The King's Man (The Order of the White Boar Book 2)

by Alex Marchant

  Lord Rivers bowed.

  ‘Your Grace. To what do I owe this early awakening?’

  His lordship’s manner was calm, but his voice was strained, and made me long to clear my throat. But now that his gentlemen’s curses had ceased, the yard was hushed and I dared not.

  The Duke lengthened the silence before he spoke.

  ‘Lord Rivers, it has come to our attention that the road towards Stony Stratford is not safe. Bands of men have been waiting to waylay unwary travellers, particularly it seems those who seek to join the King. They admit no allegiance, but they are well drilled and well equipped. I can afford to take no chances on who may have given them their orders. Therefore I require that you and your men remain here for the time being.’

  ‘Lord Lovell informed me I was under arrest.’

  The Duke paused again, as though weighing every word.

  ‘I regret using the word, but I must ask you to stay within your lodgings and to send no messages.’

  Earl Rivers moved as though to speak again, but he was interrupted by a cacophony of hooves approaching along the narrow main street. A large company of riders cantered around the final bend, then slowed to a walk, only a few of its leaders advancing through the encirclement of the inn.

  At their head was my lord of Buckingham. He hauled back on the reins of his enormous jet-black charger as it drew alongside Storm, wrenching its neck into a tight arch and causing it to toss its head against the pain. The first rays of the sun breaking through the clouds on the horizon lit up the sneer upon his face. He also did not dismount, throwing a glance down at the Earl standing before him. Then, with no word of greeting, he turned to Duke Richard.

  ‘Now do you see the truth of what I said last night? Never trust a Woodville.’

  Duke Richard’s face was impassive.

  ‘I hope you are well rested after yesterday’s journey, Harry. As to events overnight, we have no proof of who is responsible. I have requested my Lord Rivers keep to his inn while we ride on to the King.’

  ‘Keep to his inn? Surely it would be best to slap him in chains and drag him to Westminster in a wagon!’

  There was now light enough on Lord Rivers’ upturned face to show upon it only scorn for the younger man above him. But he remained silent while Duke Richard replied.

  ‘There is no need of that, cousin. If you wish, you may leave a detachment of men here to ensure he keeps his word. For myself, I am in haste to meet my nephew with his escort. I want no more misunderstandings about what is to happen over the coming days.’ Now, directing his words more to Lord Rivers, he continued, ‘My brother made me Protector of his realm and I intend to fulfil that trust to the best of my ability, come what may.’

  Earl Rivers bowed his head and drew back. After leaning down to speak to Lord Lovell, who passed instructions to his own men before hurrying to mount his horse, the Duke turned Storm back towards the road. He raised his voice to ensure that all gathered there could hear.

  ‘And now it is time to be off to Stony Stratford. We must reach the King before he departs.’

  And as we all spurred our horses on, the Duke of Buckingham’s words from last night came into my mind – about young Edward being soon crowned and in the Woodvilles’ power.

  3 Stony Stratford

  The speed of our progress afforded little chance to enjoy the countryside through which we passed on this fine spring morning. The rolling fields with their bright green shoots and orchards full of apple and pear blossom caressed by the rosy fingers of the early sun were very different from what we had left behind in the north.

  Spring had seemed to be racing ahead of us as we rode down from Middleham. Here the hawthorn was already in full flower although it was not yet May. We had left tiny lambs sheltering from the biting wind behind high stone walls, watching their mothers grazing the sparse late winter grass, while here boys and their dogs stood guard over flocks of sheep almost half-grown. All raised their heads at the thunder of so many hooves upon the ancient roadway, wondering perhaps at the fluttering standards of the two Dukes, the glinting harness, the whipping of horses into a lather, and the need for such a cavalcade. Yesterday, had they gazed at the passing of the King, then the later return of Earl Rivers, with similar curiosity?

