Red Rose, White Rose (30 page)

‘We have no choice. We would never outrun them and they will not leave without us. They wear Hal’s badge. We must assume they are genuinely his retainers.’

‘You did not tell them you are the Earl of Salisbury’s brother.’

‘No, I think it is not always wise to claim kinship with great lords, especially in these parts where Nevilles fight with Nevilles and everyone suspects everyone else. But I have told them nothing but the truth. We are in the service of a great landholder, just as they are. That makes us fellow travellers.’

I was holding her elbow in support and felt her squeeze my hand against her in an instinctive move which sent a thrill of pleasure through my body. ‘You are a clever man, Cuthbert of Middleham,’ she said, ‘clever and good.’

In less than an hour we sighted the great square silhouette of Sheriff Hutton castle, standing proudly on its hillock above us as our cavalcade trotted through its attendant village and up to the gatehouse. Once news filtered through to his private apartments who the visitors were that had arrived with the regular scouting party, Hal received us himself. He was in company with several of his knights and squires in his richly furnished solar above the dais end of the magnificent great hall which, as we were ushered through, was already filling with soldiers and servants seeking a warm place to lay their bed-rolls. Sadly for our rumbling stomachs, all evidence of the evening meal had been removed and the trestles were stacked against the wall.

Having greeted us in his familiar solemn way, Hal made a point of apologizing to Hilda. ‘I fear you have come to a fortress presently lacking in female company, Mistress Exley. My wife prefers to stay at Bisham in Berkshire for most of the year. She says it is warmer and the manor house is not constantly full of knights and soldiers as my northern castles tend to be.’ He gestured around at his companions, all military men who were indulging in the usual evening pursuits of drinking wine, talking tactics, throwing dice and making wagers.

‘My late husband had three sons when I married him so I am used to male company, my lord,’ Hilda responded. ‘But I confess that I look forward to re-joining the ladies of her grace, your sister’s household.’

Hal smiled at her amiably. ‘We must bring that about as soon as possible then, must we not, Cuthbert? I owe our brother of York a favour since he has supplied me with frequent support in my constant feud with my nephew of Westmorland and his pesky Percy friends. So I will get one of my captains to select a suitable escort to accompany you to Ludlow. I take it you will return with her, Cuthbert?’

‘Those are my orders and as you know, Hal, we do not argue with orders from Proud Cis!’ This teasing pleasantry received no glimmer of mirth in return. Having not seen him for a while I had forgotten my half-brother’s poor sense of humour. ‘If it is not asking too much, we would like to set out as soon as possible. Our detour here was entirely due to the circumstances of our departure from York and we need to put some distance between Hilda and her stepson as soon as possible.’

I could see that Hal was curious about this necessity for haste but thankfully he put hospitality first. ‘We will discuss logistics later,’ he said briskly. ‘First you need refreshment. My squire will show you to a separate chamber and have a meal provided there immediately.’

Remains of the meal which had been served for supper in the great hall were brought to the small ante chamber which Hal’s young squire prepared for us, setting out a table and chairs and pouring wine into fine silver hanaps with engraved lids. I ate hungrily at first, until I noticed Hilda merely toying with a slice of mutton pie. ‘You should eat,’ I urged. ‘You have become too thin and you will need strength for the coming journey.’

She looked up from her trencher and I saw that her eyes were brimming with tears. When she spoke her voice cracked. ‘I have no appetite. Now that I am safe, suddenly I feel very vulnerable. I suppose it is because a woman alone
is
very vulnerable.’ She dabbed at her eyes with her napkin. ‘Take no notice. I am being foolish.’

With a swift glance around to see that the squire had left the room, I abandoned my place at the opposite side of the table and went down on my knees beside her. ‘You are not alone!’ I declared. ‘And as far as I am concerned, I would like to make sure you are never alone again – if you will let me.’

Her doleful expression changed to one of surprise. ‘Cuddy, what are you saying?’

