Warwick: The Man Behind The Wars of the Roses Read online

  His father agreed. ‘I’d guess these are no ordinary poachers. Could be trained fighting men.’

  Richard knew of stories of bands of former soldiers roaming the country, living off the land as best they could now the war in France seemed to be coming to an end. He’d also heard tales of violent robbery and even murder and scanned the trees for any sign of movement. A skilled crossbowman could shoot from three hundred paces with deadly accuracy.

  His heart raced as he realised the danger they were in. His father’s men were still pursuing the poachers and had left them alone in the woods. Richard’s hand moved to the hilt of his new sword. It felt reassuring to know that at least he could now defend himself, although it would be no use against a man with a crossbow.

  ‘Come on, we’re losing them!’ His father set off at a gallop after the men.

  Richard followed close behind, riding as fast as he could. They were pressing deeper into the woods now and the path was becoming overgrown, with fallen logs and low bushes that could easily trip a horse. The excitement of the chase made him forget the danger of a hidden assassin. He spurred his mount still faster, without a care, enjoying spending time with his father, defending their lands from poachers and thieves.

  The men had stopped a short way ahead and looked back uncertainly as Richard and his father approached. There was no sign of any poachers, so it seemed their quarry had escaped.

  Richard’s father wasn’t pleased. ‘You let them get away?’

  ‘Sorry, my lord. We nearly caught one of them.’ The man glanced around at the others for support. ‘He must know these woods well. He just vanished.’

  ‘They’ve simply gone to ground somewhere.’ Richard’s father pointed to where the bushes grew more thickly. ‘Keep searching. I’ll not have poachers on my land.’

  They waited while the men spread out and began looking deeper into the forest, calling for the poachers to give themselves up. Richard didn’t think this was likely. The poachers could be hiding anywhere, perhaps even watching them right now. Once again, he was reminded of the danger of their situation.

  His father turned to him. ‘It seems this will take some time, Richard. You should head back to the castle and be ready to greet our guests. They will be arriving soon.’

  Richard was torn between wanting to return home to tell Anne his news and curiosity about whether they would catch the poachers. The guests had been invited to his birthday banquet, which his mother had been planning for a month. He squinted into the low sun, setting earlier every day now. He knew they would have little hope of finding the poachers once the light started failing.

  He didn’t want to seem indecisive. ‘I wish you well with your hunt, Father. You are right, mother will demand an explanation if I am late.’

  His father called two of the soldiers back and ordered them to escort Richard home. He turned to Richard. ‘I can’t have you getting lost in the woods, today of all days!’

  ‘I know the way back well enough.’

  ‘Well, I can spare two men. Be off with you.’

  Richard knew better than to argue. He had to obey without question. As he said farewell and rode back towards the castle, he wondered if his father had set him another test. He was pleased to note that the two guards rode one each side, slightly behind him, already showing him more respect than he was accustomed to. His mother had taught him that respect was hard won and easily lost. For the first time he found himself understanding what she meant.

  The late autumn sun was now dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows through the trees. Richard peered into the dark undergrowth as they rode, alert for any sign of movement. They had not gone far when a faint sound made him look into the trees to his right. It sounded like the stifled cough of someone hiding out of sight. He stopped and held up his hand to listen, as he knew he could be wrong. The guards realised what he was doing and remained silent. Another muffled cough sounded and the guards reacted swiftly.

  Leaping from their horses, they approached the source of the coughing from opposite directions and disappeared into the trees. There was the sound of a scuffle and someone swore. Another voice cried out in pain. Richard wondered if he should draw his sword when they re-emerged, holding a roughly dressed man between them. They dragged him in front of Richard and forced him to kneel.

  One of the guards, a burly man, had twisted the young poacher’s arm behind his back and held him securely. The other guard held up a crossbow for Richard to see. The weapon was certain proof of the man’s guilt if it were needed. The three men looked up at Richard and waited to hear what he wished them to do.

  He gestured the man with the crossbow to pass it to him. ‘Go quickly and fetch my father.’ Richard’s voice sounded more confident than he felt. He watched the guard mount his horse and ride back the way they had come. He studied the crossbow with interest, testing the strength of its bowstring. He saw it had a simple stirrup to help draw the string back more easily. He looked down at the man kneeling on the ground. He had never seen a poacher before and was curious.

  ‘What is your name?’

  The man remained silent, his eyes cast to the ground, as if to avoid even looking at Richard.

  ‘Speak up, or you’ll be the worse for it!’ The guard twisted his arm harder until the man winced with the pain.

  ‘Tully, my lord. Luke Tulley.’ His accent marked him as a local man.

  ‘You know the punishment for poaching deer?’

  The man named Tulley remained silent and looked away. Richard could see he did.

  ‘Which way did the others go?’

  Tulley seemed puzzled. ‘Others?’

  ‘You are here alone?’

  ‘I am, my lord.’

  Richard sensed a note of truth in the man’s voice. ‘Where did you learn your skill with this crossbow?’ He held the deadly weapon in the air.

  ‘It’s easy, my lord.’ He looked up at Richard for the first time. His dark, deep set eyes revealed an unexpected confidence and humour for a man in his position.

