Stormbird

brothers.

‘No hunting today, John?’ Margaret asked sweetly. ‘No chasing your sister? I imagine Lord Suffolk would take his sword to you in earnest if I asked him to; what do you think?’

‘He’s an English lord, Margaret. Don’t put too much trust in him,’ John said. ‘Our father says they are all vipers, for cunning. He said the snake in the Garden of Eden would surely have spoken in English.’

‘Pfui! Our father? He is so consumed with greed I’m surprised he says anything.’

‘Don’t insult him, Margaret! You have no right. You’re still my sister and a member of this house, and by God …’

‘I’m not, John. I am Margaret of England now. Shall I call William back to make my case for me?’

John’s brows lowered in anger, but he could not allow her to recall her protector.

‘Your marriage has brought Anjou and Maine back to the family. That is what matters — that was your only purpose. Beyond that, you can do as you please.’

John turned on the spot and stalked away from his sister. Nicholas followed him and little Louis stayed only a moment longer, exchanging a wink and a smile with her over their brother’s pompous manner. Margaret was left alone. As she looked around at the empty yard, she felt the pleasure of victory.

Suffolk was amused to find himself taken to the great hall of Saumur Castle. Since the wedding, the servants had been at something of a loss where he was concerned. England was an avowed enemy, but then the families had been joined in marriage. The reality of the truce between nations would take time to sink in, he thought. For the moment, only a small group of lords on both sides of the Channel were privy to the details.

Suffolk suppressed a snort of amusement as the steward bowed with the utmost reluctance at the door. Perhaps the status of an English lord had already risen a little, at least in Saumur.

Derry rose from a stuffed and padded chair to greet him.

‘You seem to have become part of the family, William. I suppose you did marry one of the daughters, so it’s only right.’

Suffolk smiled at the jest, looking up automatically to see if the children were listening on the balcony above. He saw nothing, but guessed Margaret at least was quite capable of eavesdropping on a conversation that surely concerned her. Was that a moving shadow in the gloom?

Derry followed his glance.

‘Odd construction. Is it a minstrel gallery?’

‘I have no idea. So, Derry, what brings you to Saumur?’

‘No greetings? No inquiring after my health? Mine is a lonely business, William Pole, I’ll tell you that. No one is ever pleased to see me. Come, sit with me by the fire. It makes me nervous having you standing there in pads like you’re about to charge off to battle.’

Suffolk shrugged, but he seated himself on the arm of a huge chair where he could feel warmth from the hearth prickle his skin. After a moment’s thought, he jerked his head up at the gallery.

‘We may not be completely private here, Derry,’ he murmured.

‘Ah, I see. Very well, I’ll use my famous subtlety and craft. Are you ready?’ Derry leaned forward. ‘The biggest frog, the royal frog, if you understand me, is making a right meal of Anjou.’

‘Derry, for God’s sake. You haven’t come here to play games.’

‘All right, Lord Suffolk, if you don’t like codes, I’ll speak it straight. King Charles is taking his time in Anjou. There have been some very nasty tales coming back to England, but for the most part, he’s going by the law and our agreement over the evictions. The one thing that has slowed him down is distributing the wealth to his favourites. Old René may own the province again, but the businesses can be passed to anyone King Charles wants to favour. He seems to be enjoying himself, sending English merchants on their way. Half a dozen have already petitioned Henry’s chancellor for the king to intervene. A dozen more are calling for soldiers to defend their property, but Lord York is sitting tight and warm in Normandy and he isn’t moving a step to help them. That’s to the good.’

‘If it’s as you expected, why come here?’ Suffolk said, frowning.

For the first time, Derry looked uncomfortable. Wary of the balcony, he leaned closer and dropped his voice to a murmur that was almost lost in the crackle of the fire.

‘One of my men sent me a warning about Maine. With all their king’s trips back to court, the French forces are moving so slowly they may not even get there until next year. Either way, the word is that Maine won’t roll over with its paws in the air. As close to Normandy as it is, there are a lot of old war-wolves living out their retirement in Maine. They have yeomen and farmhands by the hundred and they’re not the sort to bend a knee just because some French lord waves a treaty in their face.’

‘So King Henry must order York to do the work with an English army,’ Suffolk replied. ‘We’ve come too far on this road to see it broken apart now.’

‘I did think of that, William, as I still have a spoonful of wit in my head. York isn’t answering letters or commands. I’ve sent him orders under the king’s seal and it’s like dropping them into a pit. He’s letting this run its course while he keeps his hands clean. It’s a clever move, I’ll give him that. I have plans for Duke Richard, don’t you worry, but it doesn’t solve the problem of Maine. If fighting breaks out, your new French wife will be a hostage and we can’t let that happen.’

Suffolk thought for a long moment, staring into the flames.

‘You want her in England.’

‘I want her in England, yes. I want her properly married to Henry before it all falls apart. In time, I can send another man to take command of the Normandy army, maybe Lord Somerset, maybe even you, William. If the king sends York to some other place — somewhere like Ireland, say — he’ll have to go. We’ll manage the evictions in Maine next year without any French lord getting his nose bent. I’ll arrange the wedding in England, don’t worry about that, but I need a bride for it. We can’t let them keep a valuable piece like Margaret while the evictions go on.’

‘The older sister is to be married in a month. Margaret will want to be here for that, I’m certain. Will they even let her leave?’

‘They should,’ Derry replied. ‘She’s already married, after all. It’s just a matter of etiquette now and they love all that. Henry will send an honour guard and a fleet of ships to bring his French bride home. We’ll make a great celebration of it. It just has to happen before they stop for winter.’ For a moment, Derry rubbed his temples and Suffolk realized how weary the man was. ‘This is just me thinking of everything, William, that’s all. It may be that King Henry will send York to Ireland and you’ll be the one putting our army into Maine to make the evictions run smoothly. It may be there’ll be no trouble at all and all my reports are wrong. But I’d be a fool not to plan for the worst.’

‘All your reports?’ William said suddenly, his voice back to a normal level. ‘I thought you said one of your men? How many reports have you had about Maine?’

‘So far, eight,’ Derry admitted, holding the bridge of his nose and rubbing away tiredness. ‘I don’t need to see the glow to know my house is on fire, William Pole. I can juggle the balls, I think, as long as you get your little princess back to England.’

‘How long do I have?’ Suffolk asked.

Derry waved a hand airily.

‘As long as five months, as little as three. Go to the sister’s wedding, drink wine and smile at the French — but be ready to jump after that, the moment I send word. In truth, it all depends how quickly the French move north — and how many of our own people we can persuade to leave homes and lands they bought in good faith in that time.’

‘I’ll see to it, Derry. You don’t have to worry about this part.’

‘I’ll worry anyway, if you don’t mind, William Pole. I always do.’

9

The road led up a small rise, cresting through a copse of gnarled oaks. From his poacher’s spot, halfway up a nearby hill in the bracken, Thomas Woodchurch could see where the trees cast a shadow on the grey stones