CHAPTER XXII

“It joys me to see you again, my boy.”

Sir Julian clapped Samuel on the shoulder. Although he was not happy to be back among the guardsmen when Kate and Sally were still missing and in danger, his heart was glad to see his old mentor again. Indeed, the welcome he received from everyone in the small camp near Nottingham made him feel as if he had been away too long.

The journey south from Lincoln had been slow due to the deplorable condition of the roads. Samuel was accustomed to roads that were not maintained and horribly rutted, but early spring storms had taken an even harder toll this year, and his small party had frequently found themselves leading the horses through knee-deep mud. Nigel told them that most of the common folk were not inclined anymore to risk the lawless roads, frequented as they were by bands of cutthroats.

Use of the old Roman road that led north to York made the way easier, but even that marvel of ancient achievement, which had carried travelers for more than a thousand years, was now badly decayed. It had taken them a fortnight to make a journey of a few days, and they had arrived later than they had hoped.

When they arrived, they were relieved to hear that the earl’s party had not yet passed through the deep copse where they waited. Nigel’s informants had reported that a party of several hundred men were on their way, escorting the prisoner king from Warwick Castle to Middleham Castle, another of Warwick’s magnificent holdings in the northlands near Richmond. It appeared that the horrible condition of the roads had slowed their progress as well.

Hastings, who had remained with the remnants of the guard since the king’s capture, had raised about a hundred archers from nearby towns, still no match for the earl’s small army. Only a surprise could even the odds, and the woods made that possible. While Nigel and Hastings huddled in a tent devising a strategy, Sir Julian, who had no mind for such things, preferring instead to meet an enemy honorably on an open field, found Samuel for a talk. They sat beneath an enormous oak that dominated the road.

“Thank you, Sir Julian. I am pleased to see you all again. I only wish that Kate and my sister were safe. Concern for them saps my resolve for these matters.”

“You needn’t explain yourself to me, lad. I know these have been difficult times for you, and, God knows, I’ve tried to help when I could.”

“Please don’t think me ungrateful. I will never forget what you’ve done for us. But I’m just one man of thousands to the king, but to my family…” He found himself unable to finish, caught by the irony of his situation. After all, it was he who had avoided his family for three years.

Sir Julian fidgeted with his thick white beard. “The realm has not been healthy for many years, lad. Probably not since the Lancastrians first usurped the throne from Richard II some seventy years ago. Since then, the noble houses have feuded for any advantage, and those who have been the most successful have paid the dearest price. You can take some solace in that, for the pain that they’ve caused you.”

“Unless Kate and Sally are returned to us safely, I can take solace in nothing.”

The old knight nodded in understanding.

“Sir Julian,” a voice came from behind. Oliver approached from the camp. The sun was setting behind him, and his protruding ears cast shadows along the sides of his narrow face. “Sir Julian,” he repeated. “Lord Hastings requests that you join him in his tent.” The old knight sighed and lifted his ample body heavily from the forest floor.

“You should both get a good rest this night,” he said as he brushed the dust and leaves from his leggings. “Tomorrow we tangle with Warwick, and we shall need all our wits about us.

Oliver took the spot next to the old oak that the knight had vacated.

“I don’t want to be here either, Oliver,” Samuel said, noting his friend’s unease. “I just don’t know what else to do.”

“Nor do I, so you needn’t mind me. And for God’s sake, if you start to blame yourself for all of this again, I’ll not listen.”

“Who else could I blame?” Samuel said bitterly. “If I hadn’t sent Kate to you, you’d be safe in York right now with Sally and the children by your side.”

“You haven’t learned anything, have you, Samuel? Are you so full of yourself that you assume that all the world waits upon your actions? Our decisions shape our lives. It’s who we are. If we can’t change what has passed, it’s pointless to dwell on it. All you can do is remember and learn.”

Samuel looked up at the green leaves and watched as the setting sun cast the last rays of the day.

“Perhaps,” he said after a moment. “But living with past mistakes also requires that we atone for them in the end.”

“Only if you accept that they were mistakes in the first place. I see no such flaw in your past actions.”

Samuel began to feel the fatigue of the long road. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“You’re a good friend, Oliver,” his voice became slurred.

Oliver watched as Samuel slowly drifted into sleep, taking his cloak and gently putting it over him. Events had indeed been cruel, he thought, and he wondered if it were their fate to die in the morning, in the impossible attempt to capture Sir Hugh and extract their women’s location from him. If so, he knew his soul would never rest, and at that moment, he knew exactly how Samuel felt.

