Games of Otterburn 1388 (22 page)

He hated politics. He hated war. Yet he was constantly embroiled in it all. His father was Edward III, a warrior king known as the ‘Black Prince’ with great honors at his back. Standing in his boots was all but impossible for young Richard to accomplish. He liked art and architecture. He liked the romance of living and not by what he could glean from it at the point of the sword. And yet he endured in his public alien world that was not of his making or of his true interest. He endured for he did not want to be known as the last Plantagenet king and a miserable failure at that.

Being with Anne in those private moments was the sum total of his ability to hide away. He cherished every minute of their time together.

“A day to remember,” she said.

“I remember all my days with you, my love,” he said coming to the edge of her bed and sitting beside her. He looked deep into her eyes and prayed that his enemies would not take her away from him, too.

Tears welled in his eyes for the fear of it. They had taken every counselor that was close to him and put them to the sword or the rope. They were all dead. His favor with his nobles had run its short course and had turned on him.

“What are you thinking my love?” she asked when she saw his mind adrift in a sea of troubles.

“
Radcot
Bridge
,” he answered quietly.
“
Radcot
Bridge
where Dear Robert lost his war for me.”

“I have no trust for those five earls,” she admitted. “They should have not gone against you.”

“No need why you should trust them,” he replied, “They are ambitious beyond the girth of their britches and yet they rein over me.
Me, the king of all
England
!”

She rubbed his arm and gave it a pat in understanding.

He smiled a bit at her support for without it he would have no one on earth to plead his predicament before man or God. She was his best and last friend in the world.

“What will you do, my love?” she asked quietly.

He crawled back under the coverings with her. “I don’t know,” he admitted in almost a whisper.

They were quiet for a while bathing in each others company but Richard was clearly bathing as well in his own dark thoughts of his pretend world others called reality.

“I wanted to do something brave for my countrymen,” he said after a while.

“Yes?” she encouraged.

“The Scotch are
raidin
’ into Northumberland again,” he started, “I wanted to go there and kill them all or at least run them back to
Scotland
where they belong.”

He sat up on one elbow to release his frustration. “I asked Henry for permission and he gave it with the proviso that Arundel escorted me.”

“And?” she asked.

“Arundel refused,” he said. “I had already sent a message to the Percys that I would be there.”

“They wanted to publicly embarrass you,” she advised. “They draw you in and then spring the trap. You are the caught mouse… you are not the King of England but their king to do with what they will.”

He suddenly jumped up in anger and cursed the heavens then he knew in his heart she was right. He calmed and quietly declared, “I’m not very good at
realizin
’ their traps. They are too full of cleverness and too full of deceit.”

She hugged him tight knowing his political state was crushing him to literal death.

“You will be King of England again soon, my love,” she said soothingly. “You must trust my words we will be king and queen of all
England
and its far flung realms sooner than you will know. Be aware my friend. Be aware my love for I speak the truth.”

The pair was quiet for a long time more.

They both were anxious about the knock on the door that was bound to come, generally sooner than later, that brought them back to their kind of hell.

August 16 - Late Morning

Newcastle-upon-Tyne

“I believe I can almost hear what’s
bein
’ said at the top of the wall,” remarked James Douglas as he stood in the silage field outside West Gate. The remaining upstanding stalks of grain were blowing away from the wall and so were the words being carried.

“Best speak softly, Milord,” warned George Dunbar pulling the top of the stem off the stalk and eating it.

“
A’likin
’ grains, do ye?” said
Douglas
as a tease.

George nodded with a slight smile. He knew he was being teased.

On the top of the wall close to the right tower to the gate house the two Scots saw Sir Ralph’s head appear over the ramparts.

“He’s
reportin
’ to Hotspur,” said George.

Douglas
agreed as they continued to watch.

“They want us to pick the next event,” relayed Ralph.

“Next
?...
Event?” said Hotspur.

