Root of the Tudor Rose (45 page)

‘Eleanor, it is! Don't you see, you stupid woman, that there are now other possible heirs to the throne? The King's half-brothers? They all have the same mother, for God's sake, and she's still the Queen of England, for all that she's been shagging like a bitch on heat with that great oaf of a Welshman. I knew she was a slut for all her simpering and whimpering over my brother Henry. I knew it! She's just like her slut of a mother. Well, I've got to make it impossible for those bastards of hers to inherit anything. I must get them from her somehow. Does the King know about them?'

Eleanor was cowed by her husband's rage. ‘Er … M-Margery didn't say. Perhaps he does.'

‘Aye, he's probably in on the secret as well. I seem to be the only person in England who didn't know about it. Well, this is where I show them what happens when they make a laughing stock of Humphrey of Gloucester. I'm damned if I'll let them get away with it.'

Catherine was back in Hatfield with Owen in time for Michaelmas and they were returning from a family walk in the late September sunshine. Edmund was astride Pegasus, his new pony. With a firm hold on the bridle, Owen walked alongside, patiently explaining to his son that since the pony was named after the great winged horse of the Greek gods, it was rather inappropriate to call him ‘Peggy'. Holding his mother's hand, Jasper trailed a kite along the ground because there wasn't really enough wind to fly it.

‘
Hâf bach Mihangel
,' Owen said contentedly. ‘St Michael's little summer. I've always loved this last short burst of warmth and sunshine before the winter sets in.'

Catherine smiled. ‘But the fireside has its delights in winter,' she pointed out. Her husband gave her a sidelong glance. ‘There's only one place I like better,' he said. Owen and Edmund went to stable Pegasus while Catherine took Jasper back to the house. Edmund begged his father to be allowed to stay with his pony for a little longer, to feed it some windfall apples he'd found. Owen, ruffling his son's hair affectionately, left him and his pony in the care of one of the older grooms. He took the short cut from the stables back to the house through the service door to the kitchen and was alarmed to hear raised voices coming from the hall.

He found Catherine surrounded by a group of half a dozen people, some of whom he recognised, some he didn't. There were guards, too, in royal livery. Surely, that was the Countess of Suffolk, Alice de la Pole and, if Owen wasn't very much mistaken, her husband's infamous henchmen, Sir Thomas Tuddenham and John Heydon. At the centre of the group's attention, Catherine had her arms protectively around Jasper, clutching him to her.

‘Owen, thank God!'

‘What the devil is going on here? What do you people think you're doing?'

‘We've come for the Queen's children,' said Sir John Tuddenham, a big bruiser of a man. ‘On the King's orders.'

‘Well, you can't have them,' said Owen. ‘They are my children too, you know, and I absolutely forbid it. You are not taking them anywhere.'

Tuddenham's lip curled in scorn. ‘No jumped-up little Clerk of the Wardrobe can forbid
me
to do anything!' he said. ‘I'm certainly not taking orders from you.'

‘But he is my husband,' Catherine protested, hysteria rising in her voice. ‘And I am the Queen. I will not let you have my children.'

‘The King's orders take precedence,' snapped Alice de la Pole.

‘Here's the warrant if your … er … 
husband
wants proof,' said John Heydon, producing a piece of parchment. Owen made a lunge for it but Heydon held it aloft between thumb and forefinger.

‘So you can read, can you?' Heydon asked rudely, dangling the warrant deliberately in front of him.

‘You insolent …!' Owen ripped the warrant from Heydon's hand. Yes, that was the royal seal, there was no mistaking it. But it was not the Great Seal. It had clearly come from the palace but not necessarily from the King himself. He broke the wax, unfolded the warrant, and began to read. ‘I don't recognise the hand,' he said.

‘No doubt it was dictated to a scribe,' said the haughty Lady Alice. ‘Be that as it may, the King wants his brothers brought to court. Immediately.'

‘Yes, so it seems. Why do think that might be, my Lady?'

