Iris Collier - Day of Wrath

‘The King? In my bed of course. Unless he brings his own bed with him.’

‘And the Queen?’

‘She’ll have to have a room, I suppose.’

‘How many meals?’

‘For God’s sake, Geoffrey, don’t be such an old woman. I don’t know. At least three feasts, I should think. One when they arrive, one on the seventh, unless Southampton’s going to feed them, one after the hunt on the eighth.’

‘And will they want entertainment?’

‘Bound to. Something simple. Jane Warrener can sing to them with Brother Benedict. Some dancing, I suppose. Nothing vigorous, the Queen’s not into dancing these days. The Prior and the Precentor can rustle up some musicians between them, I expect. Now off with you and get me Harry.’

‘Ah, Lord Nicholas,’ said Richard Landstock, jumping to his feet. ‘I hoped you’d come today. You’ve become damned elusive. You’re too much away at Court, my Lord. We need you here. Sit down, man, you look all in. Too much roistering, I suppose! Let me get you some ale.’

‘Thanks,’ said Nicholas accepting the tankard of ale which Landstock poured out for him from the jug on the table. ‘God, that’s good,’ he said as he drank deeply, wiping away the line of froth along his top lip with the back of his hand. ‘Now let’s get this straight. I haven’t been roistering, as you call it, but witnessing a barbaric interrogation sanctioned by our legal system.’

‘There speaks the Justice of the Peace. I hope you’re not going to turn soft on us, my Lord. Our safety depends on suspects owning up to their crimes. How else can we catch criminals? Or don’t you want them caught? Perhaps you don’t mind your barns raided and your stewards murdered?’

‘Of course I want them caught. It’s just sickening to watch someone under torture.’

‘Teach the others a lesson, though. You’d think twice about raising a hand against the King once you’ve seen what you’ve just seen, wouldn’t you?’

‘I could no more lift my hand against the King than fly to the moon.’

‘There you are, then. It worked. You’ll stay loyal to the end of your life. But now, let me tell you what’s been happening here. Whilst you’ve been away, I’ve been sorting out your affairs.’

‘My affairs?’

‘Concerning your steward, or rather your erstwhile steward, Matthew Hayward, or have you forgotten all about him?’

‘I thought we’d cleared that up.’

‘Not entirely. We know Giles Yelman let the killers in to your house. We’ve now got the killers. We sent Yelman to Lewes for interrogation, but fortunately, he’s no hero. In fact, he named the killers as soon as he saw the manacles in Lewes prison. Now he’s in custody waiting for the Assize judge to come. The hangman’ll be the last man he’ll see.’

‘Who are the killers?’

‘Two labourers who worked for Mortimer. They had a good alibi but we’ve cracked that. They said they were in the ale-house in the cattle market here in Marchester Monday of last week – the night Hayward was killed – but a witness says that he saw them walking along the road to your house. I checked with the ale-house keeper and his cronies, but no one could say for certain that the two men were there that night. Probably they didn’t hand out enough free ale. You’ve got to be generous when you want someone to tell lies for you.’

‘Where are they now?’

‘Here in Marchester, in my prison. No need to send them to Lewes. They’ll come up before you at Quarter Sessions in June.’

‘You’ve done well, Richard. By the way, have you got any further with the investigation into Bess Knowles’s death?’

‘There is no investigation. Coroner was quite sure: death through natural causes. Aren’t you satisfied?’

‘I’ve got an open mind. She was Matthew’s intended, as you know. She probably knew as much as Matthew about what was going on here.’

‘That’s as maybe. She’s in the churchyard now, and that’s the end of the road, unless new evidence comes forward. But any more news about Sir Roger? His arrest caused quite a stir, I can tell you.’

‘He died yesterday in the Tower.’

‘Are you sure of that, my Lord?’

‘Quite sure. I was there; so was his wife.’

‘What the hell did they do to him?’

‘What do you expect? He died on the rack, under interrogation.’

‘What was he accused of?’

‘Treason. High treason.’

‘Is that true?’

‘Oh, quite true. His name was on letters addressed to Reginald Pole. Unfortunately for Mortimer, Southampton picked them up before they reached the Continent, read them and passed the information on to the King.’

‘Do they know who else was in the conspiracy?’

‘No. Mortimer wouldn’t speak.’

‘He wouldn’t. He was too much of a fanatic. Now we’ve got the King coming, and we don’t know for sure if the conspiracy’s been well and truly stamped out. Someone might be out there ready to carry on where Mortimer left off. I don’t envy you, my Lord.’

‘Thanks for the sympathy. But we are not entirely in the dark. Mortimer wouldn’t betray his accomplices, but we do know the code name of one of them, and the name of the conspiracy.’

‘Which is?’

‘It’s called The Day of Wrath. The leader signs himself Ultor.’

‘What the hell does that mean? Latin means nothing to me.’

‘It means avenger, punisher.’

‘Good God, to think this is all happening here in Marchester, a place where usually nothing happens except drunken brawling and petty theft.’

‘Well, now you’ve got something to get your teeth into, Sheriff.’

‘What I can’t understand is why Mortimer should support Reginald Pole, for heaven’s sake? I’ve heard he’s more interested in a cardinal’s hat than the King’s crown.’

‘You could be right, but it’s more a case of who he is than what he wants. You know that the mother of the Pole brothers is the Countess of Salisbury, who, in turn is the daughter of George, brother to Edward IV, the King’s grandfather. So they are the King’s cousins and, more to the point, they’re Yorkists through and through. If the Pole brothers aren’t interested in the crown, then Lord Montague, their brother, would certainly risk his life for it. If the King doesn’t stamp out this family, then they will be a constant thorn in his side. I can see the time coming when the Countess of Salisbury and two of her sons will all mount the scaffold on Tower Green. If Reginald Pole accepts a cardinal’s hat and stays on the Continent until times change, he’ll be the only one in that family to survive. The King, Richard, is not secure on his throne as long as there are any Yorkists left. And that’s why Lady Mortimer will never be reinstated in her husband’s house. Her family are all related to the Countess of Salisbury. The King promised to be merciful, though, and she’ll go back to live with her children at the other end of the county.’

‘A pity all these Yorkists chose to live around here. My God, Peverell, what are we going to do?’

‘Protect the King; and find Ultor. And we start now. I want you to get your spies out. Get them into the ale-houses, particularly the Portsmouth ones, and tell them to pin their ears back. We’ve got just ten days to sort this lot out. Just think of the consequences if this Ultor gets the King.’

‘You’ve got to guard your house well, my Lord.’

‘I’ll do my best. Henry Tudor isn’t an easy man to guard. He’ll be at his most vulnerable when he leaves me on the seventh of June to ride to Portsmouth Point. He’s bound to go on horseback as it isn’t very far and he’ll want to show himself off to his people. An admirable quality, but I’d be a lot happier if he decided to keep his Queen company in the royal coach. The Yeomen of the Guard can protect a coach, but not a man on a horse who wants to show off to the watching crowd.’