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Chapter Six


Alnwick Castle: Early November 1399

King Henry’s chickens were hatched smartly enough. Before the first frosts of November, the two great Percy magnates, Northumberland and Worcester, arrived at Alnwick with what could only be described as an air of smug achievement. They were soon closeted with Harry in the Earl’s private chamber, dispatching servants for ale and food.

I considered listening at the door but decided that it was beneath my dignity either to eavesdrop or to demand admittance. I would discover all in due time.

So what had been our reward for helping Lancaster to his throne? I imagined it was generous, hearing the Earl’s bark of laughter, Worcester’s smooth rumble, the sharp query from Harry as I passed the still-closed door an hour later.

A further hour and the exchange of opinion continued, with more ale sent for, and I could wait no longer. Thus I arrived with the ale, waylaying the servant and taking the flagon from him. There they were, the three Percy lords deep in admiration of their ill-gotten gains and no doubt planning a raid along the Scottish border on the strength of their new powers, driving me to make, in a spirit of spiced malice, a suitably deferential obeisance in the presence of such overwhelming magnate supremacy. With the deftness of any serving wench, I refilled the cups, then laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder, remaining behind him when he placed his hand to cover mine. Whether in warning or acknowledgement I was unsure. Worcester predictably rose to his feet with words of welcome. The Earl, equally predictably, keeping his seat, granted me a brusque nod of his head.

‘So tell me the good news, my lords. Has our payment for services rendered been acceptable?’

King Henry’s more-than-smooth accession still rubbed against my skin.

I took in the evidence at a quick glance. There were documents in the coffer on the table between them, some spilling out where they had been read and abandoned. Royal seals were evident, the figure easily recognisable as the King seated between two lions. How generous had King Henry been? I thought of perusing them for myself but that would spoil the Percy liking for pride and self-promotion. Harry was smiling at me as he took my arm, bringing me closer into the Percy council so that I perched on the arm of his chair. He pushed his own cup of ale into my hand.

‘Come and drink to our achievements.’ He rescued one of the documents, unrolling it for me to see. ‘I am confirmed as Warden of the East March and Governor of the castles at both Berwick and Roxburgh. I have also the castle of Bamburgh to hold for life.’ As he allowed the document to re-roll, I could not mistake the glow of satisfaction. ‘My father holds the West March as we would expect, and the town of Carlisle. Between us we will dominate the north in the name of King and Percy. We could not ask for more.’

‘My congratulations.’ Raising the cup in a smart little salute, I drank, as I must; it would be churlish not to do so, for it was a substantial reward indeed, to put a seal on Percy ambitions. All that Richard had allowed us had been confirmed by Lancaster as King, and more. Between them the Earl and Harry held the military and civilian power in the north in their combined fists. As well as the Earl being Constable of England.

The Earl was not moved to be too complacent. ‘It is regretful about Ralph Neville.’

From which I presumed that King Henry had not been backward in recognising the debt he owed to his brother by marriage. I waited. When the Earl merely grunted his displeasure through a mouthful of ale, it was Worcester who explained it for me, settling easily into his habitual laconic manner.

‘Neville has been made Marshal of England and given the lordship of Richmond for life. We would rather he had not – Richmond is a strategic castle – but it is a drop in the ocean. He’ll be no threat to us.’

So Henry was placing Neville as a tame hawk in the centre of the Percy raptors. Even though the office of Earl Marshal was a prestigious one, at the head of the King’s forces, as my lord of Worcester admitted, it was no real threat to us. Yet it was a resourceful move on the King’s part to keep a watchful eye on which prey the Percys might consider gobbling up.

‘And you, my lord?’ I asked Worcester. ‘What is your reward? Your repudiation of Richard was formidable, and your work for Henry as his attorney must be recognised. Are you content?’

‘The King has been generous. With five hundred marks to line my coffers every year for life, I am made Steward of Henry’s household.’

‘As well as Admiral of England, Treasurer and Keeper of the Privy Seal,’ Harry added. ‘You won’t have a moment’s time to spend your five hundred marks. Our King will keep you hopping.’

