Jasper - Book Two of the Tudor Trilogy Read online

  ‘For good luck, sir.’ Her eyes shone with amusement as she spoke.

  Gabriel called across to him. ‘She favours you, sir!’

  Jasper raised a hand in thanks and saw her smile in acknowledgement. She reminded him a little of a woman he had known in North Wales so long ago. He had been so preoccupied with recruiting and training his skirmishers, he had almost forgotten about Mevanvy and the little dark-haired daughter Ellen, she claimed was his.

  Myfanwy’s eyes sparkled with the same seductive sense of fun whenever she looked at him. He had no way of knowing if the child could be his but in his heart he knew it might be, so he provided her with a good house and enough money to live comfortably.

  He smiled to himself as he recalled his father’s reaction when he learned he had a granddaughter. His father could hardly disapprove, as he had fathered a child with his maidservant Bethan. The boy, Jasper’s half-brother David Owen, now lived with Bethan at his father’s old house in Beaumaris. He wondered when he would next be able to see them and resolved to also visit Mevanvy and Ellen.

  The crowd fell into a tense silence as a steward raised a flag high in the air. Jasper glanced across at Gabriel and saw the grim look of determination on his face. The man with the flag dropped it with a flourish and they raced from the line. Jasper soon found himself a good length behind the closest horse. Gabriel hadn’t made the same mistake and rode dangerously close to the horse in the front.

  Hooves thundered on hard stone as they raced for the first corner, a sharp right-hand bend in the road. The crowd urged them on with cheers and shouts for favourites and Jasper started gaining ground, pulling ahead of several horses. Jasper knew they must complete two circuits of the course, and he could see the leading riders, so was still in with a chance.

  As they crossed the start line for the second time he found himself scanning the crowd for the woman who’d given him the ribbon. She waved as he passed, and his neck tingled with an unexpected flush of pride that she had chosen him from all the riders. They reached the right-hand corner again, galloping as hard as they could. Another rider slammed into Jasper’s flank and his horse stumbled, pitching him into the air. The last thing he heard was a woman’s high-pitched scream.

  Jasper woke in a strange room that smelt of woodsmoke and the sweet scent of lavender. He was lying in a comfortable wooden bed, covered with a thick woollen blanket. Bright sunlight streamed through the open shutters of a small window. He rubbed his eyes and tried to remember what happened. Then he realised he was naked.

  The sound of a woman singing as she worked drifted through the half-open door. Jasper studied his surroundings. Fresh rushes covered the floor and neatly tied bunches of lavender hung from thick wooden beams but he couldn’t see his clothes. Close to the side of his bed sat an old rocking-chair, draped with a woollen shawl which suggested someone slept there the previous night.

  He remembered falling from his horse and being carried through the crowd by shouting men. He had brought a small fortune in gold and silver coins to Waterford, enough to buy two dozen horses, and now it was all gone.

  ‘Hello?’ He called out.

  The singing stopped and a young woman appeared in the doorway, drying her hands on her cotton apron. He recognised the girl who gave him the ribbon. She seemed different with her dark hair loose over her shoulders, but he saw the mischief in her eyes as she stood looking at him.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Her soft Irish accent had a note of concern.

  ‘I was knocked out?’

  ‘We thought you might be dead.’ She stepped closer. ‘I am glad you’re not, sir.’

  ‘How did I get here?’ Jasper felt confused but relieved to find he was otherwise uninjured.

  ‘They carried you here, sir. I said I would look after you.’

  ‘It seems you have,’ Jasper smiled, ‘where are my clothes?’

  ‘You fell in the dirt. I cleaned them for you and now they’re drying in the sun.’

  ‘How is my horse?’ He liked the fine Irish horse and hoped it wasn’t lame.

  ‘Your horse is fine, and your money is safe.’ She sat in the chair at the side of his bed. ‘Although I can’t imagine how a fellow such as yourself comes to be carrying such a fortune?’

  He stared at her, trying to decide how much to tell. ‘I must thank you, but I don’t even know your name.’

