Wolf Wood (Part Two): The Dangerous years

by Mike Dixon

  'Go in there. He will come to you.'

  His escort pointed to the cubicle and left.

  It was built like a confessional box. Steven recalled that he had not been to confession since they arrived in Westminster. That was a mistake. People who didn't go to confession came under suspicion. They ran the risk of being called “free-thinkers”.

  His mother had once been called that and she now made a point of confessing regularly. Only God and the priest knew what she had to confess about. She led such a quiet life it was difficult to think of any naughtiness she might be up to.

  He entered the box and sat on the bench provided for that purpose. There was a woven screen in front. He guessed it transmitted sound and you spoke at it. There would be a place behind for the inquisitor. He was probably a top spy and wanted to keep his identity secret.

  A bright light shone in his face. He knew how it was done but it still came as a shock. The machines came from Italy and were worked by lenses and mirrors. The light made you squint and could be intimidating. His father used them in Normandy when interrogating suspects. He refused to resort to torture but was prepared to frighten people.

  'You have information to weeport?'

  The speaker was using a metal tube to disguise his voice but he couldn't hide his speech impediment. Steven did his best not to smile. His interrogator was RW.

  'I have been approached by a boy who says he can arrange for letters to be sent to Ludlow Castle,' he said in a hushed voice. 'Ludlow belongs to Duke Richard of York so I think that's very suspicious.'

  'This boy you talk about … did he say who will receive these letters?'

  'He talked about a special friend.'

  'Who might this friend be?'

  The questions kept coming. Steven knew the technique. He had sat behind a screen and heard his father interrogating prisoners. The idea was to get you to contradict yourself. It was very difficult to lie consistently. In this case, there was no need to lie. That made it easy. Or, it did until it came to the point where he was required to speak about his parents.

  'Why didn't you go to your pawents and tell them about the boy? Surely, that would have been the natural thing to do.'

  'If my mother knew what was going on she would throw a fit. That sort of thing frightens her. She got involved with Eleanor Cobham when I was a baby. She was accused of witchcraft. It was ages before people would admit that it was all a bad mistake and they stopped chasing us.'

  'So. You want to save your mother from having a fit … is that what you are saying?'

  'Yes. That and I don't want to leave here. She would nag at my father and say we must go back to Wolf Wood.'

  'You don't like Wolf Wood?'

  'I don't want us to leave here. My mother is helping the queen with the baby. She went to see her last night. We were worried that something was wrong but she came back smiling.'

  'Did she tell you that Her Majesty's pregnancy was progressing well?'

  'That was a loaded question.'

  'No … not that.' Steven chose his words carefully. 'She never talks about what she does as a midwife. She never talks about the mothers, no matter who they are. There is no way she would talk about the queen.'

  'You mean, she never talks about the queen?'

  'No.'

  'Then what do you mean?'

  'She says she is a nice lady … things like that.'

  The questions continued. He was asked about Robin Perry and his family. He was asked about the Battle of London Bridge and admitted he might have fired the arrow that killed his cousin William.

  Eventually, it was all over. He agreed to keep his appointment with the boy and hand him a ring. Its purpose wasn't clear but that didn't matter. He had established himself and his parents as loyal supporters of the House of Lancaster.

  He was now in a position to gather a heap of sensitive information about the royal court. Steven wondered how he could get it to Robin. He had seen enough of the way the Lancastrians ran the country to know that they had to be turfed out of Westminster and replaced by something better.

  ***

  The boy was waiting when Steven arrived. He stared nervously from beneath his hood and looked surprised when Steven handed him the ring. He wanted to know what it was for. Steven said it was to establish his identity. That way the people at Ludlow would know they had made contact with the right person.

  The boy seemed to accept that as the correct answer. Steven guessed he didn't have a clue what the whole thing was about. The ring was probably to show that he had completed his task and would be rewarded. He said he would meet him the following day with a letter for Ludlow and the boy seemed pleased.

  Chapter 29

  Unequal Struggle

  A messenger escorted Alice to the royal stables. She thought she was going to visit John Arundel in Bedlam but there was no carriage waiting for her. Instead, she was shown into a small room. It was typical of how things were done at Westminster. No one told you what was going on. Most of the time they didn't know. They just did as they were told.

  She sat with her medical bag on her knees and tried to keep warm. The only heat was supplied by the horses and most of them were outside in the park taking rich people for rides.

  An hour passed and a closed carriage appeared. She took little notice of it then the door opened and she saw Dr Arundel. Like her, he had come equipped with a medical bag. He stepped down and she went to greet him.

  'Good Morrow, John.'

  'Good Morrow, Alice.'

  He bowed and waited for her to join him. 'They told me there would be someone waiting for me. I suspected it might be you.'

  'It would be nice to know what is happening,' Alice replied.

  He raised a finger to his lips and Alice took the hint. There were things you didn't talk about, not even to your colleagues. John had been through the routine before. He led the way. They mounted some stairs and entered the system of passages that enabled visitors to come and go within the palace without being seen.

