Justice for the Cardinal Page 16

  Over supper, Henry began to enquire after their business at Knighton, and Richard was at pains to set his mind at rest.

  ‘As you know, the Abbey at Leicester is in the process of closing down, and my master has honoured me with the task of preserving the grave of the late Cardinal Wolsey.’

  ‘Your master was in Wolsey’s service, was he not?’

  ‘Indeed, and he still honours his memory, although it would seem that others do not.’

  ‘My parents had much to thank him for,’ Lady Frances chimed in. ‘They were wed in secret, and my late mother being a royal princess, Henry was all for having my father’s head until the Cardinal talked him round. So in that sense I owe him my very existence, and of course the existence of my new-born daughter Jane.’

  She had introduced the topic, so Richard felt entitled to pursue it.

  ‘Lady Jane is herself with child, as you may observe. If it is a girl, we would be most obliged if you would permit the two girls to be companions through their childhoods.’

  ‘We would be most content for that,’ Henry Grey assured them, ‘since there would seem to be few of any suitable lineage in this part of the country who would make a suitable companion for our own dear daughter.’

  ‘Talking of lineage,’ Richard replied, scarcely able to believe how easily these matters were arising in general conversation, ‘my master advises me that you can trace yours back to Elizabeth Woodville.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Henry confirmed with an air of self-satisfaction as he reached for the wine jug. ‘This was of course before she became Queen. Prior to her marriage to the late King Edward, she was wed to my great-grandfather, Sir John Grey.’

  ‘So King Edward would have been your grandfather’s step-father, if you can carry that concept in your head?’

  ‘Indeed, and somewhere in an upper chamber here we have the family tree drawn up. You may inspect it on the morrow, should you be so minded.’

  ‘I would take great pleasure in doing so,’ Richard confirmed, ‘but sufficient to say that the children born to Edward — most notably the two boys Edward and Richard — would have been cousins of sorts to your grandfather?’

  ‘That’s correct, but of course they were murdered in the Tower.’

  ‘So it is said,’ Richard replied quietly.

  Henry raised an eyebrow. ‘You doubt that?’

  ‘I have good reason to do so,’ Richard replied with a smile, ‘but we may discuss this on the morrow.’

  That night Richard told Jane all he learned about his true history and the real fate of the Princes in the tower,

  ‘That explains why Uncle Norfolk came to see you,’ Jane murmured as she took it all in. ‘When I was married to George, Norfolk was forever muttering about how “the old order” had been pushed aside in favour of what he calls “undeserving incomers”. If he means Henry, then that makes his words treasonous, doesn’t it? Can’t Cromwell use that against him?’

  ‘I think you’ll find that his references to “undeserving incomers” were aimed at Cromwell himself, and before him Wolsey,’ Richard explained. ‘It began with Wolsey, as you yourself recall. The two were sworn enemies, and Cromwell has replaced the Cardinal as Norfolk’s latest target. Cromwell was trained by Wolsey, and has remained loyal to his memory — hence our new estate — while, to make it worse, Cromwell is even more low born than Wolsey was.’

  ‘But if you’re serving Cromwell, doesn’t that also make you a target for Norfolk?’ Jane asked in a voice tinged with fear.

  ‘No,’ Richard assured her, ‘because of who I am, and who my grandfather was. Norfolk will certainly seek to make use of me, to undermine Cromwell, and even bring him down totally, but at the same time he hopes to make use of my Yorkist ancestry in some way. I need to visit Margaret Pole, in order to find out how heavily the Howards were committed to the Yorkist cause.’

  ‘Where is her estate?’

  ‘Bisham, in Berkshire. I can be there in two days of hard riding, I think.’

  ‘Are you planning on leaving me here, among all these strangers?’

  ‘Only briefly. On my return journey I can see how far our own manor house has progressed, and if it is suitable we can move back in time for the Christmas celebrations. Then you can remain there until the time of your lying in, under the care of Sister Maria.’

  XXV

  Three days later, having excused himself from the company of the Grey family by claiming that he had urgent matters to attend to in Leicester, Richard was admitted to the Great Hall at Bisham, where a familiar figure rose to greet him with a broad smile.

