by Mike Dixon
'Don't see why they should.'
Harald made another note, returned his stylus to its pouch and closed the lid of the wax tablet to protect the writing.
'Thank you, Walter. That has been very helpful.' He rose to his feet. 'I shall convey your message to Commander Gough. I am sure he will find a way of rewarding your loyalty.'
***
Alice wiped blood from Steven's face and tried to tidy him up. Her son had gone out with a gang of youths and been involved in a fight. He was sleeping in the male dormitory. She had wanted to keep him in the women's but had lost out. The other women didn't want him there and Steven didn't want to stay.
They were living in a pilgrim hostel near Westminster Cathedral. Normally, it housed people visiting the shrine of Saint Edward the Confessor. Its current occupants were refugees from France.
Returning to England had come as a shock. Alice had happy memories of her life at Wolf Wood. The old manor was a place of refinement. She and Harald kept the company of educated people who brought up their children to be polite and considerate. In Normandy, she had nursed a vision of England as a place of tranquillity and peace.
Now, she realised that the vision was an illusion. England was not peaceful and parts were decidedly vicious. The English had an antipathy towards people who were different from themselves and that included people like herself.
The refugees from Normandy stood out from the locals. They spoke with a distinctive accent and mixed French with English without knowing it. They even looked different. English men wore their hair at shoulder length. The Anglo-Normans wore theirs short in the military fashion and their clothes were different too. They had returned to England as refugees but the Londoners had been slow to recognise them as fellow countrymen.
Steven and his young friends had been set upon by local youths. They had got the better of them and Steven was elated. Alice was horrified. She was forever fearful that he would turn out like William and saw similarities. Harald said she was worrying about nothing. Steven wasn't a bit like him. He had taught Steven Greek and Latin and that was something he had never managed with William.
The worrying thing about the fight was that it had occurred in Westminster, which was meant to be a refined place and totally different from London. On the previous day she had gone up one of the cathedral towers. The army was using it as an observation post and Harald had arranged the visit.
There were fields between Westminster and the walled City of London. Big houses lined the river bank. Harald said a beautiful palace, called the Savoy, had stood there. It was burnt down in the Wat Tyler rebellion when the mob went on the rampage. Alice wondered what would happen if Jack Cade's army reached London and the mob was given a chance to vent its rage.
Chapter 12
Sevenoaks
Robin watched as Cade's army formed into ranks and prepared to fight the advancing troops. They had lost men from desertion on the road to Sevenoaks but had received reinforcements from Sussex. Their combined army was bigger than the one that had assembled at Blackheath but still not big enough to withstand an assault by a force of twenty thousand.
Cade rode between the ranks, addressing his troops, urging them to stand firm and die rather than surrender. He was an impressive figure, wearing a scarlet cloak and riding a black stallion. He spoke in a clear voice, telling his men they were fighting for liberty. There was no mention of religion. No fanatical ranting about transubstantiation and the other things the Lollards raved on about. It was all solid good sense.
He said they were fighting to be treated as equals. They were fighting for a more representative parliament. They were fighting to stamp out corruption and for the rule of law. They would force the king to take back gifts of land that he had made to favourites. Crown land belonged to the people and should provide revenue for the good governance of the realm.
Robin wondered if he was supporting the wrong side. Then he saw Guy and the other irregulars. They were cheering with the rest just as they had cheered Commander Gough when he addressed his troops. But their cheering lacked conviction. They had turned against Gough when he was no longer of use to them. Robin saw no reason why Cade would not suffer the same fate.
The battle opened with a salvo from Cade's artillery. Robin watched the cannon balls bounce harmlessly over the muddy ground. It was a waste of good powder. The missiles had lost momentum by the time they reached the advancing ranks of the king's troops, who parted and let them through. That told you something about the gunners. They were either inexperienced or scared, perhaps both. At any rate, they were firing far too soon.
Cade's men might look good when they were drawn up in line but they were failing to behave like a competent military force. Robin looked towards the royalist lines and saw they were no better. There was something ragged about their formation. They had dodged the cannon balls but were failing to come back together again.
And there wasn't as many of them as he had been told. The king's army was said to be twenty-thousand strong. There was nothing like that number. It looked as if the royalists had split their forces and sent only part against them.
The cannons fired again. This time, the enemy failed to jump clear and great swathes were cut down. Their archers replied and arrows rained down. Robin expected an order to advance but none was given. Both sides had come to a halt and were firing at one another with devastating effect.
It seemed to go on forever. He had no shield and tried to position himself so that his armour provided maximum protection. Then he heard the familiar blare of hunting horns. It was Guy's way of summoning the band of cut-throats he called the Noble Company.
Robin glanced through a chink in his visor and saw them charging. They attacked from the wings and swept all before them. The royalist ranks collapsed and Guy behaved as he always did. Those who looked rich enough to ransom were taken prisoner. Those who didn't were cut down.
Robin saw a banner emblazoned with a silver hand and recognised it as belonging to Sir Humphrey Stafford. He knew him as a founder of the Sherborne almshouse and a generous benefactor of the town. To his horror, Guy seemed intent on killing Sir Humphrey and his brother.