  Oil lamps lit the way. Alice trailed behind, knocking into things in the poor light. Eventually, daylight appeared. They left the gloom and entered a vaulted chamber lit by high windows. A fetid smell hung in the air. Alice saw oars and guessed they were in the underground boatsheds that were connected to the river by a fortified watergate.

  Downstream led to London and Greenwich. Upstream went to Windsor and beyond. They went upstream. Alice sat in the front of the boat and John sat at the back. She was still wondering where they were going when the walls of Windsor Castle appeared.

  They tied up at a jetty and the crew announced that they had reached their destination. Steven would have described the atmosphere as spooky. Alice found it sinister. A reception party was waiting to receive them but no one spoke. It was as if the castle harboured a dark secret and no one dared open their mouths for fear of giving it away.

  They entered the castle through a side gate were led through a maze of corridors before being into a long hall. Their escort left and they remained standing. John clasped his medical bag in front of him. Alice followed his example. Minutes passed and a woman appeared at the top of a flight of stairs.

  Eleanor Beaufort, esteemed wife of the Duke of Somerset, stared down at Alice from a commanding height. Her expression was not as hostile as when they last met but far from welcoming.

  'Leave your bag there.'

  Alice placed her bag on a bench.

  'And your gown …'

  Alice removed her outer gown. She wore her Sister Alice costume underneath. Eleanor surveyed her critically then beckoned. John followed and they entered a room at the top of the stairs.

  Eleanor pointed to a door at the far end.

  'You will find him in there.'

  There was a note of distaste in her voice.

  'Thank you, Your Highness.'

  John bowed and Eleanor left hurriedly.

  Alice had expected to examine the queen. Now it seemed that a male person require
d her attention. She followed John through a marble doorway into a lavishly furnished chamber. The ceiling was dark blue and decorate with golden stars. Candles flickered in chandeliers. Tapestries hung on the walls and oriental carpets covered the floor. Despite the lavish display of opulence, the general impression was one of gloom and decay.

  Perhaps it was the atmosphere. The air was stuffy as if the windows were never opened. And there was a sickly aroma. Alice recognised the pungent smell of herbs favoured by the medical profession as purgatives. They were claimed to cure a galaxy of complaints by expelling toxic substances from the body. The worse the smell, the better the result.

  A solitary figure sat on a couch, staring into space. She had seen him once before. That was when he and Margaret were fleeing London to escape the rebels. Now, three years later, the burden of kingship had got the better of him. At the age of thirty-two, Henry of Lancaster had given up the unequal struggle and retreated into himself as his French grandfather had done fifty years before.

  There was one big difference. His grandfather, Charles VI of France, had been abandoned to live in squalor while his royal cousins fought one another for control of the kingdom. That had not happened to Henry. The people who ran Westminster knew he was far too valuable to be left to that fate. They needed to get him back into a semblance of normality so they could parade him in public and maintain the fiction that King Henry VI ruled his realm.

  Alice's heart went out to the fragile shell of a man, dressed in magnificent robes and terrified out of his wits. She understood his traumas. Henry wanted nothing more than peace. His instinct was to trust people. Fate had condemned him to a world where no one trusted anyone and violence was the arbiter when cunning and deceit failed.

  She approached the couch and sat beside him. René d'Anjou had told her a lot about his son-in-law's upbringing. Henry's mother, Katherine, was René's cousin. As children, they lived in the same household. That was after René's parents rescued Katherine and her brother from the squalor of the royal palace. René had spoken about Katherine with affection, recalling how she had been denied custody of her small son when his royal father died. Henry was not just her child. He was heir to the thrones of England and France and a prized political possession.

  Alice placed her hand on the king's arm and began to sing a lullaby that René had taught her. He said Katherine sung it to her baby son. Now, she realised why he had gone to such pains to ensure that she learnt it properly. Something stirred in the king's breast and words formed on his lips.

  At first there was no sound. Then she heard him speak. Not in English and not as an adult. But in French and as a child. Poor, terrified Henry had retreated into the womb and she had coaxed him back out. John Arundel stood nearby. Alice saw the look of amazement on his face and realised she had succeeded where others had failed.

  Chapter 30

  Sin of Pride

  Alice woke early and shook Harald into life. It was time for the early morning service. After that, she wanted to go for their morning walk. She had not yet had a chance to speak to him about her visit to the king.

  The sun was still low in the sky when they left the chapel. A dank mist rose from the river and hung about the trees in the royal park. Alice wondered what perils lurked there and decided to stay near the gatehouse and the protection of the palace guards. She took Harald's arm and steered him past piles of fallen leaves towards one of the jetties.

  Harald already knew a little of what Alice had discovered but lacked the details. She told him about the visit to Windsor and how she got Henry to speak when she sang a lullaby.

  'So, you managed to entice King Henry back from his mother's womb.' Harald seemed impressed. 'What do you plan to do next?'

  'I got him to speak about his half-brothers.'

  'You mean the Tudor boys?'

  'Yes. As you know, Katherine went off and married a Welsh squire when Henry's father died. It was regarded as scandalous that a dowager queen should marry a commoner but she did.'