  ‘Máiréad.’ She leaned forward. ‘And what would your name be now, sir?’

  ‘Jasper.’

  She smiled. ‘I’ve not heard it before, but I’ve not travelled far. Your friend told me you sailed here from Cork, but I can tell from the way you talk that’s not where you’re from.’

  ‘I’m from Wales.’ He saw her quizzical look. ‘Although my mother was French. When I was a boy she told me Jasper was the name of one of the three wise men, and she had always liked it.’ He blurted it out, a half-forgotten memory he had never mentioned to anyone.

  Máiréad reached out and caressed his bare chest with her hand. ‘I like it. I knew there was something... different about you, as soon as I saw you.’ Her voice sounded softer now and her eyes flashed with desire. He pulled her closer and kissed her, feeling her respond to his touch. Many years had passed since he’d held a woman in his arms. It felt good to forget his worries and surrender himself to this beautiful woman from Waterford.

  Jasper lay back on the bed, watching as Máiréad dressed and combed her long dark hair in the early morning sunlight. As she fastened it with a ribbon he recalled how she tied a ribbon around his arm at the horse fair. Supposed to bring good luck, in a way it had, although not at all as he expected. It seemed as if he’d always known her, no awkwardness, no holding back. He had a sudden memory of her, naked on top of him, a look of rapture on her face.

  She seemed to sense his eyes on her and smiled. ‘Your friend asked me to tell you he’s travelled to Kilkenny to see a horse-trader. He persuaded me to let him take your money. Was I right to do so?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jasper smiled, ‘he’s a good man. Did he say when he would be back?’

  ‘Tomorrow.’ She leaned over and kissed him. ‘That means we can spend the day together?’

  ‘I would like that.’

  ‘I could show you one of my favourite places, by the river, not far from here.’

  He replied by kissing her, softly at first, then with a deep longing and urgency that revealed his true intentions.

  Máiréad laughed and began unfastening her dress.

  A skylark sang in a cerulean sky as she led him down the narrow track to a secluded grassy clearing overlooking the river. The path was already covered with fallen leaves, and Jasper knew he must soon return to Wales, ready or not, but for now the spectre of York seemed a distant memory.

  Máiréad carried a wicker basket from which she produced a blanket for them to sit on, as well as a platter of rye bread and cheese with slices of cured ham and two small cups, which she filled with a rich red wine.

  ‘I’ve been saving this, for a special occasion.’

  Jasper raised his cup in acknowledgement. ‘I am honoured, and grateful.’

  ‘Sláinte mhaith.’ She laughed at his questioning look. ‘Good health in Irish.’

  ‘Sláinte mhaith.’ He raised his glass again and tasted the wine, impressed at the quality. She had a talent for surprising him but he knew nothing about her. ‘Tell me, Máiréad, is there someone in your life?’

  She hesitated for a moment, staring at the steadily flowing river before answering. ‘There was someone, once.’ A flicker of sadness showed in her eyes. ‘He drowned.’ Her voice sounded cold at the memory. ‘His boat was lost in a storm, two weeks before our wedding day.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

  ‘Do you have someone? A wife?’ Her question hung in the air and he could see she was bracing herself for his answer.

  ‘No,’ he smiled at a memory of his father, ‘although there are plenty who tell me it’s time I did.’

  ‘What
brought you here, Jasper?’

  ‘I sailed here, on a merchant ship.’

  She smiled at his joke. ‘You don’t seem like a merchant.’ Her words sounded like an accusation.

  He took another sip of wine before responding, already feeling it going to his head. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Merchants don’t race horses through the streets, for a start. Your sword looks well used, and all the merchants I’ve met are only concerned about money.’

  ‘And I am not?’

  ‘You didn’t even ask how much money your friend took.’

  ‘I trust him, and I know I can trust you, Máiréad.’

  She blushed at his compliment. ‘But you’ll forget me soon enough when your friend returns.’

  He was thrown by her unexpected challenge. ‘I must ride back to Cork and then...’

