by Diana Rubino
The army set up their positions overlooking the valley and waited. Finally, Clifford came into sight and thrust his elaborate standard into the soil on the other side of the valley. His column marched no farther, but rather began to form its own positions across the valley on the high ground there.
Vogts noticed Clifford's men wheeling cannon into position as all three battalions formed a line abreast, the same formation he had chosen. He cursed out loud and turned to Topaz and Bridgeman. He stomped over to where they were sitting partaking of their evening meal in the trench that had been dug for them.
"He's setting up artillery! We have none. 'Twould be suicide for us to attack now."
"Aye." Both nodded.
"So let's sit tight. Let him come to us."
Army faced army over the valley, neither wanting to move to an inferior position, each waiting for the other. It looked like an impossible stalemate, but Topaz knew time was on Henry's side. If they just sat like this, Henry could persuade more men to join the fray, while she was pinned down and would not be able to rally more allies to her cause.
Even as she was wondering what to do next, she saw the white flag of truce raised by a solitary knight on the other side. "You may come safely," she called.
The rider threaded his way down the valley and up the incline on her side. Vogts' men escorted the emissary to them.
When he arrived he said, "I am sent forth by his honorable eminence, Lord Cuthbert Clifford. His lordship demands your immediate surrender and warrants by his good name that ye will not be tortured, and that your execution will be swift and as painless as the headman's axe permits. Your retainers are of no import and may leave in peace. What is your answer?"
Topaz rose, brushing dirt off her skirt. "Let me consult a while with my advisors and I shall bring you one. Wait here a moment."
She turned to face Vogts and Bridgeman, linking their arms in hers. "He is a brash youth, Lord Clifford, but he is fair, and we are outnumbered," she said, bringing them out of the emissary's earshot.
"And he has guns!" said Vogts.
"I could spare my people much pain and agree to his terms," Topaz sighed, staring off at a distant cloud.
"Nay!" both men protested at once.
"But this is my destiny! I shall not give up now," she said with a lift of her chin.
"Good lass. The choice he offers is really none at all. I knew Clifford's father, and the son's no different," Bridgeman said. "He was always proud and vain, full of his own greatness. He can't be trusted! He was a liar and a thief. Never did a lord mistreat his fiefs and vassals like that man. I fancy their morale won't hold if we can get a good thrust in!"
"How?" interjected Vogts impatiently. "With all those cannons! We can't attack. We'd be massacred!"
"Then he must be made to come to us." Topaz said.
"And leave his guns back at his earthworks?" Bridgeman said in disbelief. "With his better position, why would he ever give it up?"
"He is a proud man, you say?" said Vogts. "And easily riled?"
"Aye."
"Perhaps a few choice insults could spur such a man down from his hilltop! But what could anger the likes of him?"
Topaz turned to Vogts and arched her brow. "Why, several days hence I met just such a man. Proud and arrogant, his passions easily fired."
"And what did you do?" asked Vogts, cocking his head, his eyes growing wide with interest.
"Well! I told him my fool was more of a man than he, and quickly he set about to show me otherwise, didn't you, Vogts?"
"Why, of course!" Bridgeman squawked. "I have it! Is that fool still with us?"
"Easy!" Vogts railed. "Watch who you call a fool, old goat!"
Bridgeman laughed. "Not you, you fool, the village fool that was hanging about that night."
"Why, yes, of course," Topaz said. "How could you miss him in his outrageous garb and with his bells jangling? But what is your point?"
"Methinks Clifford shall receive your answer now, and a fitting gift besides!"
"Gift?"
Bridgeman said, "Lady Topaz, listen up, here's what we'll do..."
He went on to explain his plan. "...and then to our posts. I'll wager there's a fight about to start!"
The Swiss captain nodded. "Archers, form three lines at the head of each battle," ordered Vogts. "Don't let your arrows fly until I give the word. We don't have many shafts. They all must be made to count. Lady Topaz, come with me to the middle guard."
Lord Clifford smugly watched as his smiling emissary returned with a sealed parchment in hand and a handsome carved oak chest under his arm.
"She yields, my Lord!" the emissary shouted jubilantly, as his mount climbed the incline.
"Well, good, let's get her and have this thing over with!" he said with an impatient wave.
"There is a condition, my lord!"
"What is it?"
"I know not, my lord, her answer is set down in this message. All I was told was that she will surrender to you with but one condition. Shall I bring the message to your tent, my lord?"
"Nay, break the seal at once and shout it out! Let all these loyal men see how usurpers quake and grovel before the very name of Clifford. She fears to battle my might, as well she should!" He thrust out his chest and his tawdry livery strained against his bulk. "What difference if I grant her one condition on this the eve of her doom? Read on!"
"Very well, my lord!" He broke the seal, unfolded the parchment, cleared his throat and read, "I, Lady Topaz of Warwick, hereby set my seal upon this document of surrender. The good Lord Cli—"
"Louder! Louder!" interjected Clifford. "Shout it out so that all may hear. Come, men, gather about! Go on!"