He had the pair pinned down and was railing at them for some past offence. It seemed that Sir Humphrey had instructed his chaplain to marry Harald and Alice in some secret ceremony … and they were going to die for it.
Robin dashed forward, protesting that the Staffords were friends of the common people and should be spared. A blow from William sent him to the ground. By the time he got up, the Stafford brothers were belching blood and gasping out their last breaths.
A hand pulled him into the ranks of the men of Kent. He recognised one of the sheriffs who had welcomed him at Blackheath two days before. 'We're leaving,' the man said. 'I advise you to come with us.'
***
The lawns of the Palace of Westminster were packed with wagons. Strips of tarpaulin stretched between them to provide shelter for troops who had fled London. The bulk of the royal army had mutinied when they heard of the defeat at Sevenoaks and had declared themselves Cade's men. Those who had come to Westminster were intent on protecting their king. But Henry and his French wife had fled to Greenwich.
Alice walked amongst the women with Harald and a clerk, trying to bring order to the chaos. Robin was with Commander Gough, questioning the men in an attempt to weed out infiltrators.
The commander had joined them from London. It wasn't safe there. The mutinous troops were going from house to house in search of "traitors" and anyone who supported King Henry was a target. The houses of the great and famous were being ransacked and people murdered.
A hand tugged at Alice's sleeve.
'Mother. There's a man looking for father.'
Steven was standing behind her with a loaded crossbow and a sword that was too big for him. The palace was littered with arms discarded by fleeing guards. Steven and his young friends had acquired an impressive collection. Alice had given up trying to stop hi
m. Her son had vowed to kill anyone who tried to rape her and she didn't doubt he meant it. Steven was growing up fast.
He pointed to a man dressed as a porter.
'I think he's a spy.'
The man was standing between two guards and looked uncomfortable. Alice surveyed his fragile frame and had difficulty imagining him carrying heavy loads. His complexion didn't fit either. Porters were usually ruddy faced. This man looked as if he spent most of his life indoors.
'Sir Harald. Is that you?'
He caught sight of her husband.
'Pray. Come and vouch for me. I do fear for my life.'
The man didn't speak like a porter either. Alice guessed he was a lawyer or churchman. Harald went across. He seemed amused by the man's appearance.
'Sir Geoffrey. Have you changed you profession? You were an inquisitor for the late Cardinal Beaufort when we last met. It seems that you have turned your talents to a different trade.'
'I was obliged to attire myself in this garb to escape the mob, Sir Harald. There has been a most appalling catastrophe.'
'Tell me all about it.'
Harald assumed an inquisitorial tone and the man squirmed. Alice sensed that their past relationship had been far from harmonious.
'I have just come from Blackheath.'
He spoke as if that would explain everything.
'Go on.'
'You surely know.'
'Tell us everything, Sir Geoffrey, or I shall instruct the guard to cast you in irons.' Harald bore down on him. 'I require every detail and if you again say “you surely know”, I shall assume that you are a spy and fishing for information.'
He turned to the escort.
'Take him to the guardhouse. I shall continue my questioning there.'
Steven watched them go.
'What did I tell you?' He turned to his mother. 'I said he was a spy. Father knows what to do to him.'
***
The guardhouse was next to the suite of rooms where Harald had been questioned nine years earlier. There was a strange irony in the turn of events. One of his inquisitors had turned up, pleading for help. Did the man think he would acquiesce without getting something in return? He instructed the guard to stand by in an antechamber, ready to assist in the questioning, should that be needed. It was a veiled threat to use physical persuasion, should that be needed.
Sir Geoffrey had been one of the least subtle of his inquisitors and it seemed safe to assume that he would not be susceptible to subtle persuasion. Harald sat down at a table and glared at him.
'You were telling me about Blackheath.'
'The remnants of the royal army were camped there, Sir Harald. His Majesty went down to address them. We thought his presence would restore the men to his allegiance. But voices shouted out calling for the arrest of his advisers, saying we were traitors who had sold England to the French. Others joined in and His Majesty was greatly alarmed.'
Sir Geoffrey paused for breath.
'Go on.'
'His Majesty acquiesced to their demands, Sir Harald, and ordered the immediate arrest of Lord Say and Sheriff Crowmer. Say has been assigned to the Tower and Crowmer to Fleet Prison.'
'Did Lord Say go to the Tower as a prisoner or as a refugee needing protection?'
'His Majesty made it clear that he is a prisoner.'
'I am not asking about His Majesty,' Harald leant forward and grimaced. 'I am seeking your opinion.'
'I think it likely that he went for protection.'
'Who else has taken refuge in the Tower?'
'The Archbishop of Canterbury and most of the Council, Sir Harald.'
'And what of His Majesty?'
'King Henry has issued a proclamation saying that all traitors will be arrested and he's agreed to set up a commission whose members will be instructed to bring justice against extortioners, corrupt advisers and officials accused in such terms by Cade and the men of Kent.'
