“I marvel that you would have so little control over members of the king’s personal guard, especially when he needs them all most urgently. What connection did they have with Sir Nigel?”
“They are well acquainted with Sir Nigel, and frequently kept his company, my lord,” he responded, stung by the rebuke.
“Then it is sure in my estimation that they departed together. I suggest that you find them all, or I’ll have them all declared traitors.”
“I will find them, my lord.” He had tried to warn Samuel that this could happen, and events may already have progressed beyond his ability to protect his young protégé. His only hope was to find them quickly.
*
Edward put his hand on the queen’s stomach. It was a wonder to him how a woman could carry such a burden within her womb and still lead an almost normal life. Of course, Elizabeth had a small army of doctors, handmaidens, and servants of all kinds to help her through her pregnancy, and she drove them all to distraction with her constant vile mood. Remembering similar problems during her first pregnancy, Edward had avoided his wife during the past few months, believing it was easier on both of them. It was the servants’ lot to take the abuse. The king’s evenings, on the other hand, were better spent in the company of the young maids that Hastings was able to supply. On this night, however, Edward felt a need to be with his wife.
“I have prepared the royal quarters in the Tower for your confinement, and I think that it would be best if you moved there at once,” Edward said, lying next to her in an elaborately carved bed hung with flowing silk drapes. From the windows of her chamber, the vast farmlands and isolated cottages stretched away on the south side of the river, distant thatched roofs glistening with moisture from a recent rain.
“How I detest that place,” Elizabeth said. “It reeks of…well, I know not what, but it’s horrible. And those filthy ravens that have the run of the place make my skin crawl. I really do not believe that it’s the best place for me to bear the future king of England, my love.”
“You know as well as I that it may be necessary for me to leave at any time, and the Tower will be the safest place for you.”
“I would be perfectly safe at Windsor Castle, and I would prefer to be there. You know that.”
“The city garrison wouldn’t be able to protect you there. The royal chambers are most comfortable at the Tower, you’ll see.”
Elizabeth could see that she was not going to prevail this time.
“There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”
Edward rolled over on his back and gazed out the window.
“It is only by God’s grace that I have kept the throne this long. I think we both know that. In my present state, I doubt that I could prevail against Warwick if he comes with any kind of power.”
“You are the anointed king. I refuse to believe that the noble houses will not give you the support that they have sworn to give before God.”
Edward smiled tenderly. “It is you, our daughter, and unborn child for whom I fear most. If it were only me, I’d struggle with the devil himself.”
“My husband,” she took his hands, “these fears will make you weak, and I will not have it said that I or my children helped to pull a king from his rightful place. It is that which you should fear, for as God is my witness, I shall do what I must to go on. What will happen is only God’s to know, and I would rather be ignorant of His plans than live my life in fear of them.” He smiled again and kissed her.
“You have always been my strength, Bess. From the first day I saw you in the woods with your children, I knew somehow that you would be the rock beneath my feet.” She pulled Edward tightly to herself, as if to unite them into one.
“Together we shall prevail, my love. I know it as sure as I know the sun rises in the morning.”
*
The next morning a post arrived from the Marquis of Montagu. Hastings brought the message to the king in the Jerusalem Chamber of the palace. Legend held that Henry IV, grandfather of poor Henry in the Tower, had died in this very chamber. The guilt of having usurped the throne enticed Henry to undertake a crusade to the holy land, and early in his uneasy reign, it had been foretold to Henry that he would die only in Jerusalem. Alas, the crown proved difficult to hold and rebellion dogged his days, making it impossible for him to leave England. When the sickness of death came upon him, he ordered that he be carried to the Jerusalem Chamber of the palace in order that the prophesy be fulfilled. Edward performed his business there to remind him always of the fate of kings.
Hastings was waiting when the king entered.
“Forgive me, Sire, but there is news of a new rebellion by the one who calls himself Robin of Redesdale. The Marquis of Montagu has sent sure intelligence.”
“What are their numbers?”
“Montagu estimates two thousand.”
Edward could not contain his anger. “We had presumed that we had heard the last from that traitor when we gave Percy back his earldom. Why has he been allowed to continue to threaten the peace?”
“As Your Highness knows, we’ve concentrated our troops around London. Until Warwick’s threat is extinguished, it will be difficult to bring these petty rebels to justice.”
“Send to Montagu and give him permission to levy an army against this fool of Redesdale. I will travel to York myself and meet him there, where we will finally put an end to this rebel. See to it quickly, William, as I do not wish to be away too long.”
“Sire, does your Highness think it prudent to leave London? I would be honored to carry your banner on this mission.”