*

In the morning they were awakened by the morning watch, the camp already alive with activity. Some of Nigel’s men had returned with news that Warwick’s column had camped only a few hours away and would soon be upon them. No cooking fires were lit and Hastings and Sir Julian arranged the men into two groups, the guardsmen in one group with half the archers, and the remaining archers in another, to be commanded by Hastings.

Sir Julian arrived, already fitted in his armor, a page by his side carrying his family colors.

“Samuel, I ask that you join the guard and myself. We are the ones who will most likely cross swords with Sir Hugh.” Samuel nodded tightly and, suddenly feeling fully awake, set about organizing his quiver. “Oliver, you must quiet the horses while we spring our surprise on the earl.”

Oliver nodded his agreement.

Sir Julian motioned them to join his group where the men waited. The first group to move was Lord Hastings’ archers. He led them out of camp on foot and, to Samuel’s surprise, directly away from the road, onto a narrow and ill-defined footpath that they followed in single file, dodging low branches and thick underbrush all the way. When the last of them were gone, the guard and several dozen archers began to dig themselves into places of concealment.

When he had everyone where he wanted, Sir Julian went from group to group giving them directions. Oliver was placed well down the footpath where Hastings had led his men, holding three horses by their reins and comforting them into silence. They were the only horses in camp, except for the one Hastings rode at the head of his column. When Sir Julian was satisfied that everyone knew their role, he found a place of close concealment for himself directly between the guard and the archers stretched out along the footpath.

*

The Earl of Warwick, the Archbishop of York, and the Duke of Clarence rode directly behind the vanguard of their column, feeling reasonably comfortable now that they were approaching Middleham Castle, which was only another day’s ride. The earl made a mental note that he would have Edward sign an order to make a priority of improving the roads between Warwick and Middleham, his two favorite castles.

Edward rode several hundred yards behind, bound to his horse and guarded by Sir Hugh and, behind them, the remaining few hundreds of his column. Warwick would soon have the king safely ensconced at Middleham, where he would decide the king’s fate, just as he had when he created him king. He watched as the vanguard entered the deep copse and called for his mounted messenger.

“Ride to the captain and warn him to be vigilant through these trees.”

“Yes, my lord,” he replied and was gone.

“I’ve never seen you so edgy, Richard,” said the archbishop. “If I didn’t know better, I would suspect that these proceedings are beginning to take their toll on you.”

“I’ll feel well enough when we get to Middleham. But there is much to be done and I must have more support.”

“I’m sure Lord Fitzwalter’s men will be with us soon.”

“Yes,” Warwick nodded, “but we both know that if John were to join us, the battle would be won.” The Earl of Northumberland had not answered any further communications, but they still had hopes that he would side with his family and raise armies in the north. Perhaps when he saw that Edward was securely under Warwick’s control, John would have no choice.

“At least it appears that he has not raised troops against us, or we would have known by now,” replied Clarence.

The vanguard had been swallowed up by the woods and they themselves were now entering its fringes. The trees thickened quickly as they went on, blotting out the early morning sun.

Further back in the column, Sir Hugh placed the king directly in front of himself. When the road was straight, he could see the earl and his party riding well ahead of his position, but most of the time only a few hundred feet of the road were visible. Behind him, hundreds of footsoldiers followed, laboring through the thick mud that lay deep on the road. Suddenly the dreaded sound of arrows whizzing through the air assailed his ears.

So unexpected was the strike that Sir Hugh could not identify from which direction the airborne death was coming until the next volley fell on them. The arrow from that volley that would have killed him bounced harmlessly off the breastplate of his armor, but the path around him was already littered with dead soldiers. Screaming for support from the soldiers in the rear guard, he knew that a third volley was already on its way. Quickly dismounting, he avoided two arrows that sailed directly through the space that he had just vacated. His horse, however, was not so lucky. Taking an arrow deep in the ribs, it reared in agony and then fell thunderously to the ground.

It was then that he finally saw the enemy. A small group burst from the woods on the opposite side from where the arrows had come. They wore the Sun-in-Splendor emblem of the king’s personal guard, and Sir Hugh knew that these were formidable fighters. He drew his sword and prepared for the attack, but instead, they seized the king’s horse and fled into the woods.

“After them!” Sir Hugh’s scar turned vivid red with anger. The attack had been so precisely executed that very few of the hundreds of men in Warwick’s column even knew of the strike, much less had been able to help. “After them, you fools!” he screamed again. But as the soldiers ran into the woods, they were cut down by renewed arrow strikes, and made no progress forward until new waves of soldiers were brought up from the rear. Sir Hugh could see the archers peeling off further down the path that had swallowed the king, and knew that they would soon be out of reach. It was then that he spotted Samuel among the archers in the trees. He was not accustomed to being the hunted, especially when the hunter was one that he should have seen hanging from the gallows long ago. Hiding behind the carcass of his horse, he frantically ordered the soldiers into the face of the wilting enemy fire.

