CHAPTER XIII

The rutted, muddy streets of Durham were still familiar to Samuel, though several years had passed since he had seen them. A scant fifty miles from the great northern castle of Warkworth, he had made several journeys to Durham on the earl’s behalf during his apprenticeship, and had always enjoyed the sparse northern woods through which the road wound. Durham was also not far from Northwood, and occasionally his father had escorted wagonloads of milled grain to the markets here for the earl, sometimes bringing Samuel along.

Now he was enjoying a moment’s respite from his duties, having accompanied the king northward with the guard. For three years he had enjoyed the favor of Sir Julian, who had taken it upon himself to train Samuel in various skills of war, especially in the use of the short sword. Sir Julian was a strong advocate of versatility, and wanted his men to be capable in whatever skills were warranted by any situation. Now Samuel felt comfortable wearing his sword belt, and was confident in his ability to use his blade, though he still preferred to face an enemy with a full quiver on his back and a bow in his hands.

The streets he remembered had not changed much over the years. The hustle of activity and overbearing aromas recalled many old, forgotten bits of memory, which now rolled through his mind like gusts of wind through the winter woods. Even the faces all seemed strangely familiar. The only person he didn’t recognize was himself.

His body, while still quite thin, had grown strong and sinewy through the constant physical exertion of his training and occasional combat, and by the natural transformation to manhood. His thick, curly black hair hung in locks to his shoulders, which were covered by a leather jerkin emblazoned with the king’s Sun-in-Splendor symbol. But it was his face that had changed the most. Still clean shaven as he preferred it, the cares of many battles and the traumatic events of Wakefield and Towton had left their marks. It was not the eyes of a twenty-year-old man that gazed upon the ramshackle houses that lined the streets of Durham, but those of one who had seen too much for his tender years. Somehow he could not shake the feeling of being alone.

“Samuel!” The sound of his name from somewhere out of the crowd startled him, and he spun on his heels to see who could be calling. He saw an arm waving and a head bobbing above the crowd. Recognizing his friend Stanley, he normally would have been pleased to see him, but at this moment Samuel was fighting the urge to run and hide. He waited, however, until his friend caught up, breathing heavily after what must have been a significant exertion. Stanley put his hands on his knees, taking a moment to catch his breath.

“I thought I’d never find you,” he said at last. His reddish hair and light, freckled skin seemed all the more pale in contrast to his tunic with the Sun-in-Splendor emblem of the king’s guard.

“I didn’t know you were looking for me,” Samuel said. “Come, you look like you could use some water.” He took Stanley’s arm and led him to the public fountain that sprang from the wall of a stone building in the town’s central square. Stanley splashed the water on his head and drank mouthfuls between hurried breaths. When it looked like he was recovered from his run, Samuel clapped him on the back. “So what brings you to such a state?”

“The guard has been summoned to the king, and we should be there now!”

“What’s wrong?”

“We’re to take part in the investiture. Haven’t you heard?”

Samuel shook his head and relaxed. Another ceremony, he thought with annoyance. He did not relish the thought of standing around as ornamentation while another of the nobility was granted some high honor or post that did not concern Samuel in the least.

“What investiture?” he asked absently.

“The king’s brothers, of course. I cannot believe that you don’t know.”

Now that Stanley reminded him, Samuel did remember something about the king’s youngest brothers returning from Burgundy where they had taken refuge during the past several years. Now that Edward felt secure on the throne, he had sent for his mother and brothers. The dowager Duchess of York returned to Baynards Castle in London, where she took up permanent residence to be closer to the royal court. The boys, on the other hand, were sent directly to the king’s presence.

“Yes,” said Samuel with a sigh. “I do remember, now that you mention it. The ceremony is today?”

“It’s to start at sunset, but we’re required to be at the bishop’s manor house now, so that proper preparations can be made. Sir Julian sent me after you with solemn warnings about being late.”

“Very well, then. We’d best be off.” They walked quickly along the busy street, doing their best to avoid the mud, spinning and dodging the densely packed pedestrians.

“You never told me what you thought of Sir Julian’s tale,” he asked Samuel as they ducked under the canopy of a fishmonger’s wagon, the pungent odor of eel turning their stomachs.

Samuel thought for a moment about the story Sir Julian had told to a group of the guard the night before while they were at supper. It was a banquet sponsored by the king for his guardsmen, over which Sir Julian presided as the king’s representative. The old knight had spent much of the evening relating the ancient tale of Roland, a knight in the service of Charlemagne while the emperor was fighting the Moors of Spain some six hundred years ago. Roland had been assigned to lead the rear guard of the army. Another knight, jealous of Charlemagne’s favor toward Roland, betrayed Roland to the Moors, who attacked the rear guard with an army that far exceeded Roland’s in size. Instead of blowing his horn and calling for Charlemagne to come to their rescue, Roland engaged the enemy, thinking it far nobler to risk his life and those of his men. While he and his men fought bravely and inflicted disproportionate losses on the Moors, in the end he could see that victory was not possible, and only then decided to blow his horn. But it was too late. By the time Charlemagne answered the call, Roland and all of his men lay dead on the battlefield, a loss that sorely grieved the great emperor.

