Stormbird

unafraid.

When Tresham replied, the old lawyer’s voice was as dry as if he was discussing a difficult point from the statutes.

‘I’m afraid a charge of high treason does not allow that, my lord,’ he said. ‘You will appreciate that a man who has conspired against the Crown can hardly be allowed to approach the Crown. You must first be put to the question. When every detail … and all your confederates have been named, you will sign the confession. You will then be bound over for trial, though as you know it will be no more than a formality. The king will not be involved at any stage, my lord, unless of course he chooses to attend your execution.’

‘Unless …’ York said. He paused as he stood staring out of the window over Westminster. ‘Unless the loss of France can be laid at the feet of the king himself, William. You and I both know the truth of it. Tell me, how many men came at your request to bolster your forces in Normandy? How many stood with you against the French king? Yet there are eight thousand soldiers in the counties around London, William, all to ease a king’s terror of rebellion. If those men had been allowed to cross to France when you needed them, do you think you would be here now? Would we have lost Normandy if you’d had twelve thousand in the field?’

William glowered at York, anger building in him as he saw where the man was aiming his thrust.

‘Henry is my anointed king, my lord York,’ he said slowly and with force. ‘You will not have petty accusations from me, if that is what you’re after. It is not my place to judge the actions of the king of England, nor yours, nor this cardinal, his uncle, nor Tresham, for all his lawyer’s tricks. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, I do,’ York said, turning to him with an odd smile. ‘I understand that there are only two paths, William. Either the king loses you, his most powerful supporter, or … he loses everything. Either way, the kingdom and my cause will be strengthened immeasurably. Face the truth, Suffolk! The king is a boy too weak and sickly to rule. I am not the first to say it and, believe me, it is being muttered now in every hamlet, town and city across England. The losses in France have only confirmed what some of us knew since he was a child. We waited, William! Out of respect and loyalty to his father and the Crown, we waited. And look where that has brought us!’ York paused, finding calm once again. ‘To this room, William, and to you. Bear the guilt on your own and die, or name your king as the architect of this failure. It is your choice and it matters not to me.’

In the face of York’s poisonous triumph, William sagged, resting one hand on the table to support his weight.

‘I see,’ William said, his voice bleak. For all York’s words, he had no choice at all. He seated himself at the table. His hands trembled as they rested on the polished wood.

‘I will not confess to treasons I have not committed. I will not name my king, or any other man. Torture me if you must; it will make no difference. And may God forgive you, because I will not.’

In exasperation, York gestured to the two soldiers. One of them crouched by his bag and began unrolling it, revealing the neat lines of pincers, awls and saws within.

22

More than thirty of the fifty-five lords of England had property around the centre of London, Derry knew. Given an hour or two, he could have listed each house, as well as the men and women he had working for him. Yet Somerset was William’s personal friend. More importantly, Derry knew he was in London that day, rather than his estates in the south-west. He’d had another Thames boatman come close to bursting his lungs to reach Somerset’s townhouse along the river, drawing up on the wide water-landing. Derry had almost got himself killed by Somerset’s guards there before he’d identified himself and raced with them through the gardens. Somerset had been writing letters and stood to listen with a quill held in his fingers. Though every passing moment was an agony, Derry had forced himself to explain clearly what he needed. Halfway through, the diminutive earl clapped him on the back and shouted for his stewards.

‘Tell me the rest on the way, Brewer,’ Somerset said briskly, walking down to the water-landing.

The earl was forty-four years of age, with no spare flesh on his frame and the energy of a man twenty years younger. Derry had to scurry to keep up with him and despite the earl’s lack of height and amiable look, he noted how Somerset’s guards still jumped when he gave orders. The earl’s personal barge was being poled along the river barely an hour after Derry had arrived.

They grounded it at Westminster dock and Derry found himself breathing hard as he counted the men Somerset had summoned. It looked like his entire personal guard. There were six men on the barge with them, while another dozen had been told to make their best speed to Westminster on the roads. They had run a good two miles around the bend of the river that flowed through London, plunging through filthy streets to arrive spattered and panting only a brief time after their master’s barge drew up.

Derry was impressed, despite himself. Somerset was in a froth of indignation at the thought of a threat to his friend, and yet he turned to Derry with a questioning look as they strode towards the river gate of the palace.

‘Stay close, my lord, if you would,’ Derry said. ‘I will need your authority for this.’

Having eighteen armed men at his back was satisfying and worrying at the same time. It was not beyond possibility that Parliament would react badly to an armed invasion of their sanctum. Derry felt his heart thump in anticipation as he approached the first guards, already yelling for their superiors and fumbling their pikes and swords. Somerset cracked his neck with a sharp gesture, his expression both confident and eager. The two men were from very different worlds, but with William de la Pole in danger, both of them were spoiling for a fight.

Margaret heard her name called when she was in the middle of another furious conversation with the king’s physician. She broke off on the instant, rushing back to her husband’s rooms. She gaped as she saw Henry with his legs on the floor and two boots waiting to be put on. He had pulled a long white shirt over his bony chest and found woollen leggings.

‘Margaret? Can you help me with these? I can’t pull them on myself.’

She knelt quickly, yanking the thick wool up his legs before taking up one of the boots and working his foot into it.

‘Are you feeling better?’ she said, looking up at him. There were dark circles under his eyes, but he seemed more alert than she had seen him in days.

‘A little, I think. Derry was here, Margaret. He wanted me to come to Westminster.’

Her face crumpled and she hid her expression by bowing her head and concentrating on the second boot.

‘I know, Henry. I was with you when he came. Are you well enough to rise?’

‘I think so. I can take a boat and that will not be much of a trial, though the river is cold. Would you ask my servants to bring blankets for me? I will need to be well wrapped against the wind.’

Margaret finished pulling on the second boot and rubbed her eyes clear. Her husband put out an arm and she helped to raise him to his feet, tugging the leggings higher and fastening his belt. He looked thin and pale, but his eyes were clear and she could have wept just to see him standing. She saw a robe hanging on a hook across the room and fetched it for him, placing it around his shoulders. He patted her hand as it touched him.

‘Thank you, Margaret. You are very kind to me.’

‘You honour me. I know you are not well. To see you rise for your friend …’

She broke off before the mingled sadness and joy overwhelmed her. Taking her husband’s arm, she went out into the corridor, surprising the guards as they came to attention.

Master Allworthy heard the noise and came out of the next room along, holding some twisted piece of the contraption Margaret had kicked earlier on. His thunderous expression cleared into amazement as he saw the king. The doctor lowered himself to kneel on the stone floor.

‘Your Grace! I am so very pleased to see this improvement in you. Have you moved your bowels, Your Grace, if I may make so bold with such a question? Such an event will sometimes clear a confused mind. It was the green liquor, I am certain, as well as the wormwood tapers. Are you to take a turn in the gardens? I would not