Samuel had picked his targets carefully. With his first shot he killed the footsoldier closest to the king, and then looked to find Sir Hugh. At this range he could easily have ended the devil’s life but knew that he would never find Kate if he did so. Instead, as he was instructed, he killed another soldier near the king. With his third shot, however, he wanted to bring Sir Hugh to the ground. He aimed at the hinged area between the plates of his horse’s armor and let loose a precision shot that found its target. An instant later he stared horrified as Sir Hugh dropped off the side of the horse just before it went down — had one of his fellows shot him? After a moment, Samuel saw he was still alive. It would take more than a chance arrow to kill such a person.

The guardsmen on the other side of the road made their bold attack and charged past Samuel with the king. Sir Julian gave the order to begin falling back, and when Samuel saw the reinforcements gathering, he knew that he was not going to have his conversation with Sir Hugh on that day. He fell back with the rest of the archers along the path and then began to run through the woods with the others. They broke out into a clearing and immediately saw the rest of Hastings’ plan. There, on the other side of the clearing, were several dozen archers protected by the trees. The guardsmen crossed the clearing and took up position behind them, and the earl’s men who ran into the clearing after them were slaughtered by the dozen. They broke and retreated.

Knowing that it would take time for them to regroup, the guard vanished into the woods to a prearranged meeting place, where it would have taken a miracle for the earl’s men to find them. Further past the clearing where the carnage had taken place, Oliver was holding three horses, as was his charge, when two mounted members of the king’s guard came trotting down the path leading Edward’s horse by the reins. The guardsmen helped the king from his horse and cut the ropes that bound his hands.

“Oliver,” said Edward with a smile. “We are glad to find you well.”

“I thank Your Highness, and am joyed to see you delivered from your enemies.” At that moment, Sir Julian, Hastings, and Nigel came running down the trail with several more guardsmen.

“Sire, we must be gone. Warwick will surely pursue and we are still greatly outnumbered.”

“Where will we go, William?” asked Edward.

“I suggest we make all speed for London, where we will fortify ourselves and reclaim what is rightfully yours, my lord.”

Edward nodded and remounted his horse, while Hastings, Sir Julian, and Nigel mounted the horses that Oliver had held.

“We hope to see you again in better times, Oliver,” Edward said kindly. The former page bowed and the king’s party was gone.

*

Back at the road, Sir Hugh returned from his search of the woods, mortified by what had happened and dreading having to make his report to the earl. Warwick was impatiently waiting with the archbishop and Clarence.

“Well?” he asked sharply.

“My lord,” said the knight, “we continue the search, but the woods are deep and archers hide behind every tree.”

“Fool!” hissed Warwick. “You let them take the king right out of your hands.”

“There was little that I could do, my lord. The attack was well planned.” Sir Hugh knew the earl was right, and that he had failed miserably to dispatch his duty. A rider came galloping up the path from the south.

“My lord, you must flee! The Duke of Gloucester has raised an army and is moving quickly to where you tarry.”

Warwick could not have been more surprised. He had been given no news that the king’s other brother was raising an army. He had underestimated the young duke.

“How strong is he?” he asked quietly.

“Their number was not reported to me, my lord, except that they are from the Welsh marches and make their way here with haste.”

Welshmen. He shuddered to think of the fierce fighters who had been unfailingly loyal to the House of York, a fact that had given him great comfort in the days when he had also been a Yorkist supporter.

“We must make quickly for Middleham,” said Clarence. “We will be safe enough there until we can raise more men. If my brother can raise an army, then so can I.”

“From behind castle walls that are besieged by the king’s men?” The archbishop was amazed by the duke’s stupidity.

Warwick was brooding on his horse, stunned by the rapid turn of events. An hour ago he was the master of the realm; now he was but hours from losing his life to the headsman. Of course, his brother was right. To retreat behind the walls of Middleham would secure their safety, but while they were holed up in fear for their lives, the king would secure the throne and have them declared outlaws. None of the noble families would come to their aid in such a state, and it would only be a matter of time before they were Edward’s prisoners.

“We have only one course left to us,” he said at last. “We must flee to France. Louis will not deny me, and I am still the captain of Calais. We can land safely there.”

“We’ll be attainted and lose everything,” Clarence objected.

