Owen (15 page)

The cold morning air freezes in my lungs but we keep a good pace until we cross what I suppose is Wandsworth Common before slowing to walk again. The pinkish tint of dawn begins to brighten the sky and it will soon be light, so the risk of being spotted is increasing with every passing minute.

Nathaniel glances back towards the river as if expecting to see soldiers chasing after us. ‘Where are we heading now?’ He sounds out of condition.

I must keep an eye on him but continue at a brisk pace. ‘I thought to head due west, towards Windsor, about twenty miles.’

‘Are you going to give yourself in at Windsor?’

I shake my head at the thought. ‘They would send us back to Newgate. We could make it to Kingston by noon, then buy horses and press on to Wallingford.’

Thomas is uncertain. ‘Why Wallingford?’

‘Windsor is too close to London. We know the Wallingford area well and should be able to find a bed for the night.’

Nathaniel stares up at the wintry sky. ‘We are lucky it’s dry now but I fear the weather is going to change soon and we’re not dressed for a long journey.’

We continue on foot until we reach the busy town of Kingston, where I stay out of sight while Thomas and Nathaniel use some of my remaining money to buy horses and cloaks to keep out the winter chill. Keen to put a good distance from any pursuers, we make good time on the back roads towards Wallingford, riding until a bright moon appears in the sky. I am tired by the time we reach a popular stopping place at a busy crossroads on the outskirts of the town.

Nathaniel finds an inn with a room and after stabling our horses we look for something to eat. Dimly lit and low-ceilinged, the inn is warmed by a roaring log fire and full of travellers drinking and sharing stories. Several men are gambling while others sing with drunken enthusiasm.

A woman with a low-cut bodice and rouged cheeks catches my eye and gives me a welcoming smile. I see Thomas scowl and laugh as I realise she makes a good living from passing travellers. We manage to find an empty table in the corner and the portly innkeeper, wearing a grubby apron, serves us with steaming bowls of meaty stew and tankards of strong ale.

I allow myself to relax a little for the first time since leaving Newgate. Although we are still some way from the relative safety of Wales, it is good to be on the road after the misery of the gaol. The landlord returns when we finish our meal and replaces our empty bowls with an earthenware jug of ale. I nod thanks and hand him a silver half-groat in payment, then take the heavy jug and pour us all another drink, as the salty stew has made me thirsty.

Nathaniel raises his tankard in a toast. ‘Here’s to a safe journey!’

Thomas touches his tankard to Nathaniel’s. ‘And to seeing Wales again, God willing.’

 
‘
Fortune's Wheel
turns again.’ I look at my friends. ‘To new adventures!’ Our tankards clunk together, splashing ale on the battered oak table.

Nathaniel is curious. ‘What is our plan when we reach Wales?’

‘I thought to head for the island of Ynys Môn off the northern coast.’ I take another mouthful of ale. ‘I’m hoping that’s too far for the duke’s men to travel. With luck they will soon forget about me.’ In truth I doubt it but feel it is time for our luck to change.

‘It should be easy enough to buy a passage on a ship to Ireland if they come after you.’ Thomas sounds thoughtful. ‘If they don’t, I’m sure we will find plenty to keep us busy. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing the place after all these years. I may even be able to track down some relatives.’

‘We can earn our keep.’ Nathaniel looks reassured. ‘I would like to visit Ireland—if you do go there I’ll be happy to accompany you.’

‘I hope it won’t be necessary, but I will be glad of your company Nathaniel.’

Thomas drains his tankard and places it on the table. ‘We’d better turn in, as there’s a long ride ahead.’

I agree. ‘We should be able to reach the border tomorrow—then I want to head across the mountains, away from the coast road.’

We check on the horses and retire for the night but I lay awake for a while, trying to remember what I can of my parent’s home in
Penmynydd
. There is nothing for me there now, so I will settle in the nearby town of Beaumaris. I recall the narrow streets and the long seafront with its imposing castle and stony beach. As a boy I sailed to the mainland on one of the many little fishing boats that ply their trade in the often treacherous Menai Strait. I drift off to sleep dreaming of my parents and wishing they were there to greet me on my return.

A bright lantern shines in my face and I wake to the sound of men shouting and heavy boots clattering on wooden floors. I rub my eyes and find the room full of armed men. One is tying Nathaniel’s hands with a length of rope and another is arguing loudly with Thomas.

‘Owen Tudor?’ A bearded man stares at me with questioning, blood-shot eyes.