  ‘If I were to believe in omens,’ Norfolk boomed in welcome, ‘then this would be both a good one and a timely one. What brings you to this hotbed of Yorkists — are you perhaps in search of a throne? And why have you not yet been in communication with me regarding what we discussed during our last meeting?’

  ‘Leave the young man alone, Thomas, and how dare you welcome him into my house?’ Margaret Pole chided Norfolk from the chair in which she was seated in front of the fireplace. ‘Come and join me by the fire, Richard. Allow me to introduce my son Geoffrey.’ She indicated to the man sitting to her right.

  Richard accepted the seat on her other side, leaving Norfolk to lurk near the table in the centre of the hall, helping himself from time to time from the wine jug in its centre. Richard explained the events of recent months that had led to his taking occupation of his Knighton estate, and the forthcoming birth of his child by Jane Rochford.

  ‘Excellent,’ Geoffrey responded. ‘An heir for an heir.’

  ‘Geoffrey is in communication with my son, Reginald,’ Margaret explained, ‘who is now a Cardinal in the Church of Rome, and currently living in Italy. Reginald is close with the Emperor Charles, and between them, with the blessing of his Holiness, they are planning a trade embargo on England that will finally deprive Henry of any remaining support from the merchants. Geoffrey and Norfolk will then raise an army, together with my other son, Lord Montagu, who is in communication, through his Ambassador, with Francis of France, who has promised additional troops. It wants only a figurehead, and we had originally thought in terms of the Lady Mary. But, as Norfolk has already observed, your unexpected arrival may be the sign we needed from God.’

  Richard was stunned, and his head spun with the suddenness of it all. ‘You intend to set me up as King of England?’

  Norfolk stepped across towards the fireplace and placed a heavily mailed gloved hand on his shoulder. ‘If you refuse, after all that has just been revealed to you, I might be obliged to run you through.’

  ‘Thomas!’ Margaret Pole upbraided him. ‘Give the young man time to think the matter through at least. You are asking him to place his head on the block should we fail, and then what chance the Yorkist cause, even if Jane Rochford gives birth to a boy?’

  ‘If you insist,’ Norfolk grumbled, ‘but he’s Cromwell’s man, and you’ve already revealed more of our plans than was wise before we knew whether or not he is with us.’

  ‘Who would not wish to be King?’ Margaret queried.

  ‘I’m not sure I would, after all I have learned this past two years,’ Richard blurted out without thinking, then looked anxiously back at Norfolk. ‘But I would not betray you, on that you may rely. I simply wish to be allowed to live in peace with my woman and family, perhaps with a little more in the way of an estate, but no more. It does not matter to me who is King of England.’

  ‘Then it should!’ Norfolk thundered, before turning to Margaret. ‘Let me finish him now, and be done with it!’

  ‘You will do no such thing in my house!’ Margaret commanded him. ‘And you forget yourself — he is the one with Plantagenet blood in his veins, not you. You lay one hand on him and I will see to it that when the House of York is restored you will pay for that with your life!’

  Norfolk threw himself angrily back onto his seat by the table and poured himself yet more wine, while Margaret placed a gentle hand on Richard’s sho
ulder.

  ‘You must take time to consider your position, clearly, and I am happy to offer you the hospitality of my house while you do so. You have my word that Norfolk here will make no attempt on your person while you are under my roof, but you must carefully consider the consequences of refusing what we offer. Without us you are a lowly clerical servant of the son of an innkeeper from the streets of Putney. Join with us, and you will be King of England, with an heir to the throne already born. Is that really a choice that any sensible ambitious man would need to consider for more than a moment?’

  ‘You do me great honour, Countess,’ Richard replied as humbly as he could, already calculating his best means of escaping alive from this den of traitors, ‘but there is much to consider. I have seen enough of life at Court to know that a king cannot do whatsoever his heart desires, but must act in the best interests of his people. While I do not lack education, it was not of the finest, and I have no skill or training with the sword. Does England not deserve someone more fitting at its head?’