“Louis will give us aid to retake the kingdom, and then we can reverse any attainder. It is our only hope.” His manner made it clear that he would not entertain any further discussion on the topic.

“I agree,” said the archbishop, “you must go. But I will remain here. My office will protect me from the king’s wrath, and though I’ll be closely watched, I can be of greater assistance to you here while I await your return. But now you must make haste, as many preparations must be made for your passage to France before the king has time to regain control.”

Warwick nodded and spurred his horse to the north. As he rode with the few men that remained of his escort, he glanced through the woods that had swallowed up his great prize, and allowed bitterness to grip his mind. Think not, Edward, that this is how it will end. I will not be so easily deprived of my destiny.

Sir Hugh was equally angry. He was to have been the earl’s trusted assistant. Now he could only follow an outlaw to a foreign land. Remembering the face of the miller’s son among the guard during this attack, hatred consumed him. The miller’s women were safely bestowed, he thought, and Colinsworth will not dare release them, on his life. No, I will have my revenge for this day, be assured of that, young guardsman, and all your arrows will not save you.

*

That evening, a cool spring night in York, Emma sang a gentle song to Alice, easing her youngest into sleep. Sarah and John shared the back room nearest the mill and had put themselves to bed. They were old enough to see how difficult times were for Emma and were doing their best to shoulder burdens that were never meant to be borne by ones so young. Still only four and five, John and Alice spent the day cleaning the winter’s debris from the vegetable garden that would soon need to be planted with the early lettuce, carrots, and radishes.

Emma snuggled the blanket around Alice and gently kissed her cheek. The girl was developing her mother’s round face, but her hair was dark, like her father’s. Emma moved to the cooking area, where there was still a small flame in the hearth to provide some heat in the room, and began her usual routine of preparing the maslin for the next day’s bread. This mixture of rye and barley was a favorite of the children, probably because it was such a common part of their diet. Doing her household chores gave her a sense of continuity, and therefore comfort, that she sorely needed these days.

She stopped abruptly when she heard the unmistakable sounds of footsteps approaching the door. Ever since Sally and Kate’s abduction, she feared anything that came through that door. The steps stopped and someone pulled the latchstring. The door swung open and Christopher stood on the threshold.

At first Emma was so stunned she could not move. Christopher stepped inside, so obviously exhausted that his knees almost buckled from the exertion.

“Emma…,” he said, lost for further words.

She rushed to his arms and they embraced until Christopher had to sit. She led him to the table and found the basin of water that she kept by the hearth. Filling a wooden bowl, she handed it to her husband, who drank deeply as if he had not tasted any in days. It seemed to give him strength, and Emma filled the bowl again. They sat together at the small wooden table and said nothing, until Christopher made to speak. But before he could say anything Emma put her fingers on his lips.

“What could you say to me, husband? Perhaps it is best that you let me assume the best and leave it at that, for my heart is damaged and I fear…that there may be no way to heal the hurt.”

Her words, spoken with such difficulty, wounded Christopher more deeply than any sword could have. He hung his head, unable to look at his wife. But he knew for certain that if the healing did not begin at that moment, it never would.

“I know now what a fool I’ve been, but I cannot change what has passed. I wanted only to make a difference…to do something to make things right.”

“And what of your family? What of the difference that you made here?” She tried to keep herself from dissolving into anger.

“I know. I had to learn the hard way.” He was consumed by the weight of remorse. “I came back only to see if I learned in time.”

“Those are still your children in there, and your nephew who can only pretend to be brave while he prays for the safe return of his parents some day.”

“Safe return? Safe return from where?”

“My God, you don’t know.”

“Know what?”

“The devil who took your father from Northwood took Sally and Kate. He came right here and took them both.” She had replayed the horror in her own mind so often that she could retell the story without breaking down. Christopher was not so well shielded.

“Sir Hugh? God’s angels help them.” He buried his face in his hands.

“Samuel and Oliver went after them, but I’ve heard nothing for months, and I fear the worst.”

“Samuel? He was here?”

“He came to get Kate, but was too late. Surely you knew that he would come after her sooner or later?”

The weight he’d been feeling before was now a millstone that had fallen on him.

“How in God’s name did you manage by yourself?”

The memory of the past months made her tired just to think of them, but she straightened her back.

“By doing what had to be done. I took on an apprentice to help with the mill, and the children helped where they could. We found ways to survive.”

Christopher stood and walked to the linen behind which Alice slept. Pulling it slightly aside, he peered in on her, barely able to see her through the darkness. He listened for her gentle breathing as he had those days when she was so ill, right before he had deserted his family.