I nod and am rewarded by being roughly pulled from the straw mattress that serves as my bed and pushed against the wall next to Thomas. I see right away these are not the king’s men. They look like farm workers. One is armed with a cudgel and another carries an old sword with a broken blade.

I dimly recognise the man and struggle to recall his name.

Nathaniel beats me to it. ‘Thomas Darwent. You worked at Wallingford Castle.’

The man nods and studies me again. ‘Wasn’t certain it was you, Tudor, until I recognised your accomplice.’

‘What do you want with us?’

He shows blackened teeth. ‘I hope to be well rewarded for capturing you.’

‘I can reward you, if you let us go.’

‘How much?’

I sense I can’t trust Thomas Darwent but dread the prospect of returning to Newgate Gaol. I take my purse from its hiding place and hold it in front of him. ‘Let us go and this is yours.’

Darwent lunges forward, snatching the purse from my grip. ‘You probably stole this.’ He turns to his men. ‘Take them to the castle. I’ll be happier once they’re safely locked up.’

My hands are tied behind my back and I am dragged bodily out into the cold dawn by two men and lifted into a cart, soon to be joined by Thomas and Nathaniel. The men may not be professional soldiers but they planned their attack well. I stare at my friends and feel a surge of remorse. I should have separated from them when I could, as once again I have led them into danger.

* * *

I find it strange to be confined in the familiar surroundings of Wallingford Castle, a place with so many happy memories. The castle was once the county gaol and still functions as a prison, with a row of securely locked iron-barred cells. Although we are the only inmates, we know Wallingford is a temporary home. Nathaniel has already discovered from the men guarding them that it will not be long before Lord Beaumont arrives from London to escort us back to Newgate. We also learn the castle has a new constable, Sir William de la Pole, Earl of Suffolk, an ambitious man who commanded the English army at the siege of Orleans.

I brighten a little at the news. ‘Suffolk is a supporter of Cardinal Beaufort. There is hope he might listen to our case.’

‘If only to spite Duke Humphrey,’ Nathaniel agrees. ‘We have nothing to lose by trying.’

Thomas has been listening to our exchange. ‘What do you have in mind?’

‘We have to ask for something which is in his power. Sir Walter Hungerford is still constable at Windsor, so I will ask if you can both be released on surety and for me to be transferred to Windsor. It will be a lot easier to bring your case to the attention of the king once I am there,’ I grin to my friends. ‘I could be a free man in a month.’

The Duke of Suffolk refuses to see me and once more we find ourselves in Newgate Gaol. Through some oversight I am now with the others in the communal cells known of as the wards. I am relieved to be spared the loneliness of my solitary cell, although I fear what will happen if my former keepers find I have returned, especially Master Griffin, who once threatened me with his iron-studded truncheon.

The problem we now face is the lack of any money to bribe the keepers to remove the shackles and chains fitted to prisoners who might otherwise escape. We also have no way to pay for a mattress or extra food. At first this means trying to sleep on the hard ground, although it is not long before the need for survival drives us to take unguarded bedding from other prisoners. I curse our luck when I discover the stolen mattresses are infested with tiny fleas and biting lice, which keep us all awake at night.

Nathaniel tries to see the positive side of it. ‘At least our poverty means we won’t be beaten up and robbed.’

I know the truth of Nathaniel’s words. We are fortunate to be of no interest to the dangerous gangs that roam the wards, as I see one man being beaten half to death before being robbed. The keepers turn a blind eye to such acts of violence and although my instinct is to help, there is nothing we can do. At best, it would earn me a beating and make me a target for the bored thugs.

My teeth feel loose due to the poor diet of pottage and stale crusts, and I find a small white bone in my stew but know any complaint will only bring a beating. Fortunately Thomas helps to improve our rations by hearing confessions and praying for those facing death sentences. Despite my friend’s efforts I am becoming concerned at how all three of us are losing weight.

For four long months we simply survive from one day to the next. A virulent illness sweeps through the wards and the stench of vomit and worse becomes overpowering. Nathaniel is the first to succumb. Thomas tries to nurture him through his sickness but Nathaniel’s strength is waning as surely as a candle burns to the end of its wick.

I can see the sweat glistening on my sleeping friend’s brow as the fever takes its deadly hold. ‘What can we do, Thomas?’

‘Pray—and trust that God still has some use for him.’

‘He needs to get out of here. Can you persuade the keepers to have him moved?’

Thomas shakes his head. ‘It’s no use. Before we escaped, perhaps, but now we are marked men.’