‘Hilda, you must know how I feel about you – how I have felt about you for many years. When you told me you had agreed to marry Master Exley I thought my heart would break. Now it definitely will break if you do not agree to marry me.’ I took her bony hands, still clenched on the napkin, and kissed her work-worn knuckles. ‘You can have no idea how much I want to put flesh on these fingers; I long to put rings on them too and buy bright colours and furs to adorn the bonny lady that you truly are. Please do not condemn me to another ten years of misery by saying no!’

Hilda regarded me with an expression that I could not readily interpret. It could have been amusement or it could have been chagrin. Her face was hard to read in its restrictive linen frame and I wanted to tear the ugly widow’s coif from her head and plunge my fingers into the mane of dark hair that I so vividly remembered as her crowning glory. It did not occur to me that it might not still be exactly the same, thick and wavy and tumbling down her back as it had when, as a young man, I had stood behind her and steadied her girlish hand on the taut string of her bow.

‘I never allowed myself to imagine that you were still thinking of me in that way.’ Her voice was constricted with emotion. ‘That is why, when you did not immediately answer my letter, I lost all hope that you would come. And now you have come and you are my savior. Yes, Cuddy, I will marry you – but only if we receive the permission and blessing of Cicely.’

I felt as if a tight band had snapped somewhere in my chest and for a moment I could not breathe and then words tumbled out of me as I crushed her fingers between my hands. ‘But of course Cicely will give us her blessing. There is absolutely no doubt about that. We will be married at Ludlow as soon as the banns have been called and I am certain that not only will she give us her blessing but she will provide us with accommodation befitting her senior knight and her first lady of the chamber. You will see. She will be almost as happy about our marriage as I am.’

That elicited the kind of smile a man might dream of. ‘You are such an optimist, Cuddy,’ she said. ‘I have always liked that about you. Very well, we will travel to Ludlow and ask Cicely but I cannot consider us betrothed until I hear her say the word.’

Impatiently I stood up and pulled Hilda to her feet so that I could put my arms around her. She was tiny and thin and through the fabric of her hateful black gown I could feel the sharp bones of her shoulder blades but I could also feel the excited beat of her heart and it brought joy to my soul. ‘Perhaps we are not yet betrothed, my love, but I think we are now what might be called “intended”, so does that not warrant at least one kiss?’

She lowered her eyes from my intense gaze and I could not tell if it was from shyness or submission. ‘Not only an optimist but also a strategist,’ she murmured, then lifted her head so that our lips were only inches apart. ‘How can I refuse?’

Our kiss began gently because she was, after all, a widow and I was hesitant about offending her sense of propriety but within seconds the growing pressure of our lips had stirred passions that must have lain dormant for years. Hilda’s arms twined around my neck and I was almost lifting her off the ground as my heated blood seemed to set my whole body on fire. I thought my sudden arousal might dismay her but instead she pulled me closer as if she would merge her limbs with mine. I closed my eyes and relished the eagerness of her.

When I opened them I saw that her usually bright, teasing brown eyes were dark and smouldering with the passions that our amazingly unchaste kiss had inflamed. Slowly, and with obvious reluctance, she withdrew her arms from around my neck and I felt her breath fan my cheek as she released a soft, prolonged sigh.

‘Oh dear, Cuddy,’ she said with a rueful smile. ‘How long will it take us to get to Ludlow?’

Ludlow Castle, July – September 1450

Cuthbert

H
ilda and I were married in the beautiful round Chapel of St Mary Magdelene at Ludlow Castle. As I had predicted, Cicely was so delighted by the prospect of a union between us that she ordered a wedding feast to be held in the Great Hall and arranged accommodation for us in one of the privy towers in the inner court. Our chamber was close to the great ducal solar and had its own garderobe and latrine, a privilege granted only to the highest-ranking officials and guests. Previously, when she had been one of Cicely’s damsels, Hilda had always shared a bed and chamber with other lady companions so this new arrangement pleased her enormously. However, when I revealed that soon after our wedding I would have to spend some weeks touring Richard’s Mortimer estates recruiting men for his new army of retainers, Cicely made a suggestion.

