The King's Dogge (48 page)

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Authors: Nigel Green

BOOK: The King's Dogge
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‘Tudor will be upon us tomorrow,' I began.

‘We should advance on him now.'

For an old man, the Duke of Norfolk had a surprisingly strong voice. Next to him his son, the Earl of Surrey, nodded belligerently.

‘My men are exhausted,' Northumberland said sulkily. We should remain here and let Tudor come to us.'

‘What do you think Tudor's tactics will be, Francis?' Ratcliffe tactfully intervened.

‘Assuming we remain here, Tudor will attack either our left or right flanks.'

‘He'd come straight at our centre!' bellowed Norfolk. ‘I dare say you do things differently in Scotland, Lovell, but…'

‘He can't cross that marsh!' I snapped irritably. ‘Have you inspected it? A man could cross if he was careful, but for an advancing army it's a natural obstacle. Horses and men-at-arms would be fatally slowed, while we showered them with arrows.'

‘But there's an old road which runs through the marsh!' someone objected.

‘You could cross there if you were marching in column,' I responded, ‘but not if your army was extended in full battle array. Tudor will either head north or south when he comes to the marsh and work his way round it to fall on us.'

‘If he takes the southern route then Lord Stanley will deal with him,' Richard observed.

‘Assuming he's loyal!' Norfolk boomed. ‘He might just join forces with him.'

The noise inside the tent intensified as speculation regarding Lord Stanley's true intentions was hotly debated. I turned to Richard, who stood beside me with a look of anger on my face.

‘Enough!' he snapped and the noise was instantly subdued. ‘It is time to end this issue once and for all. Send a messenger to Lord Stanley and tell him that we require his oath of loyalty or his son will perish!'

There was a thoughtful pause. Clearly such a message as this would need to be carried by someone of authority. Equally, in view of the content, the risk to the bearer was considerable; he himself might be held as a hostage or suffer a worse fate.

Ratcliffe stepped forward tentatively.

‘I'll go,' he said gruffly to conceal his nervousness.

The king quickly nodded, but, before he could speak, William Catesby stood up and turned to Ratcliffe. There was no trace of scorn or mockery as he faced his rival.

‘Your courage has never been in doubt, Richard,' he remarked quietly. ‘Indeed, I have long admired it, but might I suggest that I take the message? You have many strengths, but it is possible that my own – which lie more in the field of diplomacy than martial abilities – might be more suitable on this occasion?'

Catesby had few friends, but his bravery and praise of his rival drew approving glances from those in the tent. Undoubtedly, his mental ability and persuasive tongue made him the most suitable person to act as messenger.

‘Leave immediately!' the king commanded. ‘Now Francis, how do you see the battle tomorrow?'

‘If Catesby succeeds in his mission, Your Grace, I would suggest that Lord Stanley remains in his present position and acts as our left wing. You, my Lord of Norfolk, will take the right wing.'

‘And my men?' Northumberland broke in.

‘The centre, my Lord. Now, I suggest that we maintain the high ground tonight, but in the morning move all our troops down to the plain – except for the king's own men, who we'll use as a reserve.'

Richard frowned.

‘But why will we not take advantage of our defensive position here? All the cannon are in place and Tudor would be forced to fight uphill.'

‘Because we have superior numbers, Your Grace. The space here is too confined for us to deploy our greater numbers to the best advantage. On the plain, we can spread our men to surround Tudor whether he attacks from the north or the south.'

All men know themselves to be great generals, so it was not unexpected that the debate on the next day's tactics went on for a considerable time. In the end, though, I had my way.

Richard gestured for me to remain behind when the others departed. Devoid of men, I noticed how opulent his tent was with its tapestries, carved stools and golden cups set on a large table.

‘I want you to stand beside me tomorrow, Francis,' he said quietly. ‘Norfolk, Northumberland and Stanley will only take orders from me, but I would welcome your advice.'

‘Of course, Richard.'

He smiled gratefully, but, before he could speak further, the tent's flaps were flung open and Catesby stepped in. One look at his smiling face was sufficient to tell us that he had been successful.

‘Lord Stanley's sworn his loyalty!' he announced happily. ‘He'll fight for his king tomorrow.'

‘Was it difficult?' I asked.

Catesby's green eyes gleamed and he bore himself proudly; he knew that he had accomplished something that must have taxed even his own considerable abilities.

He grinned at me.