‘I’ll give him half my ration until he’s better, it’s the least I can do.’

I wait for Thomas to reply but he sits in silence and stares into space, his sense of humour gone. I feel my protruding ribs and wonder how long we have to wait for the council to make their deliberations. I curse Duke Humphrey, as I suspect he is content to leave me to rot in Newgate, if he thinks of me at all.

There is a shout as someone raises his voice over the constant murmuring and groaning. I realise they are calling out my name. I shout back and a belligerent keeper produces a key and unlocks my iron shackle. I massage my dirty, swollen ankle, which has grown calloused where the shackle rubs against my skin.

‘You Owen Tudor?’ The keeper looks at me doubtfully.

‘I am.’

I fear my former keepers are going to take their revenge on me for escaping. I am in no condition to take a beating and remember how Master Griffin threatened that no one would know or care if they killed me.

‘You’re transferred to Windsor.’ The keeper gestures for me to follow.

I can hardly believe my luck. ‘What about my companions?’

The keeper shakes his head. ‘The order is only for you.’

I turn to my friends. Nathaniel is sleeping but Thomas has been listening to every word. ‘It seems the Duke of Suffolk finally got my message.’ I manage a smile. ‘Take care of Nathaniel. I’ll be back for you as soon as I can.’

‘God bless you, Owen.’ Thomas seems close to tears. ‘We’ll be here waiting.’

* * *

Even though returning as a prisoner under escort, I feel an increasing thrill of anticipation as I enter the gates at Windsor after so many years. It is now the middle of July and the sun dazzles my eyes, the long, cold winter already a distant memory. The castle looks magnificent, with exotic blue-green peacocks strutting in the perfectly tended gardens. If I must be imprisoned, I can’t think of a better place.

The last time I had been there was when Catherine went missing and I’d gone in search of her. A sad day when I thought our son Owen was dead. Now I know the boy lived after all I draw strength from the thought of returning to Westminster Abbey to see him. It is another reason to keep going, another reason to secure my freedom.

My new cell would be considered palatial by the inmates at Newgate. In the Curfew Tower at the north-western corner of the castle, an iron-barred window looks out into the street and I pass the time watching the comings and goings of the people of Windsor. Built over two hundred years before, following the siege during the reign of King John, the tower has stone walls thirteen feet thick at the base and stands over a hundred feet high.

A guardroom is located above my cell, and as I am their only prisoner my guards treat me well. I feel a pang of guilt as I tuck into a bowl of steaming stew, with chunks of beef and seasoning of herbs, washed down with a goblet of red wine. I have never tasted anything so good in my life and promise myself I will never complain about my food again.

I ask to be visited by the constable, Sir Walter Hungerford, as soon as I arrive but several days pass without my request being granted. It crosses my mind that this is not a good omen but there could be many reasons for the delay. Sir Walter is close to sixty now and still a busy man.

When at last Sir Walter appears his old face looks grim and lined with worry. ‘I wish it was under better circumstances that we meet again, Tudor.’ His voice, once so commanding, sounds frail.

I am relieved to see the man who can free me. ‘Sir Walter... thank God you’ve come.’ I cross to the bars of my cell so my words cannot be overheard. ‘I need your help, my lord.’

Sir Walter gestures for the guard to bring him a chair, which he pulls closer to the bars before sitting. I notice how Sir Walter groans like an old man as he sits and realise the years are catching up with him. I also see the guards discreetly return to the guardroom and guess it is on the constable’s orders.

‘What would you have me do, Tudor?’ There is a hint of annoyance in his voice.

‘I need an audience with the king, to present my case.’

‘Your case?’

‘The king granted me permission...’

‘This is a council matter,’ Sir Walter interrupts. ‘You are to be detained until the council has made a decision.’

I study Sir Walter’s face for a clue as to what is going on. ‘All I ask is that you arrange for me to see the king, my lord.’

‘I regret...
 
I cannot do that, Tudor.’

‘Why not, my lord?’

Sir Walter regards me for a moment before answering. ‘Because... I am Duke Humphrey’s man. How did you imagine an old soldier like me became Treasurer of England when Bishop Beaufort resigned the great seal?’

I understand. ‘Was it because of you the duke chose me as his man in the queen’s household?’

‘It was.’ He frowns. ‘We thought you were going to marry the queen’s maid, yet you chose to marry the queen instead. Surely you knew what that would mean?’

‘I did—and I would do it all again.’

