“Your son has landed on the coast of Wales, Margaret!”
Thomas was still breathless from his ride. Beads of perspiration stood out on his broad forehead, and his cheeks were red from the searing heat of the August day.
Margaret stood still, her eyes closed in prayer. Hot particles of light pierced her lids.
Impatiently, Thomas caught her hands and drew her inside away from the curious stares of his men.
“He has landed at Dale, in Milford Haven, and with the help of the Earl of Oxford, he is raising a great army,” he smiled triumphantly. “Soon he will begin to march northwards. My brother, William, is justicular of Wales. He will allow the Earl to proceed unhindered.”
“Oh, Thomas, now that the moment is actually here, I feel frightened. What if my son should be wounded, or even killed?”
She clasped his arm and he drew her towards her chair, a reassuring smile on his face.
“Don’t you believe he was meant to be king?” he said kindly. “Nothing will happen to him if it is God’s will for him to rule England.”
Elizabeth hurried to Margaret’s side. “What is it? You look so pale. Not bad news, I trust?”
Margaret shook her head. “He is here. My son has arrived from France. Even now he moves northward. Oh! Elizabeth, how can I bear the waiting?”
“Calm yourself, my lady, nothing will be achieved in a day. It will take weeks for the Earl to gather a large enough army.”
Margaret looked at Thomas. He was risking his life by being here, and by speaking of the Earl’s presence in Wales. For the first time she realised how much he must care for her.
“Thomas, I am failing in my wifely duties. I have not thought to ask if you are hungry, or thirsty. Please forgive me.”
She made to rise from her chair, but Thomas shook his head, smiling warmly at her.
“I have no time to stop, Margaret. And Richard must not know that I have been here.”
“I will not allow you to leave until you have at least partaken of a light refreshment. You look hot and dusty and very tired. Please say you will stay for a little while.”
He hesitated for a moment, and then began to smile. “Very well. How can I resist when you plead so beautifully?”
Elizabeth turned to the door. “I will instruct the servants, Margaret. Shall they bring the food up to the chamber?”
“Yes,” Margaret nodded. “I think that is the best idea. Now I imagine you could do with a little sleep before you set off again, Thomas. Just an hour, so that you can recover your strength.”
“All right. You have won me over!”
Margaret rose from her chair and went across to the window. “I wish I could see him before the battle, Thomas. I wonder, is he tall as his father was? Is his hair still as bright and red?” She clasped her hands, her eyes shining with happiness. “This time he will succeed, Thomas! I know it, just as surely as the sun is shining.”
Thomas smiled. “I believe you, my dear Margaret, I’d be a fool not to, when you look like that.”
She rested her hand on his arm. “Thomas, you are so good to me, I don’t know what I would have done without you when the King attainted me and ordered my lands to be taken away. If it hadn’t been for your cleverness, I would be left with nothing.”
There was a clatter of dishes and the servants entered with a tray of cold meat, and a dish of crusty pies.
Elizabeth came behind like a shepherdess herding her flock, fussing around until Thomas was served and then sending the servants away again.
Thomas speared a fresh piece of heron, spiced with cinnamon and vinegar. “I’m glad you persuaded me to stay, Margaret. It will be some time before I eat a meal as tasty as this one.” He held out his cup for more wine, his eyes sparkling appreciatively. “If only I dared to take an open stand against Richard. How much easier I would feel.” He shook his head. “He has me trapped and hobbled, holding my son as he does.”
“Be careful, Thomas, I would never forgive myself if anything happened to Lord Strange, because of me.”
“I intend to be careful, Margaret. But then am I not always careful?” He smiled ruefully. “The trouble is that Richard knows my nature too well. I must pray that he will stay his hand.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I don’t even know what side I will take myself.”
Margaret looked directly at him. “So you say, my lord, but I believe different. Would you sit here with me if you intended to fight for Richard?”
“I’ll leave the answer for you to judge.” He stood up, his eyes twinkling. “I’d better have some sleep before I ride out again. Do not let me lie too long in my bed, I might just miss the battle altogether!”
She helped him off with his boots and tucked the covers around him as if he were a child; he was a rock of a man, wise and cunning, but his strength was undeniable.