‘True.’ Worcester’s acceptance was calm, but I could see the sleek gratification writ large as he proceeded to re-roll the documents, neat as any legal man. ‘Our King has ambitions too, to make his mark on the country. He looks to secure his borders against intransigent Scots, and the Welsh, thus to bring in a period of golden peace and fair government. If that does not strengthen his support throughout the country, nothing will.’ His light smile might have held a touch of cynicism. ‘I will do my best to smooth his path.’

‘A fine achievement,’ I agreed, as indeed it was. All was much as I had expected, and I could not deny the Percy triumph. ‘Where is Richard in all this?’ I asked. ‘Will he be allowed to retire and live privately?’

Idly, picking up one of the rolls that had escaped Worcester’s attention, unfurling it, I read it in a cursory fashion, taking Harry’s seat when he rose to refill the cups, discovering a new one for himself. From the date it was one of the documents of intent, issued by Henry as King shortly after his coronation, with his signature and seal.

I allowed my eye to travel down the clerkly script.

‘King Henry intended to transfer Richard from the Tower to his own fortress at Pontefract Castle,’ Worcester was explaining from his position as head of the royal household. ‘I expect he’s there by now.’ He caught my glance. ‘He is in no danger. He’ll be well looked after.’

But I was no longer listening. It was not Richard that concerned me, for my eye had caught on a date, a date that surprised me. I spread the roll more firmly, flattening it with both hands, and read again.

‘Is this correct?’ I asked, my mind racing.

‘Yes.’ The Earl answered since it was pertinent to his promotions. ‘It confirms my supremacy in the West March and at Carlisle.’ His mouth twisted. ‘In case there is any who will question it. It is stated clear enough.’

‘Yes. It does confirm it. It is very clear. It is the date that gives me food for some uncomfortable thought.’

‘There’s naught to concern you. The last day of October. A week ago.’

‘As I see.’ I looked up at the authoritative visage. ‘But this is confirmation of an earlier agreement.’ I looked at Harry. ‘Did you know about this?’

‘What is there to know?’

Harry shrugged his ignorance. Worcester was unimpressed; Northumberland blandly dismissive as he held out his hand for the document. It was a direction to parliament much to the Earl’s benefit, and the date to me was most pertinent. Retaining it, I read aloud:

Henry by the Grace of God, King of England and of France.

Since our very dear and faithful cousin Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland, by force of our commission made unto him under our seal of the Duchy of Lancaster has had the custody of our castle and town of Carlisle and of the West March from the second day of August last past, we order you that to our same cousin you should cause to be paid from our treasure for the duration of the said time…

I skipped down the detail of payments.

Given under our privy seal at Westminster on the 31st day of October the first year of our reign.

‘I see, my lord,’ I addressed the Earl, ‘that my cousin Henry made you Warden of the West March and handed over Carlisle to you in August, under his seal of the Duke of Lancaster. Before he was crowned King. Could he do that, as Duke of Lancaster, when the crown and the disposition of the March still belonged to Richard?’

The Earl had no hesitation in his reply. ‘Clearly he decided that he could.’

So Lancaster was already usurping sovereign power. Such a grant was assuredly disempowering Richard long before his crown was taken from him. Harry placed a warning hand on my arm as he felt me shift beside him, but I shook it off. I might accept the Earl’s becoming Constable of England. He was well fitted to be so. But this. This incriminating date thickened the atmosphere in the chamber.

‘He bought you, didn’t he?’ I accused. ‘He bought you twice over. Once with the position of Constable, but long before that when he did not have the power to make this promise, when it was not within the scope of his authority. You knew what Lancaster intended from the very beginning, even as he took the oath at Doncaster. He never intended to keep it, to stand aside for any man with a better claim to be King, as you knew full well. And you made Percy support conditional. Of course you did. You accepted Lancaster’s grant and condoned the audacious assumption of royal prerogative, to protect your family interests against the Nevilles and tighten your grip on the March. It was all signed and sealed long before Richard even returned from Ireland.’

The Earl was suavely confident in his response. ‘I’ll make no apology. I took what was on offer.’

‘You knew that he would break that foolery of an oath!’

‘And you were unaware of what Lancaster intended? You are not so naive, Elizabeth.’