"I, Lady Topaz of Warwick hereby set my seal upon this document of surrender," he read in a booming voice that echoed throughout the encampment.
"The good Lord Clifford, trusted of King Henry and most honorable of warriors has made this request of me and I concede. The great and noble Clifford is much admired throughout this land and would no doubt have held a prominent position in my court."
Clifford preened, stroking his beard, basking in the praise.
"I will permit his Lordship to come hither and take me into his custody, even as he has implored. There is but one small favor in return I ask, and this is it: I who would be queen shall receive His Lordship in my hilltop court and surrender myself to him, but only if he comes arraigned in livery of that office which I would gladly have given him above all others, though there be much competition in Henry's entourage for this post."
"Not unreasonable a request, I suppose," said Clifford, preening now. "No doubt I would have been given high office. If she wishes me to dress as the Archbishop of Canterbury, Lord Mayor of London or High Chancellor of England, then so be it! 'Tis quite fitting, methinks. If only King Hal were as perceptive! Well, go on! What honor does she wish to bestow upon me? What am I to dress as, pray?"
The emissary continued: "And so my lord, with all due respect, I commission thee to your appointed office in the court of the bear and ragged staff. Within this oak chest, my gift to you, you will find the garments you must wear. 'Twould fit no man better than thee, and my surrender you may have when you appear before me in it."
"Well, open it!" demanded Clifford, flailing his arms. "Let's see which robes of high office I would be granted by Lady Topaz."
The emissary struggled with the tiny gold latch. ''Tis locked, my lord! Nay, wait, the key is embedded in the wax seal..."
He dug the key out of the seal with his fingernail and scraped it free of wax. He turned it in the lock and the polished lid popped open. The suspense was near agony. The men strained forward to see the splendid garments within. Clifford slid off his mount and lumbered up to the emissary, sweating with anticipation.
The emissary reached into the chest and pulled out a white linen cloth, under which was some folded material. Clifford yanked the chest out of the emissary's hands, all patience at an end as his lofty ambition s
oared. "Let me, let me!"
He overturned the chest and dumped the contents to the ground. Grabbing the garment by the sleeves, it came into view as he raised it high for all to see—the green, yellow and blue quartered motley of the fool, bells tinkling as it unfolded, parti-colored hose trailing on the ground.
The men turned to each other wide-eyed, hardly daring to snicker under their breaths, yet unable to help themselves as the sight.
Clifford's face was even more amusing, shocked as he was, completely taken off guard. He reddened and flung the garments to the ground, the bells' final jingles echoing as the snorting men erupted into laughter.
"She would have me for her court jester, would she!" he thundered. "This is the answer you bring me, you oaf?"
Clifford's puffy cheeks matched the crimson of his livery, and his eyes had shrunk to angry, blazing slits. He grabbed a battle-axe and now brought it crashing down on the emissary's head, felling the open-mouthed man with one furious blow.
Leaving the murdered messenger behind, and the now silent soldiers, he leapt astride his mount and ordered his men to follow him down into the valley.
"There's a witch roosted on yon hill, and by God I'll see her burned alive before this day is done! Now move!" he shrieked, storming off down the hill, his men scurrying after him.
When they reached the bottom they drew up their battle formation once again. Lined abreast, they stood, archers in front, exactly like Topaz's men, who had already formed high above them.
"It worked!" Vogts exclaimed. "He's in a complete fury and ready to attack! Clever."
They all chuckled in delight.
"More to the point, his cannon are behind him," Bridgeman observed. "This fight's down to smaller guns and arrows now!"
"Why have they stopped their charge at the bottom of the hill?" Topaz asked, puzzled.
"To exchange arrows, of course," Vogts snapped. "Don't you know anything about modern warfare?"
"Only what I learned as a child languishing in the Tower. I learned every account there ever was of Bosworth, for the blood that spilt there is the same that runs through my veins! And I have memorized every battle of the Wars of the Roses. Saint Albans, Northampton, that Wakefield ambush! Towton, Barnet and Tewkesbury, I know them all as well as if I had been there myself."
"Heads down!" Vogts warned. "They've loosed a flight. Look out!"
They scrambled into their ditches as the first hail of arrows darkened the sky.
"Good thing we're up here on higher ground, a big advantage," said Vogts, catching his breath. "Their shafts won't carry as far as ours. Look, most are falling short. Let 'em have it, men! See, look there! Our shafts are finding their mark!"
"Towton! The battle of Towton!" Topaz exclaimed.
"You already said that one," Vogts snapped. "Forget the battles of the Wars of the Roses. You've got one of your own now. Here they come again! Still short for the most part."
"Hold your fire!" Topaz screamed to her men, scrambling out of the ditch in order to be seen, waving her hands.
The men halted, bows poised in midair, looking about in confusion.
Vogts stood agape. Even Bridgeman was silent as another hail of arrows fell about their feet. One or two of the more powerful shots entered the ranks, but the men for the most part remained untouched.