“What have I done?” he murmured softly to himself. Then returning to Emma, he said, “I cannot change what has passed, but my course is clear to me at last, if you’ll have me.”

“Have you been away so long that you do not already know the answer?” she said.

“Yes, perhaps I have,” he answered pensively. “But at least this much you have gained: to know that I will never leave you again, though the devil himself calls for me.”

Emma knew her husband well enough to know that he would rather die than break the pledge he made, and it was the only thing he could have said that would have made a difference.

*

The people of London were only too pleased to open their gates and welcome King Edward back. The city had been racked by disorder and violence since Warwick’s revolt. The sheer magnitude of the unrest had been more than the civil authorities could control, and the strong hand of a king was needed. Once news spread that the king was again free and supported by the Duke of Gloucester, whose army had chased the Earl of Warwick from the kingdom, Edward had no problem raising support from among the nobility. John Neville, the Earl of Northumberland, had even come to him with fresh troops, demonstrating at last to whom he was loyal.

On his way to Westminster Palace, Edward first stopped at the abbey and collected the queen and her family, who had taken refuge within the sanctuary. He had gathered several thousand men-at-arms to accompany him as he rode toward the city, and now they had been posted around the city to bring order.

Edward hastily called for a meeting of the Privy Council, and as he sat before them, he wondered if he could trust any of them. But he knew that if he couldn’t, his throne was doomed anyway. With him were his brother Gloucester, Northumberland, Hastings, Lord Scales — who was now Earl Rivers upon the death of his father — Nigel of Devon, and Sir Julian.

“Lord Hastings,” Edward said, his manner still confident, “send quickly to our garrison in Calais that the traitor Warwick shall not be admitted upon pain of death. I’ll not have him given comfort on English soil.”

“It shall be done, Sire,” Hastings said forcefully. He could see that Edward was not the same young man to whom he had been a companion for so many years. The easy smile and warmth were gone.

“Rivers, to you we entrust the safety of London. Take what men you need from our troops and see to it that the city is secure.” Rivers bowed his head in acknowledgment. “Come and receive our dearest thanks, our brother of Gloucester, for you have given us hope for the future, and have incurred a debt of us that can never be repaid.” Gloucester embraced him. “With loyalty such as yours in the face of such dishonor, we may always know security. Your rewards will be commensurate, you may be assured.”

“My reward is to see Your Highness safe from his enemies and to be the scourge of those who would oppose your Holy claim.”

“And you always shall be, we know it. For now, be content with all those titles and lands that before this day belonged to your false brother, Clarence, for never again will he stand in our good graces.” The lords in the room looked at each other with surprise. The gift of Clarence’s lands and titles was an immense one, and would make the young duke certainly one of wealthiest men in the realm. Most assumed that Edward would keep the wealth from those lands to help pay off some of his many debts. Turning his attention to Nigel, Edward said, “Nigel of Devon, approach and receive our thanks as well. Be it known by all those present and by our pronouncements hereafter that we create Nigel of Devon a knight of the realm. Rise, Sir Nigel, and accept our loving embrace.”

It was an honor that Nigel had not expected, and for which he was extremely grateful. But he had risked everything supporting this king in the face of great danger, and knew that he had earned this new title.

“When our time serves us better, we will make due note of all those who have helped us in these trying times of treason and thank all who have deserved our love. For now, we must look to those who need us. So please you all to attend us here again when we have further news of our dangerous cousin of Warwick. Lord Hastings, we have further need of your counsel.” Edward stood and left with Hastings close on his heels. Sir Julian and Nigel waited until they were alone.

“I have never known a knighthood more deserved, Sir Nigel. May you wear the title well for many years.”

“My thanks to you,” he said. “But I fear greatly for us all that toil in King Edward’s service. This was a strange gathering of lords indeed.”

Sir Julian nodded. “I had the very same feeling. While I admire Northumberland for deserting his brothers in favor of the king, I still cannot bring myself to trust him. And everyone knows he cannot stand the sight of Earl Rivers, much less fight by his side if the need arose.”

“That’s true enough, and I think young Gloucester shares that sentiment, though he has no use for Northumberland either.” He shook his head. “This is no fellowship on which to hang the fate of the crown.”

“Even Hastings, the king’s closest friend, distrusts the queen and her kin. And she will not fail to recognize that fact. I fear there are too many winds among the king’s friends, and soon he will have to choose a direction. When he does, there will be more bloodshed. Of that, I am certain.”

“I cannot disagree, though I wish it were otherwise,” Sir Nigel concurred sadly. “To make matters worse, the queen will not be in a forgiving mood after the murder of her father and brother, and being a Neville, Northumberland is likely to feel the sting of her animosity.”

