Wheel of Fate (18 page)

‘Nor at any other time,' I declared. ‘I can carry my ale as well as the next man. I've been ill this past week and only got up from my sick-bed yesterday. What happened? How do I come to be in Crosby's Place?'

‘One of the workmen, unloading the duke's furniture, caught you as you fell out of the saddle. And by the way, that sorry piece of horseflesh you were riding has been put in the stable here for the time being. I've sent for some decent wine. It should settle your guts and make you feel better. Now, when you feel able, sit up carefully and then you can tell me what you're doing in London.'

‘And you can tell me what
you're
doing in London,' I retorted. ‘I thought you'd be with the duke – wherever he is.'

At that moment, a serving-man arrived with the wine and two Venetian glass goblets on a silver tray which, having dragged over a beautifully carved small table with his free hand, he placed at Timothy's elbow. By the time he departed as noiselessly as he came, I had once more pulled myself into a sitting position, but with greater caution than before. The room stayed steady. The nausea had gone.

I breathed a sigh of relief and nodded towards the goblets. ‘Doing yourself proud while His Grace is still absent, eh? Which reminds me, I heard he wasn't coming here until the duchess arrives. Going to his mother's at Baynard's Castle was my information.'

A shade of annoyance crossed Timothy's face. ‘Now, how by the Holy Mother do you know that? It's not supposed to be common knowledge.'

I grinned. ‘Dear God, how old are you, Timothy? Don't you know by now that the man in the street always gets the news before the man in the council chamber? So it's true. But what in Jesu's name is going on? Earl Rivers arrested! Sir Richard Grey as well! And what's happened to the king? The whole city's buzzing with the news. And, as I said just now, why are you here in advance of the duke?'

He handed me a brimming goblet and filled one for himself, sipping the golden liquid with relish, in contrast to myself, who had emptied half the glass in one go.

He winced, eyeing me up and down. ‘You never did have any appreciation of good wine, Roger. So! You want to know what I'm doing here. Very well! But first tell me why you're in London, less than six months after you vowed never to return if you could possibly help it.'

Once again I repeated my story, but with variations. I wasn't stupid enough to tell Timothy Plummer, of all people, the real reason for my being in the capital. In this version, Adela and the children had come on a visit to her relations and I had arrived simply to escort them home. The rest of the tale I was open and honest about, feeling sure that Timothy would have no interest in the plight of the Godsloves. And I was right. He had too much else on his mind.

He was silent for at least a minute after I had finished, staring at me speculatively over the rim of his goblet, which he finally replaced carefully on the tray. Then he leant forward, his elbows propped on his knees.

‘Well,' he said at last, ‘there's no reason why I shouldn't tell you the truth. In any case, the reason behind the arrests will have to be made public sooner or later. And it may be providential that you're in London, Roger. I might have need of your services.'

‘Oh no you won't!' I spluttered, showering both myself and Timothy with spittle. ‘You're not playing that game again. I've had enough of that, and so I told you last autumn. I've done obliging you and the duke. Most of last year away from home! First Scotland, then France! This time you can find someone else to do your dirty work.'

‘Just hold your tongue and listen, will you?' he demanded savagely, wiping his face in his sleeve. He relieved me of my goblet and placed it beside his own. ‘The duke is in danger, Roger. Serious danger. The Woodvilles are out to make trouble and this city is a hotbed of intrigue. That's why I've come on ahead, to spy out the land and see if I can find out exactly what's going on. I rode with the messengers sent yesterday. We got here at midnight and I haven't been to bed since. I'm telling you this so that you won't try my temper too far. I'm dog tired and I'm worried as I've rarely been worried in my life before.'

I lay back against the pillows of the day-bed. I could see that he was rattled. ‘All right,' I said. ‘Tell me what went on at Northampton. I promise I won't interrupt. If I've any questions, I'll keep them to the end.'

He took a deep breath and nodded. ‘Very well, then. Here's what happened. The arrangement was that the duke, en route from York, and the king's party, coming across country from Ludlow, should rendezvous at Northampton. That was clearly understood from the messages sent and received. But when we reached Northampton early on Tuesday afternoon, there was no sign of the king or his entourage. At first, the duke assumed they'd been delayed on the road, but then, to his utter astonishment, he discovered that the royal troops, with Rivers and Grey at their head, had passed through the town that morning, but had ridden straight on, heading south, towards London.