  Stony Stratford, as we entered, appeared no more than a village, its main buildings strung out along the road towards distant London. Glancing around, I understood why Duke Richard had disbelieved the Earl’s reason for moving the King’s retinue from far-larger Northampton to this place. Men at arms were streaming in from every direction, having no doubt been forced to find what billets they could in the surrounding countryside. Seeing our banners and our hurry, they made way before our party, saluting the two Dukes at its head. Before long we had clattered out of the village and were crossing open pastureland towards an imposing stone manor house, set among barns, fishponds and pleasure grounds. In fields beyond, men were busy collapsing myriad tents, pitched perhaps overnight to house more of the King’s numerous escort.

  Our swift approach caused a flurry among the scores of men and riders already assembled on the manor’s wide cobbled courtyard. Cries of alarm, startled horses dancing around their handlers. One, a gleaming chestnut bearing a rich red saddlecloth, tore its lead rein from the groom’s hands and would have dashed away. But Lord Lovell kicked his horse forward and stretched out a hand to grasp its silver-buckled bridle as he had for Alys all those months ago in Middleham. He led it back to where the rest of us had slowed to a halt, just as the huge oaken door of the manor house was flung open.

  Through the doorway lunged four or five young men in bright travelling clothes of blue, green, russet, their long cloaks swinging about their striding legs. The face of the leader blanched as he caught sight of us, and his hand flew to draw his sword, which flashed in the sunlight as he brandished it. His fellows likewise unsheathed their weapons and stood with him amidst the general melee, a tight knot of dazzling steel before the manor’s threshold.

  Duke Richard’s nearest companions closed ranks in front of him and the Duke of Buckingham, their mounts’ hindquarters bunching together protectively before anyone else could react. I could barely glimpse their adversaries through the thicket of their upraised blades.

  But Duke Richard was quick too. Just as I spied another person in the shadows of the doorway, so it seemed did he, for he cried out,

  ‘Put up your swords, gentlemen, in the presence of your King.’

  His men instantly obeyed, lowering their weapons, but those about the boy King hesitated, until he himself stepped forward and placed a hand on the shoulder of the man in russet.

  ‘Brother, see, it is my uncle Gloucester. Our uncle Rivers said he was riding to join us. Remember?’

  This speech told me that the russet-clad man grasping the costly, jewel-hilted sword was the King’s younger half-brother, Richard, Lord Grey. He was still reluctant to obey, and his fellows glanced at him for guidance, their razor-sharp blades poised to strike at a word.

  In their moment of indecision, Duke Richard swung down from Storm and slipped through the defensive shield of horses to stand alone before them. As Lord Grey and his men stared at him amazed, their swords still raised, he knelt on one knee on the ground, a small, dark figure against the pale cobbles.

  ‘My liege, I come to bring you my allegiance. Your noble father, my beloved and lamented brother, willed that I should govern the kingdom for you until you are of age. That I will gladly do. And my men and those of our cousin the Duke of Buckingham will here also do you homage.’

  All around, our companions dismounted and knelt in their turn. I followed their lead, the cobbles chill and hard through the thin fabric of my hose. As I removed my cap, I watched the unfolding scene out of the corner of my eye.

  My lord Buckingham was the last to dismount, swinging his leg stiffly down from the saddle and never taking his eyes away from Grey and his men.

  Edward’s brother himself appeared confused by the
turn of events, transfixed by the sight of Duke Richard kneeling only feet away from him. Tension crackled in the air like a coming thunderstorm, but then, at another word from the new King, he lowered his sword and motioned to his companions to do likewise.

  Then Edward stepped past them and I could see him clearly for the first time.

  His face was thinner than when I had met him at court, and pale, no longer flushed by our ride through the crisp winter air, or by the music and dancing of the Twelfth Night revels. Though taller than me, of course, to my eyes he also appeared far younger than his twelve years. Duke Richard’s question to me at Middleham stole into my mind – it seemed so long ago now: how would I feel to have the job of ruling England thrust upon me at that age?

  He stood now in front of his uncle, clad in his sober mourning suit of darkest blue, the colour reflected in his shadowed eyes. Despite these family members nearby, he struck me as very alone. Then he spoke. Though his words were formal, his voice was high and my ears detected a slight tremor in it.

