Wolf Wood (Part Two): The Dangerous years

by Mike Dixon

  His mother said that using your own drinking vessel was a good way to avoid other people's diseases. This time, she looked embarrassed. Steven returned the tankard to his belt and wondered about the foul diseases waiting to pounce on unwary diners at Westminster.

  The meat of the day was venison. Steven had been told to expect that. A barge load had come down the river from Windsor. The woods around there were alive with deer and a big hunt had been arranged in the king's name. It was an annual event and King Henry had failed to put in an appearance.

  Some said he was more interested in education than hunting and was down the road at Eton where he had founded a school for poor boys. Steven suspected the story was put out to cover something more serious than a dislike of hunting but wasn't prepared to say so. It would be very stupid to suggest that anything had happened to the king.

  He munched his way through his meal. No one tried to speak to him so he could get on with the serious business of eating and seeing what was going on. The queen was hardly eating at all. Dishes were brought before her and taken away untouched. Instead of eating she was watching and listening to a man by her side.

  Steven recognised him as the spy with the speech problem. His own father had a speech problem and sometimes stuttered. The spy muddled his Rs and Ws and was easy to recognise down the listening tube.

  Right now he was telling Queen Margaret about the people who worked for her and was making no secret of it. His finger went from table to table pointing people out. Sometimes he would skip over them. On other occasions, he would talk for a long time and the queen would ask question.

  Steven waited for him to reach their table. The pointing finger passed from one diner to the next and reached his father. The man consulted a notepad and was interrupted by the queen. She wasn't interested or already knew about the Gascoignes.

  For a moment their eyes met. The queen's expression was enigmatic. She didn't return his smile. Nor did she frown, which was her usual habit when she caught people looking at her.

  ***

  A persistent rapping disturbed the cold night air. Alice turned over in bed and prodded Harald in the ribs. He was wearing a woollen nightcap and had a pillow over his head to shut out the noise of revellers in a neighbouring apartment.

  'Harald. Wake up.'

  She shook him and he stirred.

  'There's someone at the door.'

  'What's the matter?'

  'The door, Harald.'

  She pulled back the curtain of their four-poster bed and saw a white figure drift past. It looked like a ghost in the moonlight. Then she recognised Steven. He slept naked and had wrapped the bedclothes about him. He went to the door.

  'What do you want?'

  'I come at the Queen's command.'

  'Show proof.'

  Steven slid back the cover of the spy hole and put a mirror to it. He kept one handy for just such an eventuality. People sometimes had their eyes poked out at spy holes.

  A badge appeared in the light of a flickering torch. It was difficult to make out the details but it looked like the badges carried by royal messengers.

  'Her Majesty commands the presence of the person known as Sister Alice.'

  'Who?'

  'Sister Alice.'

  'There's no Sister Alice here,' Steven yelled. 'Try next door where they're making all that noise. She's probably there.'

  Alice pushed him aside.

  'Her Majesty calls me that.'

  She faced the door.

  'I'll come as soon as I have attired myself.'

  Steven knew about the Sister Alice thing and it bugged him. They should call his mother by her proper name. She wasn't a nun. He squinted through the spy hole. There was an armed guard with the messenger. He wasn't surprised.

  The palace wasn't safe at night. It was like a small town. There were narrow lanes and alleys. People could wander in during the day and hide. They shut the gates at nightfall to keep out intruders but that was no protection against people who were already there.

  His mother emerged from behind a curtain wearing her Sister Alice costume. It was the one the queen's father had given her. René was alright from what people said but Margaret was totally different.

  Steven guessed it was only a matter of time before he met the queen. From what people said, she was not just showing an interest in his mother. She was showing an interest in him.

  ***

  The messenger didn't know why Alice had been summoned. That wasn't surprising. No one was ever told more than they needed to know. The only clue was the form of address. She had been summoned as Sister Alice, not as Lady Gascoigne. As such, she was expected to wear garments that wouldn't look out of place on a nun or midwife.

  The inner court was heavily guarded. The nest of buildings where the royal couple had their apartment was a fortress within a fortress. They entered the gatehouse and the messenger left. A woman appeared. Her speech was refined, her manner courteous and her eyes bleary. Alice guessed she had been called from bed.

  Once satisfied that the messenger had brought the correct person and she was indeed the wife of Harald Gascoigne, the woman drew back a curtain and pointed to a narrow spiral staircase.

  'You'll find her at the end of the passage.'

  She spoke in a hushed voice as if she didn't want the guardsmen in the adjoining room to hear.

  'Will you come with me?'

  'No. You must go alone.'

  The stairs were exceedingly narrow. Alice held her midwife's bag in front with one hand and squeezed up sideways. One painful step followed another. She was soon totally disoriented and unable to tell which way she was facing and how many floors she had climbed.

  She expected a corridor like the one leading to the queen's private apartment. Instead, she found herself in a narrow, windowless passage. Lamps illuminated the bare stonework. The corbelled ceiling was blackened with soot and looked as if it hadn't been cleaned in years.