While Roland’s mistake was plain to them all at the banquet, Samuel could not surmise why Sir Julian had chosen to tell that story on that occasion. He hid his ignorance behind a quick shrug of his shoulders.

“I think it’s plain that he was trying to tell us something.”

“I guessed that much myself, you lout,” Stanley gave him a shove into the path of a large man who was walking in the opposite direction. Samuel barely managed to avoid a collision. He lunged back and grabbed Stanley by the tunic and they struggled against each other, both trying to avoid being forced to the muddy ground. Several passersby, angered at being jostled and bumped, cursed them as they crashed into the side of a building. Finally releasing each other, they slumped onto a short foundation wall, laughing and panting from the exertion.

“Don’t worry about them,” said Stanley defiantly to the scowling faces in the crowd. They both knew that as members of the king’s guard they did not have to live by the same rules as the commoners. He made a mock lunge at a woman who looked especially disapproving, and with a yelp, she scurried down the street, yelling curses back at him as she went. Again, they laughed with glee.

“It’s good to hear you laugh again, Samuel. You should do it more often.”

“I grew up near here, did you know that? It still all looks pretty much the same after all that’s happened.”

“You speak like an old man, my friend. How much did you expect things to change in your short life?” Stanley laughed, but Samuel’s face did not change. Stanley saw a chance to learn more about his friend. “Where is your family now?”

“The last I knew, in Northwood. Just a day’s ride to the north of here.”

“Perhaps Sir Julian will give you a few days to visit.”

“I don’t think I’d be welcome,” Samuel said absently.

“It sounds like a story I’d like to hear.”

“It’s not one I care to tell.” Samuel jumped to his feet. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

Stanley quickly caught up. “Everyone in the guard knows that it was you who killed Clifford, and with an arrow shot that’s practically legendary. Sir Julian said that you had some score to settle. What did he do to you?”

“Sir Julian tells more stories than he should,” said Samuel. After walking silently for a while longer, he spoke again. “I had the temerity to question Clifford’s honor after the battle of Wakefield, having watched him needlessly slaughter the defenseless Earl of Rutland. After that, his men hunted me down and took me, my father, and sister prisoner. My father was beaten so mercilessly that he died shortly after. The rest of us were rescued by the king’s men, but my brother was devoted to the Percys and blamed me for everything. My joining the king’s guard only made matters worse.”

“I doubt it not,” said Stanley under his breath. “Why did you join if you knew that it would alienate your brother?”

Samuel thought for a moment. “I’m not really sure, but it seemed like the right course at the time. Besides, it’s what I was trained for, isn’t it? I didn’t really see a life for myself back in Northwood. It just seems as if every time I try to do the right thing, those closest to me suffer the most, so if I were you, Stanley, I’d keep my distance.”

Stanley grabbed his arm, stopping their rapid pace toward the bishop’s Manor House.

“If that’s the cost of your friendship, then I’m willing to pay.” Samuel had not expected such kind words, and could think of nothing to say. Stanley smiled, then pushed him down the street. “If I get punished for being late on your account, you’ll be sorry, I swear.”

They ran the last few blocks that separated them from the bishop’s house, darting and dodging around every obstacle. As they turned the last corner and the iron gates came into view, a woman carrying a basket full of onions and herbs stepped out from around the corner and, unable to check his speed, Samuel collided with her, sending them both headlong to the ground, scattering the contents of her basket. Dazed at first, then simply angry, the woman glared at Samuel.

“Do you not know that others use these streets as well?”

Stanley stood smiling while Samuel scrambled to gather the woman’s basket and its contents. He apologized profusely and helped her to her feet, handing the disheveled basket back. His actions had disarmed the woman, who had to smile at his embarrassment.

Samuel looked at her for the first time. An attractive woman in her early twenties, she had brown hair in one long braid. She bore herself proudly, more like a noblewoman than the kitchen hand she was.

“Come on, Samuel. We’re late as it is,” urged Stanley. Samuel did not seem to hear him.

“My…name is Samuel,” he stammered.

“Your friend has already told me that,” she said. Positioning her basket on her shoulder, she brushed past him and continued down the street. “Please do be more careful in the future.”

“Will you please come on,” urged Stanley more persistently as Samuel watched her disappear around the corner.

“Do you know her, Stanley?” he said, grudgingly allowing himself to be pulled toward the iron gates of the bishop’s home.