  'It was a successful marriage,' Harald remarked.

  'It was and Henry is very fond of the Tudors. They are his only link with his mother. John Arundel wants the boys brought to the palace. He thinks they might help draw Henry out.'

  Harald drew in a deep breath.

  'It could be very difficult to get Somerset and his cronies to agree. The more people who know of Henry's condition, the greater the risk that the secret gets out.'

  'They let me into the secret.'

  'Aye, my love, and they'll keep a tight hold on us until this matter is settled. If it becomes known that Henry is out of his mind then a regent will have to be found. York will put his name forward. With the backing of Salisbury and Warwick, he could very well succeed. That's what worries them.'

  'And if Margaret gives birth to a healthy boy?'

  'That would make it more difficult for York but by no means impossible unless Henry fails to acknowledge the infant as his son.'

  'In his present state, you wouldn't get him to acknowledge himself as king,' Alice said. 'He responded to Henry but when I called him Your Majesty he looked at me blankly and didn't say a word.'

  'Then you have become an invaluable asset to Somerset and everyone else who depends on Henry for their survival.' Harald gave an ironic laugh. 'Only you can draw Henry out. They need you, my darling.'

  A commotion took their attention. A ferry boat had arrived and a woman was pointing at something in the water.

  'It's a body!'

  The ferryman peered over her shoulder.

  'Are you sure?'

  'Yeah, over by them bollards. Can't you see?'

  Alice and Harald went to look. Alice wondered if she could provide medical assistance. As a palace official, Harald considered it his duty to find out what was going on. He took his writing block from his gown and prepared to make notes.

  The ferryman put down his passengers and rowed over to where the woman had pointed. A rope was tied to one of the bollards. He cut it loose and a tangled mass of fishing net rose to the surface and started to float away on the outgoing tide.

  'Gimme a hand.'

  He threw the end of the rope onto the jetty.

  'Pull this lot to shore.'

  Some men came forward and took hold of the rope. Harald stood back. At Wolf Wood, he always lent a hand when something had to be done. As a senior officer of the Crown, manual work was totally out of the question. People in his position could not be seen to get their hands dirty, unless by ink.

  The net was dragged into the shallows. It contained two bodies: a man and a boy. The boy wore a hooded tunic which had slipped back to reveal a freckled face and sandy-coloured hair. His lips were sewn shut. A ring passed through his nose. His eyes had been gouged out and his ears were missing.

  'Holy Mother.'

  Alice made the sign of the cross. Others followed her example and waited for the second body to be turned over.'

  'It's Gareth Pritchard,' someone said. 'The one what trains the greyhounds.'

  Alice's heart missed a beat. She knew there was something familiar about the man who had been trailing them when they went for walks. If she had not suspected him of being a royal spy she might have remembered him from the distant past. He was Owen Ap Richard's son and still recognisable as the Gareth she had known, despite what they had done to his face.

  'That's what they does to spies.'

  The ferryman peered down at the corpses.

  'They're not the first. Every now and then you find 'em. Eyes, mouth and ears. They're what spies use. Sewing up the mouth stops them from crying out too. Then they don't make no noise when the tide rises and they drown.'

  Alice grasped Harald's arm and led him away. She felt faint. Owen had saved her when she was being hunted as a witch. Now his son, Gareth, had died. He was trying to speak to her and she had shunned him. The boy was probably Gareth's son and they had murdered him too. It was all too horrible to think about.

  ***

  T
he bodies were still on the mudflat when Steven reached the jetty. They had been left there for people to gawp at and tell others what happens to those who are disloyal to their king. He pushed his way through the crowd and forced himself to look.

  He had to play the part expected of him. His mother could go pale and faint. He had to act like he enjoyed the spectacle and believed the kid had got what was coming to him. His feet moved automatically and the rest of him followed. He felt like two people. One was playing the palace smart arse. The other was devastated by what had happened.

  The kid wasn't lying when he said they had played together. They had but so long ago he couldn't remember. The kid probably couldn't either. That was why he sounded so false when he talked about it. His father had probably told him what to say and he'd learnt it by heart.

  His father was tied up beside him with wounds to his body and hands. He probably put up a fight to save them both. Steven felt pangs of guilt. They stabbed at him as he struggled to maintain the silly smile on his face. The palace spies would be watching to see how he reacted. He had to keep up the act. It didn't matter if people hated him for it. That was the burden he was going to have to bear.

  From now on his life was dedicated to avenging Gareth and his son. If he had not been so smug, they would still be alive. He had thought himself so clever and everyone else stupid. It had never occurred to him that the boy might be genuine and working with people at Ludlow. He had committed the sin of pride and the boy had paid the price. He had died a horrible death.

  His mother went to confession when she thought she had sinned. That wasn't an option for him. There wasn't a priest in a hundred miles who could be trusted to keep his sort of secret. Steven shut his eyes. His mind was in turmoil. One part told him to jump in the river and put an end to it. Another said no good would come of that. If he chickened out and killed himself, he would never be able to make amends. Gareth and his son would have died in vain.