The Devil in Ermine Read online

  ‘Then test him out,’ I retorted, calming down. ‘Make it known that you are sending for extra soldiers. If he is guilty, he will move quickly.’

  He sniffed loudly and stared at the writing in front of him.

  ‘Christ love us!’ I muttered. ‘We’re vulnerable. Hastings’ men could have surrounded the inner council an hour since and we’d have been penned like silly sheep – hauled off to the Tower with barely a blade drawn. We have to protect ourselves.’

  I tugged a blank sheet of parchment from the pile and seated myself on Kendall’s stool.

  ‘To whom shall I address it? The Mayor and Aldermen of York?’ Richard did not answer. He had hidden his face in his hands and there was no movement behind his ringed fingers, so I started without his consent:

  Right trusty and well beloved, we greet you well, and as you love the weal and surety of your own selves, we heartily pray you to come unto us to London in all the diligence you can possible after the sight hereof, with as many as you can defensibly arrayed, there to aid and assist us against the Queen, her blood adherents, and affinity, which hath intended and doth daily intend, to murder and utterly destroy us. I paused, changed the punctuation and added: our cousin the duke of Buckingham and the old royal blood of this realm.’

  ‘How about sending Ratcliffe with it?’ I suggested, and finished the letter off: as our trusty servant, this bearer, shall more at large show you, to whom we pray you give credence, and as ever we may do for you in this time coming fail not, but haste you to us hither.’

  I pushed it over to him and he slowly unpeeled his fingers from his face, read it, and then tossed it away from him.

  ‘I see. You don’t like my writing,’ I jested, grabbing it up. Inside, I was angry. Why would he not confide in me? I had been behind him at Stony Stratford, for God’s sake! And then I heard a muffled sob. Tears were running down my cousin’s cheeks. Loyaulté trotted over and snuffled his knee, gazing up at him with a pitying whine.

  For an instant, I was at a loss. Was this my cousin who had always seemed so resolute, a man of steel nerves and common sense? I must have stared at him slack-jawed. He just sat there, mechanically fondling the hound’s head, staring into nothingness while tear after tear welled out silently.

  Maybe Stillington had told him he was a bastard as well. Well, it was not so impossible. Proud Cis might have had another hiccough of infidelity.

  ‘Richard!’ I went round the table and crouched down beside him, unclenched his other hand from the curl of the chair arm and held it in my own. ‘This is not like you. What is it, my friend?’

  He swallowed, barely able to speak, and turned his face to me heavy with sorrow.

  ‘What have I done, Harry? Am I so great a sinner? I never once failed Ned, not once, and now God—’ His lips quivered but the words disobeyed him. I eased up to my feet, laid my arm about his shoulders and I held him to me until the shaking ceased, then he pulled back from me, knuckling away the moisture on his cheeks.

  He needed time to recover so I went to the door and called for his page to bring us some strong drink, and while I waited by the closed door, I said to him gently, ‘If you need my help, then I am here. What has changed since yesterday when we made merry?’

  ‘Only the whole damn world!’ The slender fingers clenched into fists over his heart. ‘There was a time when a man might…’ His hands uncurled and fell despairingly to his sides as he took a deep breath and strived to bring himself under control again.

  The page scratched at the door and I swiftly took the flagon and dismissed him. I poured out some fortified wine and wrapped my cousin’s fingers around the cup. He swallowed slowly and gradually grabbed back the reins of his emotions. I waited and at last the revelation came:

  ‘Harry, remember in Northampton we spoke about my brother George and why you were instructed to find him guilty, because…because if he outlived Ned, he would try to seize the crown?’

  ‘Are you going to tell me that tale about your mother and the Fleming is true and that Dead—’ I caught my error in time. ‘That dear old Edward had no right to the crown?'

  ‘Oh that’s true alright.’ He laughed bitterly, filling his cup again. ‘My mother was so infatuated, she could not help herself.’

  So the speculation was true. I could have whooped.

  Careless Aunt Cis. No sponges in vinegar. What a shame.

  I tapped my fingertips together consideringly. ‘Then Edward had no right to the throne but George did and so do you.’