“Her wrath is not likely to be felt for a while. The king needs Northumberland and his resources desperately.”

“Are you sure of that? With Warwick and Clarence in exile, Northumberland would not find the kingdom a friendly place were he not in the king’s good graces.”

“The earl is needed to keep order in the north, and watch for any treachery from the Scots. This is not the time to make new enemies, God knows, and he has proven to be loyal even when it would have been quite easy for him to follow his brother. And had he done so, we would be the ones in exile. Or worse.”

“You and I understand that,” agreed Sir Nigel, “but what motivates the queen is altogether a different thing. She will never forgive the Nevilles, and Northumberland’s loyalty will gain him little if she sees an opportunity.”

Sir Julian suspected that his friend was right and realized that since nothing could be done about the queen’s behavior, it would behoove them to keep a sharp eye on the Earl of Northumberland.

“It shames us to treat the earl in this manner when he has behaved honorably in every way.”

“Unfortunately, his family has given us little choice, and we both know that honor is a frequent casualty of conflict.”

Sir Julian looked at the marble floor of the council chambers.

“Perhaps I am too much a relic of a past time.”

*

Hastings’ lack of respect for the Woodvilles was not lost on Edward. He hoped that there would be plenty of time to reconcile his friend with his wife and her family when time better permitted. For now, it was enough that they all knew that they were on the same side.

“Tell me,” Edward asked, “what have you found out about the rabble who surprised us at Edgecott? They did not behave as if they were under orders from Warwick.”

“Some clearly were, Sire, or you would not have been so quickly brought to the earl. The rest, it seems were northmen who have always been loyal to the House of Percy, and are very displeased with what has happened since the death of the old earl at Towton.”

Edward clenched his fists. “We must bring the north into our fold if we are ever to see peace again. These uprisings must stop.” He paced the floor. “Do you think that it would be as simple as giving the earldom back to the Percys? Would such an act of faith with them stop this senseless rebellion?”

“I suppose it would remove their principal reason for rebellion, assuming that the House of Percy became loyal to the throne. Forgive me, Sire, but is not the earldom already occupied by one who has shown only loyalty to your person?”

“John Neville will understand that sacrifices are sometimes necessary for the good of the realm. And I can always reward him for his cooperation.” Edward went back to pacing, then put his arm around Hastings and led him toward the door. “Thank you, my friend. I’ll think on what you’ve advised.” Hastings bowed and left the room, wondering what he had advised.

Edward went to see the queen. She was in her closet, attended by several ladies who were fixing her hair and helping her undress. Edward waved them out of the room and sat next her, still amazed at how the mere sight of her stirred his passion. He stroked her long golden hair that cascaded freely over her shoulders and down her back like a river at sunset. The flawless skin of her face was marred only by her frown.

“I am sorry, my love, that I was unable to save your father and brother,” said Edward, “but there are times when even a king stands impotent in the face of fate.”

“Was that what killed my family, my lord?” she asked sharply. “Fate, you say? I heard that it was the traitor Warwick.”

“You know that it was, Bess.”

“Than why has he not been brought before the king’s awful judgment? The blood of my father and brother cry to me from the grave, and they will not rest before their murders have been avenged.” Edward took her in his arms and hugged her tightly.

“Warwick will pay for his crimes, I promise you. For now, my love, we must be content that they are banished and can do us no further harm.”

“France will give him succor, you can be sure of that.”

“We are taking precautions. You must not concern yourself.”

Elizabeth separated herself.

“Do not treat me as a child, my lord. It is my father who lies headless in his grave, and we are no more secure on the throne than when he was murdered.”

“Please, my love, you must have faith. There are some things that are beyond a mortal’s ability to achieve unless God is willing. What I can do, I will. That I pledge to you, though I die trying.” His words disarmed her. She took him by the hand and led him to her bed.

“Perhaps the most important precaution we can take depends on me after all,” she said pulling him down on top of her. “I must bear you a son, and it must be soon.”

He pushed the golden hair from her face and kissed her gently. It always delighted him how quickly his passion was aroused by the feel of her body, and the surprise was the same no matter how many times they made love.

“Yes,” he said, kissing her harder as they tugged at each other’s clothing, “Yes, I must have a son.”

*

In the morning Edward summoned his Privy Council once again, but this time held the meeting in the throne room. Although Windsor Castle was Edward’s favorite residence in London, it was here at Westminster Palace that the business of state was conducted, and the throne room was opulently suited to carry on such affairs. The high ceiling was constructed of a series of vaults, each elaborately decorated with floral designs around dozens of supporting stone ribs. The stone walls flowed thickly to the floor, decorated with huge tapestries. The room was long enough to give visitors the proper awe as they walked from the only entrance along its length toward the throne that sat atop a marble dais.