  ‘My thanks, uncle, for your allegiance, and for that of your men. Also to my uncle Buckingham. I know that the loyalty of the foremost nobles of my kingdom is vital to me as it was to my father.’

  He put out his hand on which glistened a large-stoned ring and Duke Richard bent his head to kiss it. Then Edward’s eyes swept across all those gathered before him.

  ‘But tell me, uncle, where is my uncle Rivers? They tell me he rode back to meet you last evening, yet I do not see him here with you.’

  The Duke rose to his feet, and Lord Lovell, who had moved forward to his side, signalled to the rest of us to do the same. Despite the scraping of boots on stone as scores of men obeyed, the Duke’s measured reply reached my ears.

  ‘Your Grace – Edward – we have reason to think Earl Rivers attempted to delay us.’

  ‘Delay you?’ It was Edward’s turn to be confused. ‘Why so?’

  ‘To prevent us reaching you before you can enter London. Not only did he miss the rendezvous we arranged at Northampton yesterday, but it seems ambushes were set along the road.’

  ‘Ambushes? I don’t understand.’ Edward turned to his brother, still standing beside him. ‘Richard? Do you know anything of this?’

  The young man flushed scarlet and his knuckles whitened on his sword hilt.

  ‘He lies, Edward,’ he hissed. ‘Do not trust him. Our mother told uncle Rivers that —’

  The Duke of Buckingham thrust himself forward at this.

  ‘Your mother, boy? She has nothing to do with this. It is the business of men, not of women, to govern kingdoms. Place not your confidence in anything she says!’

  Duke Richard laid a hand on his arm.

  ‘Calm yourself, Harry. Let Lord Grey talk. If he knows anything of the ambushes, I would rather hear him out. And the King asked to know the truth. Although now Earl Rivers is in our custody, he perhaps will explain —’

  At these words the blood drained from Lord Grey’s face. Before the Duke could finish, the younger man had lunged towards him, his sword arcing through the air. But the Duke’s own blade, unsheathed in a flash, parried the blow, and with a twist my eyes barely caught, flicked the sword out of his assailant’s hand. His sword point was at Lord Grey’s throat and Lord Lovell and his gentlemen had disarmed his companions before they’d even managed to step forward or lift their own weapons.

  I was stunned by the speed of what happened. I heard Lord Lovell bark orders at his men. Saw Lord Grey’s mouth twist into a soundless snarl as he glared first at Duke Richard, then at Lord Lovell. Then he glanced at his younger brother.

  Edward was staring at him, his face white with shock.

  Lord Grey’s expression changed. His eyes dropped, and a few stuttered words fell from his lips.

  ‘Edward, I’m – I’m sorry – I – we...’

  His voice faltered and died away. When Master Ratcliffe stepped up with cord to bind his wrists, he offered them up without a murmur, then followed his companions as all five were led away.

  Edward watched until they disappeared into the huge gathering of men and horses in the manor’s courtyard. None of the soldiers of the escort had made a move to assist Lord Grey and many now turned away to busy themselves with their mounts or their gear.

  Calm restored, the Duke of Buckingham came out from behind Lord Lovell, brushing down his doublet with an air of unconcern.

  Duke Richard resheathed his sword and said to the boy King,

  ‘I’m sorry, Edward. I would have spared you that if I could. But now we must talk. Are your chamberlain and tutor within?’

  Edward, a look of misery having driven the shock from his face, nodded, then led the two dukes into the manor house. Pausing briefly to speak to his men, Lord Lovell followed them in, closing the oaken door behind him.

  Before long I stood almost alone in the courtyard, bar Bess and a few grooms and horses, including the flighty chestnut with its costly harness. I had overheard Lord Lovell’s orders to his men, which were to disperse most of the King’s escort back to their homes in Wales or the Marches. They would not be needed now Duke Richard had arrived. Despite the scene outside the manor house, or perhaps because of it, the escort didn’t need to be told twice. The enormous company that had been assembling melted away again in a matter of minutes.

  I was not as sure what to do with myself. So, taking from my saddle bag the precious book that the Duke’s son Ed had given me at our parting, I settled down on a mounting block outside a barn, with Murrey at my feet, to read. Yet it was some time before any of the words on the page sank in. My thoughts wandered back unbidden to the scene that had just passed.