‘You could move in with me while Cuthbert is away, Hilda. I always have one of my women sleep in my chamber when Richard is not there. It would be like it was when we were girls at Raby but we do not need to share a bed as we did then. There is a truckle which slides out from under the great bed which I am assured is very comfortable. If it is not you can tell me and we will order a new mattress.’

I guessed that this offer was indicative not only of how glad Cicely was to have her childhood companion back at her side, but also how nervous she felt sleeping alone in the great ducal chamber, a room of daunting size and height, even though there were trusted guards placed at the only entrance all through the night. There was a small wainscoted room off this large chamber, which Cicely used as an oratory, for prayer and confession and for private conversations away from the listening ears of her staff. After mass we three had seated ourselves there in the window alcove, overlooking a bend of the River Teme where it flowed through the steep gorge which defended the castle walls to the west and north. On the opposite bank wooded slopes rose sharply into the foothills of the Welsh mountains, demonstrating Ludlow’s crucial position as one of a line of strongholds built and used for centuries by the marcher lords to quash any attempt at rebellion by the unruly natives of Wales. Having settled the question of HiIda’s sleeping arrangements, we soon discovered that was not the only reason Cicely had called us to her private closet.

During our journey from York we had found the north country abuzz with news of the violent and mysterious death of the Duke of Suffolk, whose trial by parliament on charges of defrauding the royal exchequer had resulted in a death sentence for treason. Using his royal prerogative the king had commuted his favourite’s sentence to one of exile for five years but the duke’s ship had hardly left the shores of England before it was boarded by unknown criminals who had pirated a royal vessel from the port of Sandwich in Kent expressly for the purpose. Within minutes, and without ceremony, the sentence of execution from which the king had reprieved the duke was crudely carried out with a rusty sword by the unidentified leader of these ‘pirates’ and a few days later Suffolk’s bloodied body had been found on the beach at Dover with his severed head impaled on a pikestaff beside it. Royal revenge for this murder had been swift and aimed at the county of Kent where a number of men had been summarily hanged for their supposed involvement. In response Kent had risen in revolt, led by a man named Jack Cade, who also called himself John Mortimer. It was the use of this name, that of Richard’s mother’s family, which had sparked a rumour that even though he was known to be in Ireland, the Duke of York was responsible both for the murder of Suffolk and for the Kentish rising.

Cicely unfolded a letter she had been holding in her hand. ‘Richard is furious about the use of his mother’s name by this Jack Cade, especially as the scoundrel is now marching on London at the head of an army of five thousand men and has issued a list of complaints and demands, one of which is that the Duke of York must be brought back from Ireland to replace Suffolk on the Royal Council. Now we hear that a mob of rioters in Wiltshire have turned on Bishop Aiscough of Salisbury, who as you know is the king’s confessor, and murdered him in cold blood outside a church where he was taking mass. Then they nailed a proclamation to the church door blaming the bishop for persuading King Henry to make peace with France, encouraging him in monkish ways and discouraging him from lying with the queen. They want Richard to come back from Ireland to show the king how to rule and to urge him to perform his marital duty and provide the heir to the throne that the people require.’

Cicely lowered the letter and smiled wryly at us. ‘The proclamation might be comical if it were not so serious but everyone knows that Richard and Bishop Aiscough have been at loggerheads for years over French policy and now the king has fled to Kenilworth in the Lancastrian heartland, convinced that he will be attacked next.’

I was incredulous. ‘Not by Richard surely! After all, he is in Ireland.’

Cicely shrugged. ‘The king fears sorcery and is very influenced by the queen, who seems to believe that Richard has conspired to commit murder from a distance. The upshot of all this is that when Richard has dealt with the trouble in Galway, he intends to return to England. Although he has had nothing to do with the uprisings here, he believes that they demonstrate significant popular support for him. He wants to make sure that the next parliament is not biased against York like the last one.’ She handed me the letter. ‘Read it, Cuddy. He wants you to make a tour of his Mortimer manors not only to recruit fighting men but also to assess the loyalty of his people. As you will see, he believes that in the absence of an heir of the king’s body there would be more stability in England if the line of succession were made clear.’