  Ha! I was tempted to ask him if he had ever reserved a barrel of malmsey at the Tower with his name on it but that would have been too cruel. Instead, I said: ‘No wonder the poor wretch pickled himself. This means, of course, that you are the rightful king.’

  He ignored that. ‘That is not the worst, Harry.’

  ‘God forbid! If you are not the Duke of York’s son, keep it to yourself.’

  But the revelation was coming now. My prayer this morning to the Saint of Lost Causes had not been in vain.

  ‘Harry, the Bishop of Bath and Wells came to see me today. He swore to me on the Holy Gospels that he performed a trothplight between Ned and the Earl of Shrewsbury’s daughter, and that when Ned married Elizabeth secretly in ‘64, Eleanor was still alive.’

  It was so simple but it took my breath away. A trothplight was as good as marriage if made before a priest.

  ‘No wonder the Queen wanted George silenced. It is a wonder Stillington survives.’ I strode to the window, hugging my shoulders. Now there were two reasons to make my cousin king. ‘Have you only the old man’s word for it, though?’ I asked over my shoulder. ‘Eleanor’s not doing embroidery hidden away in a nunnery somewhere?’ Richard pulled a face. ‘Ah, no Lady Eleanor,’ I murmured, and came back to sit down on Kendall’s stool, hard put not to laugh.

  What a mess! Better than I had hoped. Dead Ned had managed to destroy his own dynasty before he had even sired an heir. To marry in secret and twice!

  ‘Eleanor was four or five years older than Ned and a widow, just like Elizabeth. Foolish, eh?’ Richard wryly shook his head, his humour raw and painful.

  Foolish? I could not think of one Plantagenet king who had managed to master an intelligent woman – Eleanor of Aquitaine, Isabella the fair, Margaret of Anjou, Elizabeth Woodville, and now, rising from her grave, Eleanor Butler.

  ‘What happened to her eventually?’

  ‘She took holy orders, and she died four years after Ned married Elizabeth. You see, it makes my nephews bastards.’

  How could it?

  ‘Whoa, surely Ned and Elizabeth took their marriage vows again once Eleanor was dead?’

  ‘No, that’s the cursed crux of it. I do not think so. You know how slack-willed Ned could be at times.’

  ‘Yes, but Elizabeth never leaves a blasted stone unturned.’

  ‘That’s the irony, Harry. I do not think she knows. Ned never blessed well told her. You see what this means.’

  ‘Indeed I do!’ I replied, springing to my feet and sweeping him an obsequious bow. ‘King Richard III, by the grace of God.’

  ‘No!’ he snapped, recoiling violently.

  Hmm, how could I persuade him? I needed a touch of Satan’s methods, but the kingdom of England was already on the table.

  ‘Forgive me, Richard, but your dilemma as I see it is purely an emotional one. The kingdom has never prospered under child kings. If you take the crown now, it will prevent civil war later when the Queen gets her tentacles back into the boy.’

  He ran a finger along the edge of his table. ‘I could shut Stillington away somewhere and pretend I never gave him audience this morning.’

  ‘You could.’

  I let a silence fall between us and strode across to the window. Down in the garden the duchess and her bastard sister, Lady Huddleston, were laughing as they picked flowers. With broad-brimmed straw hats to keep the sun off their faces, they looked like moving flowers themselves from where I stood. My duchess would have
been with them if she had not been so dyed a Woodville, and then I thought of Meg and my heart ached that I must persuade her to return home. I was running a huge risk in seeing her.

  Behind me, Richard fisted the table, so angry still. I did not want to leave him alone and I wondered about sending a page to fetch in the duchess. He had not confided in her yet but the Kingmaker’s daughter might like the idea of wearing a crown – it had always been her father’s dream.

  ‘Listen, whatever you decide, Richard, I shall back you to the hilt.’ I said, tracing my hand slowly along the stone transom.

  ‘I know, Harry.’

  He thrust back his chair and strode across to brace his hands against the chimney mantle. There he glared down at the bronze summer screen that hid the hearth, and toed it angrily.

  ‘I tell you after today Hell will hold no surprises for me. There’s a knotted cord about my temples and God’s tightening it, second by second. You know what I want to do? I want to go home to Middleham.’

