Georgette Heyer (25 page)

John put the letter up, thinking deeply. Harry, neglected by the King and the Council, was taking his own measures, and it behoved his brother to follow his example.
I wish there were a Warwick for me to call on
, he thought.
No, I don’t: men are not my need, but only money.
Well, then – !

He began to cast round in his mind for some means of raising four thousand pounds. It seemed rather hopeless. Edward might pledge his Yorkshire estates, but the only estates John had for his maintenance were Hotspur’s manors in Cumberland, and those, he was well aware, would be returned to Hotspur’s heir when he came of full age, if not before. Besides, it would not improve his position in the North if it were known that he was raising a loan on Percy possessions. It was rather the King’s credit he must pledge; and since this was not high he must look for his rescuer amongst the Marcher barons to whom the strength of the Lord Warden’s force was a matter of paramount importance. That seemed rather hopeless too. It was sleeveless to think of borrowing from Ralph Neville, for he was already bearing the greater part of the costage of his own wardenship; and although many of the landowners of Northumberland were warm men it was not likely that they would be willing to lend money to Percy’s supplanter.

He left the curtain wall that overhung the river, and crossed the inner ward to the keep. This was one of the largest in the country, and contained four floors, built over the basement. An outer stair led to the first floor, where the guardroom was situated, and above this was the Great Hall. Here, while he stayed at Norham, John conducted all his business, and here he interviewed Harry’s messenger. The man could not tell him much: only that the Welsh were very strong, and ravaging the Marches, but that everyone about the Prince was in good heart. The Prince was attacking the rebels whenever and wherever he could; no one doubted that as soon as he received reinforcements he would subdue the whole country.

John left him presently, and went away to find Gilbert.

The Constable of the castle thought that he had seen him by the lower gatehouse, and offered to send to fetch him; but John shook his head, and went away to the outer bailey. This was very large, since it was needed not only to house horses and cattle, but also to provide shelter for the villagers whenever the Scots raided the district. The gatehouse was at the south-west corner, with a deep ditch beyond it; and near it the masons engaged in repairing the castle walls had built one of their lodges. Gilbert was standing outside this, talking to the chief setter, who was explaining the diagram sketched on one of the master mason’s Eastland boards, but when he saw John coming across the ward he went at once to meet him. He thought, from the frown on John’s brow, that he must have had ill-tidings from Worcester; but when he asked if all was well with the Prince, John answered so abstractedly that it was plain he was thinking of something else. Gilbert waited, saying after a few moments: ‘Did you come to seek me? I’ve been talking to that fellow over there. He says the walls need repairing almost everywhere. I daresay they do, but there’s Wark to be considered, besides this place, and – ’

‘I will have Norham made as impregnable as it was when the Bishops of Durham held it, and so keep it!’ said John. ‘I think it of more worth than Wark, though that too must be restored, of course. But Norham first! You can’t take it by storm, and I find that it has else-when withstood a siege of twelve months. Moreover, Wark is in ruinous case. God and the devil know why it has never been put into a state of defence again in all these years! Do you know that it is now nearly twenty years since the Scots dismantled it?’ He gave a crack of scornful laughter. ‘Northumberland and the enormous sums he spent on his wardenship! Corpus bones! Let him not tell that geste to me!’

‘Well, I don’t suppose he will,’ Gilbert said. ‘But I wonder that you should think Norham more important than Wark! It was at Wark, surely, that – ’

‘If you mean to tell me that I ought to restore Wark because it was there that my thirdfather created the Order of the Garter, stint before I make you!’ threatened John, the frown lifting from his brow. ‘A’twenty devils! If I’ve heard that once, I’ve heard it fifty times! When I put that hold in order it will be because I need all the strong castles I can get me here, and for no other cause!’

‘And there’s no money to put either of them in order,’ sighed Gilbert.

‘There shall be. Gib, tell me about the Lord Furnivall!’