John Neville, the Earl of Northumberland, was the last to arrive at the meeting. Walking toward the throne, he was feeling decidedly uncomfortable. He had been overjoyed at his elevation to the earldom and could not have wished for more from this king as payment for his loyalty. But Warwick put him in a most uncomfortable position, making him choose between his family and a king who had treated him honorably. In the end it was not really a decision at all, and he thought he had made it clear to his brother that he would not dishonor himself by turning on King Edward. On the other hand, he could not war on his brother either, so he chose to remain silently busy in the north when Edward was imprisoned in Warwick Castle, and that action would surely not sit well with the king.

He noticed that his other brother, the Archbishop of York, was in attendance, and wondered why he was present. He saw the Duke of Gloucester, Lord Hastings, and the detested Earl Rivers, along with other courtiers, members of the king’s personal guard, and a man whom he could not immediately recognize.

“Welcome, my lord of Northumberland,” said the king when the earl arrived at the throne and bowed.

“God save Your Highness,” he responded.

“And now,” the king turned to Sir Nigel, “what news of these traitors?” he asked tersely.

“Sire, my sources inform me that Clarence and Warwick have attempted a landing at Calais, as you suspected, but the garrison commander, Lord Duras, turned them away, forbidding them entrance to the harbor. However, they were permitted a landing at Honfleur and given asylum by the French king. This is all the information we have.” Edward sighed. He knew that there was little he could do while Warwick and Clarence were sheltered by Louis.

“Lord Hastings, send to the King of France and demand that the traitors be returned to us for crimes against our person.”

“As you wish, Sire,” said Hastings, “but I hold little hope that he will comply.”

“Nevertheless. We shall also entreat the Duke of Burgundy. Let Louis know that a joint move against him is a possibility. Such a threat may keep Louis from lending any military aid to Warwick.” He nodded to Hastings, who turned and faced the archbishop.

“George Neville, Archbishop of York, I arrest you here for foul treason against your lawful monarch.”

The archbishop bowed his head. “I freely submit myself to His Highness’ mercy.”

Edward’s look betrayed no mercy. “While it is true that only the Holy Father in Rome can remove you from your clerical honors, let it be known that no longer will you hold the Great Seal of England and be our Chancellor. And until your dangerous brother is brought to answer for his crimes, you will stay here under careful watch. Sir Julian, see that he is conveyed to the Tower.”

“I shall see it done personally, Your Highness,” he said.

Edward then turned his attention to the other Neville who was in attendance, for business that was considerably more troublesome.

“My lord of Northumberland, know that we value your service and have well noted your loyalty in this recent rebellion. We wish to reward you and therefore grant you the Marquisate of Montagu. In exchange for your new title we transfer the Earldom of Northumberland to Sir Henry Percy, here in attendance.”

The king’s decree was like a knife in the ribs of John Neville. While it was true that as a marquis he would be of a higher social rank than an earl, the Marquisate of Montagu held only a fraction of the prestige of the Earldom of Northumberland, and more importantly, significantly less revenue. He looked over to the man he had not recognized before and saw that it was indeed Henry Percy, the rightful heir to the earldom, who had been imprisoned by Edward ever since his father died at Towton. And now he stood here, forgiven of his father’s transgressions and possessed of the earldom that Neville had earned with his blood.

“Sire,” he stammered, thinking quickly how to best respond to this unexpected turn of events, “I looked not for this new title, and was quite content with my current state.”

“We have decided,” said Edward, “and we know that we can count on your continued loyalty.” The new Marquis of Montagu bowed, seeing that further argument would be futile.

“I remain Your Highness’ loyal servant.” Thanks to Warwick’s rebellion, Neville knew that he had no friends in this room anyway, and it was best that he hold his tongue and choose a better time to express his displeasure with the new arrangements.

After a few more minutes of routine business, the king dismissed the Privy Council and left the throne room, as did the rest of the lords. Montagu stopped Sir Julian before he could escort the archbishop out.

“Sir Julian, I wonder if I might have a word with the archbishop before you take him hence?” Sir Julian did not like the idea, but had little choice.

“As you wish, my lord, but we depart forthwith, and you must be brief.” Montagu nodded in agreement and Sir Julian withdrew out of earshot.

“It seems we have done ourselves little good, my brother,” said the archbishop.

“The king is deluded if he thinks I’ll accept this. Does he imagine that I would be content with this new title?”

