White Boar and the Red Dragon, The (17 page)

‘Well, my lord, it seems we are expected in spite of the lack of proper reception! The messenger informed Lady Herbert of your imminent arrival after all. I suggest we do as the lad said and get inside to warmth and comfort as soon as possible!’

‘Aye, Francis, and of course they would not have known the exact hour to expect us. I anticipate a most comfortable stay in this most splendid palace of a castle! I must admit that this eternal wet weather is a trial and I cannot wait to get into some dry clothes. And oh, think of it—the comfort of a roaring fire and dry beds which surely await us!’

‘And good food and good wine too, my lord!’

‘But we must also be sure that the men are housed comfortably and are fed well! They have had a long and miserable ride, I fear!’

Duke Richard laughed and urged his men forward with a wave of his arm as he and Lovell crossed the great wooden drawbridge, passed under the raised portcullis, through the great gate, and into the courtyard, Richard idly remarking, ‘That boy was seated on a magnificent horse! Far too grand for a page boy! I wonder…’

‘My lord, I count myself honoured that you should come all this way especially to see me! I know my husband held the king, your brother, and yourself in such high regard that he considered the personal risk he was taking in fighting for you worth it!’

‘It is a great sadness to the king and I that he died in such terrible circumstances after the battle. And after all he had risked! That is why I was determined to come here myself to offer you my condolences. And, I must admit, I was curious about this wonderful castle of yours—having heard how it is named “The Palace Court of Wales”! And the description is indeed apt. I would believe myself to be in some grand French chateau, not a castle in the wilds of Wales, if I did not know otherwise!’

‘Aye, my lord. His father spared no expense in the building of it and my husband spared none in the decorations and furnishings.’

‘It is the wonderful library I am most anxious to see. Your husband was a man of culture and taste, and I believe made a collection of rare and wonderful manuscripts?’

‘Indeed he did. I know little of these things myself, but I do know that some of them are quite priceless!

Would you care to see it now, my lord? Sadly, I must tell you that the only other inhabitant of Raglan who shows much interest in it is our young Lord Henry Tudor, who has dwelt with us since the age of four—first in Pembroke Castle and then here, ever since my husband was made his guardian by the king. He is now thirteen years old and as much given to study and book learning as to the usual knightly pursuits—at which he excels!’

‘I believe he has been lucky enough to be taught by good tutors?’

‘Yes, Master Scotus schooled him well, and now another eminent Oxford scholar my husband engaged imbues him with a love of learning also. When he is not out training or riding his lovely Arabian horse Owen, given to him as a thirteenth birthday present by his mother, Lady Margaret Beaufort, he is most frequently to be found in the library, working his way through the hundreds of manuscripts in my husband’s great collection!

He is a good boy, and I have become very fond of him—as my husband was—indeed he is as much part of the family as if he had been my own son! His own mother has hardly seen him over the years, though she does write to him often. I believe he regards me as more of a mother than her though.’

‘That is surely inevitable—as you are the one who has been there for him!’

‘Yes, but to be fair, the king did not allow Lady Margaret the care of her only child. She was made to leave him under my husband’s guardianship when she went away to remarry the Duke of Stafford! But she has never lost touch with the boy—and, as I told you, writes frequently to him.’

‘It was probably the political situation that made Edward decide to make over his guardianship to your husband! After all, Henry is of Lancastrian descent and is now the last possible claimant to the throne on their side! It is well that his training has been in the hands of one so capable as my lord Herbert!’

‘Yes, but the lad still hankers after his much-loved Uncle Jasper! It is somewhat cruel, in my estimation, that one so young should have been deprived of his mother and his beloved uncle because of a political situation he was too young to comprehend! That is why my husband and I have tried to be good substitute parents to him, and not just guardians. We have loved him—and I know he returned our love and appreciated our care! Our children love him too—and Maude, our eldest girl, particularly so. We had hoped there might be a match between young Henry and Maude in the future!’

