“Well done Rob! This would have been for naught without you!”
Despite the continuing frowning censure of his sister, Rob seemed to take the praise well and visibly swelled with pride.
“Where are we?”
That was the third time he’d asked and once more it was the efficient Mistress Black who answered while packing away various vials and flasks in a her small satchel. “At the Crown’s Hart in a village called Grafton Regis, half a mile south of the manor where the King is staying.”
“Well there’s no time like the present to see the King.” Ned strained to push himself up using the post behind him as support.
Rob came to his aid and without visible effort picked him up. According to the opinion of Mistress Black, Skelton and Don Sebastian were incapable of following, though that left two or more of their pursers still in the chase. As far as Ned was concerned that was two too many. They were running out of time. It was a half hour ride to the safety of the King’s presence, and they must try now.
Leaning on Rob and trailed by Mistress Black who was joined by two of Gryne’s Men as escort, Ned limped into the courtyard and over towards their horses. It was then that Ned beheld it and his mouth dropped open in surprise. It was just magnificent standing there in all its equine glory at about fifteen hands high, the most beautiful horse he had ever seen-Don Juan Sebastian’s chestnut stallion.
“H-how?” And that was about as far as he got. He limped over and let the beast sniff his hand before running it softly down the beautifully arched neck. He felt velvety suppleness with the suggestion of strong muscles underneath.
Rob lent across and checked the girth straps. “Meg suggested that it would serve as payment for her services and the affray. Don Sebastian readily agreed even signing a bill of exchange-to you.”
Ned reminded himself to keep a wary distance from Rob’s sister if ever he came into a modest bequest or else he’d find himself signed away to debtor’s prison. That thought didn’t stop him from running his hand down silky smooth coat of the horse’s neck to his massive shoulder. This was certainly some compensation. A horse like this must be worth two hundred or so angels, though considering the look of him, any lord would willingly part with four hundred.
It was then Ned thought of the elegancy of Mistress Black’s solution. It would be impossible for the Spaniard to claim that the beast had been stolen or he’d been cony-catched. To do so would make his part in the ambush common knowledge. Ned chuckled at the idea. Don Juan Sebastian would be down on two counts. Firstly there was attempted assault on the King’s road. That was a hanging offence all by itself, but the second truly was more damaging to him personally. Don Juan Sebastian had planned and then failed to pull off the perfect trap against a motley collection of the despised English. If that were to get about his reputation would be in tatters. Ned was really going to enjoy riding this horse. It would go well with the poniard the Spaniard had so thoughtfully provided him.
Rob returned his discarded belt, sword and the cursed satchel before kindly giving him a boost up into the saddle followed by their remaining party mounting the rest of their horses.
“Let get this over with.” Ned tried to sound brave and determined, but distinct overtones of pain and weariness spoiled the statement.
It had only been a single night in the village, but in that time Mistress Black had found out more details about the place than any spy. In the short distance to the manor Ned was given all the local tales including how it was the ancestral home of the Woodvilles, His Majesty’s mother’s family. Ned had to think for a moment to place that in context and realised that it must mean the home of Elizabeth Woodville who’d secretly married King Edward IV. There were quite a lot of tales about her. She was reputed to have been a beauty, but this was overshadowed by rumours of witchcraft. It was safer not to mention those tales here-the King’s majesty was very touchy about his ancestry.
Mistress Black had also gained a comprehensive report on the progress of the King’s rebuilding program. Damn, she was better than any spy. As befitting the expansive qualities of His Sovereign Majesty, the manor was being extended and the view from the lane verified this, with a mass of scaffolding and the rhythmic ringing of hammer on chisel from the stone masons.
Ned was tired, sore and his shoulder kept on throbbing. It should have been so simple-just ride up, announce that they bore a message for Lady Anne, wave the Cardinal’s seal if needed and that was it. Of course real life didn’t prove to be quite so simple.
As expected the royal guards stopped them at the gate. They relayed their business and one of the pair walked off to find someone in authority to dump it onto so he could go back to looking intimidating and scratching his bum.
It was a quarter of an hour or just under before they had an answer to their request. Twenty armed guards marched into view, ten at least equipped with the formidable war bow. Just to give meaning to their intension the bows were strung and arrows held at rest though ready for the draw. The captain stepped forward, and in tones that brooked no delay, commanded them to dismount and hand over their arms. After strolling into the Tower with narry a glance, this struck Ned as being more like the security he expected around the Monarch of England, though a sideways glance at Mistress Black gave him a fleeting moment of doubt. She looked worried.
Small groups of courtiers stood to one side loudly boasting of their kills during the morning’s hunt and turned to watch as they were escorted past them to the large manor house. Complaining servants carried tapestry rolls and clusters of workmen covered in fine stone dust were hammering in propping beams of timber. The royal progress was busier than the Tower. Ned was amazed. According to the tales of Will Coverdale, which he had often considered largely embroidered for their benefit, this should all be stately order and decorum.
Once inside they were made to wait in an antechamber outside the great hall. Ned could see why the place was being rebuilt-it must be too cramped to suit the proclaimed grandeur of the King. The wood panelling however was very attractive, still having that mid-golden sheen with the pale flecks providing the highlights. His uncle would really like to see this. It would give him ideas for the house at St Lawrence Jewry.
While they waited and in Ned’s case slumped against the wall between a pair of Gryne’s Men, there was frenzied flurry of to-ing and fro-ing by clerks who scurried past them eyes fixed on rolls of parchment, all too busy to spare a glance at the latest petitioners. The King may be on a royal progress but the management of the kingdom must continue. At the brief command of a guard liveried in Tudor white and green they were separated from Gryne’s men and escorted through a set of double doors into the great hall. At last!
Chapter Twenty Five-The Cardinal’s Good Servant, Grafton Regis Manor
The guard closed the doors while a further two escorted them the several paces to the centre of the hall. A royal functionary was holding court at the far end. Seated behind a long table he was the centre of the frenzied activity by the assortment of clerks, who continued to whisper quietly and present papers for approval. As they came closer Ned began to tremble. The gentleman that was the focus of attention was well-dressed in fur trimmed robes that emphasised his large shoulders and impressive bulk. It was said that his father had been a blacksmith and that when he was younger he had followed the French armies as they had marched across Italy fighting the Imperials. The official had a strong face that spoke of determination and thoroughness, and Ned knew those features well. And so he should, after all the man was a frequent visitor to his uncle’s house and in most respects could be even considered their ‘good lord’, more so than his true master, the Lord Chancellor.