  Richard looked more closely at the man in front of him. His unshaven beard made him seem older than he was and something about him suggested he had seen more than a few adventures. He remembered how his father had been impressed by the way the deer had been shot. There was a likeable intelligence about the man and Richard felt pity for him. He had to die, that was the law.

  The heavy thud of hooves sounded behind them and Richard’s father arrived with the other men. They surrounded the poacher, although there was no way for him to escape the guard’s firm grip.

  ‘Well done, Richard.’

  ‘Thank you, Father. He tells me he’s here alone.’ Richard felt a frisson of pride at his achievement. His father rarely complimented him, so when he did it carried extra weight.

  His father turned to the kneeling man. ‘You are charged with the crime of poaching. Is there anything you wish to say before sentence is passed?’

  ‘I am guilty as you say.’ He looked up with hope in his dark eyes. ‘I ask for your mercy, my lord.’

  ‘I should have you hanged.’ Richard’s father looked across at him. ‘However, you are lucky. It is my son’s birthday.’ He turned to the butcher, who had been watching events with interest. ‘Cut off his ears.’

  Tully looked horrified and tried to struggle free. Two guards held him down while the butcher took out his knife and inspected the blade for sharpness. Richard wanted to look away. He knew poachers must be taught a lesson. An idea occurred to him as the butcher leaned forward.

  ‘Stop!’

  The men all looked round in surprise.

  His father was puzzled. ‘What is it, Richard?’

  ‘I will take this man as my bondsman. He will pay for his crime with service to our household.’

  His father was expressionless for a moment. Even Tully stopped his struggling while they all waited for his decision.

  ‘A noble gesture, Richard.’ His father turned to Tully. ‘My son has saved your
ears. Be sure to repay him well.’

  Tully looked at him with clear relief. ‘I will, my lord.’

  They rode back to the castle, the freshly killed deer slung over the back of one of the horses. Richard looked back and could see Tully behind the butcher’s old horse, struggling to keep up with the weight of the heavy pig’s carcase he had been made to help carry. Tully saw Richard looking back at him and raised a hand in acknowledgement, nearly losing his grip.

  Richard felt relieved his father had supported him. For a moment he regretted his action and realised he would look foolish in front of the men. He wondered if they would see his decision as a sign of weakness. He had learned some important lessons this day and hopefully gained a useful servant. Now he looked forward to the banquet and seeing Anne. They had much to discuss.

  Chapter 4 - Spring 1445

  Life at Middleham Castle settled into a routine that suited Richard. Much about the place had changed since he moved there with Anne from Sheriff Hutton three years ago, after the death of his grandmother, Joan Beaufort, Countess of Westmorland. The grandest rooms were within the solid old Norman keep, built to last forever, a memorial to men whose names were long forgotten.

  A towering rectangular stone wall enclosed the entire wide expanse of the castle ward, used to house the castle guards and every type of useful industry from blacksmiths’ furnaces to a bakery, ready if they ever had to withstand a long siege. Over the years the ward had filled with an assortment of wooden outbuildings, stables and workshops. His father allowed Richard to arrange the demolition of a long row of these to build their new apartments within the castle walls.

  For months the outer ward had echoed to the rhythmic hammering of chisels on stone, men shouting orders and wood being sawn. Clever arrangements of ropes and pulleys enabled heavy stones and wooden beams made from entire trees to be lifted into place. Richard supervised the building personally, learning from the master masons and even climbing high up the rickety wooden scaffolding to inspect their workmanship.

  Anne had taken responsibility for the furnishing and decoration of their new home. She hung the walls with colourful tapestries which had been owned by her family. Pride of place was given to a magnificent tapestry her father had specially commissioned of his victory against the Welsh, when he captured the banner of the Welsh Prince Owain Glyndwr. The tattered flag with its red and gold lions had graced the hall of her father’s house when she was a girl. Her brother Henry now owned the banner and had given the grand tapestry to Anne as a housewarming present, a reminder of her childhood.

  They still regularly made the fifty mile journey to Sheriff Hutton and would stay there on feast days and through the hunting season. Richard travelled away increasingly often, helping his father patrol the border with Scotland, checking on their guards and learning how to deal with minor disputes over land and property. Anne would sometimes travel with him and they would lodge at one of the northern outposts, although Middleham Castle was where they always returned to.

  The king’s messenger arrived unexpectedly one morning, causing great excitement amongst the staff. Richard studied the letter closely. It was a summons, written on the best quality vellum and bearing the royal seal, an image of King Henry as a knight on horseback, brandishing his sword. Richard had been invited to attend the coronation of the new queen, Margaret of Anjou. He was also to be made a Knight of the Realm.

  The news triggered a flurry of activity, as there were preparations to be made for the four-day ride and their stay in London. Richard spent long hours with his father, who had been made a knight in the service of the previous King Henry when he was only a little older than Richard. He had become a Knight of the Garter under the Regency Council, and considered himself something of an expert on the responsibilities of knighthood.

