany the king to Middleham. That way you’ll have a suitable escort. These are not good times to be out on the roads alone.”
George nodded. The events of the last weeks had contributed in no small way to the general lawlessness that prevailed in the kingdom, and the archbishop could not help but wonder what chain of events they had set in motion.
“What is it you hope to achieve now, my brother? Surely you won’t place that fool Clarence on the throne in his brother’s stead?” Warwick smiled.
“It is still a possibility. As long as he thinks that he may be king some day, he will support my cause. In the meantime, I will take the reigns of government in my own hands until we can be assured that we have a cooperative king. Edward will still sign the proclamations and royal orders, but he will do so at my will.”
“How can you be sure that he’ll cooperate?”
“His brother Clarence will assure me
of that. Edward knows that if he dies his brother will take the throne, a brother whom he knows will do my bidding.”
“A precarious situation, playing the brothers against each other.”
Warwick sat back in his chair. Precarious indeed, he thought, but he could see no other alternative.
Elsewhere in Warwick castle, in one of the dozens of elaborate guest rooms, Lord Fitzwalter regarded the man with the hideous scar with revulsion that he made little attempt to conceal. Sir Hugh patiently waited for his lordship to speak his mind, thinking to himself what a small man Fitzwalter appeared to be when compared to the mighty earl whose company they had just shared. He was delighted to be once again in the service of one of the great lords, from whom great rewards could be gained.
“I have just received a communication from Lord Colinsworth confirming your news. I trust that my Katherine is safe and unharmed?”
“She is, my lord,” responded Sir Hugh.
“And I presume that you have the letter in your possession?”
“She did not have it on her person or in her belongings when we found her in York.” Fitzwalter looked sharply at him.
“Your search was thorough?”
“She did not have it, my lord.” The response was terse.
“Then she has entrusted it to someone. Who has she been with? Your instructions were to watch her closely before taking her, to prevent exactly this eventuality.”
“We searched the man that she was…with, my lord,” he was now openly angry, “and it was not among his possessions either.”
“Tell me of this man.”
“When she left Durham, she was in the company of a soldier who was once employed in Northumberland’s guard, but deserted at Wakefield. I was sent to apprehend him, and did so, but he escaped my guard when we were ambushed north of Pontefract. Somehow he managed to make his services available to the king, and has been out of my reach since then, but I assure you that under the current circumstances, he will be mine again before long.”
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