The Lady of the Rivers (70 page)

‘Your Grace.’ Sir Thomas holds his hand and gently closes his other one over it in a warm clasp. ‘I need you to tell Her Grace the queen that I have cared for you. You said that we should stay with you and we would be safe. You gave us your word! Do you remember? Don’t let the queen behead us.’

The king looks confused. ‘I did?’ he asks. ‘Oh yes, I did. I promised them they would be safe. Er – Margaret, you won’t hurt these men, will you?’

She has a face of ice. ‘Not at all,’ she says to him. ‘You have nothing to worry about.’ And to the guard she says, ‘Take them out.’

I whisper urgently. ‘Margaret – they have his word.’

‘Three fools together,’ she hisses. To the guards she nods again. ‘Take them out.’

We have lodgings in the dorter house of the abbey of St Albans, overlooking the frozen orchard. The fighting was in the streets around the abbey and many of the wounded are coming in to the chapter house and the barns, where the nuns are caring for them, and the monks carrying them out for burial when they die. I have managed to get a tub for Richard and he is washing himself with jugs of water. He has taken a wound to his sword arm and I have sponged it with thyme water from home, and bandaged it tightly. Anthony, thank God, is unhurt.

‘Where’s John?’ I ask. ‘Is he with the cavalry?’

Richard has his back to me as he gets out of the tub, dripping water all over the floor. I cannot see his face. ‘No.’

‘Where is he?’

His silence alerts me. ‘Richard, is he hurt? Richard? Is he here in the abbey?’

‘No.’

I’m afraid now. ‘Where is he? He’s not hurt? I must go to him. I should send to Elizabeth, I promised her I would.’

Richard ties a sheet around his waist, wincing slightly. He sits down by the little fire. ‘I am sorry, Jacquetta. He’s dead.’

‘Dead?’ I say stupidly.

‘Yes.’

‘John?’ I repeat.

He nods.

‘But the cavalry broke Warwick’s line, they won the battle for us. The cavalry won this battle.’

‘John was in the lead. He took a spear in the belly. He’s dead.’

I sink down onto the stool. ‘This will break Elizabeth’s heart,’ I say. ‘Dear God. He is nothing but a boy. And you have come through unscathed so many times!’

‘It’s luck,’ he says. ‘He wasn’t lucky, that’s all. He was unlucky, God save him. Did you foresee it at all?’

‘I never foresaw a future for them,’ I say bitterly. ‘But I said nothing and I let her marry him though I could see nothing ahead for the two of them. But it was a good match and I wanted her well married and rich. I should have warned her, I should have warned him. I have the Sight sometimes; but I might as well be blind.’

He leans forwards and takes my hand. ‘It’s just fortune,’ he says. ‘A cruel goddess. Will you write to Elizabeth? I can send a man with a message.’

‘I’ll go to her,’ I say. ‘I can’t bear that she should hear this from anyone but me. I’ll go and tell her myself.’

I leave St Albans at dawn and ride through the fields. I sleep one night in an abbey and one in an inn. It is a weary journey but the grey skies and the muddy lanes match my mood. I am part of a victorious army on a winning campaign but I have never before felt so defeated. I think of the two lords on their knees before Margaret and the enmity in her face. I think of her son, our little prince, and his boyish treble when he ordered two good men to be killed. I ride blindly, hardly seeing the way. I know myself to be losing my faith.

It takes me two days to get to the little village of Groby and as I ride in through the great gates of the Hall, I wish I was not there. Elizabeth herself opens the door, and as soon as she sees me, she knows why I have come.

‘Is he wounded?’ she asks; but I see that she knows he is dead. ‘Have you come to fetch me?’

‘No, I am sorry, Elizabeth.’

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‘He is dead.’

I had thought she would collapse but she takes the blow and then straightens herself and stands very tall. ‘And have we lost again?’ she asks impatiently, as if it means nothing either way.

I get down from my horse and throw the reins at a groom. ‘Feed him and water him and rub him down,’ I say. ‘I have to leave the day after tomorrow.’ To Elizabeth I say, ‘No, dearest. We won. Your husband led the charge that broke Warwick’s line. He was very brave.’

She looks at me, her grey eyes blank with misery. ‘Brave? D’you think it was worth it? This victory in this little battle, another battle, another little victory in exchange for him?’

‘No,’ I say honestly. ‘For there will be another battle and your father and Anthony will have to fight in it again. It goes on and on.’

She nods. ‘Will you come and tell his mother?’

I step over the threshold into the warm shadows of Groby Hall and know that I will have to do the worst, the very worst thing that one woman can do to another: tell her that her son is dead.