Owen was stalling, very uneasy as he tried to understand the situation. If it genuinely was an edict from the King, then it had to be obeyed without question. He knew that the Lady Alice's husband, the Earl of Suffolk, was steward of the King's household. He was a decent enough man by all accounts but Owen had heard that when it came to loyalty, he tended to run with the hare and with the hounds and he was known to be one of the Duke of Gloucester's cronies. Of course, Owen could perhaps offer to take the boys to court himself, or at least to travel with them. That would put Catherine's mind at rest.

‘My Lady?' he prompted the Countess again. ‘Why do you think the King wishes to have his brothers brought to court?'

Alice de la Pole drew herself up to her full height and looked down her long, thin nose. ‘I really do not know. I am simply carrying out the instructions of the King,' she said. ‘I would not be so impertinent as to question them.'

‘The Countess doesn't have to give you a reason,' snarled Tuddenham. ‘We have undertaken to get the King's brothers back to London as soon as possible. On His Highness's own orders. You can't argue with that. You've got an hour to get them ready for the journey.'

‘No!' Catherine's scream was spine-chilling, primeval, a vixen baring her teeth, defending the last of her cubs against a predator. Even Tuddenham was momentarily taken aback.

‘No,' she screamed again, ‘you can't have them. You will not have them!'

The captain of the guard moved menacingly towards Catherine and reached out to pull Jasper away from her. Owen sidestepped, placing himself in a defensive position in front of his wife and child. Catching him unawares, another guard came from behind him, grabbed his arm, and swung him round, flooring him with a huge punch to the side of the head. Reeling from the blow, Owen went down heavily and lost consciousness.

Now Catherine's screaming became louder and more incoherent as, wailing pitifully, Jasper was roughly torn from her grasp and handed to Alice de la Pole, who held his small arm in an iron grip. ‘Where's the other one?' she demanded.

‘You shall never have him!' shouted Catherine. ‘Never, never!' At that precise moment the door opened and another guard dragged a bewildered Edmund into the room.

‘Found this one in the stables,' he muttered as Catherine flew at her child, trying to take him protectively into her arms. She was roughly pulled away by another guard. She beat her fists on her captor's chest, screaming at him and weeping. He gripped her wrists, easily overpowering her. Unconscious, Owen lay prone under the heavy boot of a great thug dressed in royal livery.

Alice de la Pole still had hold of little Jasper's arm and he, bewildered at being dragged away from his mother, was crying loudly. With her free hand, she reached into a small bag at her waist and took something out of it.

‘Oh, for heaven's sake, child, stop that caterwauling,' she said impatiently. ‘Here, why don't you have some nice marchpane.'

Catherine froze with horror. Marchpane! Her body went limp and when the guard relaxed his grip on her, she crumpled to the floor.

The countryside was still bathed in the late sunshine of St Michael's little summer, and the birds still sang, but en route for London, Jasper was crying, frightened and upset because his mother had been screaming so horribly. Edmund was crying too, because he didn't understand what was going on and he didn't want to leave Peggy.

‘Be quiet both of you, and stop snivelling,' said Alice de la Pole, raising her voice against the shouted commands of the escort party. The horses strained against the traces as the driver whipped them into a gallop.

Katherine de la Pole, the Abbess of Barking, didn't much care for her sister-in-law. After all, her brother William had married Alice chiefly for her money, which he'd badly needed at the time. By now, though he was still saddled with Alice, his fortunes had changed, thanks to royal patronage. Katherine de la Pole, too, had reason to be grateful to her brother's patron, since the post of Abbess at Barking was in the King's gift. Having no great interest in life at court, she took great pride in her work at the abbey and was pleased to have so little contact with her sister-in-law. There was no love lost between them.

So she was surprised when Alice arrived unannounced one day in late September with two small boys, aged around five and six, demanding that they should be accommodated in the abbey for a few weeks while their parents resolved their problems. On asking who the children were, the Abbess was told that their father was a senior household servant at Windsor and the boys were the result of his unfortunate
affaire de coeur
with one of the ladies of the court.

The Abbess thought it sounded an unlikely story but it was her duty in the eyes of God to give shelter and succour to the children. Moreover, Alice had provided a substantial sum of money for their keep. Fifty-two pounds and twelve shillings would cater very adequately for their needs for some considerable time to come. She took the boys by the hand and led them away to be cared for by her nuns, according to the Rules of Saint Benedict.

