King's Bishop

Twenty-three

Ralph rapped sharply on the Archdeacon’s door. Harold informed him, and the three standing behind him, that the King’s men were searching the house and his master could not be disturbed.

‘It’s Captain Rufus I would see,’ Ralph said with an unfriendly snarl.

Harold withdrew quickly. Ralph stood with hands clenched behind him and waited until the red-haired captain darkened the door. ‘We were part of the company sent up from Windsor, Captain. We would join you in your search and return with you to our station.’

Rufus peered past him. ‘How many?’

‘Curan, Edgar, Geoff, and myself, Captain.’

Rufus considered. ‘You have your own mounts?’

‘Aye, Captain.’

He nodded. ‘Then return at dawn. It is too late to depart tonight.’

At mid-morning, within sight of the gates to Bishopthorpe, the company halted. Owen brought his horse alongside Ned’s. ‘No unnecessary risks, eh? We mean to be right behind you, ready to close in when they appear. You are to lure them, not dispose of them.’

Ned grinned, slapped Owen on the thigh. ‘No pinning them to a couple of sturdy oaks to await their fates?’

‘No.’

‘Pity.’ Ned turned, noted the alarm on Matthew’s face, and shook his head. ‘You know me better than that, you daft man.’

Owen watched the two ride off with a gut full of worry. But they must move ahead.

The three entered the gates of Bishopthorpe and rode into the yard of the Archbishop’s favourite home, an imposing stone house with chapel and extensive stables. Owen was pleased to see men at work on a corner of the roof. But he was not pleased by the news that Don Paulus had departed the previous day.

‘How can that be?’

Maeve, the Archbishop’s cook, hurried from the kitchen wiping her hands and shaking her head. ‘I had my doubts, Captain Archer, but the two were wearing King’s livery. And I can’t say as I was sorry to see the fat back of that friar.’

Her descriptions fitted Bardolph and Crofter. ‘A day ahead of us.’ Owen wondered whether they were now in flight and would not rise to the bait. ‘Damn them. They must have seen the King’s men headed this way, thought to take the friar prisoner just in case.’

Michaelo was crestfallen. ‘Does this mean we ride tonight?’

Owen stared at the secretary. ‘Are you mad? I would charge after Ned and Matthew to alert them if they were not riding slowly because of Ned’s injury. Even so, we can afford to stay only long enough to gather what provisions Maeve can spare. We leave after midday.’

At midday on their second day out from York, Owen’s company came upon two familiar men and a third having some food and a rest. Owen, Michaelo and Alfred crept close to the camp site as the men were mounting. With Bardolph and Crofter was a black-robed friar. ‘Do you recognise the friar, Michaelo? Is it Don Paulus?’

Michaelo’s delicate nostrils flared. ‘Can you not smell the corruption?’

It was odd that Wyndesore’s men did not appear to have the friar bound, nor did they watch him so much as they watched their backs. The friar sat his horse comfortably, his expression one of enjoyment. The three men picked up speed as they reached the road.

‘Shall we take them, Captain?’ Alfred asked.

‘Expecting trouble, they are,’ Owen said, reining in. His companions followed suit. ‘We shall do best to keep them in sight. When they find their prey, we shall surprise them as they think to surprise him.’

‘How is it we come upon them before the Captain and Matthew?’ Michaelo wondered.

Owen shook his head. ‘Ned is riding faster than I’d thought? They allowed Ned and Matthew to pass? God help me, I wish I knew.’

Thoresby’s nights of little or no sleep finally took their toll at supper in the great hall of Windsor. As a Welsh harper played a sweetly pensive melody, Thoresby listened with thoughtful pleasure. But soon his eyelids fought to close, his focus blurred, his head nodded forward. Worst of all, he caught Alice Perrers glancing at him with amusement.

She bent to the Queen. ‘My lady, I would confer with the Lord Chancellor on the legal matter we spoke of earlier.’

Queen Phillippa, her own lids heavy with wine and the smoky room, glanced over at Thoresby, inclined her head towards Alice. ‘Speak with him now, child, then come to my chamber and amuse me till I sleep.’ The Queen laboriously pushed herself from the table. A servant was immediately behind her to assist her difficult rising.

The King smiled at Alice, Queen Phillippa. ‘My ladies desert me so early in the evening?’ He kissed Phillippa’s hand. ‘May God grant you sweet dreams,’ he said gently.

Alice rose, curtsied to the King and Queen. Thoresby stood, feeling revived. He had meant to seek Alice out. It had occurred to him last night, as he tossed on what only weeks ago had been a comfortable bed, that Alice had omitted an important item in her story: who had informed the King of her marriage?

‘Let us walk out into the courtyard, take some air,’ Alice suggested. ‘There is a legal matter I wish to discuss with you.’

Thoresby bowed and gestured for her to precede him. Heads turned, tongues wagged as they passed the lower tables. Gilbert and Adam raced each other to open the door. Gilbert won. Thoresby thought it a tribute to him that his lad had not needed to learn speed in order to avoid physical abuse. He knew Gilbert was frequently slapped.

The damp, chilly evening was a relief after the hall. Thoresby drew his cloak round him and began to stride forward.