‘Unfortunately, his Uncle Jasper is a rebel and a traitor to my brother, the king! He is always stirring up trouble against us and has spent most of his life in hiding or in exile!’

‘The boy does understand this now. But he must still be full of resentment at being deprived of those who should have been his nearest and dearest—for whatever reasons!’

‘Well, it is sad that he has been a political pawn all his life. But that is the way with those born into high positions! I am all eagerness to meet young Henry—although I feel I may have done so already!’

‘Where, when, my lord?’

‘On our arrival, there was a sturdy young lad sitting on a magnificent Arabian horse by the drawbridge as we arrived. My friend, Lord Francis Lovell, assumed he was a page and sent him on an errand to tell you of our arrival. But I knew no page boy would be riding such a horse!’

‘Aye, my lord, that was young Henry! And that was his beloved Arabian horse, Owen, given to him by his mother on his thirteenth birthday in January! He worships that horse!’

‘I am not surprised! It is a beautiful and high-bred creature!’

‘She gave him another gift too—a jewel-studded sword and scabbard of great value! He is always practising with the sword and has become a most proficient swordsman and rider for his age!’

‘No doubt he will make a great knight in the near future!’ laughed Richard.

‘That is his greatest desire, my lord. He thinks of little else!’

‘And I expect it is for the Lancastrians he aspires to fight?’

‘I am sure that is inevitable, my lord. He knows his ancestry—and is proud of it! But he is never boastful of his intentions—though I am sure his mother urges him on in her many letters! She is a proud, ambitious woman and is sure to have inspired him with notions of possible kingship, as he is the only one in direct line to the throne on the Lancastrian side who has some claim—however small—to the throne!’

‘I grow more and more desirous of a meeting with this young man! Who knows what hidden hopes and desires may stir in his mind? But I fear he is doomed to disappointment if he has dreams of the throne! My brother is young, strong, and able! He will surely occupy his position for a great many years yet! And Elizabeth, the queen, is also strong and fertile and will surely give him many sons! So young Henry has little chance of realising any ambitions on that score, which may have been put into his head by his ambitious mother!’

‘I am sure you are right, my lord! Now, shall I find a page to direct you to my husband’s library, as you expressed such a strong desire to see it and marvel at its contents?!’

‘That would be a great pleasure to me, my lady!’

‘I will call a boy directly to take you to it. Who knows? Young Henry may be there. It is a very wet and miserable day, and it may have put even such a keen horseman as he off riding for today!’

Henry was busy looking for his guardian’s most prized manuscript,
The
Book
of
Hours
of
the
Virgin
Mary
—which Lord Herbert had kept locked away, as it was so rare and precious. Henry knew that Duke Richard appreciated rare manuscripts, as he and his mentor, Lord Herbert, had, and he wanted to have it in readiness to show this illustrious visitor to Raglan. He had only ever been allowed access to it twice—when Lord Herbert had chosen to show him it, but he had no idea where it was stored away. Lord Herbert’s death meant that he could not ask him and would just have to search diligently among the hundreds of precious manuscripts which filled the shelves all around. They came from many countries and were written in many languages, though the religious ones were mainly in Latin, which Henry had been well-schooled in. But there were some languages he could not identify, let alone read. He could recognise Arabic and Sanskrit and Hebrew. There were even ancient Egyptian hieroglyphic scrolls made of papyrus—which were a complete mystery to him—though he longed to be able to decipher the strange picture-language.

This place held the utmost fascination for him, and he had spent many happy hours here browsing, both with his much-missed guardian and his daughter Maude—his constant companion, who loved learning for its own sake as he did—and on his own.

Henry knew that the special manuscript was kept in a silver box which Lord Herbert had carefully locked and then pocketed the small key after showing the manuscript to him last. Even if he found the box, how would he open it? He had no idea where the key might be. Maybe Lady Ann might know? Surely she would have access to her husband’s keys now that he was dead? But first to find the silver box…

He was reaching up, searching carefully along a high, deep shelf, with little success, when the library door opened and in strode Duke Richard.