  I had never before seen the Duke with a weapon in his hand, nor had I ever witnessed anyone wield a sword with such calm precision. Duke Richard was spoken of by everyone as a great knight and a famous general, but I had not placed that alongside the reality of the man I knew best at home – with his family, reading romances or enjoying music, or riding with my friends and me and seemingly few cares across the heather on the moors around Middleham. Here now was another side to him.

  Time passed, however, and I ceased to ponder what was happening inside the manor house. My attention was at last captured by the book on my lap, the ominously titled ‘Death of Arthur’. So engrossed did I become in that verse tale of an ancient king and his knights that I noticed neither that the Duke’s gentlemen were gathering again in the yard nor that anyone had quit the manor house. It was only a shadow falling across the page and Lord Lovell’s voice saying, ‘Come, Matthew, the Duke wishes to speak with you,’ that drove me to my feet again and back into the courtyard, Murrey trotting at my heels.

  Duke Richard stood in the doorway of the house, pulling on his riding gauntlets. His face was shadowed, the expression suggesting he was barely aware of the bustle of men and beasts around him. Seeing me, however, he motioned me closer.

  ‘Matt, though you are soon to leave us, it seems I may have a further use for you after all.’

  ‘I’m ever at your service, Your Grace,’ I said, bowing.

  ‘So I have found,’ he replied. ‘And I am grateful for it. But today it is not just me but your new King whom you will serve.’

  ‘I’m honoured, sir.’

  He looked down at me and a small smile curved his lips. But he continued in the rather official manner I had seen in him all morning.

  ‘I find that our plans have changed and we must return to Northampton. I would that you would ride with the King.’

  ‘Of course, my lord. It will be a pleasure.’

  I truly believed what I said, but his face was darkened by a faint frown.

  ‘I hope so. It will not be like your ride together at Christmas, Matt. It has been a difficult day for the poor lad – one in very many such days since his father died. And it will not be the last for him. Or for us.’

  He paused. But before I could think how to respond, he continued quietly,

  ‘He hardly knows me, Matt.
I see him shrink from me as though he fears me. He has been shut away with Lord Rivers for so long – and perhaps I have been shut away too long in the north, away from the court. Our paths have hardly crossed, and who knows what he may have been told about me. And now his father...’

  A spasm passed across his face and he set off striding across the courtyard towards the pleasure grounds. I had to trot to keep pace, as did Murrey alongside us both.

  As we left behind the last of the crowds, finding ourselves amidst the bright-blossoming trees and shrubs, he spoke again.

  ‘If you go to Edward, and speak with him, boy to boy, it may make things easier for him. For all his training to be king one day, now he is just a frightened lad. And my lord Buckingham does not help.’

  He halted, causing Murrey and I to skitter to a stop beside him. His frown had deepened.

  ‘Although in one thing Buckingham may be right. Perhaps young Edward has been too softly brought up among his mother’s family. When I was his age, his father had set me to work raising troops for his wars. At only a few years older, he had lost his own father and brother and fought to win his crown at St Albans and Towton. I wonder whether this boy would be able to face such troubles as those.’

  He fell silent, his shadowed eyes watching the activity back in the courtyard. For some minutes he seemed unwilling to return to his men or to speak again.

  Waiting there for him to continue, a question that had been welling up in me since the previous evening at last broke out.

  ‘Your Grace, forgive me asking, but why does the Duke of Buckingham hate the Queen’s family so much?’

  He stared at me for several moments. Had I perhaps been too impertinent? But then he spoke again.

  ‘Perhaps he has reason enough. He was the Queen’s ward as a boy and when he was younger even than you, Matt, she chose to marry him – and his fortune – to her sister Catherine. I fear they have never been happy together. My lord is too mindful of his proud ancestry – and of her family’s lowly origins. No matter that he thereby became brother to the Queen, and King... My brother’s marriage to Elizabeth has caused much trouble over the years. But perhaps... perhaps now things will change.’