“Sire,” he panted, “Margaret lies only an hour’s ride from here. She has established her lines in the field before the town of Tewkesbury.”
“We are well acquainted with the area, William. Ludlow is not far from there. Edmund and I spent many happy hours of our youth near those fields.” For a moment he allowed himself to remember, but the moment passed quickly. “So be it, then. Tewkesbury shall be the place where the final chapter of this struggle is written. Inform our brothers that we shall spend the night where we see the lights of their fires, and God grant that it be not our last.”
*
That night, the armies camped near the abbey at Tewkesbury, two lines of fires separated by a dark abyss. Samuel and his friends watched a tent from a nearby thicket of holly. They had not moved since the early morning hours when they had seen Kate brought there, and if the angels of hell had arrived to summon him, Samuel would not have budged. Earlier they had watched as the queen’s army set up camp. Sir Hugh’s Black Stallion banner flew over the small group of tents, and his heart leaped when he saw Kate brought in, so tantalizingly close. They found the thicket and waited. Sir Hugh himself had entered an adjacent tent some hours before.
Now it was time, and Sir Julian signaled for them to nock their arrows. Sunrise would be upon them shortly, and the birds had begun their musical welcome to the new day. There were four tents within range, but only two with sentries, Kate’s and Sir Hugh’s. Looking behind to assure themselves that no patrols were near, they formed a line behind the bushes and placed their arrows on the ground before them. The first priority was to keep the guards away from Kate, and one of the sentries before her tent was Samuel’s first target. Taking a deep breath, he let an arrow fly and watched as it completed its short journey by penetrating the belly of the closest guard. The guard beside him saw his companion fall but took a second to fully comprehend what had happened, a second that cost him his life as well, as another arrow came out of the dark and passed cleanly through his throat.
The other guards were running for cover and raising the alarm. Samuel hoped to draw Sir Hugh from his tent, where he would quickly end his detested life. At the first sounds, he did emerge to check the alarm. Other guards who did not know where the arrows were coming from ran in different directions, but were cut down as they came into range. Seeing Sir Hugh in the open before his tent, Samuel was ready and brought him within his sights. But Sir Hugh saw the dead guards before Kate’s tent, and he jumped back inside as an arrow sailed through the space he had just vacated. Screaming orders from within, he yelled to his men to get reinforcements.
Watching the arrow fall harmlessly that had been intended to send Sir Hugh to Hell, Samuel cursed and nocked another. A soldier made the mistake of attempting to reach a nearby tent for cover, and was dead before he made it halfway. But now men arriving from the other parts of the camp were beginning to return fire. Arrows landed within yards of their position as Sir Hugh’s men advanced, and Sir Julian yelled for them to pull back. Their position was no longer tenable.
Unexpectedly, trumpets sounded from a distance, leaving Samuel to wonder how news of this little skirmish could raise such a reaction so quickly. They grabbed the remaining arrows on the ground and darted toward the trees to the left. The first glow of the morning was now visible, and a guard spotted them, turned, and called for help. At the first tree he reached, Samuel spun and spent another arrow, piercing the guard through the stomach. The plan was to double back to the camp after dealing with the pursuers and rescue Kate.
“Julian!” yelled Sir Nigel, “take Samuel and go back. We’ll hold them here as long as we can.” Not waiting for a reply, he pulled Stanley away from the others.
After circling behind the approaching guards, Samuel and Sir Julian arrived back at Sir Hugh’s tent. Samuel’s heart sank when he saw that a horse with Sir Hugh and Kate leapt toward town. There was no hope of an arrowshot stopping Sir Hugh, shielded as he was by Kate. Samuel could only scream her name.
Hearing that, both Sir Hugh and Kate looked back. Kate yelled for Samuel, astonished to see him still alive, when Sir Hugh spurred his horse to a gallop and they disappeared over a low knoll.
*
At the first hint of light, Edward had ordered his army into action and they fell on Margaret’s position with the passion of their king to firm their resolve. Gloucester led the first charge against the center, commanded by Lord Roos, and the two fought to a standstill. Meanwhile, Edward had to respond to a flanking action directed by the Prince of Wales, whose army drove the Yorkists back to their starting point before the battle had begun.
Edward shored up his line by committing his reserves to that side, hoping that Gloucester could hold the center without any additional men. If his brother failed, all would be lost. His gamble was working for the moment, though.
The ground had been saturated by the rains that had drenched the earth for the past several days, causing the mud to cling to them. The conditions made rapid troop mobilizations impossible for both sides, but Edward was most disadvantaged because he’d committed his reserves early.
When the time was ripe, Edward ordered a careful retreat, and his left wing drew the Prince’s forces further toward them, until Edward signaled for the trumpets to be sounded once again. Out from the wooded park further to his left several hundred men with spears commanded by Hastings and Clarence fell on the prince’s flank. It was an old trick, but perhaps due to his inexperience the prince had fallen into it, and in a very short time, his men were broken and fleeing toward town.