‘Why, he’s brother to my lord of Westmoreland, and – ’

‘I know that, heavyhead! He was at Raby, at Christmas-tide. Does he own great livelihood? Didn’t he marry a rich heiress?’

‘Witterly! That’s how he became Lord of Furnivall. Her estates are in other parts of the country, though.’

‘No charge! They may be anywhere you list!’ said John, a light in his eye.

‘Gramercy! Also, she was his
first
wife!’

‘And of that no charge!’ said John briskly. ‘God send he may be at Carlisle still! Gib, find me a sure messenger to carry a letter to him. I must ask him to come to me at Newcastle as soon as he may.’

‘Come to you at Newcastle?’ repeated Gilbert. ‘Yea, but – but
why
?’

‘I think he may be the one man who would lend me money for my needs!’ John said.

3

At Newcastle, word came to John from the Constable of Berwick Castle that he had entrapped Serle, and was carrying him straightway to the King, at Pontefract. This was unexpectedly good news, and did seem to show that Northumberland was not amongst those willing to pretend belief in a mawmet set up to counterfeit King Richard. John began to feel more cheerful.

Lord Furnivall did not keep him waiting long for an answer to his letter, but the time lagged badly for a boy who was half wishing he had never written it. Thomas Neville was a man of King Henry’s age, thirty-seven at least: he might think a summons from one who had just passed his fifteenth birthday an impertinence; and there were moments when John, trying to decide just how he should broach the business, felt that it was an impertinence, even though he was the King’s son, and Lord High Constable of England. The Lord Furnivall had been Warden of Annandale for years; he was a person of worship and considerable military prowess. John had liked him, when they had met at Raby, but there had then been no question of a loan in either head. John had written him a mannerly letter, taking care to address him as his very dear cousin, and begging him, for the sake of the good will he had shown the King to come to Newcastle, so that he could not – it was to be hoped – mistake the request for a command. Or could he? Harry had requested Richard Beauchamp to go to him at Worcester, but that had certainly been a command. It would be a fell thing if the Lord Furnivall read a command into that painstakingly polite letter, because John had no right to command him in anything. He began to think that Furnivall might not come to Newcastle, or, if he did come, would arrive in dudgeon. It would then be impossible to ask him for any support at all. Already it seemed a difficult thing to do.

The Lord Furnivall answered the letter in person. He sent up word from Neville’s Inn that he would be with Sir John as soon as he had washed the travel stains from his person. That gave John time to put off his plain doublet and his buskins, and to array himself in a gown. He very nearly did it. He had a fine gown of blue checklatoun, with a band of ermine round the throat, and sleeves so deep that they reached his feet. It was made very full, and swept the floor behind him, which made him seem taller and older than he was. Then, with a surer instinct, he thought that it would be folly to wear it, because Furnivall knew that he was just fifteen, and because a rich robe ill became a penniless prince.

When Furnivall was ushered into his presence, he rose to meet him, a little pale, and stammering a greeting. Furnivall said: ‘You sent for me, my lord, and I have come with my best speed.’

‘I thank you!’ John said. ‘But I did not – at least, I didn’t mean it so! I
requested
you to meet me, if it should not be displeasant to you.’

Furnivall’s eyes began to twinkle; he said kindly: ‘What is it, lording? Why did you
request
me to come to you?’

John answered him bluntly, rejecting all his rehearsed speeches: ‘Sir, because of my sore needs!’

‘Then you have done me much honour. Tell me!’ Furnivall invited, smiling at him.

So after all there was no difficulty. It was not even necessary to explain why he wanted the loan. Lord Furnivall knew; and he said that saving only the reverence he bore the King he had thought for many months that an importable burden had been laid on John’s shoulders. When John, flushing painfully, spoke of sureties, he said that his money would be well expended, and he needed no other surety than Sir John’s promise to repay. The business which had threatened to be so chargeous was accomplished in a matter of minutes, so that when they sat down to dine nothing remained to be done except to sign the bond which was even then being inscribed by a clerk.

