The Duke nodded. ‘So! King Louis’s spy-masters duly found their young man, who took ship for England. And then what happened?’
‘He landed at Southampton, made his way to Chilworth Manor very early in the morning of the day that Matthew set out for London, followed him, probably caught up and fell into conversation with him in the forest and then, at the right moment, killed him and dragged the body deep into the undergrowth, where he buried it. I suspect that d’Amboise also buried the saddle and the horse’s other accoutrements before turning the animal loose. It would soon be seized upon, most gratefully, by one of the woodlanders.’
There was a long silence inside the tent. Outside, sentries called softly to one another, a horse whinnied, the growl of muttered conversation disturbed the darkness as sleepless men tried vainly to take their ease.
At last the Duke said slowly the one thing I had been dreading to hear, ‘You haven’t yet told me, Roger, why the French should desire my death.’
I heard Timothy’s quick, involuntary intake of breath and it was all I could do not to look at him for guidance.
‘Your… Your Grace,’ I stuttered helplessly, ‘I– er– I …’
Duke Richard’s eyes never left my face, but suddenly he took pity on me and smiled. ‘Peace, peace. I’m not going to ask you. It’s not that I think you don’t know, but I’m beginning to have my own suspicions. If I am right – although I pray to God that I’m not – then it is a subject better left alone. What’s to come will be between the King and me.’ He stared grimly in front of him, the jaw hardening, the eyes like steel. Then he roused himself and tried to smile. ‘I’ve kept you both too long from your rest. Tomorrow we set out towards St Quentin. It will be a wearisome march.’ He rose and held out his hand for us to kiss.
Once outside the tent, Timothy exhaled a long-drawn-out breath. ‘Thank God that’s done with. Trust His Grace,’ he added proudly, ‘to be in step and also to be wishful of sparing us embarrassment. What will you do now then, chapman? Your job here’s finished. You’re free to go. Not that you’ve ever been otherwise. No one would have kept you against your will, but you know that. Are you off back to England in the morning?’
I shook my head. ‘I’ll march with you as far as St Quentin and see what happens. I can’t return home without knowing whether or not my suspicions have some foundation.’
‘Yours and the Duke’s,’ Timothy grinned, clapping me on the shoulder. ‘Very well then, we’d better get some sleep. Let’s find a good fire to warm us.’
Some days later, as the English army approached the walls of St Quentin, the city guns boomed out over the countryside, killing several of our men and horses. The Count of St Pol had apparently returned to his rightful allegiance. And within the hour messengers arrived with the news that King Louis and his army had advanced as far as Compiègne.
That was on the eleventh day of August. Within the week, English and French ambassadors met at Amiens to talk of peace and the following day, the Eve of Saint Hyacinth, they returned to St Quentin with King Louis’s propositions. In return for the prompt withdrawal of the English from France and a seven years’ truce he offered King Edward an immediate payment of 75,000 crowns and an annuity of 50,000 crowns; the Dauphin and the Princess Elizabeth were to be betrothed; and finally both kings were to go to the other’s aid if either was threatened in the future by rebellious subjects.
King Edward accepted and only two of his captains opposed him – the Duke of Gloucester and Louis de Bretaylle.
‘Well, you were right, chapman,’ Timothy said, as we strolled together around the walls of St Quentin, its guns now fallen silent. ‘All hell’s broken loose in His Highness’s tent, with our lord and Captain de Bretaylle accusing him of breaking faith. As I passed the royal pavilion a while ago I heard one of them shouting that although in his time King Edward has won nine victories, this is a disgrace which will outweigh them all.’
‘What about the other lords?’ I asked. ‘Does none of them condemn His Highness?’
‘What? With King Louis scattering pensions and expensive gifts among them as liberally as leaves fall from trees in autumn? There’s no chance of that. But he won’t bribe Duke Richard and that makes all the rest of ’em furiously angry. John Morton’s always hated the Duke and he’ll dislike him even more after this. Anyway, be prepared to move, lad. We’re off to Amiens it seems, to be royally entertained by the French while the final details of the treaty are hammered out by the lawyers.’
‘And Julien d’Amboise? What’s to happen to him?’
Timothy’s lip curled. ‘Oh, he’s to be treated as a prisoner of war and returned to his family. It wouldn’t be politic to execute the son of the Comte d’Amboise. But messengers have already been despatched to London with orders for Ralph Boyse’s arrest. He, poor sod, won’t escape the hangman’s noose. But that’s the way the world turns, chapman, as you well know.’
I nodded. ‘And as I predicted, it was all for nothing. King Edward won’t be influenced on this occasion by his brother.’
Nor was he swayed by the arrival of a furious Charles of Burgundy, who thundered into the camp the following day and accused His Highness, in tones so loud that everyone could hear, of perfidy and ended by taunting him with the victories won by former English kings over the French. Crécy, Poitiers, Agincourt were names tossed into the bright summer air. Then the Duke departed, refusing to have anything to do with the peace.
We marched to Amiens where, outside the town, the inhabitants, acting on their sovereign’s orders, had set up hundreds of tables laden with food and drink. We all fell on the food like ravening wolves and then lay about in the meadows for the rest of the day, our bellies distended, and more than half-drunk. The whore-houses were also opened up to the English troops and a long procession of men staggered in and out of the main gates until they closed at curfew. I hasten to record that I wasn’t one of them. Brothels and their inmates have never tempted me. You can catch too many unpleasant diseases from them and I need to be fit.
No one bothered me or expected me to perform any duties. All those in attendance upon Duke Richard knew by now that I was not really of his household and would be quitting their ranks very soon. The Duke, his face ravaged by disappointment and anger with his eldest brother, called me to his tent and asked what he could do for me, but he already knew the answer.
‘Nothing, Your Grace. I’m happy as I am.’
‘If you won’t join my service or allow me to help you in any other way, at least let me make you the gift of a horse. You could travel further, sell more, on horseback.’
I considered the offer for a few moments, but then declined. ‘Your Grace is generous, but I prefer my own two legs. They’re more reliable.’
He laughed, but the sound was forced, as though he and mirth had become strangers. ‘In short, you refuse to be beholden to me.’
I regarded him steadily. ‘I prefer to be my own man.’
He sighed. ‘And I respect you for it. If only,’ he added bitterly, ‘more men thought as you do. Do you tarry long enough to go to the bridge at Picquigny tomorrow?’
‘Picquigny, my lord? Where’s that?’
‘A little village near here, on the banks of the River Somme, where King Louis and my brother will meet to sign this inf– this treaty.’
‘And will you go, my lord?’
‘No, but those of my men who wish to may do so. It might be a spectacle worth seeing and I should not wish to prevent them.’
‘Perhaps I shall go as well then. God be with Your Grace, now and always.’ I knelt and kissed his hand. The fingers were as cold as ice.