‘Is it naivety to believe that he should not be King? No wonder you were at the forefront in helping to get Richard securely into Henry’s hands at Conwy Castle. I knew you were self-serving, my lord, but to be tight-knit with him from the beginning when you knew he had not the right… You told him you had a price at Doncaster. By God he paid it, and your hands are smeared with filth.’

‘Enough, Elizabeth.’

‘It is not nearly enough. It was all deceit and double-dealing, all empty, broken promises, which you condoned. And you expect me to accept it, because it has worked out so well for Percy supremacy.’

I was on my feet, finding it impossible to sit, when the Earl leaned across the rolls, all but spitting out the words.

‘You will be quick enough to accept when you benefit from our power. When Harry steps into my shoes, you will be indeed Queen of the North, with no one to challenge it.’

He knew well the road to take to appeal to my ambitions, for myself as a Percy wife, and for my Mortimer connections, but I would not be distracted.

‘Your son is as deceitful as his father,’ I retaliated. Perhaps Harry’s possible perfidy hurt more than all else.

Oh, I had accepted that there had been true justification for Lancaster’s return to England, but the promises he had made on oath that day had been as ephemeral as cobwebs, dispersed in a gale. There never would be a worthier King in his mind. Lancaster had intended to seize the throne from the very beginning; the Earl had taken the payment for his allegiance long before Lancaster was King. All this incriminating document did was ratify our involvement after the event. And Harry? Had he known? Had his talk of a Mortimer King been as empty as his father’s?

As if reading my mind, Worcester said gently: ‘There never was any thought of the Earl of March taking Richard’s crown, Elizabeth. Who would have supported him? Lancaster had the power and the opportunity, as well as the will of the great magnates of the land behind him. The barrenness of Lancaster’s oath is irrelevant. It served its purpose in winning men to his side. The crown marked his victory, and we are beneficiaries.’

The smooth argument of a man of law. Without an excuse I left them, distancing myself as far as possible, climbing the steps to the wall-walk on the barbican where we had once stood to look out over the extent of the March. I turned full circle. Our power over these lands, as far as the eye could see and beyond, was so much stronger but the Mortimers had been betrayed.

I had no wish to talk to Harry.

Except that he followed me. I heard his footsteps, saw the swirl of his hair emerging above the stonework.

‘Did you know?’ I demanded even before he had climbed to be on a level with me.

‘Of the agreement, no. That was between my father and Lancaster.’ He had the sense to keep his distance from me, instead hitching himself to a seat between two of the crenels.

It was some consolation, but barely enough.

‘It is not just.’

‘No, it is not.’

His acceptance merely stoked my anger. ‘So all ends are neatly tied. You will rule the north and stand at Lancaster’s side.’ I could not name him King at that moment. ‘The Percy name is polished into brilliance.’

‘It is and we will do the work well. I’m sorry that all this disturbs you.’ He turned his head, squinting at me in the low sunlight. ‘I am sorry that you scowl at me.’

I made to walk past him, although where I could take refuge I had no idea, except that he slid from his seat and caught my arm.

‘I don’t necessarily turn a blind eye to what Lancaster did.’

‘No? You’re the only Percy hereabouts who does not!’

‘Let me speak.’ His voice had sharpened. ‘I don’t sanction it. My father does, even my uncle, but I don’t. I think that a sacred oath should be kept. I think that the wrong King has been crowned. But we can do nothing to change that. I acknowledge what is just and right for your family, Elizabeth, but as my uncle said – it was never a possibility.’

‘It was our support that made it possible. There you were, bowing and scraping before him as soon as he had landed. And your father sold his soul for the power it would give him. Did you enjoy being kingmakers? Now you have the royal House of Lancaster eating out of your hand. The royal Lancaster arse is resting on a Percy cushion. And you will enjoy the proceeds.’

‘So will you. So will our children.’

I thought of my son Hal, inheritor of all this power and prestige.

‘Yes. I know that. That makes it so much worse. And I am ashamed.’

‘You will forgive me if I cannot share that shame. We did what needed to be done.’

‘God forgive you for it.’

I tugged my wrist from his hold and left him to survey the rewards of his treachery. Harry had driven a wedge between us, for which I could not readily forgive him. My heart was a lead weight in my chest, and there was no one to whom I could unburden my disappointment.

Queen of the North: sumptuous and evocative historical fiction from the Sunday Times bestselling author

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