  ‘Take me with you.’

  She deserved to know the truth. ‘You are right. I am no merchant. I came to Ireland to find men to help defend King Henry.’ He watched the river, busily making its way to the sea, the water sparkling in the late-summer sunshine. The idyllic surroundings had allowed him to forget his purpose in coming to Waterford.

  For the first time, he was struck by the futility of his situation. The best he could hope for was to keep the king safe until the people tired of York’s promises. Queen Margaret would do whatever it took to restore her husband to the throne, but Jasper knew she was doing it for the sake of her son. The rot had set in too deeply and whatever the outcome of this civil war, his life would never be the same.

  As a young man he had always known he must marry well, as his brother Edmund had done, an heiress from the royal line. Now he’d been made an outlaw he could marry for love, if he wished. He realised Máiréad was waiting patiently for his answer, hope in her bright eyes.

  ‘I would like to take you with me, but I cannot.’

  She placed her hand on his arm. ‘I could ride with you to Cork. It would be an adventure.’

  The pleading in her voice won him over. ‘If that’s what you would like.’ He placed his hand over hers. ‘When the time comes for me to return to Wales you must stay behind for your own safety, but for now...’

  He was happy to live for the moment. She beamed with delight at his words, then leaned forward and kissed him. He let her push him back into the soft grass and they lay in each other’s arms, enjoying the peaceful sounds of the birds singing and the river rippling musically. For the first time since he could remember, he didn’t have a care in the world.

  Gabriel appeared early next morning looking even more pleased with himself than usual. ‘I’ve found us a dozen good strong horses, sir, and a drover who’ll take them to Cork.’

  ‘That is good news.’ They needed twice that number but it was a start. ‘You’ve met Máiréad? She’ll be joining us on the ride back to Cork.’

  Gabriel gave him a knowing look and smiled at Máiréad. ‘I’m grateful to you, for taking such good care of him.’

  ‘It was no trouble.’ Her eyes widened with anticipation. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing more of the country. I’ve never been far from Waterford.’

  Jasper began fastening the silver buckle on his sword belt. ‘It’s a long ride, so we must leave soon.’

  Gabriel understood. ‘I will ready the horses.’

  When he’d gone Jasper took Máiréad in his arms and kissed her. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I must thank you, for taking me with you.’ She pulled him close and kissed him again. ‘Because I think I’m falling in love with you, Sir Jasper.’ Her eyes shone with happiness and she sang as she fastened the shutters at the windows.

  The ride took two days, travelling down the winding drover’s roads through sleepy villages and wild estuaries. They rested overnight at a tavern in the coastal town of Dungarvan, at the mouth of the Colligan River. By the time they reached Cork the setting, late-summer sun cast long shadows and washed the evening sky with a brilliant amber, streaked with gold.

  Jasper’s servant looked relieved when he heard the horses and came out to greet them. ‘You had a visitor, sir. He left a message for you to call on him as soon as you return. He is staying at the house of Master Conley.’

  ‘Did he tell you his name?’ Jasper’s sense of foreboding returned. ‘When did he call here?’

  ‘His name is Thomas White, sir. He sailed from Tenby last week.’

  Jasper told the others to find something to eat in the kitchens and rode into Cork alone and troubled. His friend was too busy a man to wait for his return without good reason. Thomas White met him in one of Master Conley’s private rooms and closed the door. Jasper sat in one of the chairs but Thomas remained standing at the window, the last of the sunset silhouetting him and making it hard for Jasper to see his eyes.

  Always clean-shaven in a fine velvet tunic with a long surcoat, Thomas White could easily pass for a nobleman. Jasper knew he had started with next to nothing and worked his way up through his integrity and skill in business to become a wealthy man, as well as one of his most trusted friends. He spoke with the soft accent of West Wales and now he cleared his throat, as if unwilling to share his news.

  ‘There’s no easy way to tell you this, my lord, which is why I’ve come in person. William Herbert has taken Pembroke Castle.’

