devilstone chronicles 01 - devils band (15 page)

As he emerged into the spring sunshine Thomas found Bos, Prometheus and Quintana leaning on the ship’s rail. He wished them good day but instead of returning his greeting the others informed him that they’d decided to leave
The Steffen
as soon as the ship stopped to take on supplies. Despite the injustices inflicted upon them by King Henry and Cardinal Wolsey none of Thomas companions had any wish to fight for an English rebel, instead they planned to join one of the mercenary bands that served The Holy Roman Empire’s innumerable bishops and princelings. They invited Thomas to come with them but, whatever his decision, they were determined to leave the ship at Coblenz.

“The prophet Samuel says that the sin of rebellion is worse than the sin of witchcraft,” said Bos, conveniently forgetting the part he’d played in his homeland’s revolt against the Hapsburg Emperor.

“And the
Book of Proverbs
teaches that an evil man seeketh only rebellion,” added Prometheus. Even Quintana was loathe to risk his neck in any foolhardy venture that promised great danger and little profit but Thomas had not only had he grown fond of the three men, he knew that their help could be invaluable. He therefore
did his best to persuade them to stay, at least as far as Metz.

“I can’t force you join me but I can promise great riches once Richard regains his throne and make no mistake, this is no rebellion. Richard de la Pole is England’s lawful king and we’ll be doing God’s work,” said Thomas and he told his comrades how the House of York had lost the throne of England.

Fifteen years before Thomas had been born, Richard III, the last Yorkist king of England, had been defeated and killed at the Battle of Bosworth Field. After the battle, the victorious Henry Tudor, father of Henry VIII, had found the crown of England hanging in a thorn bush, whereupon he’d placed the golden circlet around his head and declared himself King Henry VII.

Henry VII’s grandfather, Own Tudor, had been a lowly Master of the Royal Wardrobe but his marriage to the widow of Henry V, the French princess Katherine of Valois, had plunged this obscure Welsh family into the dynastic bloodbath fought by the rival royal Houses of Lancaster and York. After two generations of bitter civil war Henry Tudor, by virtue of his mother’s descent from the dukes of Lancaster had emerged as the Lancastrian claimant to the throne and his forces had met the army of his Yorkist rival Richard IIII at the Battle of Bosworth. On the eve of the battle the childless Richard had named his eldest nephew, John de la Pole Earl of Lincoln, as his successor.

Like their uncle, the four de la Pole brothers could trace their lineage from two royal princes, the Duke of
York and the Duke of Clarence, and thus they had a good deal more royal blood in their veins than the Tudors who could claim only one, but after Richard III’s death John and his three brothers had accepted Henry VII as their sovereign. Unfortunately, the new Tudor king was deeply mistrustful of anyone with Yorkist blood in their veins and had conducted a calculated campaign to provoke the de la Poles into rebellion. The scheme had worked. Barely two years after Bosworth, John de la Pole had raised the Yorkist standard once more but he’d been killed at the Battle of Stoke Field and the Yorkist claim had passed to his younger brother Edmund.

Edmund had escaped into exile after the disaster of Stoke but the persecution of the House of York did not cease even after the first Tudor king had died. Henry VII’s son, Henry VIII, tricked Edmund de la Pole into returning home and despite the promise of a full pardon, the moment Edmund had set foot in England he’d been arrested and executed. Soon afterwards, Henry had William, the third de la Pole brother, arrested and imprisoned in The Tower of London on false charges of treason. William had never been seen again so of the four de la Pole brothers, only Richard remained.

“So you see my friends, Richard de la Pole has far better claim to the throne than the murderous Tudors and if all this is not enough to convince you that the White Rose’s cause is just remember that Henry VIII married his brother’s widow, which is a union forbidden by scripture. The Tudors have therefore broken faith with God so all good Christians have a duty to oppose them,”
said Thomas. The Lutheran Bos and the Orthodox Prometheus were both familiar with the teachings of Leviticus and they had to agree that Henry VIII’s claim to the throne was at least no better than that of Richard de la Pole, but Quintana was more concerned with the rewards Thomas promised.