‘I've never, in all the years that I've known him, seen the duke so angry. John Kendall – you know, his secretary – told me that at one point he was literally shaking with rage. But I fancy there was an element of fear in it, too. He's been jumpy ever since he got news of the late king's death. But then, midway through the afternoon, Earl Rivers appeared, attended by a small number of his immediate circle, as pleasant as you please, full of smiles and apologies. The king had thought Northampton not big enough to house both his retinue and his uncle's, so had ridden on to Stony Stratford, where he would wait until the duke caught up with him yesterday morning.'

Timothy sniffed. ‘Well, the story had an odd ring to it, Northampton being not exactly short of inns and with plenty of open fields around it for the troops to camp in. And Stony Stratford is a much smaller place. But the duke chose to accept it, calmed down and invited Earl Rivers to take supper with him. However, the meal had hardly begun when the streets were suddenly filled with all the clatter and bustle of someone arriving. And someone damned important by the sound of it. I was having my meal in an alehouse a little way down the street, but I sent one of my lads' – presumably Timothy meant one of his fellow spies – ‘to find out what the commotion was all about and when he came back he said that the Duke of Buckingham had just turned up with a following several hundreds strong, and had joined Duke Richard and Earl Rivers for supper at the duke's inn.'

I knew vaguely of Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham. He was a descendant of yet another of the third Edward's brood of sons – if ever a king could be said to have had too many sons it was that lusty monarch – and was therefore cousin, in the second, third or even fourth degree, to every other member of the royal family. I had seen him once, five years earlier, when he had been appointed Lord High Steward at the trial of George of Clarence, but my memory of him was not vivid. If the truth were told, I couldn't recall his face at all, but I nodded as though I knew him intimately.

Timothy continued, ‘Well, we thought nothing of it and went to bed. But yesterday morning I was wakened with the news that Earl Rivers had been arrested an hour or so earlier. The inn where he was sleeping had been surrounded under cover of darkness and the earl had been taken into custody as soon as it was light. Moreover, Duke Richard and his cousin were already on the road to Stony Stratford to bring the king back to Northampton – which they did several hours later, together with his half-brother, Sir Richard Grey, and another of his kinsmen, Sir Thomas Vaughan, also under arrest.'

Timothy paused to refresh himself with more wine. I broke my promise and asked impatiently, ‘So what was it all about?'

My companion regarded me reproachfully and I hurriedly apologized. He went on, puffing out his skinny chest a little, ‘I was called to see Duke Richard that afternoon and informed that I was to ride to London within the next hour or so with the messengers he was sending to the mayor, to explain his actions. There was a Woodville plot afoot, he said, to take him prisoner until after the king had been crowned and the dowager queen's family established in all the positions of power.'

‘Sweet Jesus!' I breathed. ‘But – well, how did he know?'

Timothy became his usual pompous self. ‘Perhaps you don't realize, my dear fellow – indeed, I suppose there's no reason why you should – that the Duke of Buckingham is married to Catherine Woodville, one of Queen Elizabeth's sisters. He was forcibly married to her many years ago by command of the late king, and has deeply resented the fact ever since. Unlike his cousin, he did not consider an upstart Woodville a fit mate for a Plantagenet. My guess is, however, that although he may have scorned her, the lady has always done her best to woo him—'

‘With the result,' I cut in, ‘that she has told him all about this plot to take Duke Richard prisoner on his way to London. I begin to see. When my Lord of Gloucester, all unsuspecting, and Earl Rivers got to Stony Stratford yesterday morning, the duke would have been . . . Been what?' I frowned.

Timothy gestured excitedly. ‘He would have been told that the king had gone to rest at Grafton Regis. Grafton Regis,' Timothy explained, ‘is the Woodvilles' principal seat. It's where King Edward first met Elizabeth Woodville and where he secretly married her all those years ago. And, most significantly, it's not many miles from Stony Stratford! Once there, Duke Richard would have been taken prisoner without any fuss and probably died of a “seizure”, like Humphrey of Gloucester in the late King Henry's reign. Meantime, Earl Rivers and Sir Richard Grey would have been on their way to London to stage a triumphal entry as sole protectors of the young king. And if my Lord Buckingham hadn't ridden all through the day on Tuesday to apprise my lord of the Woodvilles' intentions, the chances are that their treacherous plans would have gone smoothly. And that's why I'm here, in order to foil any other of their little plots.'