  Of course he did, and second best had been going to his mother. I wonder what she had counselled or admitted. Mine would not even have listened; she would have swung the conversation round to buying new bed hangings.

  In a while he turned to face me. ‘Harry, I know you and Ned did not see eye to eye but…’ That made me wince; if there were such beings as guardian angels, Dead Ned’s and mine faced each other with flaming swords. I guessed what was coming. ‘I loved my brother,’ he was saying as though I was some magistrate that need to be convinced. ‘How can I do this to his sons? Even if I disinherit them, they will always be a rallying point for any opposition. They will have to be kept under surveillance for the rest of their lives, for the rest of my life, and my son’s after me. If I permit either of them to marry, then their children will be a threat to my son’s children.’

  Mine, too, I thought. He forgets I am in line to the throne as well.

  ‘Well, then,’ I muttered, ‘let them inherit, but I predict they will be a constant threat to us. Wasn’t that the issue at Stony Stratford?’

  ‘But Ned’s boys.’ He looked so conscience stricken that I felt shamed by the blackness of my thoughts. Was the will of God an argument worth airing? Stillington being sent by the Almighty? Maybe not. Hmm, I should have asked Pershall and Nandik what they had decided about free will.

  I half-sat on his table and waited.

  ‘What’s in the name of bastard anyway?’ He was asking softly. ‘Edward is still my brother’s son.’

  ‘But, without a scrap of Plantagenet blood in his veins. My dear Richard, bastards do not inherit. It is against the law, so is bigamy.’ Ah, I thought at last. The Law! Here is the touchstone.

  ‘I thought you of all people upheld the laws of England.’ I chided. ‘But let’s ignore them, shall we? Why not let any jack out there can claim the throne? Heaven help us, next instant, we shall have Henry Tudor putting up his hand.’ I held no mercy in my face. ‘Would you not like to do things your way for a change? Implement all those ideas you have been brewing up over the years? Didn’t you tell me we need a law to prevent juries being bribed and coerced, and what about your suggestion to publish the laws in English instead of Latin so that any man with schooling might understand them.’

  He gazed at me in agony. ‘Yes, of course I cursed well would. I have a shopping list as long as your arm. But what will history say of me if I snatch the crown from my nephews? There’s plenty out there have already marked me for a villain.’

  I shrugged. ‘Make sure the chroniclers tell it your way. Do you think anyone now cares overmuch that Henry Bolingbroke deposed Richard II? Reign long and well and no one will give a turd.’ Before I could gather breath again, he said, ‘Leave it, Harry.’

  I folded my arms with an appropriate sigh.

  ‘I need more time,’ he muttered, cradling his shoulders and stretching his neck back. ‘Holy Paul, I can’t even think straight any more.’ He collapsed in his chair.

  Poor wretched Richard of Gloucester! I remembered the times I had wanted to crawl into some dark place, no matter how mean, and wish the earth would heave me off its back.

  Outside the heavy door to the antechamber I could hear the voices of his friends; inside his fingers tapping against the vellum were the only sound as though he was adding up each side of the ledger. I respected him that day for his integrity. I even envied him for the agony the decision gave him. But I had not underestimated him; inside his Libran shell, the man of action was struggling to be heard.

  ‘Very well, Harry,’ he said at last, his fist clenched.

  ‘You are going to do it?’ I demanded, suppressing a whoop that would have been heard as far as Smithfield. And it had been me he had confided in before the rest!

  He rang the little handbell for a page and commanded that Stillington be summoned in. I had not realised the bishop was still on the premises.

  ‘You want me to hear his testimony?’ I asked, confused.

  ‘No, I want the council to hear him.’

  ‘The Royal Council? Is that not—’

  ‘God, no, I mean our council here and if it be their advice, only then shall I shall lay Stillington's evidence before the full Royal Council when the time is right. Make no mistake, I shall not take the crown without the consent of Parliament.’

  ‘Very well.’ I should have expected this, but he was right, it had to be done properly.

  ‘Give me a few minutes to compose myself, would you?’

  I hesitated as I reached the door. ‘Have you decided what you are going to do about Hastings?’

  The pain in his face that he should betray his brother’s sons whereas his brother’s friend would uphold them unto death was plain.