“You say that this White Rose is descended from kings and queens, but how is a penniless exile going to raise any army?” he said. Thomas had to admit he did not know but Nagel supplied the missing information.

“The White Rose has the wealth of Burgundy and France at his disposal,” said the trumpet player and he continued Thomas’ story. After the deaths and imprisonment of his brothers, Richard de la Pole had fled to the Flemish city of Mechelen where his aunt Margaret of York, widow of the Duke of Burgundy and a wealthy Yorkist heiress, ruled the Low Countries as Dowager Duchess. The House of York’s elderly matriarch had welcomed her nephew warmly, given him the title of White Rose and made him swear never to abandon his family’s claim to the crown of England.

Margaret had died soon after Richard’s arrival and though she’d left her nephew a wealthy man he needed a powerful ally to reconquer his lost kingdom. Richard had therefore sought an alliance with the French king Louis XII who’d been delighted to foment trouble in England. Louis had given Richard an army to wrest the English throne from the Tudors but, whilst the White Rose waited at St Malo for a favourable wind, the French king had unexpectedly made peace with Henry. As a condition of
that peace, the last Yorkist claimant to the English throne had been ordered to leave France but Louis had softened the blow by providing the White Rose with a generous pension. French gold had allowed de la Pole to build
La Haute Pierre
, a large palace in the heart of Metz.

Richard de la Pole had soon established a glittering Yorkist court-in-exile in this a fee city on the border of France and the Holy Roman Empire but he’d never forgotten the vow he’d made to his aunt and he’d continued trying to enlist French support to recover his throne. After Louis’ death Richard had repeatedly petitioned the new king, Francis I, to provide him with another army to invade England whilst on the other side of The Channel, Henry VIII had become obsessed with ending the Yorkist threat by wiping out the de la Poles once and for all.

“Henry ordered his Lord Chancellor, Cardinal Wolsey, to murder the White Rose and though all the assassins sent by the Tudors have failed Henry’s sure to keep trying until one succeeds. Only when the Tudors are cast down and the House of York rules England will honest men like Richard de la Pole feel safe,” said Nagel.

“He has my sympathy but what do you want us to do about it?” said Quintana who’d listened to the history lesson with polite detachment, his only concern was to put as many miles as possible between himself and the king who wanted his head.

“You’ve said that you wish to sell your martial services to some great lord of The Empire but you won’t get rich chasing poachers and guarding wine cellars. On the other hand those who fight loyally for the White Rose will be
given their castles and great estates,” said Nagel but Quintana still wasn’t satisfied. He reminded Nagel that every Yorkist plot had ended in failure and the only reward received by defeated rebels was death.

“Nevertheless Richard will be king and, what’s more, I can show you how I will lead his armies to victory,” said Thomas and before the others could stop him he had disappeared into the forecastle’s cabin.

9

METZ

T
homas returned to his bewildered companions a few moments later and he was carrying his copy of
The Munich Handbook
. Holding up the book so everyone could see, he quickly thumbed through the pages to show them Leonardo’s designs for armoured wagons, giant crossbows multi barrelled cannon and boats that could sail underwater.

“With such weapons I can make whomsoever I choose king of England and those who join me will win more titles than Columbus and more wealth than da Gama. Moreover these machines can do much more than conquer England for Richard de la Pole!” Thomas said triumphantly and with growing excitement he promised that Leonardo’s war machines could help Prometheus take back Nubia from the Funj, or drive the Hapsburgs from Bos’ homeland. If they wished, they could even spread the word of Luther all the way to the gates of Rome.

“Do you know how to build these contraptions?” Bos asked suspiciously.

“And if you do, will they work?” Prometheus said.