I gave a long, low whistle. ‘Dear God . . . The dowager queen's gone into sanctuary, taking the Duke of York and the princesses with her. Are you aware of that?'

‘Of course I'm aware!' Timothy bade me sit up straight and handed me more wine. ‘And Sir Edward Woodville has put to sea taking most of the fleet with him, not to mention a good half of the royal treasure from the Tower.'

‘And I hear that the Marquis of Dorset was despatched to grab the other half this morning.'

I had, astonishingly, managed to tell Timothy something that he didn't know.

‘What?' he yelped, spilling half his goblet of wine down his tunic. ‘Are you sure?'

I nodded smugly. ‘At least, that's what I was told in the city this morning. And it would seem the natural thing for him to do.'

My companion was already on his feet, the precious glass goblet dumped back on the tray as carelessly as if it had been a wooden beaker.

‘I must go at once,' he said. ‘I'll leave you to find your own way out. Your horse is in the stables.'

‘Yes, you said. And thank you for your assist . . .' But he was gone before I could finish the word, a small whirlwind of activity, leaving me to sit pensively on the edge of the day-bed, turning over and over in my mind what he had told me.

If all of it were true – and I saw no reason why it should not be – it was disturbing news indeed. It meant that Richard of Gloucester's life had already been in jeopardy and could well be again. In my own mind, I doubted if Earl Rivers had planned the duke's death, only his detention until the Woodvilles had seized power. (I had got to know a little of the earl during the Scottish campaign the previous year, and judged him to be less ruthless than the rest of his family.) But I had no such reservations concerning the remainder of that tribe. One of the dowager queen's brothers was already at sea in possession of half the royal treasure, having ordered the fleet to sail with him. Another, Lionel, Bishop of Salisbury, was no doubt busy stirring up sedition throughout the capital. And added to this poisonous brew was something that only I and a very few others knew about: Duke Richard's conviction that the late king had been his mother's bastard by an archer called Blaybourne and that he was already, given his brother Clarence's attainder, the rightful king.

This, however, was something the duke was unable to prove, because of Duchess Cicely's refusal either to confirm or deny the accusation she had made at the time of her eldest son's marriage. But the information I had brought back from France six months earlier, concerning the christenings of Edward and Edmund, the next brother to him in age, must have confirmed Duke Richard in this belief. And now, to discover that the Woodvilles had been seriously plotting his downfall and possible murder could only exacerbate an already dangerous situation. I shivered. The future seemed suddenly uncertain. It was like looking down a long, dark tunnel and seeing no light at the end . . .

I stood up slowly, experimentally testing my legs. But they appeared to have regained their strength, and the dizziness, thanks be to all the saints, had gone. Indeed, I felt remarkably refreshed and clear-headed. Deciding that the wine must be a contributory factor to my recovery, I helped myself to another glass before making my way to the stables to find Old Diggory. The house and magnificent gardens were still so crowded with servants and workmen that no one questioned my presence or challenged my right to be there, and I was able to collect the horse and ride out of Crosby's Place with no more than the odd inquisitive glance from a couple of busy gardeners and a half-hearted attempt by one of the grooms to discover my identity. I rode off unhindered up the street towards the Bishop's Gate, continuing to mull over all that Timothy Plummer had told me. But after a minute or so, my own concerns began to intrude upon my thoughts once more, and I stopped worrying about Duke Richard's affairs to wonder why I found the history of Reynold and Julian Makepeace so disturbing. Julian's version of his and his brother's life story had only served to confirm that given to me by the stranger in the Voyager, and I had no reason at all to doubt it. Yet something about it bothered me. But what? The more I chased the possible reason round and around in my head, the more it eluded me. With a sigh, I abandoned the quest. My brain would spew up the answer eventually. Until then I should do well to let it be.