26
Stonehaugh, 12th of October, 1346
Afternoon
By sheer bad luck, the place where Peter had intended to take them was also where the Disinherited had made their camp. Or perhaps not luck, the herald thought. Stonehaugh had water and grazing and it was hidden in the heart of the moor; the perfect place for an army to assemble in secret. Looking at the tents and horse lines, Merrivale thought there must be a thousand men assembled here, perhaps more.
There was no pageantry, no bright banners to betray who these men were from a distance. Umfraville, Wake and Clennell, who stood waiting in front of one of the larger pavilions, wore plain surcoats over their armour. Merrivale challenged them even before he dismounted from his horse. ‘As you are foresworn, I see you have laid aside your coats of arms. Have you abandoned your families and your names as well? Instead of the Disinherited, shall we now call you the Nameless Ones?’
Clennell’s face was grim. ‘Have a care, herald. Your authority does not run here.’
‘You are wrong.’ Peter de Lisle’s clear young voice picked up the attack. ‘The herald’s authority runs the length and breadth of the kingdom, that is the law. If my father were here, he would remind you of your duty to your king and his officers. Lay a hand on us, and you will suffer for it.’
Clennell stared at the boy. ‘No one will lay a hand on anyone,’ said Umfraville, his voice placating. ‘You are safe among us. But we have a right to know what you are doing here.’
‘We came to tell you of the death of Sir Walter Selby,’ said Merrivale. ‘Or perhaps you have heard already?’
The three men looked at each other. Other men crowded in, listening and staring. ‘No,’ Wake said quietly. ‘This is grievous news. Walter was a brother-in-arms and a friend.’
‘Did he tell you where he was going when you parted company at Berwick?’
‘He said he didn’t trust Brus, and didn’t want to accept his offer. Then he left. What happened?’
‘He returned to his post at Liddel Strength,’ said Merrivale. ‘When summoned to surrender, he refused. With little more than forty men, he held off the entire Scottish army for two days. Only on the morning of the third day did the castle fall.’
He paused for a moment. ‘Selby was grievously wounded and had laid down his arms,’ he said. ‘An honourable foe would have allowed him to surrender. Brus ordered the remaining defenders to be slaughtered, and beheaded Selby himself. He died without dignity, unshriven.’
‘But he was a hero,’ said Peter, ‘and will be remembered as such for evermore. How will you be remembered, my lords?’
The three men said nothing. Wake was still horrified by the news of Selby’s death; Umfraville’s face was wooden. Clennell shifted a little. ‘Selby knew the risks of not joining us,’ he said. ‘All the more reason why we stick with the plan, or we will face the same fate.’
‘Plan?’ said Merrivale. ‘You have received your final instructions from Brus?’
‘No,’ said Wake after a moment. ‘Nor have we yet decided whether we will obey them, when they do come.’
Clennell turned on him. ‘Jesus Christ. Haven’t you just heard what happens to people who cross Brus? It’ll be our heads on spikes next time. We don’t have a choice now. We made our decision at Berwick.’
‘Whatever Brus has promised, you will never receive it,’ Merrivale said. ‘He will betray you, as he betrays everyone around him. Did you know he intends to murder David and take the throne of Scotland for himself? By your faces, I see you did not. And he has already decided to hand over the lands he seizes in England to a new Scottish earl of Northumberland. I don’t know who this man will be; one of his trusted allies perhaps, Bruce of Carrick or Douglas of Liddesdale. I strongly suspect your own lands will be among those seized and confiscated, once you are dead.’
‘Have you evidence of any of this?’ demanded Clennell.
‘Yes,’ said the herald. ‘I have the statements of witnesses who have spoken to Brus, and I have the evidence of his actions. I know also that one of you is his agent, working on his behalf.’
‘What are you talking about?’ demanded Wake.
‘Brus’s venture in Scotland is part of a much larger design. Others are working in England and on the continent, and they give Brus his orders.’
He looked at Tiphaine. ‘I heard Brus say it himself,’ she said. ‘One of the leaders of the Disinherited has been part of the conspiracy since the beginning. It cannot be Sir Robert de Lisle, and it cannot be Sir Walter Selby. Therefore it must be one of you three.’