  The long journey to London was made easier by bright spring sunshine as the Neville family entourage made its way south. Their route was notorious for outlaws, who would waylay and rob travellers, holding any of importance for ransom, so their party was escorted by twenty mounted guards. Richard followed, with Anne riding at his side, then his father and mother. Luke Tully followed behind him, with the groom leading Richard’s black destrier, chosen to ride in the tournament. Tully had grown into a loyal and valued companion. Richard never treated him like a servant and now he had officially become a squire. Dressed in new clothes in the Neville colours he looked pleased with his role.

  Their servants followed behind, with the heavy wagons loaded with luggage and supplies, as well as Richard’s valuable jousting armour. They were glad of the chance to see the city of London and the coronation pageants. Many of them had never left Yorkshire before and for some this was the journey of a lifetime. The servants who were to remain at Middleham formed two rows, their numbers swelled by people from the village who had come to see the procession leave for London.

  Once they were on the road Richard decided to pass the time by learning more about the king from Anne. Her father had been made responsible for the young King’s education, so she had known him since he was a child. He glanced across at her. Anne wore a blue velvet riding cloak over her dress, with a fashionable hat covering her dark hair. She was comfortable on a horse and had laughed when he suggested she might prefer to make the long journey to London in a carriage.

  ‘What sort of man is King Henry?’

  Anne thought for a moment as she rode. ‘I haven’t seen him for years.’

  ‘You said you used to visit him often?’

  ‘Yes. Father thought it would be beneficial for us both.’ She rode closer to Richard so their conversation would not be overheard. ‘Father would take me with him to Windsor Castle. Henry was five years older than me. I remember he was always the king, even when he was a boy.’

  ‘He was spoilt?’

  ‘Perhaps a little,’ she smiled at him, ‘My father told me he always found him to be an attentive student.’

  ‘Did you see much of his mother?’

  ‘She was kind to me.’

  ‘My mother told me about attending her coronation in Westminster Abbey with my father.’

  ‘Henry spent a lot of time with his mother. I was only a young girl. I remember Queen Catherine teaching us songs.’

  Anne started singing in French, hesitantly at first, then more confidently as she remembered the words. She had a beautiful singing voice, which carried well. The French influence on the throne was to be renewed and Richard wondered how his life would be changed by the crowning of a new French Queen. One day he would be telling his own children about attending her coronation.

  The thought troubled him, a dark cloud on his otherwise sunny horizon. They had been trying for a child for three years, yet there was still no sign of one. His father had always made it clear his duty was to produce a son to inherit their name and fortune. To fail would mean shame and dishonour. He wondered if his wife was barren and he didn’t know what to do. Anne had consulted with midwives and once even tried a special potion from a herbalist in York, with no success. Now the questioning finger of doubt was being pointed at him.

  They reached Sheffield Castle, their first stop on the long journey, just before nightfall. The old castle was a grim, dark place and their room was poorly furnished. It didn’t matter as they were tired and fell asleep in minutes. Leicester Castle was their destination on the evening of the second day and their last stop before London was the great castle at Northampton, where they enjoyed a banquet with their host. The finest French wine flowed freely and musicians played long into the night in honour of the new queen’s coronation.

  On the final day’s ride, the road was crowded with people travelling to London. Only when they arrived on the outskirts of the city did they realise the scale of the coronation celebrations. Flags and banners were everywhere and people had already started impromptu parties by the side of the road. Richard found his way through the crowded streets to the centre of Westminster, while his father took Anne with their luggage to a
large mansion owned by one of his distant cousins.

  Tully rode at Richard’s side, enjoying the attention of the crowds, which parted to make way for them. A pretty girl in the crowd called out to him and he shouted something back at her, laughing. He had yet to settle down with a woman of his choosing and was popular with the available ladies of Middleham. Although he had no personal wealth, his promotion to squire meant he had become a man with prospects.

  Richard found the sheer number of people overwhelming and was unhappy to see how they emptied slops into the street. He was glad to be on horseback as his expensive new leather boots were already spattered with mud. The people of London seemed immune to the stench which was made worse by the warm spring weather. Westminster was busy with the shouts of street vendors taking advantage of the crowds, selling everything from spiced ale to posies of bright orange marguerites, in honour of the new queen.

  Richard’s knighting ceremony began with the vigil, which his father explained was a time to be spent in prayer and contemplation of his new duties as a knight. One of the royal chapels was decorated with the banners of his Neville ancestors and his polished armour and sword lay on the altar. A white-haired priest wearing a heavy silver crucifix waited while Richard knelt and said a prayer of thanks in front of the altar. The priest then took Richard’s sword and held it reverently in the air while he said the blessing.

  Richard listened as the priest recited his well-rehearsed speech about how the sword would be used to defend the church against the cruelty of pagans and Richard would become the terror and dread of his enemies. After a hundred years of war with France there were many who would challenge King Henry’s right to the throne.

  He thought of his uncle, Richard of York. He could argue a rightful claim and was waiting for his chance, although the cost could be the end of the delicate peace. Richard knew the real dangers for the Nevilles were much closer to home. The Percy family would take their lands by force if they saw the opportunity. As a knight he would have to help his father deal with the ever present threat from their neighbours.