“For heaven’s sake, man, she’s a kitchen maid in the bishop’s service. Kate, I think her name is. Have you not seen her toiling there?”

“No,” he said wistfully, “I haven’t.” They entered past the gate toward the rear where the guard was camped. There’s something about her, thought Samuel. Something…

*

The great hall of the bishop’s manor was lit by a dozen torches. Samuel and the rest of the king’s guard were arranged in single lines along both walls, except for Sir Julian, who stood below and slightly to the right of the throne. All of the guard wore the gold-and-black tunic with the Sun-in-Splendor symbol. Samuel stood somewhere toward the center of the room on the right side, from where he was able to see the entire room. Stanley stood next to him. Countless dignitaries and courtiers mingled, carrying on dozens of conversations. Samuel easily recognized the brothers Neville, who stood near the front of the room by themselves. The Earl of Warwick and his brothers George, the Bishop of Exeter, and John, Lord Montagu, had become the principal power of the kingdom and the staff of the king’s party. Warwick and Montagu had only recently returned from the north after having contended with the Lancastrians, who were still holding the great castles of Bamborough, Dunstanborough, and Alnwick, as well as Berwick Castle, which had been treacherously deeded to the Scots by Margaret in exchange for their support. Samuel also recognized their host, the Bishop of Durham, who was talking to two magnates that he did not recognize. It felt hot under his heavy leather tunic.

Two sentries on either side of the huge double doors at the end of the room lifted their horns and loudly signaled the impending arrival of the king. The doors swung open and the sentries went to their knees. The first to enter were two pages bearing the lion and Fleur de Lis crest of England and the king’s Sun-in-Splendor symbol. After them, the king himself entered, followed by Lord Hastings and two young men dressed in the royal purple velvet and floor-length capes, who Samuel assumed were the king’s brothers, recently arrived from Burgundy. The ranks of noblemen and courtiers bowed deeply as he passed. Upon arrival at the dais, the king took the two steps up and turned to face the room. He wore around his shoulders a velvet cape with ermine collar. On his head he wore a simple gold coronet, and in his right hand he carried the symbolic staff of office. Two pages lifted the cape from his shoulders and arranged it on the throne behind him, upon which the king finally sat. Hastings and the two brothers stood to the right of the throne, opposite the Nevilles.

“My lords of Warwick and Montagu,” said Edward, “you are welcome back to our court.” Both bowed their heads in silent response. “Tell me now what news you have from the north.”

“Your Highness, she who lately called herself queen has a small force of French mercenaries and English traitors, and they are locked still behind the walls of our great northern castles. We continue with our siege and given time we will smoke them out like rats. The puissance that Your Highness brings will spell the end. I had also hoped for help from the noble Duke of Norfolk, but I regret to inform Your Highness that the duke has joined his ancestors and will never more answer a call to arms.”

Edward was crestfallen. After the Nevilles, Norfolk had been the strongest of his allies, and he had always felt more secure knowing that someone other than the Nevilles could assist him if needed.

“We mourn the loss of our great kinsman,” he said after a moment. “Lord Hastings, you will give our respects to his heir, young John Mowbray, and tell him we weep for his loss.” Hastings acknowledged with a bow of his head. “As for the northern castles, we commend the actions of our cousins of Warwick and Montagu and instruct all our loyal subjects to assist them with any need. My lord of Kent, you and Scales will accompany them in this campaign.” He was speaking to the two noblemen that Samuel had not recognized next to the Bishop of Durham. The Neville brothers looked at each other momentarily, but made no comment. The Earl of Kent was a longtime supporter of the House of York and a kinsman to the Nevilles. But Scales was a Woodville, and had fought for the Lancastrians. Warwick did not understand why he was being included in this task.

The king offered no explanation. “And now to the business at hand, which we have anticipated with great joy. George and Richard, stand before us, and we shall hear your oaths!”

As the two young men stepped to the foot of the throne, Samuel found it difficult to believe that they were born of the same parents. The eldest, George, was blond and tall, and stood as if he were himself the king. His brother, Richard, three years younger, was dark and small.

After both had given the king their oaths of loyalty, Edward stood and put his hands on their heads. Samuel could not help but notice the difference in the expressions worn by the two youths. Richard seemed in awe of his majestic brother and gazed up at him with excitement. George, on the other hand, looked uncomfortable and acted as if the attention were commonplace.

Edward addressed George first. “Know by all men here present that before God and His ministers, we create our brother George the Duke of Clarence, and grant him all the appurtenances and powers attendant to that title.” He then placed a circlet of gold on George’s head as a symbol of his dukedom. Turning to Richard he said, “And know by all men here present that before God and His ministers, we create our brother Richard the Duke of Gloucester, and grant him all the appurtenances and powers attendant to the title.” Richard was then also crowned with the gold circlet of office. “My lords! Welcome these new dukes to our court.” The young dukes turned and were greeted with applause. “Come, my lords, and let us repair to the banquet hall and celebrate. My heart is full of joy today!”