Merrivale waited for this to sink in. He was positive that he knew who it was, but an open accusation would be risky. At the moment they would not dare to harm him, not with the son of their revered former leader looking on. But if they were goaded too far, that might change.
Clennell slapped his armoured thigh with one hand. ‘This woman has taken leave of her senses. I’ve never heard of this conspiracy, and doubt if it even exists.’
‘It sounds plausible to me,’ Umfraville said.
‘Oh, for God’s sake, Gilbert! Can’t you see they’re trying to turn us against each other? Walter would still be alive if he had stayed with us.’ Clennell gestured towards Merrivale and the others. ‘We should get rid of them,’ he said.
‘What do you mean, get rid of them?’ Umfraville’s voice was sharp. ‘Are you suggesting we kill a royal herald? And Robert de Lisle’s son?’
Clennell raised his hands. ‘Just keep them out of sight and out of trouble, that’s all I ask. Lock them up somewhere secure until this is over.’
‘I can’t see my old friend Robert would be happy with that either,’ Wake said dryly. ‘Let them go, Gilbert.’
‘Are you mad?’ demanded Clennell. ‘Let them go, so they can tell everyone where we are?’
‘What does it matter?’ asked Peter. He gestured around the camp. ‘You have hundreds of men here. My father has fourteen men-at-arms at Chipchase; they are no threat to you. The monks at Hexham are unarmed. The nearest English army is forty miles away.’ He glanced at the herald for approval. ‘We can shout your location from the rooftops, but it will make no difference. You are perfectly safe.’
‘They’re your prisoners, Gilbert,’ Wake said. ‘It’s your decision.’
‘I need to think about this,’ Umfraville said finally. He nodded to his men. ‘Put them in my pavilion and see they are comfortable.’
‘And while we are waiting, bring us some food,’ Peter said imperiously. ‘It’s been a bloody long time since we’ve eaten, and we’re famished. Bread and beef, if you please, and a capon wouldn’t go amiss either.’
A smile twitched the corner of Umfraville’s mouth. ‘We’ll see what we can do,’ he said.
Hautwistle, 12th of October, 1346
Afternoon
Béthune and Douglas found Rollond de Brus in the middle of the Scottish army as it made camp on the banks of the South Tyne. ‘They gave us the slip, but it doesn’t matter,’ Douglas said. ‘They walked straight into the camp of the Disinherited.’
‘Then we can leave it to Clennell to finish them off,’ Brus said. ‘We have bigger game now. The English army has moved up to Barnard Castle, in Teesdale. Percy and Neville have both joined them with their retainers, so they have a larger force than we planned, somewhere between four and five thousand.’
‘Do we know their intentions?’ asked Niall Bruce of Carrick. The bruises on his face were finally fading.
‘They’re waiting to see what we do. The initiative rests with us, gentlemen. We shall proceed east down the Tyne valley, taking Hexham and Corbridge. Newcastle will open its gates, and we will mop up the rest of Northumberland before we turn south.’
‘And the English?’ asked Béthune. ‘Won’t they try to interfere?’
‘That’s where the Disinherited come in. We send them south to block the English advance. There aren’t enough of them to defeat Zouche’s army, but they will slow them down. And als
o, their appearance out of nowhere will come as a surprise. That too will make Zouche and his captains hesitate. Zouche is inexperienced. It won’t take much to stop him in his tracks.’
‘Clever,’ Douglas said. ‘When they do fight, of course, Zouche will have superior numbers. The Disinherited will be ground to pieces. Or most of them will.’
Brus nodded. ‘But they will have served their purpose,’ he said. ‘The orders go out in the morning. Be ready, gentlemen. Our time is coming.’
Stonehaugh, 12th of October, 1346
Evening
‘How certain are you?’ asked Umfraville.
The clouds still hung low over the moors and an early dusk was falling. At Umfraville’s request – an instruction thinly veiled as a request, the herald thought – they had walked out to the edge of the camp where they could talk in private.
