He rode in sullen silence for the first hour. The rancour of the recent incident had stoked his temper almost to furnace bright. At least one of their number was openly amused at his discomfort, recounting with what he thought were overly dramatic embellishments his rescue to the rest of the band. That was another strike Ned had against Mistress Black. She needn’t be so openly gloating over his misfortune!
Ned was locked in a recurring loop of blame, recrimination and guilt, and a fair part of it was of his own making. He should have known that he couldn’t trust his uncle with something so risky. It was putting the man in an impossible situation, but then did he have a choice? Ned didn’t yet have any connections at court unless you counted Will Coverdale, who thought him dead and a ghost.
Referring to the knightly codes of loyalty and honour as recounted in the tales of chivalry should have seen him go to his uncle’s friend, Thomas Cromwell or petition their Good Lord, Cardinal Wolsey, but as events had just proved, even the slightest knowledge of this matter was too much. Anyway his daemon reminded him that after all the suffering he seen these last years, the Cardinal shouldn’t escape the coming retribution.
As for Uncle Richard he had to grudgingly admit that selling him out to everybody created the chaos he used to escape, and kept the canny lawyer square with the hungry pack of nobles.
Having sorted through that problem Ned moved on to consider the next stage of their venture. Three of their escort had lit small horn paned lanterns and spread out in front to watch for robbers and thieves. Though only an hour’s ride out of the city, it still paid to be cautious. Stopping for the latter part of the night at a wayside tavern would give a bit more time to figure out where the Royal Court was this week.
Ned kicked his horse into a faster trot and pulled up next to Rob Black. He found apologising difficult-it was his plan that had just collapsed and he’d put them all in greater danger. “Ah Rob, I’m sorry about that. I thought it would help.”
His friend waved it off and turned to him. Ned could see Rob’s smile in the dimming light. Unaccountably he looked amused and happy. “Don’t worry about it Ned. You got us out of the city and that’s no mean feat.”
Ned was puzzled-how could such a disaster be dismissed so easily? “That doesn’t matter. We can’t get to the Court. My uncle’s contacts could have got us in, but now…”
Black Rob lent across and gave him a hefty clap in the shoulder. “It’s all right. Meg knows how venal Lord Cesspool can be. Uncle Williams’ had a dispute with him a few months ago. She thought we should at least give you a chance. Anyway it forced my dear sister into a bit of honesty-she was the one who convinced More’s men to do the raid. Gave them all the details and twenty angels.”
This revelation had Ned whirling. Damn Margaret Black! She already knew Ned’s mission would fail. She let it happen and organised the rescue. Then it clicked. “What honesty?” he asked suspiciously.
“Why, Meg can get us into Lady Anne’s presence.” Then he coughed, embarrassed. “She…ahh she apparently supplies the Boleyn household with all manner of imported ahh…spices.”
This news flabbergasted Ned and he steamed away quietly. All this time and they could have just left the city and headed off with a guaranteed audience. This afternoon’s debacle never needed to have happened. “So where is Mistress Black leading us today.” That was said in bitter tones.
Rob Black though seemed to have missed the dripping sarcasm. “Grafton Regis, near Towcester on the road to Oxford. The King is staying at the royal demesne in Northamptonshire, hunting stags and bears or whatever are in those wild lands.”
Great thought Ned.
Just what his bruised self-esteem needed. He suppressed a groan. His chance for the leadership of this company had just crashed to ruins. This was going to be a very long few days full of sore trial and tribulation as Mistress Black gleefully rubbed in her victory, that was a very despondent prospect. Matched with the grim tidings from the White Lamb and this journey was going to appear like Dante’s passage through Hades. His daemon tried to perk him up by hinting that with such determined foes and such a long ride he could be presented with numerous opportunities to regain his natural position as commander. This time it didn’t work and Ned gloomily looked ahead into the falling night and silently cursed the cunning and forethought of Mistress Black.
Chapter Twenty Two-The Grafton Ride, Cosgrove Village
To reinforce Ned’s feelings of ominous gloom, the ride over the past few days had been a damp and uncomfortable experience so he was glad of the break at village of Cosgrove. The road from London north along Watling Street had been a very bruising experience, and he swore by several saints that if he survived this journey he’d spend less time dicing and more in the proper pursuits of a gentleman. Not even three hours spent in front of blazing fire at the Inn did much to warm him up or lessen the hobbling affliction of his cramped thighs. Demurely Mistress Black had offered to mix him up a poultice if his pain was as considerable as his waddled stride indicated. Ned had given his tormentor a frosty glare, then straightening up as much as his muscles would allow gave his best courtly bow and politely refused. By all the saints that display hurt and afterwards his cods felt bruised beyond repair, but he wasn’t going to swallow his pride and admit it, especially after her stunt with More’s pursuivants.
To rub salt into the wounds of his pride, the tale of his rescue had been repeated at least four times by Mistress Black and at each occasion it had their escort of Gryne’s men almost falling out of their saddles with laughter. Ned gave a smile that was barely skin deep at each retelling. He found nothing amusing about the mix up at all. Silently he promised that at the appropriate time Rob’s sister would pay for her mirth. However this journey was neither the time nor the place and despite provocation, he’d bitten his tongue and not told his companions exactly how much he had knocked back to stand by them. Though each time he’d been tempted! Both his daemon and angel had made snide comments about the trustworthiness of their pursuers, stating that his reward would be akin to jumping off the tower of St Paul’s.
Ned in at least a semblance of leadership had quizzed the locals at every halt about fellow travellers and the condition of the road ahead. So according to the Cosgrove innkeeper, Grafton was some three or four hours ride to the north, over good countryside. Even better news, the shire officials had recently repaired several miles of road. Considering the pounding quality of the journey so far these repairs were a real boon. Ned had become very tired of having to test each wide pool of water on the road for its bottomless potential. That meant if all went well they’d hit the royal estate well before sunset, then with a degree of justified foreboding he looked forward to seeing how valid Mistress Black’s claims were.
Cosgrove wasn’t a large place, a decent sized inn, a market square opposite the church and all under the easy sight of the local lord’s manor. That plus twenty houses completed this fragment of urban life. Like many villages along the road it served travellers and droving flocks heading to fill the gaping maw of London in the south as well as the needs of the surrounding farmers. That it served as a handy stopping point along the great north western route may have been the reason it had been recommended by the carters they passed. That aside, the Inn’s ale and food was much better than the horse piss and scullery leavings they’d been offered several miles back. So it had been a universally acclaimed decision to stop for a few hours.
Even more so when Rob had advised that one or more of their mounts could founder under the strain. Over the past two days the horses had been worn down both by the pace they’d maintained as well as by the rain and mud. It may have been possible to push on to Grafton Regis but best not to chance it, so his friend had swapped them for a fresh set and then immediately taken these to the local blacksmith’s to have them re-shod. Ned was impressed by the quiet confidence Rob Black displayed in any practical matter. It made a pleasant change to the complaints and flights of fancy of his sister. Now several days into their association of the Cardinal’s Angels, Ned found it difficult to comprehend why he would have bothered to put himself at risk for the ungrateful girl. All he could do was claim the blow to his head had briefly distorted his wits.