“My reaction as well, brother,”

“What’re we fixed to do?” asked Ogle.

“Why don’t we just pour out there and kill them all?” suggested Matthew Redman.

“That’s exactly what they want,” said Sir Henry… “That’s why they came here to trick us out so that the greater part of the Scotch will come from the wood or somewhere and the tide will be turned.

“They do seem to want us to be taunted out mighty bad,” opined Ralph. “But I’d like to try anyway!”

“Remember, brother. They want us to make that try.”

“What about an event… We could trick them with a feigned event,” said Redman.

“You ain’t got the brains of a drop of piss, Redman!” growled Henry shaking his finger in the man’s face.

Redman was affronted. He knew better than to pick an open fight and so backed away from the close knot.

Henry glared at Redman and glad he had blown up thinking he would not have to listen to Redman any more. At least that was what he hoped.

“Where’s that Scotch spy we caught yesterday
lurkin
’
here’bouts
?” asked Henry curling his mouth up in a delighted snarl.

“Got him in the goal,” said Sir Ralph Eure.

“Still alive?” asked Henry.

“Ne’er told us
nothin
’,” said Eure.

“Fetch him!” ordered Henry coldly.

“You’re not
plannin
’ anything foolish, are you?” questioned Robert Ogle.

“
Plannin
’ an event for our Scotch visitors,” said Henry holding to his snarled expression.

Sheriff Ralph Eure left the wall walk for the gaol.

“And for that do I weary, Milord,” replied Ogle, unmindfully pulling at his grey chin beard.

“Weary not old friend,” returned Henry, “‘Tis my responsibility and it won’t hurt
you
in the least.”

Ogle was old enough to know when trouble was brewing and to his mind Henry Percy was about to make the second mistake of the last moments. He turned to Governor Matthew Redman who was sulking against the wall whose eyes were fixed on Hotspur and hate was jabbing out like invisible spears of death.

“You shall see how those Scotch get riled at
my
event,” said Henry to Robert Ogle. “I will not lose twice to these whoresons!

Adara loosed the buckle on Mungan’s trews.

The giant was confused with feelings.
 
His nose surely hurt like he imagined hell must be and yet Adara’s cool hand on his
pillicock
felt better than he had ever had it feel before.

Her hand she replaced with her mouth and he could be in heaven already for all he knew.

He
laid
back in the shadows of the trees. It was only the two of them as he seemed to explode in a great spate of pleasure. She came up with a mouthful of seaman and barely got it spit on his belly shirt when she started to giggle and laugh enthusiastically.

He was breathing hard.

“Ye’ll not be
a’thinkin
’ ‘bout yer nose for a wee while now!” she cried with delight.

“Not be,” agreed Mungan still out of breath.

“Now, ye’ll be
a’killin
’ me an English for his boots?” she said showing a sweet smile.

“When I find one with boots to fit yer feet,” agreed Mungan.

She squealed again delighted and kissed him on the mouth.

He thought her kiss tasted odd but he liked it all the same.

“Was
goin
’ to get yer boots anyway,” admitted Mungan.

Adara shrugged and
laid
supine beside Mungan. “Perhaps,” she said “but maybe now… sooner.”

On the wall young Simon the spy for the Scots was dragged up the stone steps by the rope around his neck.

“Bring him to the wall!” shouted Hotspur. “Been
a’waitin
’ for you, spy!”

Douglas
watched and listened and knew it was theater for him.

Henry pushed the lad’s head betwixt the spaces in the battlements.

“You
hearin
’ me Douglas?!” he shouted down.

“I hear
ye
, Hotspur,” replied James flatly. “I don’t know the lad.”

George moved a step or two closer to
Douglas
. “He’s my spy,” said George.
“Sent him out three days back.”

James turned toward George, “Yer spy?”

“Aye,” he admitted.

“They’ve got some devilment afoot,” said James Douglas.

“I fear they’ve made him talk,” said George.