‘We became aware of this conspiracy in the summer,’ Merrivale said. ‘A number of its members were killed at Crécy, but others survived. Brus was one of them. He did not come to Scotland as an emissary of the King of France, as everyone believed, but as an agent of the conspirators.’
‘And you believe one of us is part of this plot.’
‘You heard the demoiselle,’ Merrivale said.
‘Who do you think it is?’ demanded Umfraville. ‘Myself?’
‘No. My lord, you must have worked it out by now. You must know who it is.’
‘Yes,’ Umfraville said finally. ‘What led you to him?’
‘Do you recall the staged attack on myself, at Chester-le-Street? It was arranged by David Harkness on the orders of Clennell, who was also present. When he realised I knew Harkness was involved, Clennell had him killed to prevent him from confessing. Whether the arrow that killed Harkness came from the Scottish ranks or our own, I will never know. But it was shot deliberately, with Harkness as the target.’
A long silence fell. ‘You say Clennell is in league with Brus and the Scots,’ Umfraville said finally. ‘Very well, we’re on the verge of going over to the Scots ourselves. The Rubicon beckons, and we must make our final decision very soon. Once we do, there is no returning to the past.’
He looked at Merrivale. ‘Clennell could be our best hope of safety. If he is deep in the conspiracy, he can protect us.’
‘But he won’t,’ Merrivale said. ‘I think they are already planning to sacrifice you and Lord Wake and your men. This is only a guess, but I suspect the new Earl of Northumberland will be Thomas Clennell.’
Umfraville paused again, taking this in. ‘Very well. You have told me the truth as you see it, and I respect you for that. For Peter’s sake, and his father’s, I will ensure no harm comes to you. Just in case you are right, I will post a strong guard around you tonight. In the morning, you may depart.’
‘What will you do?’ the herald asked.
‘Think,’ said Umfraville. He smiled, without much humour. ‘It turns out the Rubicon is a damned big river.’
Newcastle-upon-Tyne, 12th of October, 1346
Evening
‘Good evening, my lady,’ said William Blyth. ‘I trust you are well and recovered from your rheum?’
‘Master Tielt’s remedy has done its work,’ said Lady Mary. ‘I feel entirely restored. Is there any news of the Scots?’
Lamplight shone on the room’s treasures, the glowing carpets and ikons, sparkling off the glass-framed mirrors. Blyth held out a hand full of birdseed and the linnets came obediently to feed. ‘They are reported to be at Hautwistle, a day’s march west of Hexham,’ the banker said soberly. ‘That means they are only about two days from here.’
Lady Mary gasped a little. ‘Oh, my. So close… The people plotting to open the gates will be making ready. Have you found out any more about who they might be?’
Blyth shook his head. ‘I am confident that no member of the Guild Merchant is involved, and the herald was equally confident that the foreign merchants are innocent. That means we are stymied, I am afraid.’
‘So what do we do now?’
‘Nothing. To be honest, Lady Mary, there are always rumours of plots like this, especially in time of war, but they rarely come to anything. I think we are starting at shadows.’
‘Do you?’ said Lady Mary. ‘How unfortunate. Because you may not have found any evidence, Master Blyth, but I have.’
Blyth shook his hand and the birds flew away. ‘Have you?’ he said mildly. ‘That is interesting. To whom have you spoken?’
‘Some of the merchants. Tielt, of course, and Master Murton the alderman. But mostly, I read these.’
She reached under the table beside her and pulled out a heavy parchment roll. ‘Your accounts,’ she said. ‘Not the public ones, but the secret ones you keep behind the panels in your office. They made very interesting reading. Particularly the items concerning your dealings with Gilbert de Tracey and his uncle, the treasurer of Durham.’
Blyth looked at her calmly. ‘I have made no secret of my dealings with Tracey before his disgrace. And there is nothing unlawful about my business with Durham.’
‘No, although the size of these deals is quite breathtaking. But your even larger transactions with the banker from Bruges, Oppicius Adornes, will require some investigation, I feel. As will the payments you made to Thomas Clennell of the Disinherited. You have sent a lot of money to Sir Thomas, haven’t you? Enough to pay for an army.’
