Jasper (16 page)

Not wishing to delay reuniting Lady Margaret with her son, they followed her messenger through the narrow streets to an imposing house close to London Bridge. After announcing themselves to the housekeeper, they were shown into a richly furnished room with small leaded glass windows overlooking the River Thames.

Sir Henry Stafford had grown portly and his scarlet doublet, embroidered with silver braiding, drew attention to his bulk. He leaned heavily on a stick to support his weight as he stood to greet them. At his side stood Lady Margaret, dressed in a stylish gown of striking red velvet, the only reminder of her religious devotion a shining gold crucifix on a chain around her neck. Her eyes were bright as she studied her visitors, taking in every detail yet revealing nothing of her own feelings.

The sight of his brother’s widow brought back a rush of memories. In Jasper’s mind Lady Margaret had always been barely a woman, young enough to be his ward, yet nearly ten years had passed. He calculated she must be twenty-seven, and saw she now dressed as a woman of status. He had almost forgotten her great wealth from the Beaufort inheritance, as well as from Sir Henry.

‘Welcome, Sir Jasper, to our home.’ She nodded to her son. ‘Henry. I give thanks to God that you are safely here.’ Her eyes misted with tears as she fought to remain composed.

Henry seemed awkward in his mother’s presence. He’d told Jasper she visited him on several occasions when he lived at Raglan Castle with William Herbert, although more than a year had passed since her last visit. They had never been left alone together, as Lady Anne Herbert was always required to keep a watch over them.

He gave a slight bow. ‘It is my pleasure to see you again, Mother.’ He nodded to Sir Henry. ‘And I thank you, sir, for your hospitality.’

Sir Henry shook them both by the hand. ‘It’s good to see you. We’ve been looking forward to your arrival.’ He nodded to a waiting servant. ‘I trust you will be able to stay for some supper?’

Jasper glanced at young Henry. ‘We would be pleased to. I am keen to learn what has been going on in London while I’ve been visiting France.’

He smiled at Lady Margaret. ‘It warms my heart to see you looking so well, my lady.’

‘And you, Jasper. It seems your life in France has suited you?’

‘I’ve missed Pembroke,’ he admitted. ‘It has been difficult to be sure of news from England, with so many rumours, so I give thanks to God that, at last, we can meet as family.’

Sir Henry led them through to a large dining room with a polished walnut table set with four platters and goblets and invited them to sit. A log fire crackled in the grate to ward off the late October chill and beeswax candles cast their yellow, flickering light from a pair of tall silver candlesticks. Jasper sat in a carved and gilded crimson velvet-covered chair as fine as any in Westminster Palace.

Lady Margaret said a Latin grace, thanking God for the safe return of her son and brother-in-law, then a young maidservant brought red wine for Jasper and Sir Henry, with mead for Lady Margaret and young Henry. Once their goblets were filled Sir Henry raised his and proposed a toast.

‘To peace in this land, and the good health of King Henry.’

Jasper raised his goblet. ‘To peace and family.’

Sir Henry sipped his wine and nodded. ‘You’ve had some adventures since we last met, Sir Jasper, if only half the accounts I’ve heard of your exploits are not exaggerated.’

‘In truth, I consider myself fortunate to be here.’

‘We heard you had been killed fighting in the north.’

Lady Margaret crossed herself. ‘I prayed each night the news was wrong.’

Jasper smiled. ‘Well, my lady, your prayers were answered, as by the grace of God and with the help of friends I managed to escape the late Lord Herbert.’

He saw young Henry pale at the mention of the name and was glad the servants arrived with veal pie and a leg of mutton in a thick sauce. He waited while it was served, together with a trencher of freshly baked bread, still warm from the ovens.

Lady Margaret looked at Jasper. ‘How is the king? It is some years since I saw him last.’ She gave her husband a cautionary glance.

‘You might ask your son?’ He glanced across the table at young Henry. ‘He was presented to the king and will be able to give you an opinion of his uncle’s health.’

‘The king is well, Mother. He said my father would be proud of me.’

Lady Margaret nodded. ‘Your father would have been proud to see what a fine young man you’ve become.’ She caught Jasper’s eye and seemed keen to change the subject. ‘I would be most grateful if you would help us to ensure my son’s lands and title as Earl of Richmond are properly secured.’

‘Of course. I will speak to Earl Warwick when I return.’

Sir Henry glanced up from his supper. ‘Warwick runs the country?’

Jasper nodded. ‘King Henry has little enough interest in matters of state, and the queen and Prince Edward remain in France.’

‘So until we have a proper Parliament such matters fall to Warwick?’ Sir Henry’s deep voice carried a note of concern. ‘He is a vengeful man.’

Lady Margaret interrupted her husband. ‘We must put our troubles of the past behind us, Henry, and pray good sense prevails.’

Jasper tasted the well-cooked mutton, seasoned with herbs, and dipped his bread in the rich wine sauce. ‘Do you know what became of Henry’s lands, my lady?’

‘York granted them to his brother, George, Duke of Clarence.’

‘That is a problem. Clarence had the promise of the throne snatched from within his grasp, so Warwick will be reluctant to also take the lands
he had
been given.’

Sir Henry signalled to the serving girl to refill their goblets. ‘I heard he is to be made heir apparent, after Prince Edward, is that not enough to appease him?’

Jasper wiped his platter with a hunk of bread and took a bite while he considered the question. ‘Prince Edward is a young man, and an ambitious one. In truth I doubt George Neville will gladly agree to relinquish an acre of land, unless he is forced to.’

‘You will ask, on our behalf?’

‘I will, my lady, although you must expect the answer may not be what we wish.’