"Now fire back!" Topaz commanded. "But only every fourth archer. Quick, pass the word! Towton!"
"This is nonsense!" Vogts spat, stalking up to her, his hands clutching her upper arms. "We're firing only one arrow for every six of theirs now!"
"That's the whole point, idiot!" Topaz retorted, throwing her arms wide to shake him off. "At Towton the fight took place in a snowstorm driven by a keen wind. The Yorkists held back their fire just like we are now. The Lancastrians were blinded by the snow and did not see their shafts knocked down by the wind.
"Every time the Yorkists fired a few flights, a mighty hail of arrows was returned but fell short. Soon the Lancastrians were out of arrows, and the Yorkists were able to pick up the weapons and turn them against the enemy. They advanced and beat them back with their own spent shafts. They just picked them off the ground as they pressed forward."
Vogts, listening intently all the while, tilted his head, looking at Topaz with a new- found admiration and respect. "Well then, let's see if history repeats itself. At this point we have nothing to lose."
For the next half hour the exchange continued, a few of Topaz's arrows returned by black swarms of Clifford's piercing the air like sting hornets, but only piercing the ground or the odd shield or tree. Finally Clifford's bowmen had exhausted their arrows and stood looking haplessly at the legions above.
"All right now, lads, let 'em fly!" shouted Vogts. "Loose all shafts now. Let's sting 'em with their own darts!"
The archers with now full arrow bags moved forward, while the other men continued picking up the fallen shafts of their enemy as they went. They were returned now in a continuous deadly volley. An unrelenting storm of arrows fired down into the valley eclipsed what light there was in the sky. Mayhem erupted in Clifford's ranks as they started to panic and mill about. Some even broke and ran for their lives.
As the deadly shower of arrows ended, Vogts mounted his charge. The two armies melded in hand-to-hand combat, the clamor of battle ringing out and echoing around the walls of the valley. The clash of swords and clanging of mace and axe resounded through the air as they crushed armor beneath them.
Suddenly, more quickly than she'd ever thought, the melee ended. Clifford's dead outnumbered the living and those still alive were so panicked they were easily routed, fleeing before Vogts and their troops.
It wasn't long before Vogts captured Clifford in his ostentatious red garb and dragged him on his knees before Topaz.
"And what say you now, Clifford?" Bridgeman demanded, hands on his hips, obviously enjoying this moment of gloating. "Are ye ready at last to don the cap and bells and swear allegiance to your rightful queen?"
"This rebellion won't last!" Clifford bellowed from down on his knees. "God save King Henry! Your parboiled heads will all rot on London Bridge before this week is out! Surrender yet, before my troops regroup and overrun your sorry band of outlaws!"
Vogts turned to Topaz and Bridgeman, a wry smile on his face. "Methinks his Lordship's wits are addled. Mayhap a gentler blow I should have delivered when I crushed his helmet 'neath my mace!"
"Nay, 'tis his pride that's broken, not his skull," Topaz replied, casting a hateful glance at her enemy. "That dome's so thick it needs no shield! Such a stupid bully, too! What say you, Lord Clifford? Do you not know that most of your men are dead, while many of your men have joined my cause, sickened of your mistreating ways?"
The man's beady eyes rounded in horrified dismay.
"Aye, young Wingfield was a popular man. When you smote him down, your own emissary, and killed him in blind rage, you did yourself no favor. As I said, 'tis turned almost half your own against you! They brought me gifts too... Your very own artillery! What say ye to that?"
"Again I say God save my liege!" croaked the embittered Clifford, streams of sweat pouring down his face. "I'm Henry's man unswerved!"
"Well that's that, then!" Bridgeman declared. "Decided! Vogts, did you note a good spot nearby to let the blood of a fool?"
"Why, there's a good strong tree back yonder side of this very hill," Vogts replied. "A fine gibbet its sturdy oaken limbs would make!"
"Fair Lady Topaz, I implore thee!" Clifford fixed his gaze on Topaz, his eyes widening in beseechment. "You have no need of my death.… Do not permit these bloodthirsty villains to string me upon the gallows! I am a noble just like you!"
As Topaz was about to speak, Bridgeman's hand shot out and he cuffed Clifford's ear, shaking it violently. "Hold your tongue, scum, ere I rip it out! That is no fit comparison! The kind and gentle Lady Topaz loves her people. You! You cleft your own almost in two for bringing you a message that was not to your taste. Speak not to me of mercy
!"
"Well, if he doesn't want to hang, we can cut off his head instead," Vogts said. "Right now! What's your fancy, Cliff?"
Clifford's jaw slackened and his chins jiggled, his incoherent stammer accompanying the squirm under his captor's tight grasp.
"Enough!" Topaz cried. "There'll be no more bloodshed this day. The people of England are about to be ruled by gentler hands. No more murder of knights and lords at a battle's end. A return to chivalry I would seek. Any that will not join us, we will set free. Only their weapons we will keep."