Chapter Twenty-four

Winter 1436

Catherine's health went rapidly downhill in the weeks that followed. The brutal seizure of her children had been impossible to bear: she felt her heart had been ripped from her body. Under Owen's gentle questioning, old suppressed memories of her own childhood abduction grew as vivid as her nightmares and she was wild with grief and worry. The prospect of the new baby did nothing to cheer her and her face had taken on a hollow, haunted look. All her physician could suggest was to leech her but Owen thought she was thin enough and pale enough already, without the greedy attention of those little black blood-suckers.

Her unpredictable moods swung between moments of absolute fury and long periods of utter misery. At her angriest, Owen would find her pacing the floor, swearing that she would go to London to find the boys but when he managed to convince her that she really wasn't well enough to travel, she would dissolve into hopeless tears. She would spend her afternoons lying on their bed, exhausted and staring blankly at nothing. He often found her there and, if she wasn't sleeping, she was weeping silently.

Owen tried to hide his impotent fury. This was an abduction, plain and simple, and it was Gloucester's doing. Why else would the de la Poles and their brutish associates have had anything to do with it? If he was to find his sons, he knew he must go to London himself, to get some answers. Maredydd, though he was too old for active service, still had his ear to the ground and Emma was a celebrated gossip. If anyone knew anything about Edmund and Jasper, they would.

Catherine wouldn't hear of him leaving her. She wept and clung to him, convinced that if he went, he would never return but she was far too ill to travel with him.

Owen took Joanna Troutbeck into his confidence. There was nothing for it but to go to London alone, to see what he could find out. The only way to do it, he said, was to steal away at dead of night while Catherine was sleeping. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving her and knew that he wouldn't be able to if, yet again, she begged him to stay. So he had to entrust Troutbeck with the responsibility of telling her that he had left. There was no other way.

First, he swore her to secrecy then told her that he wanted her to arrange to take Catherine to London in a comfortable horse-drawn litter, with an armed escort group in royal livery.

‘Royal livery, Master Tudor? Surely that …?'

‘Yes, Troutbeck, royal livery. They are guarding Her Royal Highness the Queen and it no longer matters who knows that. There is no need for subterfuge any more, not now that the Duke of Gloucester has learned our secret.'

Owen had a hollow feeling of nervousness in the pit of his stomach but he knew that there were no other options. He was making the best, the only possible plans for Catherine. ‘Once you reach London, Troutbeck, you are to make for the monastery of the Benedictines at Bermondsey, south of the river. They are accustomed to caring for royal patients at Bermondsey from what I understand. It's something of a tradition. Catherine will be well cared for there and, please God, nursed back to health.'

Seeing the worried expression on Troutbeck's face, Owen patted her hand reassuringly before he continued. ‘As soon as I reach London, I will go to see the Abbot and make the necessary arrangements. Then, when you bring Catherine to Bermondsey, Troutbeck, let her believe that you're bringing her to me. Lie to her, if you have to. And, God willing, we can be together again when she's better. With our boys. Just as we were.'

‘There'll be another child by then, Master Tudor.'

‘Yes, there will. A girl, perhaps. Oh, and Troutbeck, please secure the services of the midwife, Margery Wagstaff. She pulled Her Highness through when Jasper was born so she'll be in good hands there, too.'

Sick with apprehension, he turned away, not trusting himself to say more. ‘Just … just look after Catrin for me,' he blurted out, ‘… when I'm gone. Please.'

Owen allowed himself one more night with his dear wife, who slept quietly in the crook of his arm, her head on his shoulder, entirely unaware of his plans for her. Overwhelmed by
hiraeth
for all that they had meant to each other, Owen hardly slept at all.

In the small hours of the following night, he got up and dressed himself quietly without disturbing Catherine who was exhausted after a painful bout of coughing. He knelt beside her and watched her in the dim light. She was breathing quietly now with her eyelids, pale as parchment, closed over her lovely eyes. His Catrin. He had never loved her more than he did in this moment of parting. Catrin, his wife, his dearest love, more precious to him than anything. He wanted to touch her cheek but didn't dare run the risk of waking her. So he bent his head, closed his eyes, and prayed that he would find the children. He knew that if he didn't, he would lose her.