  ‘My God! Was Henry able to escape?’

  ‘I regret to say he was not. Herbert has him.’

  Jasper sat back in shock. He had left more than enough men behind in Pembroke Castle to stand up to York’s entire army, at least until he was able to return with his Irishmen. It was too much to comprehend.

  ‘What of Sir John Scudamore?’

  Thomas White shook his head. ‘I understand he surrendered the castle to Herbert’s men without a fight.’

  Jasper cursed. He’d been a fool to trust Henry’s safety to Sir John, a broken man with nothing to lose. At the same time, if he had remained in Pembroke he would now be besieged by William Herbert, who had everything to gain by holding the siege for as long as it took.

  ‘What about Tenby?’

  ‘A fleet of York’s ships blockaded the harbour.’ Thomas White sounded apologetic. ‘It was hopeless, my lord. There was nothing anyone could do.’

  ‘Tenby is lost?’

  Thomas White nodded grimly. ‘There is more, I’m afraid. It’s said that all your estates and titles are forfeit to the king.’

  ‘A false king!’ Jasper spat the words out in his anger.

  Thomas White continued, ignoring the outburst. ‘York’s men wait at all the ports and harbours in South Wales to arrest you, my lord. There’s a price on your head, so it’s no longer safe for you to return.’

  Jasper saw Thomas White had more to say, something so bad he could hardly bring himself to speak the words. ‘Go on. I need to know.’

  ‘I’m sorry to report that William Herbert claims you ran from his men at Mortimer’s Cross, and that it was he who captured your father.’

  Chapter Five

  October 1461

  Jasper raised the heavy axe above his head and brought it down, cleaving the thick yew log in two and embedding the blade deep into the block. He’d been working at the woodpile since dawn after a sleepless night, worrying about the future. He worried for the safety of Henry, and the promise he had made to Lady Margaret to protect her son.

  He also worried about the loss of his fortune from his estates in Wales. The income from them once made him wealthy, but now his concern was how he could fund an army to support the Lancastrian cause. It could only be a matter of time before he would be formally attainted by York and lose everything.

  Jasper’s muscles tensed in a surge of anger at the harm William Herbert could do to his reputation. Herbert would brand him a coward, fleeing from Mortimer’s Cross and now running from West Wales at the sight of York’s soldiers. There would be no way to defend his good name and few would care to listen to the truth.

  He swore loudly as he swung the axe, cursing York and all he stood
for. At first, he imagined William Herbert’s neck on the block, then it was the turn of Edward of York to feel the blade of his axe. His anger and frustration eased, he could think clearly for the first time since his meeting with Thomas White.

  He had never blamed William Herbert for his part in his brother’s death in Carmarthen but the thought always nagged at him. Now it seemed Herbert openly claimed responsibility for his father’s capture, if not his execution. Jasper tugged the axe free of the block and set up another heavy log. Again, he swung the axe and brought it down with such force the two halves of the log sprang into the air.

  He stopped to gather his breath and wiped the sweat of his exertion from his brow. Gabriel and Máiréad had listened in silence as he told them the news from Wales. He kept nothing back, as they deserved to know and would find out soon enough. In a way it helped to say the words out loud, to share the bitter thoughts that buzzed in his head like angry hornets.

  A plan began to form in his mind. It would not be easy, but circumstance had changed him into a man with nothing to lose. He must take risks to stand any chance of defeating York. He comforted himself with the knowledge that York had not won everything. Thomas White told him the great fortress castles of Harlech and Denbigh still held for Lancaster. King Henry and Queen Margaret were now safe in Scotland, rebuilding their Lancastrian army, and he had his Irish mercenaries, not enough in number, yet keen to fight.

  Jasper left the axe buried in the chopping-block and went in search of Gabriel. He found him in the kitchens with Máiréad and sensed they had been talking about him.

  ‘We’re going to Scotland.’ He announced, gratefully taking the tankard of bitter tasting ale Máiréad poured for him, enjoying its refreshing coolness after his hot work.