‘Let's just say, Francis, that after some time the loyal Lord Stanley was made to see where his best interests lay.'

I smiled back. With Stanley on our side, we outnumbered Tudor by almost three to one.

Dawn's glimmer was only just visible as I raged through the camp, ignoring the chaotic scenes that surrounded me. Dear God, our sentries must have been drunk or asleep to have allowed Tudor to get this close.

I pushed my way through the crowd in front of the royal tent, shouldering aside clerics, servants and sentries indiscriminately and burst into Richard's quarters.

‘Tudor's caught us by surprise!' I shouted as I waved his priest away impatiently.

‘I have not yet taken communion!' he protested in shock.

‘There's no time for that now!' I told him as I chivvied the priest toward the tent's flaps. ‘We need to move quickly. We must get Norfolk's men down the hillside. You must send word to Northumberland to advance his men.'

‘The men will not have eaten.'

‘They can eat later!' I told him desperately. ‘The important thing is to advance our troops.'

Ratcliffe hurried in.

‘Tudor's turning back. He's now heading to the northern end of the marsh.'

A feint by Tudor – pretend to advance on Stanley's troops and then turn north instead. Clever, but wholly unnecessary, for we had not even got our troops down to the plain, let alone arrayed them to face south. Tudor would have done better to have come straight at us. I turned to Richard frantically.

‘Give the orders now while I make sure that your household knights get their retinues ready.'

‘I'll help, Francis,' said Ratcliffe. ‘We can use Harrington and Marmaduke Constable to assist us.'

‘Right.' I glanced at Richard. ‘I'll send your squires and clerks to you now. You can dictate your orders while you get armed.'

I ignored the loud bangs of the serpentines; they were proving useless, I reflected. Despite the best efforts of the Flemish gunners, Oxford's force was too far away for their guns to have any effect, nor was there time to move them down the hill. Still, at least Norfolk had got his men onto the plain and I could see them deploying in long lines about half a mile below us. Brackenbury's troops followed him.

‘Why did you insist that Brackenbury's men fought in the rear rows?' Richard asked me.

‘Lack of morale,' I told him in resignation. ‘They are mostly Londoners and, given a choice, probably would not be here at all. I've put horsemen behind them to stop them running away. But it doesn't matter because, as soon as Northumberland's men move up, we'll put them behind Norfolk.'

‘But we have men here. Why not use them to reinforce Norfolk and Brackenbury?'

‘Because as soon as Northumberland is in position, we'll take our men from here and move north-west. Then we'll attack Oxford's left flank in a hooking movement. Oxford will be hit from the front and from the side. Outnumbered two to one, he'll be quickly defeated.'

I turned to an attendant squire.

‘His Grace requests my Lord of Northumberland to quicken his advance and take up station in support of the Duke of Norfolk.'

I beckoned to another.

‘Ride to Lord Stanley and request him to move his force to the north-west of his current position. He should be ready to cut off Oxford's retreat.'

I watched carefully as Norfolk and Oxford inched towards each other. As far as I could see, Tudor had concentrated all his force in one compact division that was advancing on a narrow front. Our scouts advised that there were a small body of horsemen behind the marsh who presumably were either a flank or rear guard, but numbering less than 100, their effectiveness would be debatable.

I turned back to the main battle anxiously. Norfolk had sacrificed depth of line for length, doubtless trying to intimidate Oxford. This was a mistake since many of his men would not actually be facing an enemy when battle was joined.

‘Norfolk puffs himself up like a bullfrog,' I told Richard. ‘But once Northumberland gets in behind him, we'll have the victory.'

Dear God, why was Northumberland so slow in his advance? Already Norfolk and Oxford's lines had crashed together after a volley of arrows had been fired by both sides. Though the din of battle was plainly audible, in that mass of men it was impossible to make out what was happening. Fortunately, Norfolk had enough experience to send back messengers. The first had advised that their initial assault had pushed Oxford back. The second, a short while later, reported stubborn resistance and requested reinforcements.

Richard looked at me but I shook my head. We would need all our troops for the devastating right-hook assault.

I turned to the messenger in his white lion tunic.

‘His Grace requests that my Lord of Norfolk contains Oxford while we prepare to take the enemy in the flank.'

I chewed my lip nervously. The squire who had been sent to Lord Stanley had not reported back yet, but by now his force would be preparing to advance to the North-West. As soon as Northumberland got into position behind Norfolk, it would be time to spring the trap shut. Richard gestured to our immediate left.

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