Blyth nodded. ‘An interesting conjecture. But if you go back further through the accounts, you will find that I have been Clennell’s banker for years.’
‘Hmm. I thought you might say that,’ Lady Mary said. ‘I checked, and you have not. Your connection with Clennell only began last year. I am only a woman, Master Blyth, and I have no head for figures. But if I have been able to learn so much from your accounts, imagine what the sleuths at the Chancery will uncover once they get their hands on them.’
Blyth raised a hand. ‘Enough. You have been very clever, my lady, but you have overreached yourself.’ He raised his voice. ‘Woodburn! Come up to the solar, immediately.’
Barely a second passed before the man-at-arms knocked and entered the room. Blyth pointed at Lady Mary. ‘Her ladyship is overwrought and has become hysterical. Take her to her room and confine her there until I give further orders.’
‘I am sorry, sir,’ Woodburn said helplessly. His hands were spread, and there was no sword in his scabbard. Entering the room behind him came two more men-at-arms in the red and white livery of the town, weapons pointed at Woodburn’s back. Behind them came the tall black-clad figure of Alderman Murton, chain of office glinting around his neck. More men-at-arms followed.
‘Blyth, I am arresting you in the king’s name,’ Murton said. He sounded nervous but also, Mary thought, rather excited. ‘I am seizing your papers and accounts until an inquisition can examine them. You will come with me.’
Blyth smiled ruefully at Lady Mary. ‘I underestimated you,’ he said, and before anyone could move he ran straight at the solar windows and crashed through them with a shower of splintering glass. Lady Mary and Murton ran to the window in time to see Blyth pick himself up in the courtyard and run like a hare towards the gates. ‘Damn!’ Murton said. ‘I should have left a guard in the street. Never mind, he won’t get far. We’ll have him in custody soon.’
‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ said Lady Mary. ‘He’ll have anticipated this, and had a bolthole prepared. Never mind. We have his papers, and that’s the main thing.’
Wings fluttered over her head. The linnets, scenting fresh air, flew out through the broken window and soared away into the night sky. She heard one last trill of song, and they were gone.
27
Hexham, 13th of October, 1346
Morning
Umfraville was as good as his word. He put them in a pavilion for the night with a strong guard of his own men, and in the morning came to see them. ‘I can’t do anything until I speak to Clennell. I want to hear the truth from his own lips.’
‘Where is Clennell
?’ Merrivale asked.
‘He rode out this morning. Said he’s worried that someone might have followed your trail and discovered our location. I repeated what the boy said, but he is obsessed with secrecy.’
‘Does that itself not make you suspicious?’ Merrivale asked.
‘I want to speak to him myself,’ Umfraville repeated. ‘You and your party are free to go.’
They rode through a misty morning down to the North Tyne and picked up the Hexham road north of Chipchase. ‘We must hurry,’ Merrivale said. ‘The Scots may well arrive at Hexham later today. We must be gone before they do.’
There was, Peter agreed, no time to call on his father. ‘What is your business at Hexham, sir?’
‘I need to speak to Brother Gilbert again. The almoner at Jedburgh said he had written to the king. I want to know why, and what he really said.’
He turned to the others. ‘Let us take no more risks than we must. I am going to the priory alone. As soon as we reach the main road, I want you to ride straight to Newcastle, as quickly as you can. I will follow you.’
He faced the predictable mutiny, not from Peter or Tiphaine, but from his servants. ‘I have said this before, many times,’ said Mauro. ‘Señor, one day you will go too far. Let us come with you.’
‘You have endured enough danger on my behalf,’ Merrivale said. ‘And if things go wrong, I can escape more easily on my own.’
Tiphaine turned up her nose. ‘He thinks we are baggage, encumbering him.’
‘I will not argue about this,’ Merrivale said. ‘You will ride to Newcastle, and I will meet you there.’
‘We will do as you say, sir,’ said Peter. ‘May I ask one favour? When you reach Hexham, will you give money to have a mass said for Brother Alexander?’
‘I shall do so on behalf of us all,’ said Merrivale.
A Clash of Lions Page 29