Harald made copious notes on his wax tablet.
'Do you class yourself as one of these persons?'
'I have been so named.'
Harald rocked back on his bench and smiled.
'And you have come here to destroy the evidence?'
'The Westminster archives contain many documents that could be construed as incriminating, if they fell into the wrong hands, Sir Harald.'
'And you know where to find them?'
'I believe I could locate all the documents relating to your unfortunate arrest and the unjust accusations of witchcraft brought against your dear wife.'
Harald picked up his stylus and used the blunt end to smooth the wax on his writing block and destroy the notes he had taken. He did it with a flourish and snapped the block shut.
'Come with me, Sir Geoffrey. I shall request more suitable attire for you. Then I shall take you to the archives and see what you can find there.'
Chapter 13
Kiss of Death
June 25th 1450
Steven dashed into the women's dormitory and shouted for Henriette. The women told him to leave but he ignored their protests and continued to shout.
'Commander Gough wants Robin.'
Alice emerged from behind a partition.
'You father will know where he is.'
'No. It's he who sent me. The king's coming. Robin's got to get his men together. They've got to look smart.'
Alice ran into the corridor and looked down into the ablution block. Robin's little boy had a stomach upset and she guessed he was there. She shouted and Robin appeared.
'The king's coming. Harald needs to speak to you.'
Robin ran up the stairs, handed her a smelly infant and hurried outside. She moved to the doorway and heard the two men talking. Harald said the king was coming up river from Greenwich with his bodyguard. The royal party would land at the palace then proceed overland to a secret destination. All necessary assistance must be provided.
She returned to the dormitory and told the women to get ready to greet His Majesty. Despite all the accusations of corruption, the royal family was still held in awe. People preferred to think of their weak, twenty-nine-year-old monarch as a saintly figure ensnared by evil councillors. They were probably right but that did nothing to soften Alice's feelings towards the monarchy.
She remained opposed to the whole system of government and passionately hoped that Jack Cade would bring about the changes he promised. She did not share Harald's pessimism. She believed that England was ready for rule by elected councillors and would be a better place for it.
Cheering told her that the royal party had arrived. She walked to the palace gatehouse and found her son, Steven, there. He had been stopped by the guard and told that he could not proceed unless he left his crossbow with them. He reluctantly agreed and went to the river with Alice.
A motley array of soldiers was drawn up to greet the royal couple. Robin's contingent was amongst them. He stood at its head, smartly dressed in a discarded uniform that he had found in the palace when he arrived. It belonged to a senior officer of the royal guard who abandoned it when he fled. Harald said Robin had more right to the uniform than the former owner and Matthew Gough agreed.
An ornately decorated royal barge reached the jetty and the royal couple emerged. From the pomp and ceremony, one could believe they were on a royal excursion and not fleeing from their enemies. The queen appeared first. She embarked before the barge was properly secured and strode down the jetty with a step that was more masculine than ladylike.
Alice had heard about Queen Margaret. The formidable young woman was closely related to the French royal family and totally dominated her husband. When she arrived in England at the age of fifteen, Margaret spoke hardly a word of English. Now, five years later, she was proficient in the language and playing a leading role in the royal government.
She advanced towards the guard and began an inspection without waiting for her entourage to catch up. A man was reprimanded for his untidy appearance. Another was questioned on his right
to certain insignia. Alice held her breath and waited for the explosion that would inevitably follow when Queen Margaret discovered Robin attired in the uniform of a senior member of the royal household.
Margaret arrived by his side and looked him up and down.
'Where do you come from?'
'Normandy, Your Highness.'
'Under whom did you serve?'
'Commander Matthew Gough, Your Highness.' Robin remained stiffly at attention. 'We held out in Bayeux until our position became untenable.'
'What is your name?'
'Robin Perry.'
'Ah.' An expression of recognition appeared on Margaret's severe face. 'You will be the Robin who tried to save poor Sir Humphrey Stafford at Sevenoaks. You were there as a secret agent for His Majesty. We have heard great things of you.'
She turned to the limp figure, standing behind her, and pointed to the sword that hung incongruously from the jewelled shoulder harness he wore over his royal robes.
'Henry, this is the Robin I told you about. You know what to do. It has all been discussed.'
The king drew the sword with some difficulty and advanced on Robin who seemed at a loss to know what to do. Then a voice gave the royal command.
'Kneel.'
The tip of the sword touch his shoulders and he received a second command.
'Arise, Sir Robin.'
In the crowd of cheering women, with Steven by her side, Alice sighed. A fleeing monarch, desperate for loyal supporters, had honoured Robin with a knighthood. It was something he could do without. In the wrong place and in the wrong company it would be less like an honour and more like a kiss of death.
***
Steven was desperate for a wee. The ablutions block was clogged and there was no chance of going behind a tree because there weren't any. His best chance was the privy next to his father's office in the administrative wing of the palace. It was reserved for staff but he wasn't going to let that get in his way. As Robin said: desperate times call for desperate measures.