“I believe that he knows exactly what he’s doing. Besides, you are a Neville, and that’s sufficient for the queen, who lost a father and a brother at our hands.”

“At your hands, George, not mine. I begged you both not to proceed with this rebellion, but you chose to ignore me. Now you have sucked me into your trap, though I looked not for it and have lost the honors for which I spilt my blood.”

“You must be patient, John. While events have turned against us for now, it need not remain so, and I am confident that France will help. When they do, if we stand together this time, we will not be denied. I will not likely be of much use from the Tower, but I’ll pray for the moment when you come to liberate me.”

“I should have stopped you before. Now I have very few options left to me. Damn you both.” He turned and stalked from the room. The archbishop watched him leave, then waved to Sir Julian.

“I am ready for the Tower, Sir Knight,” he said boisterously, “and God grant us a safe journey thither.”

“You may rest assured, Your Grace, that I’ll see you safely there, and presently,” Sir Julian responded with conviction.

*

As Sir Julian was escorting the archbishop to his new place of residence, Samuel, Oliver, Stanley, and Sir Nigel walked together toward the inn where quarters had been arranged for the king’s guard, all more or less in awe of the remarkable bustle that characterized the great city of London. Home to seventy thousand souls from every walk of life imaginable, it was the very center of the realm’s commercial activity. Surrounded still by the old semicircular Roman wall, the city sprawled on the north bank of the River Thames, the artery that brought the world and its goods to England. Ships from ports all over Europe offloaded their cargoes from dozens of piers along the river’s shores, and the resulting commerce fueled an unrivaled hive of activity. The city streets were mostly unpaved and narrowly lined with buildings of every sort and design. Some were timber and plaster, some brick, some squalid huts with thatched roofs, mixing easily with opulent mansions of stone. The most distinctive structure was the massive cathedral of St. Paul, its Gothic walls and buttresses easily seen from almost any point within the city. Most streets meandered senselessly through the turmoil, and were covered with discarded human refuse that was often home to rats and ravens.

The four men walked along Thames Street, the closest street to the river, and one of the few paved with cobblestones. It spanned the length of the city, from the Tower all the way to Blackfriars on the western edge. Easily the busiest street in London, it was packed with fishmongers and purveyors of goods of all description from honey and grains to baked goods, wines, and wax. It was from Thames Street that a majority of the goods that came to the city from abroad were dispersed into the local economy, making their way into the lives of the common Englishmen, and from where luxurious items such as satins and silver from Italy and fine furniture from the Hanseatic towns of Germany came to the nobility.

Through this barely controlled chaos, Samuel walked with his friends, in a mood so black he barely noticed any of it. The king was safe, but in the process they had lost any hope of finding the women, since their only connection to them, Sir Hugh, had fled to France with the Earl of Warwick. At that moment, he had no idea how to proceed, and the helplessness of that feeling was oppressive.

“I know you think we’ve lost them, Samuel,” Sir Nigel put his arm around him, “but I swear to you that I will not forget my promise. Though the king has required my presence here in London, some of my eyes are searching for your family, and what they seek they will find, you know that to be true.” Samuel looked at Oliver, who seemed equally unimpressed with Sir Nigel’s assertions.

“You’ll excuse me if I seem ungrateful, but once again we did what was expected of us, and find ourselves worse than when we started.”

Sir Nigel did not take offense. “It only seems that way, my friend. When my men get word of them, and I tell you that they surely will, I’ll drop whatever I’m doing, even if I’m at the side of the king himself, and help you to rescue them. This is my pledge to you both.”

“As will I,” added Stanley. “Sir Julian has already given me leave to stay with you until this business is finished, though the king needs all his guard and will surely be displeased.”

When Samuel said nothing, his bitterness still unrequited, Oliver put his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“We both recognize that you are committed to help, and we appreciate it. We have traveled too far to give up now, and we won’t, though Hell’s gate opens before us. Sir Nigel, we’ll stay with you here until we hear from your men, and when we do, our resolve will be great to correct the wrongs that have been done to us.”

Samuel was at first annoyed at Oliver for presuming to interpret for him, but realized that he was venting his frustration at the wrong people, and was grateful to his friend for saying what he should have said himself.

“Sir Nigel,” he said at last, “when could we reasonably expect to hear something?”

“Soon. My men have been out since the king was freed. We will pick up the trail before long, you can be assured.” Samuel nodded and said nothing, but as they continued their walk along the bustling street, it occurred to him that his luck would seem to forebode otherwise, and somehow he knew that Oliver was thinking the same thing.