He took another sip of wine and turned to Sir Henry. ‘Will you tell me what I’ve missed while I’ve been away?’

Sir Henry laid down his knife with a clatter on the hard table. ‘I must confess that life settled down well enough under York.’

Lady Margaret agreed. ‘Edward was kind to us, Jasper. I think it important you know that.’ She glanced at her husband, who nodded agreement. ‘He granted us the manor at Woking and came to visit us there once. I asked his permission to visit King Henry and he told me if not for the Earl of Warwick he might have moved the king to a priory somewhere, to live out his days in peace.’

‘Now we have to keep our wits about us.’ Sir Henry helped himself to a generous portion of the veal pie. ‘I can tell you it has not been easy. York’s sympathisers opened the prison gates and bands of ruffians roam the streets, with nobody able to stop them.’

Jasper took a sip of his wine. ‘I heard villages beyond the city walls have been ransacked.’

Sir Henry nodded. ‘We plan to leave for the country as soon as we can.’

Lady Margaret looked at Jasper. ‘I would wish for my son to travel with us, as it has been such a long time?’

Jasper smiled, recalling his conversation with young Henry, and nodded. ‘Of course—and then he must return with me to Pembroke.’

‘Thank you, Jasper.’

It was the first time
he had
seen her smile since she held her newborn baby in her arms at Pembroke Castle.

George Neville, Archbishop of York and Warwick’s brother, led the service of thanksgiving in the cathedral of St Paul’s, offering thanks to God for saving England and blessing what had become known as the re-adeption of King Henry. Choirs sang and every space in the huge cathedral was packed with nobles and their ladies, all keen to show their loyalty.

Although the idea of a service was the king’s, Warwick quickly turned it into a public spectacle, a chance for the people of London to see their restored king with him, their self-appointed new Protector of the Realm. He made sure the streets were thronged with cheering crowds as they made the short ride through the city in procession, their horses followed by five hundred soldiers dressed in the blue, red and gold royal livery, with drummers and trumpeters adding to the noise and sense of grand occasion.

The king dressed in his full regalia and wore his heavy crown for the first time in many years. Warwick was right, as King Henry seemed not to understand what he had been through, yet looked happy enough as he waved to his people. It was as if Edward of York never existed. Warwick had even ordered all coins bearing York’s face to be withdrawn, to be melted down and re-struck for King Henry.

After the service Jasper made his way in the slow procession back down the long aisle of St Paul’s and froze as he saw Warwick’s younger brother, Sir John Neville, dressed in his regalia of the Order of the Garter. In a flash of memory Jasper recalled they were knighted there together with his brother Edmund in the same ceremony by King Henry.

He also recalled the nightmare siege of Bamburgh, where he almost starved and nearly froze to death until John Neville chose to spare him. Their eyes met, only for an instant, yet Jasper saw acknowledgement in the eyes of his former captor. It was time to set aside their differences, although his memories would take longer to fade.

Jasper felt disappointed to see the king absent from the banquet. Instead, Prince Edward sat at the side of the queen, a gold coronet and fur-trimmed cape making him look older than his seventeen years. At his side sat Lady Anne, in a fine new gown. She caught Jasper’s eye and the sadness he saw there told him all he needed to know. He made a mental note to keep watch over her, as although the marriage had not been his idea, he had helped to make it happen.

Also absent were George, Duke of Clarence and his wife Lady Isobel. Jasper took a seat next to Countess Warwick and enquired after the health of her eldest daughter. The countess had regained a little of her former grandeur, although her lined face told him how the hardship of the past months had taken its toll on her.

‘I thank you for your concern, Sir Jasper. These things take time.’ She glanced across at her husband, surrounded by minor nobles seeking favours. ‘The Duke of Clarence has not taken kindly to his own misfortune but Isobel is strong willed, as must be my daughter Anne.’

Jasper glanced across to where Prince Edward was continuing to ignore his new wife. With a jolt he realised it was not entirely the boy’s fault, as despite all his mother’s attention and his long-suffering tutors, he needed a strong father to guide him in such matters.

‘Never say that marriage has more of joy than pain.’ He said it softly, thinking aloud.

‘You surprise me, Sir Jasper.’ She smiled. ‘I thought you were a soldier—not a scholar?’

‘My father was a self-educated man,’ Jasper admitted. ‘He taught himself to read and write, and insisted I studied both Latin and Greek, although it has thus far been of little enough use to me.’ He saw her expression soften and smiled. ‘I also doubt I’m destined to be a soldier, for I’ve never won a battle and it’s only through God’s providence and perhaps a little luck that I’ve escaped with my life.’

She looked again at her husband. ‘Sometimes I wish he was less determined to be a soldier. You know he intends to declare war on Burgundy for sheltering Edward of York?’

‘I did not, my lady, although the news doesn’t surprise me.’ A thought occurred to him. ‘That is what King Louis was plotting, before we left France?’

The countess nodded imperceptibly. ‘My husband treats this like a game of chess, always looking several moves ahead.’

Jasper wondered if Sir John Neville deliberately allowed York to escape to his allies in Burgundy. By now Duke Charles would be breaking the peace treaty by helping an enemy of France, giving King Louis the excuse he needed. He glanced at Queen Margaret and saw the satisfied expression on her face. He could only imagine how relieved she must feel to be returned to Westminster after so long in exile.

The Earl of Warwick may have kneeled before her and sworn fealty, yet he saw the queen as little more than a useful chess piece in his grand strategy. It seemed to matter little that, as in a game of chess, the queen could be lost, as long as he guarded his king. If the countess was right, to Warwick they were all his pawns.