“I do and they will,” Thomas lied. Bos and Prometheus looked at each other and after a brief conversation between themselves the Nubian spoke.

“Very well Englishman, Bos and I will go with you on the condition that you build more of these weapons of war to help us end the tyrannies in our homelands,” Prometheus said quietly.

“What about you Portugee, you’re lucky that your homeland is at peace so will you continue into Germany or return to Portugal?” Bos added. In reply Quintana spat over the side, he’d no intention of going back to Lisbon, where several jealous husbands were waiting to avenge insults to their wives’ honour, but he didn’t relish the prospect of venturing into the heart of The Hapsburg’s German Empire alone.

“Do you expect me to die of boredom guarding some cabbage eating count’s crumbling castle whilst you all become rich in England? I want my share so I’m coming too, but first I’m going to find something to eat,” he said. The others laughed and together they went in search of breakfast.

At Coblenz,
The Steffen
left the Rhine and joined the Moselle, a river which led into the heart of Burgundy. At first the river flowed lazily through narrow looping gorges with vineyards marching down the steeply sided hills to the water’s edge, like Malcolm’s army coming to drink.
The tops of the highest hills were crowned by fairy-tale castles with tall slender towers whilst prosperous towns crowded the slopes beneath their walls. Beyond the ancient city of Trier, the Moselle entered a wider valley, filled with broad water meadows and sleepy villages, and Thomas’ first site of their destination was the great square monolith of Metz’s cathedral.

For the last few miles of the journey,
The Steffen’s
progress was slowed by crowds of gaily painted barges bringing a cornucopia of goods to Metz’s numerous markets. A customs post at the city’s water gate was collecting tolls and the labyrinthine processes of officialdom created a long queue of river traffic. Fortunately, the red and white Hansa flag speeded
The Steffen’s
passage through the throng and by midmorning on the fourteenth day of their voyage, Shobery moored his vessel in the shadow of the huge cathedral which rose up from the quayside like a great gothic cliff.

The wharfs of Metz were as busy as those of London and crowded with boatmen cursing in all the tongues of Catholic Christendom. Bos, Prometheus and Quintana were excited at the prospect of exploring a new city but this wasn’t Thomas’ first visit. Whilst he was apprenticed to Agrippa, his master had taken a position as legal advisor to Metz’s council so master and pupil had spent two years living here. During his stay, Thomas had seen Richard de la Pole several times, usually at one of the city’s numerous tournaments and festivals, but he’d never met the White Rose in person.

He asked Nagel how long it would take to be granted an audience with the Yorkist Prince. The trumpet player
didn’t know but he planned to call on Petrus Alamire, the second of Wolsey’s turncoat spies, who still had the White Rose’s favour. Alamire would be able to arrange a prompt introduction so as soon the gangplank had been lowered, Thomas and the others set off through the thronging streets.

Alamire lived on the other side of the city, close to Metz’s German Gate. It wasn’t far but their journey took the five men through a large market square where half a dozen heavily armed soldiers, dressed entirely in black, had gathered on the steps of a church. The sight of their broad brimmed hats, square cut beards, voluminous sleeved doublets and baggy breeches made Thomas think they must be German
landsknechts
but he knew men in imperial service rarely wore black.

In fact, to shock peaceful citizens and thumb their noses at The Emperor’s laws dictating what the lowborn could wear, the bloodthirsty German mercenaries called
landsknechts
habitually wore the most colourful and outrageous costumes their tailors could devise. Huge hats decorated with enormous feathers, tight doublets with slashed sleeves, beribboned breeches, striped hose and obscene codpieces all made from contrasting colours were the norm but whilst the cutthroats in Metz’s market square wore the same style of clothing as imperial
landsknechts
, their hats, doublets, breeches and hose were all entirely black. Even their armour had been blackened with soot.

“The Black Band! I fought these murderous scum in Frisia and I prayed never to meet them again,” hissed Bos as he caught sight of the soldiers