Edward shook his head. “We cannot trust Montagu with an army, as I think he will be sorely tested with such power. If I am there with him, I can eliminate that danger. Go now, my friend, and make the necessary preparations, and together we’ll make quick work of the traitor.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
*
A fortnight later, Sir Nigel had entrusted the Millers into the care of a priest in a small village near Lincoln. They could not go immediately to York, since Colinsworth would surely seek them there. Nigel sent someone ahead to York to bring Emma and the children to their family. He hoped that their need for such caution would last for a short time only, as he planned to ask the king for aid against Colinsworth, and to return to Colinsworth for Samuel and Oliver, if they were still alive. In any case, he would bring Colinsworth to the king’s justice for his crimes.
Sir Nigel began his journey back toward London. The weather had turned colder on the morning that found him walking along the decaying old Roman road that led south. At midday, he found a large boulder within sight of the road near a small brook, from which he refreshed himself with a long drink. Settling on top of the boulder, he lowered his pack and took a few bites of dried venison.
He heard a cantering horse approaching and listened to confirm that the rider was coming from the south, then leaped from the rock and hid behind a group of holly shrubs watching as the horse and rider came into view. It was Ralph, one of his own scouts. Sir Nigel shouted and waved. Ralph drew his short sword the instant he saw the waving figure, and was ready to defend himself until he saw who it was. Sir Nigel was glad to see that at least his man knew the dangers of riding these roads alone. Ralph jumped from the saddle.
“Sir Nigel, you have saved me the difficult task of finding you! I was sent by Sir Julian to give you a most urgent message.”
“Then I’m pleased that I could make your task easier. Let’s hear this urgent message.”
“The king has summoned you to his presence, but Sir Julian requests that you meet with him first at the White Swan in St. Albans.”
“Is that all?” Sir Nigel’s expression did not betray his concern. He had left without the king’s permission, and he knew he would h
ave to answer for that.
“That is all I was asked to convey,” Ralph responded.
“Come. We’ll share your horse.”
Together, they rode straight to St. Albans, arriving an hour before sunset. The White Swan was located on the principal street through town and was always crowded with patrons who traveled to and from London, the town being located strategically a day’s walk from the capital. Leaving Ralph to tend to the horse, Sir Nigel entered into a cauldron of noise and bustling activity, dozens of patrons engaged in as many animated conversations and various games.
No one took any note of Sir Nigel’s arrival that he could tell. Taking a seat near the wall opposite the bar, he scanned the room without appearing to be too interested. He found another of his scouts sitting with a group of rowdy card players, their eyes meeting and silently acknowledging each other’s presence. There was no sign of Sir Julian.
Several logs were added to the fireplace and were reduced to shimmering coals before a man wearing the Sun-in-Splendor livery of the king’s personal guard entered. He joined Sir Nigel and waved for ale.
“I assume that Sir Julian sent you?” asked Nigel.
“He regrets that events have kept him away and offers his apology,” said the guardsman quietly. “Sir Julian asked that I inform you that the king himself is traveling north to York to put down a rebellion led by the one who calls himself Robin of Redesdale, and that you, Samuel, and Stanley have been missed from the ranks.”
“The king has led the army north himself?”
“Yes and we’re to join him forthwith at Doncaster.”
Sir Nigel took a drink and wondered why the king felt it necessary to travel north himself, unless he suspected that Montagu was behind the rebellion.
“Very well. Go and tell your master that I will arrive within the same hour as yourself.” The guardsman nodded, finished his drink, and left without further conversation.
Sir Nigel found Ralph waiting outside. “Get us two fresh horses from wherever you can and meet me here.” He walked across the cobbled street and waited by the side of a large oak, until his scout at last emerged from the Swan and joined him in the darkness.
“I saw no one follow you out,” he said softly. This was Jonathan, his most trusted and skilled follower. “It is provident that I find you here. This very evening I have received certain news that Warwick has landed at Plymouth.” Sir Nigel felt his skin crawl.
“This rebellion that has drawn the king north is too perfectly timed with Warwick’s landing to be a coincidence, and I fear…” He had to think. “What does the earl bring with him?”
“The complement of sixty ships, the Duke of Clarence, the Earl of Oxford, and Lord Roos. A storm has scattered the English fleet that was guarding against his crossing, and his friends in Kent have already rallied to his side.”
“Take the north road to Pontefract, my friend, as quickly as you can and bring me word of any dangers there. I’ll ride to Doncaster this night and warn the king myself.” Jonathan disappeared into the night without another word. Sir Nigel prayed that his suspicions were unfounded.
*
The dungeon of Colinsworth Castle was somewhere beneath the walls of the barbican tower. In suffocating blackness, Samuel and Oliver were chained to an unseen wall, the dripping condensation chilling them to the bone. They had no idea how long it had been since they had been imprisoned, but they had been given no water nor food. Samuel’s legs no longer possessed the strength to support him, and blood trickled down his arms from his cut and chafing wrists.
“Oliver, where are you?” Even the act of speaking was painful.
“I am here, my friend.”
“Damn you, Oliver, now I have caused your death as well.”
There was no response. Samuel tried to moisten his lips.
“You shouldn’t have come back. We all die alone anyway.”