‘More slowly, please, Your Grace,’ Alice cried. ‘I wear dancing slippers, not boots.’

Thoresby paused.

Alice lifted her skirt to show him the delicately embroidered velvet shoes in the lantern light provided promptly by Gilbert.

Thoresby bowed. ‘Forgive me, Mistress Perrers. I must be more accustomed to your booted stride.’

Gilbert did not raise the lantern to reveal his mistress’s expression.

‘I am amazed that a man who so recently nodded over his wine now strides forward with such energy and purpose,’ Alice said with false sweetness.

Enough of this babble. ‘I have thought long on the matter we discussed, Mistress Perrers, and I find myself with more questions.’

‘Oh?’ A brief pause. ‘Walk ahead, Gilbert, gossip with Adam.’

That brought another question to mind. ‘How is it that Gilbert has been spared?’ Thoresby asked. ‘Why was he not a witness?’

‘William said he needed but two, one from each household.’ The voice was flat.

‘Ah.’

‘Was that your question, Your Grace?’

‘Oh no, quite a minor matter about Gilbert. No, I wondered … you see, it seems to me that you strove for secrecy and then … my good Mistress Perrers, who betrayed you to the King?’

Alice cleared her throat. ‘The question is one I have asked myself over and over, Your Grace. Who indeed?’

‘Come now. You are too shrewd to have let that go unanswered, Mistress Perrers. Far too shrewd.’

‘I swear I do not know, Your Grace. I hope to discover it. I would know my enemies. But where do I look?’ Alice sighed. ‘Your Grace, I see that you mean to learn all that you may about this affair.’ She paused, touched his arm, a fleeting, importunate gesture. ‘If you learn anything — I pray you will tell me.’

Indeed. Tell her what she already knew and refused to tell him. ‘Of course. I would be remiss to keep it from you. Now what was the legal question you wished to discuss?’

‘It is a matter of my property and how my marriage affects it.’

‘I should require the deeds, Mistress Perrers. The wording is critical. I suspect the King has been careful with it, as I was when I prepared the contract for your house in Windsor town.’

‘You would not mind reviewing this matter for me?’

‘It would be my pleasure.’

‘God bless you. I shall send Gilbert with the deeds in the morning.’

Thoresby smiled as they parted. It would be enlightening to see the extent of Alice Perrers’s holdings.

In the morning, Thoresby had Adam watch Alice’s movements. When Alice left the Queen’s apartments on an errand, Thoresby presented himself to the Queen’s receiving chamber. Phillippa sat with her legs cradled in soft cushions, her feet draped with a silk coverlet. Apparently shoes were a pain she endured only when necessary these days. Her face was swollen and unnaturally flushed. Yet the Queen welcomed Thoresby with a sweet smile as usual. ‘Come, sit near me. You have become a stranger to these rooms, my friend. The King works you day and night, I fear?’

‘And now Mistress Perrers.’

‘Ah. Yes. I assured her she might trust you with her secret.’

Thoresby glanced at the lady in waiting who hovered nearby. ‘You are kind to show such faith in my discretion, my lady.’

‘I know that you are not fond of Alice.’ Phillippa waved away his protests. ‘It is kind of you to look into these matters for my sake.’ She turned to her lady, asked for her to leave them for a moment. ‘Talk with the gardener. Coax some early blooms from him.’

When they were alone in the large, yet comfortable chamber, Thoresby grinned at the Queen. ‘You enjoy this intrigue.’

The bloodshot eyes brightened. ‘It provides diversion.’

‘Sir William of Wyndesore. Such an unpleasant choice for Mistress Perrers. Would you have encouraged her in her intent? Had you known, of course?’

The Queen closed her eyes, pursed her lips. ‘Sadly, it is a common fault in otherwise shrewd women; they spy a rogue, sense danger, and think it love.’ She shook her head. ‘Happily for me I fell in love with the best of men.’

‘You have been blessed in your marriage.’

‘It is a rarity, such perfection.’ Phillippa smiled. ‘Even now, when I am not pleasant to look on and move with the gait of a crippled beast.’

‘You are the beauty you ever were, my Queen.’

Phillippa patted Thoresby’s hand. ‘Alice is unhappy. No, that is too weak a word for it. She is cursed in her lot. Sir William is a ruthless man. He has defamed Lionel, my precious son.’ Tears glittered, the cracked lips trembled. She had a particular affection for her second son.

Thoresby took the plunge. ‘So you had not blessed the marriage? Who had the temerity to tell you? Who told the King?’

‘That Austin friar of whom the privy councillor thought so highly.’ She frowned, having forgotten the name.

‘Don Ambrose?’

Phillippa nodded. ‘Yes. Poor man. May he rest in peace.’ She crossed herself. ‘He told Edward. It was Alice’s request. You see, almost at once she saw her mistake. She hoped that Edward would be worried that the marriage would look like a reward to Sir William for revealing Lionel’s errors in Ireland, that he would order its dissolution. But alas, Edward thought it a good match. Rather than dissolving it, he chose simply to keep it secret until the problems in Ireland are forgotten.’

Poor man indeed. Don Ambrose must have feared for his life many times before it ended.