Many of the lords turned in surprise towards Henry, understanding that he would not speak and that the judgment had been prepared beforehand. York scowled and Derry held his breath in terror that Henry would sense the scrutiny and respond.
The king looked around him, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. At a loss, he inclined his head and the chancellor took it as a signal to go on, holding up the third of his scrolls and unrolling it with a flourish.
‘ “Be witness to the king’s judgment against William de la Pole, Duke of Suffolk, in the year of our Lord fourteen hundred and fifty.” ’ He paused to take another breath and wipe his brow once more. ‘ “For service past, the eight capital charges are dismissed by the king’s order and the king’s will.” ’
There was a sudden barrage of sound from the gathered lords, led by York and Cardinal Beaufort as they barked angry responses. The chancellor wilted, but kept reading over the noise, his hands shaking visibly.
‘ “The remaining eleven charges, misprisions not criminal, are considered proven, insofar as the prisoner has confessed.” ’
Another, greater growl came from the lords, and the chancellor looked helplessly at them, unable to go on. He did not have the authority to order silence and, though he looked to the king, Henry said nothing.
Seeing the impasse, it was Somerset who called out, the wiry little earl standing with his chest out and head raised aggressively.
‘My lords, this is not a trial. This is certainly not a common tap-room! Will you barrack the king in his own chambers? Cease your noise.’
Led by York’s furious whispering, some of them continued to shout and argue, though the majority accepted the rebuke and closed their mouths. The chancellor glanced in thanks to Lord Somerset, reaching once more for his cloth and wiping the shine from his face.
‘ “The sentence for these misprisions is banishment from these shores for the period of five years from today. You have our blessing for your patience. These papers signed and sealed in the year of our Lord fourteen hundred and fifty, Henry Rex.” ’
The tumult died away at the speed of a candle being snuffed, falling to nothing as soon as the lords understood they had been listening to the words and orders of the king himself. In the moment of surprise, Derry stepped forward and used a heavy key to open the manacles around William’s wrists. His friend looked ill with relief. He stood slowly, rubbing his swollen hand and reminding those closest to him that he was yet a man of prodigious strength. His sword arm was undamaged and he flexed it in front of him, making a fist as he glared at York, Tresham and Beaufort.
Derry reached out to take William’s arm. Without warning, his friend turned to face King Henry and a sudden tension stole across the room, with even York looking up. For such crimes and accusations, there had been no punishment but execution in the past. Yet a man who had confessed to treason stood within reach of the king. William was unarmed, but again they became aware of the bearlike strength in him and the king’s own frailty. Before anyone could move, William stepped forward, went down on one knee and bowed his head right to his chest.
‘I am sorry to have brought you grief, Your Royal Highness. If it please God, I will return to serve you again.’
Henry frowned vaguely. For an instant his hand half-reached but then fell back. All the lords knelt as Henry rose from his seat, guided from their presence by the chancellor and his personal servants. He had not spoken a single word.
William remained kneeling until the door closed behind the king. When he stood once more, there were tears in his eyes and he accepted Derry’s hand on his shoulder to lead him out. As they walked away through the corridors, they were passed by messengers running with the news to all those who had paid a few coins for it. William looked as if he had been struck, pale and stunned at the sentence he had been given.
‘I have horses waiting to take you through London to the coast, William,’ Derry said, searching his friend’s face as they walked. ‘There is a cog waiting at Dover, the
Derry was struck by the look of despair William turned on him. He seemed dazed and Derry’s hand remained on his shoulder to keep him upright, though he was careful not to touch the swollen hand and forearm.
‘I’m sorry, William. If the king had dismissed all the charges, there would be riots, do you understand? This was the best deal I could broker for you. There was a vintner hanged just yesterday for threatening unrest if you were set free.’
‘I understand, Derry. Thank you for all you’ve done. Perhaps I should have run when you told me. Yet I didn’t think they would go so far.’
Derry felt the grief of his friend as if it were his own.
‘I’ll pay them what they’re owed, William, I swear it. In five years, you’ll return to England and we’ll chase them like hares, if I haven’t finished. You’ll see.’
They’d walked together through the vast space of Westminster Hall, ignoring the stares of merchants and members of Parliament. The news was spreading quickly and some of them were daring to hiss and jeer at the sight of a condemned traitor walking among them. William raised his head at their noise, a touch of anger replacing the dead look in his eyes.
‘As you say, Derry. It’s just five years,’ he muttered, straightening his back and glaring around him.
They left the hall and walked to the two men waiting with packhorses. Derry swallowed nervously as the crowd began to thicken, the sense of violence in the air growing with every passing moment.
‘Go with God, my friend,’ Derry said softly.
With his damaged hand, William could not mount easily on his own and Derry helped him into the saddle with a great heave, then passed a sword with belt and scabbard up to him. The sight of the long blade helped to quell the more raucous in the crowd, but more and more were pushing in, hissing and shouting insults. William looked down on them, his mouth a firm, pale line. He nodded to Derry, then clicked his mouth and dug in his heels, trotting close enough to a bawling collier to send the man lurching back into the arms of his mates. Derry had borrowed two good men from Lord Somerset to escort him. They drew swords as they kicked their mounts and rode, the threat clear.
Derry stood for a moment watching them go, until he sensed the spite of the crowd swing away from them, searching for another target. With a few quick steps, he disappeared back into the great hall and the gloom within. There in the shadows, away from their sight, he rested his head against cool plaster, wanting only to sleep.
Though it was dark outside, the Palace of Westminster was lit gold, every window gleaming with the light of hundreds of candles. The noble lords who had assembled to hear the king’s judgment on William de la Pole did not depart quickly. Their servants scuttled back and forth, taking messages between them as they walked the corridors or called for wine and sat to discuss the night’s events. Two clear factions emerged in just a short time after the king had retired. Around Lord Somerset and Lord Scales, a dozen other barons and earls gathered to discuss the evening and express their dismay at the fate of Suffolk.
York had strolled with the Neville lords to an empty room not far from the king’s chambers. Tresham and Cardinal Beaufort went with them, deep in conversation. Servants scurried around the group of eight men, lighting candles and a fire in the hearth, while still more went to fetch wine and food. As the evening wore on, a number of noble lords found their way to the open door and raised a glass to York’s health. They said nothing of importance, but they showed their support.
Tresham had been out and returned twice by the time he settled himself close to the fire, accepting a glass of hot wine with murmured thanks. He was frozen from walking outside and shivered as he sat back and picked up the thread of the conversation. The elder Richard Neville was speaking. Beyond his title as Earl of Salisbury, Tresham did not know the man well. Salisbury had estates and duties that kept him away on the border with Scotland and he was rarely seen in Parliament. Tresham sipped his wine gratefully, noting the number of men with connections to the Neville family. When York had married into that particular clan, he’d gained the support of one of the most powerful groups in the country. It had certainly not hurt the man to have the Nevilles behind