Sounds came from somewhere. At first, Samuel was not sure if they were real or imagined, but then he saw a flicker of light and heard heavy footsteps on stone. Three men holding torches unlocked the iron grate between the dungeon and the spiral steps beyond. The first two placed their torches in mounting brackets on either side of the room, shedding light on the dreary place for the first time since their imprisonment. Samuel saw where Oliver hung on the adjacent wall, his face pale as death. The third man brought his torch to Samuel’s face and stood within a few inches. Squinting against the light, Samuel saw the hideous scar that ruined the side of Sir Hugh’s face and closed his eyes, knowing that the devil himself had come to call.
“We meet once again, my young tormentor,” Sir Hugh said almost pleasantly, bringing his face even closer. “Unfortunately, I haven’t much time to stay and get better acquainted, so if you will tell me the whereabouts of the girl you call Kate, I’ll be on my way.” Samuel twisted in terror. Kate was still hunted by this foul man. What had she done to bring this wrath upon herself?
“I have no knowledge of where she is,” he said, his mouth as dry as sand. He took comfort in knowing that the truth would make it impossible for him to betray her.
“Then you can tell me the names of the others who were with you.” Sir Hugh motioned to one of the other men, who ripped Samuel’s shirt away and pulled a short leather whip from his belt. “You can stop my assistant anytime you wish by divulging the information.” The first stroke fell across his chest, so shockingly painful that it took a moment for Samuel to think clearly again. Each new stroke came only after the pain of the previous one was allowed to fully mature. After five blows, Sir Hugh signaled a pause.
“Is she worth your life, dog?” When the question brought no response, more blows fell, but each new shock of agony only took him closer to unconsciousness. Oliver begged them to stop.
Sir Hugh signaled for his henchman to stand aside. He pulled Samuel’s head up by the hair, saw no signs of understanding in his face, and dropped it roughly.
“Force some food and water into both of them. I want them alive.”
*
Sir Nigel was recognized and allowed to pass. When he entered town he found Sir Julian guarding the entrance to the king’s temporary residence in Doncaster.
“I thank God to see you safe,” Sir Julian greeted him. “But I think the king will not be as pleased as I.”
“He will have greater problems to deal with, I’m afraid. Warwick has landed and has already begun to gather a following.”
Sir Julian was shaken.
“We must return to London before it’s too late! I’ll begin the preparations now.”
“Good,” agreed Sir Nigel. “When will you inform the king?”
“I’ll wake Lord Hastings now and leave that to him.” The old knight ran into the house where the royal party was sleeping. Moments later, a rider arrived.
“You are, I think, Sir Nigel of Devon?”
“I am.”
“A man unknown to me was apprehended attempting to enter town, saying that he had urgent news for you. He gave me this button to show you.” It was a brass button with Sir Nigel’s family crest embossed in its center.
“Bring me to him immediately.” He was led to a tent on the north side of town where two guards stood sentry by the flap. Inside, Jonathan paced impatiently.
“Nigel, for God’s sake, the king must flee. They are only hours away as we speak!” Nigel could not understand why Jonathan had returned so quickly.
“Who? Who is only hours away?”
“Montagu, the wretched traitor! With an army of thousands.”
“Is this confirmed? How can you be sure he doesn’t bring them for the king?”
“Members of his army who refused to follow Montagu when he made his intentions known broke away and sent messengers ahead. I tell you there is no question.”
> “Leave this place, my friend. May God grant we meet again some day.” Sir Nigel sped from the tent and galloped back to the house where the king’s party slept. “Raise the house! You in there, call the king and stand ready.” Guardsmen came streaming out with swords drawn. Sir Julian, Earl Rivers, and Hastings followed a moment later.
“My lord,” he addressed Hastings, “treacherous Montagu lies nearby with an army that he will use to take the king. We must leave here at once.”
“Sir Nigel,” Hastings was frightened and angry, “where have you been?”
“It does not matter,” interrupted Edward, stepping from the house.
“I regret that there is worse, Sire. The Earl of Warwick has invaded your realm and marches on London at this very moment.”
Edward knew when a battle could not be won, but he did not show his despair in front of his men.
“What do you suggest, William? Are we to spend the rest of our days as a pawn of the haughty Earl of Warwick?”
The Duke of Gloucester, who had just joined them, answered instead.
“Sire, I have heard the news, and I beseech you to flee. We will live to fight again.”
Edward smiled at his young brother, and hoped that he would see the day that he could prove his valor.
“Sire, I must agree,” said Hastings. “It vexes my very soul to run from a fight, but my lord of Gloucester has spoken well. The Duke of Burgundy will surely give Your Highness aid.”
Edward thought of Elizabeth, the princess, and his unborn child. Would they be safe? If he stayed and fought such a hopeless battle against far superior odds, he would only waste the lives of these noble subjects and those of his army. Elizabeth had sought sanctuary before when Warwick imprisoned him. Now she would have to be brave again.
“Very well then. We shall leave our realm, and God save Warwick if ever we meet again.”
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