‘Well, you are a fool, Tudor.’ Sir Walter stands, his chair scraping on the hard stone floor. ‘And now you are learning the consequences.’

I have to think quickly before the constable leaves. ‘I was arrested with two travelling companions, my lord. Their names are Nathaniel Kemp and Thomas Lewis.’ I look him in the eye. ‘They are innocent but still held in Newgate Gaol.’

Sir Walter sits down again and thinks for a moment. ‘I’ll tell you something, Tudor. I see something of myself as a younger man in you.’ He smiles for the first time. ‘I was amused when I heard you married Queen Catherine, if only to see Duke Humphrey so completely unable to do anything about it.’

‘Will you help to free my companions, my lord?’

‘I will do what I can—although I make no promises, as I doubt the duke will take kindly to it.’

‘Thank you, my lord. I am indebted to you.’

Sir Walter stands again and turns as he is about to leave. ‘Trust in God, Tudor, and include me in your prayers.’

After Sir Walter has gone I sit in the corner of my cell, thinking over what I have learned. Sir Walter is right. I have been a fool, not because I married Catherine but because I should have known I could not ask the old constable to help me. At least there is hope for my friends, if they are still alive. I recall how Nathaniel shivered with the fever and thank God I might have found a way to end his suffering.

Another week passes without any word from the constable, so when my guard tells me I have a visitor I am relieved to be seeing my former master again.

‘Owen Tudor...’

I recognise the voice from my past immediately, although it is not Sir Walter. The trace of a French accent reminds me of Catherine, yet it is no ghost. The speaker steps from the shadows into a shaft of summer sunlight and I stand transfixed, my fingers tightening their grip on the iron bars of my cell.

‘Juliette.’ I say her name almost reverently. She wears an ornate coif over her braided hair, covered with a delicate mesh net. Her dress is made of dark blue damask and around her neck is a silver necklace with a jewelled pendant that sparkles as it catches the light.

‘Sir Walter told me you were here. I didn’t know what had... become of you.’ Her voice falters. She clasps her hands together. ‘There is something I have to tell you. Sir Walter has been relieved of his post.’

I know it is my fault. Duke Humphrey has found another way to exact his revenge by punishing the elderly constable. It is an unexpected blow, as I had allowed myself to believe my friends were as good as free. I even started to hope Sir Walter Hungerford could arrange for me to be brought before the king, even if it meant risking the anger of the duke.

‘Do you know who is to replace him?’

Juliette hesitates before answering. ‘The new constable is someone known to you, Owen. It is the Duke of Somerset, Sir Edmund Beaufort.’

I lean against the cold metal bars of my cell and regard Juliette while I try to think through the implications. I remember my jealousy at how Edmund Beaufort planned to marry Catherine all those years ago. The appointment of a Beaufort meant Duke Humphrey’s influence at the council could be waning, but I have not forgotten how Cardinal Beaufort publicly mocked me when we last met. I see Juliette is waiting for me to say something.

‘You look... beautiful, Juliette.’ I say it without thinking.

She smiles at the compliment. ‘You look like a vagrant, Owen.’

I look down at my clothes. They are the same I wore when I last appeared before the council but are now ragged and soiled. I have no way to trim my beard and my hair, which is starting to turn grey, has grown long and is matted with dirt.

‘You are right. I have nothing now. My money has been confiscated. Even my sword was taken by Duke Humphrey’s men.’

‘I was sorry to hear what happened to Queen Catherine...’ Her voice is softer now and she glances over her shoulder to see if the guards are listening. She takes a step closer to the bars. ‘The first we knew was when her funeral was announced.’

‘You heard we were married?’

‘You kept your secret well, although... I guessed the truth long before the rumours began.’

‘When we last met you asked if I would come back to you.’

‘You remember—and do you remember what you said?’

‘You should find someone... more worthy.’

‘It seems you’ve done your best to make that easy for me, Owen.’ Her hand moves to the bars and rests on mine. ‘You know... I never found anyone?’

I like the caress of her hand. ‘I lay in my cell in Newgate Gaol and I wondered about you, Juliette.’

She backs away. ‘I must go before I am missed.’

‘You will come and see me again soon?’

‘I will.’ She smiles again. ‘And I shall have to find you some clean clothes!’

She is gone before I can reply, leaving me with a strange sense of loss, mixed with new hope. I sit in the corner of my cell and try to make sense of it all. Sir Walter’s choice of Juliette as his messenger is not a coincidence. He could have sent anyone, yet I wonder if he has chosen her for a reason.