When I get back to St Albans I find most of the town empty, the shops gutted and the houses barred. The townspeople are terrified of the queen’s army, which has looted all the valuables and foraged all the food for an area of ten miles all around the town. ‘Thank God you’re back,’ Richard says to me, helping me from my horse in the front yard of the abbey. ‘It is like trying to command the enemy. The monks have left the abbey, the townspeople have fled from the town. And the Lord Mayor of London has sent for you.’

‘For me?’

‘He wants you and the Duchess of Buckingham to meet him and agree whether the king and the queen can enter London.’

I look at him blankly. ‘Richard, London has to admit the King and Queen of England.’

‘They won’t,’ he says flatly. ‘They have heard what it is like here. The merchants won’t have this army anywhere near their warehouses, shops and daughters, if they can possibly prevent it. It’s as simple as that. What you have to do is to see if you can get an agreement that they let the king and queen into Westminster Palace with their household, and feed and quarter the army outside.’

‘Why me? Why not the master of the queen’s household? Or the king’s confessor?’

His smile is bitter. ‘It is an honour for you, actually. The Londoners don’t trust anyone. Not anyone of her army or of the king’s advisors. They trust you because they remember you coming into London as the pretty duchess, all that long time ago. They remember you in the Tower when Jack Cade came in. They remember you at Sandwich when Warwick took you. They think they can trust you. And you can meet the Duchess of Buckingham there.’

He puts his arm around my waist and his mouth to my ear. ‘Can you do this, Jacquetta? If you can’t, say the word and we go back to Grafton.’

I lean against him for a moment. ‘I am sick of it,’ I say quietly. ‘I am sick of the fighting and I am sick of the death and I don’t think she can be trusted with the throne of England. I don’t know what to do. I thought of it all the way to Groby and all the way back again, and I don’t know what I think or where my duty lies. I can’t foresee the future and I can’t even say what we should do tomorrow.’

His face is grim. ‘This is my house,’ he says simply. ‘My father served the House of Lancaster and I have too. My son follows me. But this is hard on you, my love. If you want to go home you should go. The queen will have to release you. If London bars the gates on her, it is her own doing.’

‘Would they really lock her out of her own city?’

He nods. ‘She’s not loved, and her army is a terror.’

‘Did they ask for no-one else to speak for her?’

He smiles wryly. ‘Only the pretty duchess will do.’

‘Then I must do it,’ I decide reluctantly. ‘London has to admit the King and Queen of England. What will become of the country if they close the gates to their own king? We have won the battle, she is Queen of England, we have to be able to enter London.’

‘Can you go now?’ he asks. ‘For I imagine that Warwick has met up with his friend Edward March and they will be coming towards us. We should get the king and queen into the Tower of London and in possession of the City at once. Then they can parley or they can fight. But we have to hold the kingdom.’

I look at the stable yard where the cavalry horses nod their heads over the stalls. One of them will be John Grey’s horse, without his rider, now and for ever.

‘I can go now,’ I say.

He nods. They bring me out a fresh horse, Richard helps me into the saddle. The door behind us opens from the abbey and the queen comes out.

‘I knew you’d go for me,’ she says to me with her sweetest smile. ‘Agree to anything for me. We have to get into London before Edward gets here.’

‘I’ll do what I can,’ I say. ‘How is His Grace today?’

She nods to the abbey. ‘Praying,’ she says. ‘If wars were won by prayers we would have won a hundred times over. And see if you can get them to send us some food. I can’t keep my army from raiding.’ She looks at Richard. ‘I’ve issued orders but the officers cannot command them.’

‘The devil from hell couldn’t command them,’ Richard says grimly. He puts his hand on my knee and looks up at me. ‘I’ll be waiting for you,’ he promises. ‘Anthony will lead your guard. You’ll be safe.’

I glance over to where Anthony is mounting into his saddle. He throws me a smiling salute. ‘Come on then,’ I say. Anthony shouts a command to our guard and we ride out of the abbey courtyard, south down the road to London.

We meet Anne the Duchess of Buckingham and her little train a few miles from the City. I smile at the duchess and she nods at me, a little toss of her head tho;ll do whows me that she can hardly believe we are suing for the royal family to enter their capital. She has lost a son in this war, her lined face is weary. She leads the way to Bishopsgate where the Lord Mayor and the aldermen come out to meet us. They don’t want to admit us, not even over the threshold. The duchess sits up high on her horse with a face like thunder, but I get down and the Lord Mayor kisses my hand and the aldermen pull off their bonnets and bow their heads as I smile around at them. Behind them I see the London merchants and the great men of the City; these are the men I have to persuade.

I tell them that the king and queen, the royal family of England with their son the prince, require entry to their own house, in their own city. Are these men going to deny their own anointed king the right to sit on his own throne or sleep in his own bed?