  ‘Let us wait and see, Harry. I hope with all my heart that you are wrong.’

  MOST of his inner council were still in the grand chamber when I emerged. Lovell was leaning against the transom of the window, arms folded. The rest were still at the board.

  ‘Well, what’s the pother about?’ asked Suffolk. He unfolded his hands from across his belly and sat forwards.

  ‘He’s on his way to tell you.’

  ‘Thank God for that!’ muttered Howard. ‘Now we can swat whatever gadfly is biting him. You’ve done a good job, Buckingham.’ Well, he thought so, but Ratcliffe was staring at me as though I was the damned gadfly and Lovell’s expression had an envious tinge.

  Richard came in with his usual purposeful manner but any fool could see his face was damp from a sluicing and that the skin around his eyes was red.

  ‘It is fortunate most of you are still here, good friends. I have just summoned the Bishop of Bath and Wells. He has some information that presents us with a crisis, a grave crisis. And I ask you to carefully evaluate his testimony before you give me your advice.’

  ‘Perhaps you could explain the situation while we are waiting, Dickon,’ suggested Lovell quietly.

  Richard nodded and sat down wearily at the head of the table. I slid into my place opposite Suffolk. I read amazement on their faces in all its forms as he sorrowfully explained about Dead Ned’s conjugal duplicity.

  Howard exchanged glances with his son, Thomas, and was the first to reply.

  ‘Tom and I have to declare our interest. If little Prince Richard is no longer to be Duke of Norfolk, the duchy falls to me by right of inheritance. But that would be the least of my reasons for advising you to go ahead, Dickon. I know you would serve England well.’

  Ah, very diplomatic.

  Suffolk rubbed his chin pensively along his clasped fingers. ‘Supposin’ the crown does go to you and your heirs, Richard. Not wishing your son ill, but you’ve only got the one. God forbid anything should happen to him, of course, but you understand what I mean.’

  ‘Not at all, that’s a valid question, Will.’ He considered for a moment. ‘Then the crown would go to your son here. He’s my eldest legitimate nephew.’

  Young Lincoln turned bright scarlet. ‘Me, your grace?’ He looked to his
father for concurrence. I had forgotten Lincoln and there was I thinking that I would be next in line.

  Well at least that brought the Duke of Suffolk and his affinity on side.

  ‘Oh, plainly this is in all our interests.’ Lovell’s cynical tone could have cut ice. ‘I should like to be Lord Chamberlain, Tyrrell would like to be Master of Horse. Why are we even bothering to discuss it? Half of London has already laid wagers that the boy will never be crowned.’

  Richard winced.

  ‘Could Stillington be lying, your grace?’ Ratcliffe asked. ‘We all know you are open-handed to those who serve you well. Happen he is hoping for Canterbury or a cardinal’s hat?’

  The arrival of a page to say the bishop was waiting outside halted further dispute, but before he could be summoned in, I set my hand on my cousin’s sleeve.

  ‘One matter further,’ I exclaimed, waving the page to disappear again. ‘The letter to York.’

  Richard scowled, sucking in his cheeks. ‘Harry has advised me to send for more men.’

  ‘Devil take it, my lord!’ Ratcliffe rounded on me. ‘It will look as though his grace mistrusts the south.’

  ‘If he doesn’t, he should,’ I retorted. ‘The southern shires are all held by the Queen’s friends and we have only a few hundred reliable soldiers.’ There were mutters of agreement and I pursued my argument. ‘It is just a safeguard, gentlemen, while we present the legal evidence to Parliament.’ I swivelled to face Ratcliffe. ‘And I think you would be the perfect representative to convince the good aldermen of York.’

  The man’s cold grey eyes examined me. Jesu! Here was a northerner who bitterly resented my influence on his master. Before he could argue, I added, ‘The sooner you return with soldiers we can trust, the better.’ Then I turned once more to my cousin. ‘May I suggest that you keep the lid on this pot until then.’

  Howard nodded agreement. ‘This will take some careful strategy, my lords. You will need to get little Prince Richard out of sanctuary and into your hands before you declare both boys bastards.’ He was right. And he was being damnably self-seeking, too. If Prince Richard was deprived of all his titles, Howard, as the next heir, would become Duke of Norfolk.