  ‘Don’t waste your breath, Margaret,’ Norfolk snarled from his seat at the table, ‘he’s Cromwell’s man, and if we set him free to roam the country, he’ll betray us!’

  ‘Richard is our guest, Thomas,’ Margaret replied, ‘and we shall talk with him more in the morning, when your brain is clear of all the wine you have consumed. Richard, please join us for supper after you have rested for a while in the chamber to which my steward will direct you.’

  Richard bowed from her presence, his mind whirling with ideas of how he might escape the dreadful situation in which he had unwittingly placed himself. Escaping from the house itself ought to be a simple enough matter, and he had not yet unsaddled his horse, which he had seen being led into the only stable. Once out of the house, he could ride like the wind, but where to? Should he rush back under Cromwell’s protection in Austin Friars? But what would happen to Jane and her unborn child? Would Norfolk seek her out?

  He eventually resolved on a compromise as he lay on the bolster in the guest chamber, whose door he had locked on the inside in case Norfolk got any drunker, and opted to ignore Margaret’s insistence that there was to be no action against Richard’s life in her house. He reasoned that first and foremost he needed to return to Jane at Bradgate, secure her immediate safety, then send word to Cromwell of what he had learned, and his need for protection.

  He lay counting the minutes in his head until he heard the unmistakable sounds of trestles being erected for supper in the hall below, and the chatter of pages and serving wenches as they laid the trenchers in place on damask table coverings. Then he sauntered casually into the hall, as if hungry, and joined Countess Margaret and her son as they chatted away about nothing in particular.

  He waited until Norfolk had joined them, glaring at Richard with eyes that threatened death as he rapidly got drunker and drunker. When he deemed the moment appropriate, Richard kept his voice light and casual as he announced that he had clean forgotten the main reason for his visit to Bisham, which was to make a gift to the Countess Margaret of a family tree that his grandmother had commissioned some years previously, which he had left in his saddlebag, and he sought leave to retrieve it from the stables.

  Margaret graciously granted leave, and with one final look at Norfolk, who was slumped over the supper table, Richard strode casually to the front door, resisting the urge to break into a run. Less than five minutes later he was pushing his horse north from Bisham through deepening snow, praying that the latest fall would not persist, and that the tracks to the north would be passable.

  He had no memory other than of howling icy wind, a stumbling horse, road signs obscured by drifting snow hanging off them, and wayside inns locked and shuttered firmly against the elements until he was being revived by stable grooms who had seen him fall exhausted from his saddle a few yards short of the front door to Bradgate House. He lay in delirium for two days until, on the third day, he opened his eyes and looked into the tear-streaked face of Jane Rochford, and beside her the physician who was anxiously preparing to pour some potion down his throat.

  ‘A foxglove simple,’ Richard was advised as the physician pulled open his mouth and poured it in, both without Richard’s leave. ‘It stimulates the heart.’

  Richard had the presence of mind to turn on his side and expel most of it from his mouth before dismissing the physician. He looked quizzically back at Jane, who was now grinning and crying, both at the same time.

  ‘God be praised that you are back among us,’ she murmured as she leaned down and hugged him. ‘Where in God’s name have you been, and what led you to return in that fashion?’

  As Richard’s memory of recent events began to return, he made a supreme effort to rise from the bolster, but fell back when his strength failed him. He looked up at Jane with urgency written all over his face. ‘I must speak with our host without delay! You and I — and our unborn child — will be in great danger if word is not sent immediately to my master!’

  ‘In good time,’ Jane assured him. ‘For the moment you must rest and regain your strength.’

  ‘There is no time to spare!’ Richard all but shrieked. ‘Word must be sent to Cromwell that there is a plot against Henry’s throne by Norfolk and the Countess of Salisbury. It was revealed to me only days ago, and there may still be time to suppress it, but you and I, and our child, are in danger from Norfolk. We must send to Cromwell for protection!’

  ‘And what makes you think that Henry Grey is incapable of protecting guests in his own house?’ came a commanding voice from the doorway, as the man in question stepped into view and looked down at Richard with a smile. ‘How are you faring? They say you were labouring in delirium when they brought you into the house. Is this talk of a plot against the throne part of it?’