  The truth dawned. She was in one of the secret passages that ran inside the palace walls. But why had they sent her that way? It didn't make sense. There was a perfectly normal way to get to the queen's chambers.

  Was she being lured into a trap?

  The infighting at Westminster beggared belief. No one was safe from the intrigues and suspicions that lurked around every corner. She had seen how the two dragons scowled at her. They had done so when she visited the queen and they were still scowling at dinner that same evening.

  There was a castle in the Dordogne with trap doors in the floor. Paving slabs gave way and sent victims crashing into caverns. Harald had lost one of his envoys that way. Alice took a lamp from its niche and held it out in front of her. Hot fat splattered onto her gown. She ignored it and kept going. The lamp illuminated the way and she felt safer.

  The passage followed the contours of the wall. At one point the stones reverberated with sound. She figured she was skirting the clock tower and the bell had just struck. The passage was now wide enough for her to carry her bag by her side. A door beckoned and she tapped lightly.

  'Enter.'

  The command was in French.

  Alice pushed at the door and found herself in an ornately decorated room. Queen Margaret sat in a large bed, supported by pillows. No one else was in sight.

  Alice curtsied.

  'Your Majesty summoned me.'

  'Yes. I would like you to examine me. My doctors wish to bleed me. They say I have a fever and they must remove toxins from my body.'

  'Your esteemed father will perhaps have told you that I find no need for such remedies, Majesty.'

  'Nor does Doctor Arundel,' Margaret muttered.

  'We are in agreement on that and many other matters,' Alice said. 'We see no need for purgatives either ... unless the condition requires one.'

  'What condition is that, Sister?'

  'If a person has taken poison then a purgative is needed to expel the evil through the mouth. If a person is constipated then a different sort of purgative
is required.'

  'I have not taken poison and I'm not constipated,' Margaret replied gruffly.

  'Then I would not prescribe a purgative, Majesty.'

  'I wish you to examine me.'

  Margaret swept back the bedclothes. She was naked below a short shift. Alice's first impression was that the woman's hips were too narrow for an easy delivery. Otherwise, she looked strong and healthy.

  'Will you Majesty permit me to touch.'

  'Do as you think necessary, Sister.'

  There was something refreshingly straightforward about the reply. Alice was reminded of Margaret's father. René d'Anjou was a practical man who forgot ceremony when it came to practical matters.

  'I shall need to feel baby and those parts of you that are important for the delivery of the child.'

  'Go ahead, Sister.'

  Margaret stretched herself out. From the way she was lying, Alice wondered if she had ever been subjected to expert medical examination. It occurred to her that all of her doctors were male and perhaps denied the opportunity to conduct a physical examination of their queen.

  'You have a strong and healthy baby.'

  'Alice spoke without thinking.'

  'Do you think so, Sister?'

  'I do indeed.'

  'You are not just saying it to please me?'

  Alice took Margaret's hand and placed it on her belly.

  'There. You can feel him yourself. He is strong. Feel how he moves.'

  Margaret ran her hand over her belly.

  'And you say he's a boy?'

  Alice wished she had not fallen into the trap of speaking of the infant as “he”. The mistake was easier to make in French than in English.

  'The child feels strong like a male baby,' she tried to correct herself. 'But, I have known girl babies who have felt just as strong.'

  'But, you think he is a boy?'

  'All I can say is that the infant is strong.'

  Margaret caressed her unborn child. She was determined to believe that she was bearing a future king of England and France. Alice wondered what would happen if the baby turned out to be a girl. A male substitute could always be found and the unwanted female consigned to a convent. Maybe that would be an acceptable solution for Margaret. Alice didn't know what to think. René d'Anjou's daughter was a very strange lady.

  Chapter 28

  Sacrificial Lamb

  The dragons were furious. Their lair had been penetrated and their authority threatened. The queen had gone behind their backs. Margaret had summoned Sister Alice in the middle of the night. Worse still, she had used a back entrance that was meant to be kept secret. Had it not been for the testimony of loyal servants, the incident might have escaped their notice.

  The senior dragon was Eleanor Beaufort, wife of the Duke of Somerset. Steven pressed his ear against the cow horn and listened as she ranted on about lapses of security and how everything would fall apart if they didn't keep a tight rein. He could make out most of what she said but the other people were more difficult to understand. He figured that Eleanor must be standing directly in front of the listening tube and the others were off to the side.

  There were three of them: Eleanor and two males. One was the spy with the speech defect. Steven had come to think of him as RW from the way he muddled his Rs and Ws. He showed great deference towards Eleanor. The other man was more forthright in the way he spoke. Steven puzzled over his identity. Then RW referred to him as my lord duke and everything fell into place.

  The second man was Edmund Beaufort, Duke of Somerset. He was Eleanor's husband and hugely hated. He had turned traitor in Normandy to save his own skin and would be dead if Margaret hadn't rescued him when he returned to England.

  Some said that Somerset was Queen Margaret's lover and father of her unborn child. Steven wondered about that. King Henry was shy with women and someone like Edmund would jump at the chance of becoming the father of a future king of England. At any rate, he was showing great concern for the queen's wellbeing.