‘Aha! So Lady Herbert was right. She thought I might find you here—and that you could show me Lord Herbert’s rare manuscripts, which I know he so highly prized. He was a great collector!’ Richard said this as he gazed round the huge room, not only a library, but used in the summer for concerts—such as the Eisteddfod.

‘My lord!’ said Henry, hastily climbing down and bowing low to his royal visitor. ‘I was even now searching for the most precious manuscript of all to show you. I fear I have had little success as yet.’

‘You mean
The
Book
of
Hours
of
the
Virgin
Mary
? You see, I heard about this rarity from Lord Herbert when he was at Westminster. He and I shared a common interest in such things. I believe it was especially made for him?’

‘Yes. In 1440, I believe, my lord.’

‘I should dearly love to see it!’

‘You shall, my lord, if only I can find it,’ answered Henry, ruefully shaking his head as he continued his fruitless search along the high, deep shelf.

‘If it is that precious, surely he kept it in a special place apart from all the other manuscripts here?’ said Richard. ‘Perhaps my Lady Herbert will know where?’

‘I doubt it, my lord, as she very rarely came here and does not have the same interest in the manuscripts as Lord Herbert did.’

‘Never mind. I am going to stay here for a few days, so I am sure it will turn up before I have to depart! Tell me about your beautiful Arabian horse. I hear he was a gift from your mother?’

‘Yes, and he is my most precious possession! He is so sure-footed on these hills around and completely obedient. My Lady mother gave him to me for my birthday. His name is Owen.’

‘After your famous ancestor, Owen Glendower, no doubt?’

‘Yes. He married Henry Vth’s widow, Katharine of France. So I am descended from royalty! My mother tells me not to forget that!’

‘It is something to be proud of, lad, but do not let it give you any false hopes!’

‘I do not, my lord, not really. My Lady mother continually tells me that I may be king one day and to prepare myself for it—but I do not see how that can possibly be.’

‘Your mother has great ambitions for her only son—which is only natural—but they can never be achieved. I think you are a sensible and down-to-earth lad. Do not waste your time on impossible dreams. You could no more be king than I could!’

‘My lord, I am sure you are right. But she is always writing to me, urging me on, saying things like, “My time will come!”.’

‘It will, lad, but not in the way she supposes. You will, no doubt, become a great knight in good time and achieve great things. But take no notice of a fond mother’s dreams!’

‘I cannot pretend to understand what the continual conflict between the House of York and the House of Lancaster—from which I am descended—is all about. My Uncle Jasper, whom I love dearly—and never see—is on the wrong side, as far as I am concerned. If he was for the House of York, then I would see him more often.’

‘That is true, Henry, but a man can only act on his deepest-held beliefs. Your uncle has been misled in these, and that is why he is a fugitive from the king’s law and so often in exile.’

‘I have not seen him since I was tiny, but I know he is a good man, even if he supports the Lancastrian side. He was very good to me. I miss him. I loved him dearly.’

‘It is a sad thing when families are split up in this way through differing loyalties. But you are very young yet—do not let the constant strife concern you until it has to. By the time you are a man, no doubt all the differences between the two opposing sides will be settled, and England will be at peace. I pray so! Too many good men have died needlessly in this endless conflict.’

‘I was very sad when Lord Herbert was killed. When I was small, I hated him and resented him being given my Uncle Jasper’s castle at Pembroke by the king. But he was always so good to me and forgave me for my feelings against him at the time. He seemed to understand how I felt. I had come to regard him as a father—having none of my own. My real father died young, and I never knew him.’

‘We have a link in common there, lad. My father too died young—he was murdered when I was only eight by Queen Margaret’s soldiers. My elder brother Edmund also. I felt great hatred and resentment against all Lancastrians because of this. My mother has continually urged me to seek revenge for those murders. Like you, I never really knew my father. He was always away on campaigns—which my mother followed him in—and I was left at Fotheringhay Castle in the care of stewards and tutors. Our childhoods have been rather alike in many ways. Except that I had brothers and sisters, of course, and you were an only child.’