Lord Furnivall had quite lately visited the King, at Doncaster, and could give John the latest news of him. This was not very good. He had thought the King was not in health: perhaps he was forwearied. He had been on progress since the beginning of May, first in the Midlands and now in Yorkshire, and he had had much troublesome business to discharge, besides many cares to drive sleep from his pillow.

‘I shall see him next month, at Pontefract,’ John said. ‘He is there now; and the F – ’ He remembered that he was not talking to Ralph, and cut the word off short. ‘And my very dear cousin of Northumberland,’ he amended himself, ‘has gone there with William Clifford, which – which is a matter in which we take great pleasure!’

‘Certes, it is a thing which must delight all who wish well to the King’s grace,’ agreed Furnivall.

Everyone seemed to augur well from this event, even Harry, who had mentioned it in his letter. What Ralph Neville thought about it John could only guess, for he had not seen Ralph for some months.

His guess was right: Ralph told his brother that when Percy made large gestures of friendship towards his foes it was time to beware. To Furnivall’s objection that the King had not shown himself to be Percy’s foe, he replied: ‘All are Percy’s foes who stand between him and his orgulous desires! Well, the King may be cozened, but I can tell you of one who won’t be, Thomas, and that’s young John of Lancaster!’

Ralph saw John as his pupil; he was both fond and proud of him, but he thought it unthrifty of Thomas to have lent him a large sum of money. ‘You will find yourself all-a-bits!’ he said. ‘God shield you, I thought you had more kind-wit! You will never see your marks again!’

‘I have kind-wit enough!’ retorted Furnivall. ‘If this house of Lancaster should fall, brother, we shall fall with it! If I don’t see my marks again they will have been well expended.’

Ralph was glad to know that John was eased of his worst burden, and glad that John had not turned to him for aid, but he was also a little affronted. He reflected that Thomas had only two daughters to inherit his wealth, thought of his own swarming brood with pride, and said: ‘Well, you may be able to afford it! It is otherwise with me! Since my lady was delivered of her fourth knave-child last sennight I have six sons to my name.’

‘Yea, and two-so-many daughters besides!’ said Furnivall. ‘It is no wonder you should be narrow-souled, brother!’

Ralph allowed this insult to pass. He was occupied in mentally enumerating his daughters, for he strongly suspected Thomas of exaggeration.

4

John rode into Pontefract at the end of July, and was startled to be greeted with shouts of ‘Noël’. So accustomed had he become to being watched in lowering silence, even to hear the growl of a hostile crowd, that when his meiny approached the town he stiffened a little, bracing himself. A stern-faced prince the townsfolk thought him, but when the cries of ‘Noël’ broke on his ears he recollected that he was no longer in an unfriendly country, and doffed his cap, and waved it, just as a well-loved Earl of Derby had been wont to do.

Sir Robert Waterton did not think him stern-faced, for he was flushed and smiling when he voided his horse within the castle walls, but he suffered quite a shock at sight of him. It was less than a year since he had visited Pontefract, but he was older, Sir Robert thought, by many years. It was not merely a matter of physical growth, though that was remarkable; the boy had hardened into a man, and had acquired an assurance that was implicit in his look, and in the very tone of his voice. Sir Robert stood staring, found that he was being asked how his cousin did, and made haste to answer that Sir Hugh was well: he had not seen him lately, since he was at Windsor, in charge of the Mortimer boys. He then said bluntly: ‘Pardon, Sir John! Dreadless, you wonder what makes me stare! But – ’

‘Yes, I’ve grown,’ interrupted John. ‘They have been telling me so at Raby – all of them! For God’s bane, do not you! How is my father?’

Sir Robert shook his head. ‘Not in as good point as one would wish, lording. This summer he has lost all lustihood. But I warrant he will be blithe to see you!’

‘I will go to him, but first I must put off this gear,’ John said. ‘And the Queen’s grace?’ he added punctiliously.

Yes, the Queen had accompanied King Henry on his northern progress, and was even now walking in the herber with some of the ladies and gentlemen of the Court.