*
Samuel and his friends arrived at a small hilltop in time to see Sir Hugh ride with Kate through a party of Lancastrians who were guarding the entrance to the Tewkesbury Abbey. They watched as the horse disappeared into the abbey, and Samuel knew that they would not be a match for the troops that stood between him and Kate.
“There must be another way in there,” he shouted desperately.
The sounds of battle grew louder from the left. A force of Yorkists found the Lancastrian guards and fell upon them fiercely.
“Come on,” yelled Sir Julian, “now we’ll have a fighting chance.”
They ran down the hill, joining the other Yorkists in the fray, protecting each other’s backs like a small, separate army in the middle of the brawl, slowly making their way toward the abbey grounds. At the low wall that surrounded the abbey, Sir Julian signaled them to disengage and climb over.
Sir Nigel and Stanley went first, then Samuel, who turned to help Sir Julian, whose old body was not as spry as it once was. Reaching for his hand, Samuel heard him grunt in pain. The knight fell toward him, a dead weight in his arms, and both tumbled to the ground on the abbey side of the wall.
Samuel pulled himself to his knees and tried to pull the knight up, but Sir Julian did not respond. Releasing him, he saw that his hands were covered with blood.
“No!” he shouted, trying to find the wound. Able to lift one shoulder, he saw the deep gash in his back. Panic constricted his breathing. Sir Nigel and Stanley, startled by Samuel’s cry, rushed back to help, and together they lifted Sir Julian to a sitting position. He clenched his teeth against the pain.
“Please, Sir Julian, get up.” pleaded Samuel. “We can’t stay here.” The old knight used his last strength to clutch Samuel’s arm.
“Go,” he whispered, barely audible, “find Kate, and…be content.” Blood flowed from his mouth and his last words mingled with the sounds of clashing swords still coming from across the wall. They lowered Sir Julian gently to the ground and for the second time in his young life, Samuel wept for the loss of a kind and gentle father.
Sir Nigel took him by the shoulders.
“He gave his life for us and we will grieve for him when Kate is safe,” he said, urging him toward the abbey.
Samuel nodded. They had to find Kate, for his o
ld mentor’s sake as well as his own. He put his mouth to Sir Julian’s ear.
“Sleep with the angels, my lord. I know you will be great among them.” He placed Sir Julian’s sword on his body, wiped the tears from his cheeks, and ran with the others into the abbey.
They entered a small door that led to the cloister and were greeted by an angry monk who blocked their way.
“Will you bring weapons into the house of the Lord? Leave here at once!”
Sir Nigel pushed him roughly aside.
“I am truly sorry, brother, but the devil himself hides within these walls, and we intend to find him.”
“It would be better to hide your own souls from the Dark One!” he shouted as they brushed passed.
They entered into the colonnaded cloister, where Sir Nigel turned to his companions.
“It will be more dangerous, but we will find them faster if we separate. I’ll check the private quarters, Samuel the church, and Stanley the rest of the cloister. Shout as loud as you can if you find them. Go.” He had given himself the private quarters knowing that the queen herself was within these walls. He hoped that Sir Hugh was with her.
Meanwhile, it took Samuel only a short time to find the church. As large as any he had ever seen, it was lit only by the small windows in the clerestory above and the numerous candles burning around the central choir. There was a single woman in the pews facing the main altar, deep in private devotions, and several guards watching the main entrance to the rear.
“Let me go!” He heard a voice coming from the rear of the choir. He slipped behind the huge columns on the left side of the church and walked quietly around the outside the choir. There were no further sounds as he came to the back of the church and saw no one. Staying close to the wall, he continued around the back of the choir until he came to a short wall that blocked his view of the right side of the church. Carefully, he peered around it. There on a marble bench along the outside wall lay Kate, who struggled violently against the ropes that held her arms behind her back.
“Kate!” he yelled as he dashed toward her. But he never arrived. A blow from behind sent him sprawling across the floor into the back wall of the choir. Reeling and gasping for air, he tried to regain his feet, but before his limbs responded, large hands pulled him off the ground and crushed him against a stone wall. Barely able to focus, he saw Sir Hugh, face white with rage, the hideous scar crimson in contrast.
“Once again we meet, my friend,” he hissed. “But I assure you that it will be the last time in this life.” Another blow to the side of his head sent Samuel into unconsciousness.
*
When the prince’s army broke and fled, the outcome of the battle of Tewkesbury was decided. A few minutes later the center of the queen’s line was also in full retreat. Clarence saw the prince’s colors withdrawing toward the abbey and yelled for his men to follow, knowing that he was the greatest prize. They overtook the prince trying to cross a small brook just yards short of the abbey grounds.
“Yield, pretender,” Clarence shouted as his men swarmed around the prince, killing his guards, “and submit to the mercy of your lawful king!”
Dragged before the duke, he was forced to his knees.
“False and treacherous Clarence. My king, and yours as well, is Henry of Lancaster. Bend your knee to me and I will speak to the queen on your behalf.”
“Are you still so bold, though God has decided against you on this glorious day?”
“You have prevailed only by means of treachery and deceit. I will not submit to such a judgment.”
Clarence nodded to a soldier.