“But don’t you see, Thomas, I must be there!” Margaret pulled the plain cloak more firmly around her slender shoulders.
“It is unheard of!” Thomas was almost spluttering in his anger. “A woman at the battlefield? Ridiculous!”
“It is not all that ridiculous, Thomas,” Margaret said mildly. “After all, Queen Margaret of Anjou went into battle like a man.”
“That is a different matter,” Thomas said sharply. “For one thing the Queen wasn’t my wife. And so I had no control over her actions.”
“Please, Thomas, I will stay far enough away to keep out of danger. And Elizabeth will come with me. I’ll be quite safe.”
He took her hands. “Margaret, I will not be able to stay near you. We do not know even where the battle will take place, if it ever does!”
“There will certainly be a battle, Thomas, you know it as well as I do. The King is not going to allow my son to ride unchallenged on to English soil.”
He sighed in exasperation. “What if the battle should go to Richard? You will have no chance of hiding away. You will be taken immediately.”
Margaret regarded him steadily. “If the battle should be lost, I will not care what becomes of me.”
“But I will care.” He slapped his hands to his sides. “How can I concentrate on strategy if I am worried over you? Please, Margaret, say you will stay quietly at home.”
Elizabeth snorted inelegantly. “It’s no good, my lord. If Margaret has made up her mind to ride with you, she will do so!”
“All right!” Thomas waved his hands in resignation. “Come, if you must.” He shook his head. “But on one condition. You must ride behind my men, at a good distance; and flee if there is any danger.”
“I agree to your terms, Thomas,” Margaret said, smiling, and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.
“It will not be as easy as you imagine,” Thomas warned. “We will be riding through the night. Your horse could stumble and throw you.”
“And pigs could fly to the moon,” Margaret said, her spirits high now that she had won her own way.
“Come, then, we will start out before the sun sinks too low in the sky. Otherwise, my dear Margaret, it will all be over without us even having a scent of the action.”
The evening air was cool, with the heavy scents of summer drifting across the fields. Margaret, with Elizabeth at her side, stayed as Thomas had commanded, well away from the large company of soldiers.
“Soon all that I have hoped for will be accomplished.” Margaret looked up at the reddening sky. “And it looks as if even the sun will be on our side.”
Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. “I am feeling as fat and heavy as an overfed boar, Margaret,” she said plaintively.
“Is that all you have to say on the evening of my triumph?”
Margaret hid a smile. Elizabeth had grown plump, there was no denying of it. She certainly was not the thin lithe girl who had once been able to climb down from a high window and flee from the rebels who were marching on London. That was all such a long time ago.
“Why so silent?” Elizabeth looked at her hard, her forehead wrinkled crossly. “You are laughing at my discomfort, you heartless woman!”
“No, indeed,” Margaret spoke with difficulty. “I am not laughing; I was remembering the time when you and I climbed out of a high window. What courage we had then.”
“Foolhardiness!” Elizabeth said firmly. “And this is just as silly and dangerous. Following an army into battle, indeed! Who has ever heard of such a thing!”
“Come now,” Margaret stifled her mirth. “I can see that really and truly you are enjoying every moment of it. It is a long time since we have had such an adventure.”
“If you ask me, I must need my head examined to be here at all. At my age I should be tucked up in a warm comfortable bed, not riding around the countryside like this.”
“But just think what a tale you will have to tell when it is all over. You will be the most sought after lady in England.”
“That is if I am alive to tell any sort of tale at all,” Elizabeth said drily.
“You are determined to grouse, I can see.” Margaret spurred her horse forward. “So I will give you some solitude, if that is what will appease you.”
“No!” Elizabeth said quickly. “I don’t want to be left alone. Who knows what sort of creature might be lurking in the trees waiting to pounce on me.”
Margaret laughed out loud. “All right, I will stay near you. We will probably stop for a rest soon, anyway.”
“I certainly hope so.” Elizabeth shifted her position yet again. “I will no doubt fall from this creature. I will not be able to stand, that is certain.” She looked at Margaret, her face suddenly grown serious. “All my grousings are just so much mist in the sun,” she said. “Really my heart beats fast and my head grows dizzy when I think of how much this means to you.”