  ‘It is as real as you or I,’ Richard persisted, ‘and now that I know of it, my life, and the lives of those dear to me, are at risk.’

  ‘From Norfolk, did I hear you say?’

  ‘Norfolk, and those associated with him in this plot. The Countess of Salisbury and her sons, in league with Spain and France, and urged on by the Pope, no less!’

  ‘The King should learn of this without delay,’ Grey observed.

  Richard shook his head. ‘It would be my word against Norfolk’s. But we must advise my master Cromwell immediately, since he will know how best to use the knowledge. He must be told before I am sought out by Norfolk and done to death!’

  Jane gave a squeak of horror, and hugged Richard to her bosom, but Grey simply smiled.

  ‘You forget that my wife is the daughter of Suffolk and the royal Princess Mary. Suffolk and Henry were brought up in the same nursery, and my father-in-law has ever looked upon Norfolk and his like as usurpers of the royal favour.’

  ‘But Suffolk has no love for Cromwell, or his servants,’ Richard argued, only to be silenced by a hand gesture from Grey.

  ‘He loves Norfolk even less, and would not stand by and watch his armed bullies invade his daughter’s house in order to harm one of her guests. You and your lady must remain here for your own safety, while I send for a force from Suffolk’s own standing army to form a steel ring around Bradgate.’

  ‘We would be prevailing unbearably on your hospitality,’ Richard protested, ‘and we had hoped for our child to be born at Knighton, where there is a Holy Sister skilled in childbirth duties.’

  ‘You have seen our daughter Jane?’ Grey enquired, and when both Richard and Jane nodded, Grey continued, ‘And do you see aught wrong with her?’ They both shook their heads, and Grey smiled. ‘Clearly, we have those available here who can safely deliver children. And if our daughter is to have your offspring — boy or girl — as a childhood companion, is it not fitting that they should be delivered by the same skilled midwife?’

  ‘He speaks sense, Richard,’ Jane urged him, ‘and Norfolk can do little while this weather persists. Were we to attempt to move back to Knighton, we would expire from the cold, and we would be eve
n more exposed to Norfolk. Best to remain here, at least until the spring, and then we may decide where our child is to be born.’

  ‘If you are adamant,’ Richard told Grey, ‘then we shall be eternally in your debt, and perhaps may one day be in a position to repay it. As things are at present, we would seem to have little choice. But once the foul weather lifts, can you arrange to have a letter from me delivered to Cromwell at Austin Friars in London?’

  ‘Of course,’ Grey assured him. ‘We have regular communication between Suffolk’s family and our own, and no-one would suspect an additional communication finding its way to Master Secretary, who must have messengers coming and going at all hours.’

  Two days later, Richard was able to venture downstairs to the fireplace, where he sat, regaining his strength with bowl after bowl of beef tea, supplemented with mulled wine, Jane holding his hand and listening with horror to the tale that Richard told to first her, and then Henry Grey, of what had been unwisely disclosed to him at Bisham. As soon as he could sit for any length of time at the table, Richard was supplied with vellum, pens and ink, and wrote a long account of his experiences for Cromwell’s benefit. The letter was sealed with the Grey family seal and sent by messenger a week prior to Christmas.

  The New Year of 1538 was brought in at Bradgate with much merriment, fine food, good wine and expressions of pleasure at new-found friendships.

  As Richard stood at their chamber window, gazing down at the moonlit frost-hardened front lawns of Bradgate House, he allowed himself an unaccustomed prayer for the safety of the growing child in Jane’s womb, and the success of Cromwell in thwarting Norfolk’s evil schemes.

  XXVI

  When Cromwell finally opened Richard’s letter in the pile that had remained with their seals unbroken while his household forced him into Christmas and New Year celebrations, his first reaction was to curse so loudly that Bofus scuttled, head down, into a corner of the chamber, and rested with his head on his front paws, looking up apprehensively at his master with doleful brown eyes. Then plans formed themselves inside his scheming head, and he gazed into the corner in which the late Cardinal had materialised months previously.