Samuel was relieved to hear that his services were not required at the banquet and was released for the night. Being anxious to attend breakfast in the morning, he retired without the usual carousing common to evenings with the guard.

*

The next morning Samuel was awake with the dawn and took unusual care washing at the pumphead. He had been careful not to wake Stanley, who usually accompanied him to breakfast, because on this occasion he had no desire for his company. He could smell the cooking fires from the kitchen hearths, and wondered how the bishop could afford the immense cost of hosting the king and his train. Walking quickly to the side entrance of the kitchen, he looked timidly through the door. There, behind a large kettle, stood Kate. He watched for a moment as she strained to stir what seemed a thick and difficult stew, her hair still in a single long braid which bounced as she moved. He was mesmerized by the shape of her breasts, which pushed their round form against her apron.

He stepped in, trying to look more assured than he felt. “Good morning to you, Kate,” he said at last.

She smiled casually. “Samuel, is it?”

“I’m pleased that you remember.”

“Am I likely to forget a person who knocked me to the ground?”

Samuel blushed. “No, I don’t imagine that you would.”

There was an awkward pause. “So what is it that you need at this early hour, young man?”

“I was…I wonder if you’d like to join me after your duties this evening?”

“What exactly were you thinking you’d like me to join you for?”

Samuel blushed again. “I just meant for a walk in town, if that’s agreeable with you.”

An unwelcome voice came from the doorway.

“So there you are.” It was Stanley.

“It is agreeable with me,” Kate said quickly. “You may meet me here when we put out the cooking fires.” Then she raised her voice. “Now help yourself to the rolls over there. I’ll not be serving you.” Samuel smiled broadly and with light feet walked over to help himself to a freshly baked roll. When Stanley joined him, he didn’t have to ask what had caused Samuel to fail to wake him that morning.

*

Samuel had been waiting patiently for quite a while before Kate finally emerged from the kitchen. She smiled tiredly when she saw him.

“I hope I didn’t keep you too long. It’s not an easy task to feed the king’s party, and we’re all going mad trying to keep up.”

“I can only imagine,” he said sympathetically. “I know a place down along the river that’s very peaceful this time of day. Would you care to see it?”

“Should I call the housekeeper to watch over us?” Samuel blushed, and Kate laughed. “I suppose I can trust a member of the king’s personal guard.”

The River Wear had an abundant flow by the time it reached Durham. The waters reminded him of home.

“I feel like I’m intruding,” Kate stood beside him. The sun was just setting below the horizon, and the dim light made her seem mysterious. He could feel the warmth of her body. “I should know better than to come to a place where a man has found solitude.”

Samuel was amazed by her insight. “Forgive me, I sometimes drift when I should be more attentive. Tell me about yourself. You’re not like any kitchen maid I’ve known before.”

“Oh? And what strikes you as different about myself?”

Samuel laughed. He loved the way she went directly to the point. “I think you know what I mean,” he said softly.

Her face shimmered in the last glow of the day. “And you’re not like any soldier I’ve ever known.”

“Oh, but that’s what I am, born and bred,” he said bitterly. “It’s all I’ve ever known, and all I’m likely to know hereafter.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Samuel took her hand and led her down a narrow footpath that followed the bank of the river, ducking the ghostly willow branches along the way. The stars made their entrance onto the darkening dome above them, lending a misty glow to the river waters as they rippled past. He found his favorite spot, atop a low bluff, and they sat with their feet dangling over the edge of the rocky face above the current. The night breeze wafting gently past, Samuel felt a comfort that he had not known for many years. He began telling Kate stories of his youth and of growing up in Northwood, and even retold some of the events of the past couple of years, including the horrifying stay at Pontefract and the death of his father.

“Well,” he said at last, “now you see that I am just a common soldier after all.”

She put her warm hand on his arm.

“I only see a young man who has taken a great many burdens on himself that are best shared with others.”

“You still haven’t told me anything about yourself.”

She turned away. “There’s nothing much to tell. I grew up just south of here to a large family of farmers. I did my family duties and worked hard until I was fifteen when my father began looking desperately for someone to whom I could marry. But the thought of working as plow ox for someone else for the rest of my life did not appeal to me and I ran away to this town, thinking that things would be better. As it turned out, the bishop took me into his service and he treats us well enough. At least I have some time to myself occasionally so that I can go on walks with handsome young men like yourself.” Even in the dark, she could tell that Samuel was blushing again.

But there was a quality to her voice that did not seem warranted by the story, an unmistakably sad tone.

“I think we had better return before it gets too late. I wouldn’t want people to start talking about you.” As he turned toward her, he found her lips pressed against his, a kiss that lingered gently into the night.