“Then you may discuss it with Him forthwith.” The soldier ran his sword through the young prince’s back and withdrew it roughly. The boy dropped to the ground, the others watching as his life seeped away. “Bear him to the king,” said Clarence imperiously, “and show him that the hope of Lancaster is dead.” They lifted the body onto a horse, and set off to find the king.
*
Samuel regained consciousness with a start. His hands were bound behind his back and he was sitting in a pew before the altar. Sir Hugh was speaking with the woman whom he had first noticed in devotions when he entered. Kate was bound next to him.
“Kate,” he whispered softly. She was in tears.
“I am sorry, my love. I should have told you the whole truth from the start. I thought to shelter you but instead I brought death to you all.” Samuel wanted to hold her in his arms but could only lean toward her.
“Don’t blame yourself, Kate. There was no way you could have known.”
“If you only knew how I suffered when I thought you were dead.”
“And you were right, my dear, only just a bit premature.” Sir Hugh had seen that Samuel was conscious. “I am pleased that you are not yet dead, however, my young friend,” he growled at Samuel, “for we still may have some use for you.”
“Yes, we may still need to assure that our dear Katherine has not been false with us.” Margaret came from behind Sir Hugh.
The main entrance of the church behind them swung open, and several men entered. They were led by Lord Fitzwalter, looking tired and bloodied from several wounds.
“Majesty, our cause is lost. Your army has scattered and Edward has ordered your arrest.”
Margaret grabbed his blood-soaked collar. “My son. What has become of my son?” she cried.
“I have no certain knowledge of his fate, my lady, but I heard that he was taken before he could flee the field.” She released him and fell to her knees before the altar, praying desperately.
“Then we have no further need for these two.” Sir Hugh drew his sword and stood before Samuel and Katherine, waiting for affirmation from Margaret. Locked in prayer with her eyes tightly shut, she ignored him, which he took for permission to proceed. He raised his sword above Samuel, who waited for the death stroke, wishing that he could have embraced Kate one last time. At least he would die knowing that Edward had prevailed. The clang of iron on iron caused his eyes to snap open.
Lord Fitzwalter had beaten Sir Hugh’s sword aside with his own.
“You will not harm my daughter!” he said angrily. Sir Hugh turned on him and they fell violently together. Fitzwalter was already exhausted from the battle and gave ground quickly, until he was pinned against one of the huge columns that supported the clerestory above. Sir Hugh used his savage strength to beat the sword from Fitzwalter’s hand, then decapitated him with the next stroke.
From where she watched helplessly, Kate screamed hysterically as her father fell at the foot of the column. Sir Hugh walked slowly back to Samuel, bloody sword at the ready.
“No more reprieves,” he growled. Samuel glared at him one more time, ready to spit his last defiance, when Sir Hugh jerked backward, then fell forward, an arrow buried deep between his shoulder blades.
Stanley dropped his bow and ran to protect Samuel against the queen’s guards, who were approaching to defend her. Sir Nigel joined him.
But before the first blows could be landed, the main doors crashed open once again and Hastings stormed in with several soldiers.
“In the name of the king, yield up your arms,” he said loudly. The queen’s guards complied immediately, knowing their cause was lost.
Stanley pushed Sir Hugh’s body over with his foot and saw that for the first time, his repulsive scar appeared as white as the rest of his face.
“I marvel that his blood is red like ours.”
Sir Nigel prodded him forward. “Untie them, boy!” Which he did. Hands finally free, Samuel took Kate in his arms and they held each other tightly.
Hastings approached Margaret.
“My lady, you must come with me to the king.”
“This is a place of holy worship,” she glared at him, “and we
have been granted sanctuary by the abbot. You disturb our meditations at the risk of your soul.”
“These are matters for those greater than I. Now you must come with me to the king.” Signaling his men, they stood on either side of her. Finally, she slowly stood, still every part of her a queen, and followed them out. “Sir Nigel, you will answer to the king as well.”
“I expected that I would,” he said. Helping Samuel and Kate up, they were all escorted out to the front, where King Edward sat on his horse, flanked by Gloucester and Clarence. Father Dennis and the abbot stood before them. The abbot was indignant.
“Your Majesty, the sanctity of this Holy place has already been grievously violated. You risk the damnation of all those present if you proceed with this rash behavior!” He included the king’s men to make it clear that their souls were in peril as well.
“Sire,” said Father Dennis, “the abbot’s position is supported by canonical law. You must stop these proceedings.”
Edward became angrier by the moment. In the past year, he had been driven from his throne and forced to debase himself before foreign leaders for their reluctant assistance. The struggle had cost him the lives of his father and of Edmund, his beloved childhood companion, whose death had left a rift in his heart that could never be healed. All of his misery could be laid on the head of the woman who now stood before him with no sign of remorse.
“Remove the abbot and Father Dennis from our presence, so they shall remain blameless in the eyes of God,” he said harshly. “But Margaret shall not have sanctuary.”
“It will only add to your growing burden of sin,” replied Margaret. She knew that it would be unlikely for Edward to have her executed, and as long as she had her life she would defy the Yorkists to the last. Edward clenched his jaw in anger.
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