Margaret leaned over and touched her shoulder. “Do you think I do not know that? I have known you too long and too well to think otherwise.”
They rode in silence for a moment with the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves on the hard road for company. The sun had disappeared completely, and the sky had turned to silver.
“My son,” Margaret said softly. “I will see my son again when the sun rises in the sky. God and all the saints will protect him. What will happen was meant to be from the very beginning. From the moment he was born. Henry Tudor will rule wisely. He will make England prosperous, and he will bring peace to all men.”
Her words fell into the stillness of the night, echoing along the valleys and rising to the hilltops like the words of a prayer.
The hillside was still and silent in the night air and deep purple shadows lay like pools flung down from the skies. Margaret reined her horse and slipped from the saddle, ignoring the stiffness of her legs and the ache in her back.
Elizabeth was not so quiet in her movements. She grunted heavily, almost falling to her knees as her feet touched the earth.
“I wasn’t built for this sort of adventure,” she said breathlessly.
Margaret felt her whole body grow taut with tension. She tried to pierce the gloom with her eyes, but beyond the hillside nothing moved.
“I am so frightened!” Margaret was hardly aware that she had uttered the words out loud until Elizabeth touched her arm.
“I think it would be better if we were to hide the horses and go forward on foot,” she whispered.
Margaret nodded. “Perhaps you are right. It would be unwise to declare our presence.” She looked up at the sky. “I hardly think the battle will begin during the hours of darkness, but one cannot be sure of that.”
“Look there, Margaret!” Elizabeth was suddenly excited. “I can see the torches from the camp. My Lord Stanley must have decided to rest for a time.”
“In that case we shall make our way to him, and wait for morning in his company. A far better prospect than walking alone in the darkness.”
Carefully, they led their horses towards the flickering lights.
“They are further ahead of us than I thought.” Margaret suddenly felt an overwhelming weariness. It was an effort to place one foot in front of the other.
Elizabeth sensed her feelings and caught her arm.
“Do not falter now. Your moment of glory is almost here.”
Margaret stopped walking and covered her face with her hands. “I feel cold with fear. What if I see my son die as Margaret of Anjou watched the execution of her only child? I feel I cannot bear to go on.”
“Have courage, Margaret. You have waited so long for this day.”
Margaret swayed for a moment and held on to the bridle in an effort to steady herself. “What if my faith was misplaced, and I’ve been wrong all these years? I may have led my son into his own death trap.”
“That is silly talk,” Elizabeth said briskly. “I would not have come with you if I’d thought you were going to give way to the vapours.”
Margaret took a deep breath, making a visible effort to control her emotions.
“You know the cause is a just one,” Elizabeth continued. “King Henry the Sixth himself foretold of your son’s rise to the throne of England.”
The sound of hooves approaching silenced both of them. They stood mute and afraid until they recognised the rider as Thomas Stanley.
“Come with me,” he said briskly. “We can do nothing until the light of day spreads over the land.” He lifted Margaret’s face to his. “Not regretting the journey, are you? If so, I can give you a guard of soldiers to take you to the nearest village. Market Bosworth is just a few miles away.”
“No!” Margaret’s denial was sharp. “I do not regret following you. I must stay. Whatever happens, I will be here near at hand.”
“A few hours’ sleep will refresh us all.” Thomas took the reins of her mount and led him carefully over the stony ground.
But Margaret could not sleep. She passed the hours of night on her knees, disregarding the stiffness of her limbs from the long hours riding.
At last, the cold fingers of dawn stretched across the sky, bringing life to the trees and turning the grass from silver to a lush green.
Thomas had been awake before her and she saw him arrayed in his armour like some unfamiliar giant.
“It looks as if we chose our spot with wisdom, Margaret,” he said with forced heartiness. “My outriders have seen both armies approaching Redmore plain, just over the meadow, there.”
Margaret shivered a little in spite of the warmth of the rising sun.
“You would be better over there to the left, Margaret, near that clump of trees,” he smiled at her. “Have faith in me, my dear. I will make my move when the time is right.”