  'Sister Alice has a calming effect on Margaret,' he said. 'I believe we could benefit from her services as a midwife.'

  'Margaret wants more than that,' the dragon bellowed. 'She wants Alice Gascoigne to examine Henry. Have you thought of the disasters that could bring? You admit that the Gascoignes have links with York through that man Robin Perry.'

  'Lots of people have links with York, including members of your family,' the duke grunted. 'That's not barred you from having contact with the queen.'

  'You know full well that I make no secret of the traitorous behaviour of certain of my cousins,' Eleanor screamed. 'I have helped put their loyalty to the test and they have suffered the consequences.'

  'Then we shall test the Gascoigne's loyalty.'

  'How?'

  'In the usual way.'

  'Tell me.'

  'We'll have someone approach them,' Somerset said. 'They can say they come from Robin Perry. I'm sure we'll find a way to make it sound genuine. Our people have gathered a lot of information about York and his establishment at Ludlow. We shall see if the Gascoignes respond in the correct way. If they don't, we'll know what to do. They will be made to suffer the consequences like everyone else.'

  The last remark was chilling. Steven began to understand his mother's dislike of Westminster. Things got very nasty when the people at the top felt threatened.

  ***

  The test came far sooner than Steven expected. Early that afternoon, as he was crossing the courtyard, on his way to archery practice, a hooded figure sidled up to him and whispered in his ear.

  'Do you remember me from Bayeux?'

  The kid was about twelve and covered in freckles. Steven didn't recognise him from Bayeux but did recognise him from the night before. He was the boy who had been watching them from the shadows when they were going to dinner. There was a man with him. His mother said he spied on them when they went for walks.

  The kid had been coaxed in what to say. You could tell from the way he recited the whole lot off with a rush. At one point, he even claimed they had played together in Bayeux. He named places and spoke about them, throwing in the odd word in Norman French, which was how people in the English garrison spoke. Steven was prepared to believe that the kid's family had been with the garrison. So what? Thousands of families had served in France and a lot had ended up in London. There was nothing special in that.

  The outcome was predictable. The boy told him about a special friend in Ludlow. He didn't name the friend but said Steven would know who he was talking about. The friend wanted to hear from his parents and there were ways of taking messages. Could he speak to his parents about it and see what they thought? Steven agreed and they arranged to meet again.

  There was, of course, no way he was going to speak to his parents about it. His mother would have a fit if she knew what was going on. She would panic and pester his father to leave at once. If he wasn't careful, they would be back at Wolf Wood before he could do anything about it.

  Mother was terrified of the people who hung around the queen. She thought they were clever and knew everything that was going on. Truth was, they weren't nearly as smart as she thought. People who left the covers off listening tubes weren't smart. They were stupid and that was just for starters.

  They couldn't even set a proper trap. They had dashed in and got some kid to tell him to turn traitor. That might have worked if they had picked the right kid and given him time to get it right. But they hadn't. They had picked a kid who would never get it right no matter how long you gave him. He stood out as phony the moment he opened his mouth. That talk about knowing him in Bayeux and playing games together was ridiculous.

  The next step was obvious. He had to get round to the appropriate authorities and tell them that he had just been approached by a suspicious person and, as a loyal subject of the king, he thought they should know about it.

  ***

  There was a recognised way to report suspicious people. Steven had been coached in
it when he was adopted as palace mascot. They showered him with presents and let it be known that he was expected to repay their generosity with information. It wasn't as if they were bribing him to spy. It was part of the palace culture. As one of the favoured ones, he was expected to show loyalty to the king and fight his enemies wherever they might be found.

  The bursar's office was your first port of call. Lots of people went there for lots of different reasons so you wouldn't be suspected of being an informant if you dropped in and asked for some writing ink. The drill was to specify magenta as your preferred colour. That was a strange request and got you shuffled into a neighbouring office where you said you wanted magenta ink and English writing paper. The paper was the clincher because paper was not manufactured in England and had to be imported from overseas.

  Steven went through the process and was shown to a back room where he was questioned by a young man in a costume as colourful as his own. The young man said he needed to refer the matter to one his colleagues and went into an adjoining room, shutting the door behind him. The door was padded and the sound coming from the other side was muffled. It was impossible to hear a word. There were bursts of speech then nothing for a while. Steven figured the man was talking down a tube to someone in another part of the palace.

  The door opened and he was beckoned inside. Steven wasn't surprised to see a horn, sticking out of the wall at head height. It was like those his father had described and not much different from the cow horn he used.

  'Come with me.'

  He was led down a maze of narrow passages that ran inside the walls. It was difficult to keep track of where he was going but not impossible. Building stone was scare in the London area and had to be imported. Some came from as far away as Caen in Normandy. It was of a specially high quality and easy to recognise. There wasn't much in the palace and, when you came upon large sections, you had a fair idea of where you were. The passage came to a lengthy section of high-grade masonry and Steven figured they were somewhere near his family's apartment.

  They halted before a small doorway and he was shown into a square chamber. It was more like a well than a room. The walls swept up and ended in a flat ceiling with a trap door in the middle. A wooden cubicle stood against one wall.