Brian Wainwright - The Adventures of Alianore Audley

‘And what are you going to do with her?’

‘I haven’t quite worked that bit out.’

‘Alianore, have you any idea how bloody dangerous this is? Margaret Beaufort is well in at Court. She and the Queen are like that.’ He twisted one finger around another. ‘If Stanley finds out that we’re behind this, it won’t just be him that we have to deal with. It’ll be the King himself.’

I smiled at him. ‘I’ve got my hands on some very tasty letters and papers, and if old Stanley tries to give us any aggravation I’ll pay Caxton to make a book of them. That’ll settle his hash, as they say in Yorkshire.’

‘The kidnapping of noble ladies is strictly forbidden by the Knightly Code,’ my husband went on, still annoyed with me. ‘I could get a six month suspension from jousting for this.’

‘Roger,’ I answered patiently, ‘we are living in the late fifteenth century. Modern times. No one gives a toss any more about knightly codes or the rest of that old crap. It’s all about power politics and ruthless ambition nowadays. We make up the rules as we go along.’

He frowned at me and pulled out his copy of the Code. It had belonged to his greatgrandfather and was all neatly copied out and illustrated by a monk, too, none of your cheap, modern, printed rubbish. On the title page was a picture of Edward III picking up the Countess of Salisbury’s garter. (This incident led to the founding of the Order of the Garter, with its famous motto Honi Soit Qui Mal Y Pense , which can be translated as Just Because A Woman’s Garter Falls Down It Doesn’t Mean That The King Is Bonking Her .)

‘Look,’ Roger cried, stabbing his finger into the thing, ‘paragraph eighteen. “No knight, esquire, or armiger shall carry off, ravish or imprison any lady, damosel or gentlewoman (except for the purpose of taking her in canonical marriage against her will) under pain of six months banishment from all tournaments in Western Europe and a fine of twenty-four shillings.”’

‘Like I said, it’s just a load of old manure,’ I snorted. ‘If King Arthur has a vacancy I dare say he’ll send for you, but until then you’ll just have to live in the real world with the rest of us.’

‘There are certain things that are sacred, Alianore, and knightly vows are among them. The Code is all that distinguishes us from barbarians and savages. It obliges the strong to protect the weak. Above all it safeguards children, and honours all ladies and gentlewomen.’ He flicked over a few more pages. ‘Ah, here it is. I thought it was compulsory in a case of this kind. I’m sorry, my dear, but I’m not allowed to offer you an alternative.’

He grabbed me, pulled me down across his thighs, and began to bunch my skirts up around my waist.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ I asked.

‘Correcting my wife in accordance with paragraph twenty-two,’ he said, landing the first slap squarely across my bare bum. ‘It instructs me to do this to any lady under my protection who mocks the Knightly Code. It’s a matter of duty.’

‘I could cope with you being a little less dutiful,’ I protested, somewhat breathlessly.

‘I do apologise, beloved,’ he said, landing another spank, ‘but I can’t possibly infringe the Code twice in one day. I’m not enjoying this, you know.’

‘Bloody liar!’ I said. ‘Ouch!’

Stanley and his shower spent the whole of the next day wading around Martin Mere, which is the biggest, wettest marsh in a very large and very wet marshy area. Finding nothing except the secret of collecting slime in their boots they came home in a very merry mood. This is what I surmise. By the time they returned to Lathom we were a very long way along our road.

We passed quite a few of Stanley’s followers along the way, and it was no surprise to find that his retainers had been withdrawn from around Wigan Church. I expect he sent a scurrier off at first light to collect them. For one reason and another Roger and I were not out of bed quite that early.

Guy had kept Margaret hidden overnight in a convenient cow-shed, a most appropriate lodging for her in my opinion.

I had her placed on top of one of the tombs in the church, next to the effigy of a local knight who’d got himself killed at Crecy, or Agincourt, or some other little squabble with the French. I admit that it was not a very appropriate thing to do. The poor man had not done me any harm, after all, and it was wrong of me to lumber him with such an unpleasant companion, even on a temporary basis.

Just before we left I removed her gag. I didn’t want to go without giving her a chance to say goodbye.

‘You’ll pay for this,’ she spat out.

‘What a very original threat,’ I said. ‘I’d be completely terrified if I didn’t have the whole of your husband’s treasonable correspondence in my saddlebag. Any trouble from either of you in future and it’ll go straight to Cousin Edward with a nice red ribbon round it. There’s nothing the King loves more than a good read, you know.’

Margaret said some very rude things after that. Coming from someone with a major reputation for piety it was really quite shocking. Roger had to ask me what some of the words meant, so you can tell how bad it was.

What more is there to tell? We took Gloucester’s banner down from where it had been lodged in the chancel and then headed for the hills. By the time Lord and Lady Stanley were able to put all the pieces together we were safely back at Middleham.

Richard was well made up, and I dare say that he’d have knighted Roger all over again if this had been possible. As it was we had to be satisfied with shooting up several places in the league of favour.

I felt that I deserved a somewhat more tangible reward after all that I’d been through, and so I dipped into the Intelligence Fund and treated myself to a new gown of blue sarcenet and a jewelled collar.

The upshot of this adventure was that the Stanley family gave Cousin Richard no further annoyance for several years.

The second upshot was that I never again mocked the Knightly Code in Roger’s hearing. Except on his birthday.

Anne bore her husband a fine son, Edward. This was quite an event in the history of the world, as it provoked Richard of Gloucester into a smile. He and Anne now indulged in a kind of perennial honeymoon, ignoring public business so that they could gaze into other’s eyes. Riding off on their own up Coverdale to enjoy the scenery and the fresh air. Exchanging roses they had snapped off in the pleasance. Quite sickening, really. I felt like reminding them that they were living in Yorkshire, not flaming Camelot.

The years slipped by. I am inclined to skip a few of them. We tried to have a war with France, but decided not to bother, much to Gloucester’s disgust. Then George Clarence got himself involved in a treason too far.

George never struck me as the romantic type, but the fact remains that he went to pieces after his wife’s death. He refused to believe that Isabel had come to a natural end. He swore that the Woodvilles had poisoned her, and the son she had just borne. He had two of her servants hanged to make the point.

It’s true that the Queen had some relatives who didn’t have enough breeding to be the scum of the earth, men who would cheerfully have sold their own grandmothers for half a groat, but I doubt very much whether George’s suspicions were justified. There was no profit for anyone in killing Isabel.

Clarence continued to spout various forms of nonsense, until Cousin Edward decided that enough was enough and had him thrown in the Tower.

At this point Richard did something very unusual. He took his whole household down to the King’s Court. Anne included. Me included. He didn’t give us much of a briefing on his intentions, but you could tell that he wasn’t pleased with the course of events. His face was enough to stop a clock in the next parish.