He left her then, and with a sinking heart she watched his army move away across the countryside.
Elizabeth was scarcely awake. “What is happening, Margaret? Has the fighting begun?”
Margaret shook her head. “We must withdraw and take up a stand over there, on that small rise. We can hide the horses further back among the woods.”
Her hands shook, but Margaret appeared calm as in silence she led the way across the woodland.
“Look, Margaret!” Elizabeth shouted and Margaret spun round, her heart in her throat.
“Richard’s standard.” Elizabeth pointed excitedly. “Over there, Margaret. See how it flutters in the breeze.”
They hurried to the small hillock and Margaret was almost afraid to look back over the plain. She wished in that instant that she could stop the armies approaching each other, but it was too late to think like that now.
Elizabeth climbed with difficulty into the saddle in order to see more clearly, and Margaret closed her eyes, sending a silent prayer to the saints for the protection of her son.
The hot August sun beat down on her upturned face and the still air was suddenly rent with the cries of hundreds of voices.
Reluctantly Margaret turned towards the plain which had suddenly become black with soldiers. She shuddered, hearing the ring of steel and the agonised cry of the wounded as they fell beneath the flying hooves of the horses.
“Look!” Elizabeth said loudly. “I can see my Lord Stanley’s army. They are holding aloof beyond the plain. Why doesn’t he do something?”
Margaret pulled herself up into the saddle and looked to where Elizabeth was pointing.
“He is afraid,” she said softly, “for his son’s life. And who am I to condemn him when I share his anguish?”
The noise grew louder and Elizabeth cried in fear as it seemed for a moment that some of the horsemen were making towards them. They turned and raced back into the mass of men and horses, and Elizabeth sighed in relief.
“Do you think we had better withdraw, Margaret?” she said hesitantly. “I never expected it to be anything as horrible as this.”
Margaret shook her head. “You go if you wish. I could no more leave this spot as take up arms myself.” She gave Elizabeth a quick glance. “I have no right to expect you to endure this with me.”
“If you stay, then so shall I,” said Elizabeth stoutly, though her face had turned ashen, and her hands shook as they clutched at the reins of the frightened horse.
Margaret lost all idea of time. She sat watching the scene before her, almost in a dream. There was no way of telling which side was gaining the ascendancy. Indeed, it seemed to Margaret that no one could escape from that terrible battle alive. She saw a fresh rush of men join the fighting and realised with a shock of fear that Thomas had at last decided which side he was on. She hoped and prayed that she was right in believing he was for her son.
She seemed to sink into a daze. The sun beat down fiercely and the noise had gone on forever. She wondered if there would ever be peace in the land again. She thought of Edmund, her first and only true love, and of the kindly Stafford. He had cared for her well. She saw young Charles Somerset and knew that if Henry Tudor came out of this battle victorious, Charles would never want for anything again.
She forced herself to open her eyes, becoming slowly aware that the terrible noise was dying away. Was it possible that the battle was at last over?
She urged her mount forward nearer to the plain, disregarding Elizabeth’s frantic exhortations for her to come back out of harm’s way.
Something glinted in the sun. It was the crown of England held aloft! Her breath caught in her throat as she watched it being placed on hair that was like a flame under the richness of the crown. Her son, this tall young man, was now the King of England.
Someone waved to her as she slipped from her horse and stood transfixed with joy on the edge of the field. And then there were horsemen riding towards her.
She had eyes only for the straight, upright young man who was jumping from his horse and taking her in his arms.
“Mother, this is the proudest moment of my life,” he said. “I am overjoyed that you are here to share it with me.”
She clung to him, blinded with tears, and Thomas smiled at her over Henry Tudor’s broad shoulder.
“I chose my time wisely, Margaret. Lord Strange is alive and well.”
She had never experienced such happiness. It shimmered through her like hot gold running in her veins.
“My son, the King of England!” She dropped a curtsey, and smiling, he drew her to her feet.
For a moment it was as if Edmund stood before her, young and strong as when they’d first met. Then her vision cleared and she saw that it was her son clasping her hands.
Her tears fell on to their twined fingers, and lay shimmering like jewels, more precious than any to be found on earth.