Owen (24 page)

Jasper paces in frustration as he no longer tries to hide his concern for Margaret. The two of them have been inseparable since Edmund’s death, praying in the chapel together, discussing news from London and walking within the castle grounds. Although Jasper is more caring than any husband, I have never seen signs of intimacy between them. I hope the day will come, but for now they have been united by concern for the unborn child.

‘What is York up to now?’ I try to occupy my son’s mind until the agonising wait is over.

‘I can’t believe he has persuaded the king to appoint Warwick as Captain of Calais!’ Jasper curses. ‘I would never have allowed it if I had been there.’ He frowns. ‘The king’s intentions are good. He tries his best to keep the peace and all they do is see it as weakness—and turn his goodwill to their own advantage.’

‘I don’t see why that’s such a bad thing. At least Warwick is well out of the way for a while.’

‘The garrison at Calais is England’s only standing army. Now Warwick has control of it—and of the Channel—and of our last possession in France. It is the perfect base for him to prepare a revolt against the king—against us, Father!’ Jasper’s voice is raised to the rafters of the great hall.

‘You can’t be in two places at once, Jasper. The king has other advisors.’

Jasper stops pacing and turns to me. ‘Before I came here I was the only one who remained loyal to the king.’

‘Because of the queen?’

Jasper nods. ‘The queen puts the interests of her son above everything else, even the best interests of the king.’

‘That’s understandable.’ I stare into the fire and remember how passionate the queen had been about her family. That is the problem. Reading between the lines of my last letter from Nathaniel I know the queen has offended not only the powerful nobles but also the influential merchants who have the money to fund armies.

We are interrupted by hammering at the door and Jasper’s man appears, breathless from his sprint across the inner ward. I fear I cannot take more bad news.

‘Lady Margaret has given birth... to a healthy boy, my lord.’

Jasper hands him a silver coin. ‘Did the midwife say if Lady Margaret is well?’

The man gratefully takes the coin. ‘As well as can be expected.’ He sees Jasper’s frown. ‘Those were her words, my lord.’

I understand the midwife’s coded message and see Jasper does also. My son had been right, after all, at that wedding banquet in Bletsoe Castle which seems so long ago now. This is going to be a testing time for us all. I will always remember how Catherine looked after giving birth to our daughter, and how I saw the shadow of an early death in our newborn child’s eyes.

‘Let us go and see if the midwife has more to say?’

Jasper is already heading for the door and we hurry across the inner ward, oblivious of the cold, and up the winding stone staircase of the tower set aside for Lady Margaret’s confinement. It is not spacious, but has the advantage of being well away from the men of the garrison.

Jasper knocks, and the door to Margaret’s room opens almost immediately, as the midwife is expecting us. Margaret sits in a chair by the fireside holding her new son, who is wrapped in a white shawl. She is worryingly pale, but the gleam of triumph in her eyes tells us more than the midwife ever could.

‘I have decided to name him Henry.’ Her voice sounds weak yet content.

Soon after Henry’s birth, Jasper asks to see me in his study, a high room in a tower with views overlooking the meandering River Cleddau. I join Jasper at the open window and together we watch as a tan-sailed barge attempts to moor at the castle wharf below. The river is tidal, with strong currents. The crew seems to be struggling as the barge approaches and shout to a man on the quayside who throws them a rope. One of the crew catches it and pulls the heavy barge into the lee of the castle.

Jasper turns to me. ‘Sometimes I wish my life was as simple as theirs, Father. It would be good to let others worry about the king or whatever the Duke of York is up to.’

‘You would never be content as a bargeman, Jasper.’ I grin at the thought. ‘I expected to find contentment in Beaumaris—but felt life was passing me by. It’s in our blood, our
restless
quest for knowledge, learning and adventure.
’

‘Your martlet device.’

‘
Our
martlet, Jasper—it is one thing you inherit from me.’

I sit in one of his comfortable chairs. The room is sparsely furnished, with a bare stone floor, a small hearth, two chairs and Jasper’s desk. The desk is covered in neat piles of papers, letters to be answered and a few of Jasper’s precious books. A goose-feather quill stands in a heavy bronze inkpot and an official document with a dark red seal is spread out on the desk. It looks as if Jasper was studying it and making changes when I arrived.

On one wall is a coloured parchment map of Wales. Imaginary sea monsters poke their heads from the blue-painted ocean, and the main castles feature as prominent, larger-than-life landmarks. The familiar castle at Beaumaris catches my eye and reminds me how far I have travelled from the peaceful solitude I had chosen. I have no regrets, as I am glad to spend as much time as I can with my new grandson.

I still see something of myself in Jasper, but we are quite different in character. Handsome and confident, he has been prepared well for his life as a noble. Even before the death of his brother, he was becoming the better leader of the two, with a talent for gaining the loyalty and respect of the men under his command.
 
 

‘We need to talk about Margaret—and her son.’ Jasper is serious. ‘The midwife said both Margaret and her child were close to death. After such a difficult birth... it is unlikely she will be able to have another child.’

‘That is unfortunate, Jasper—but thank God they both seem well enough now.’ I feel a sense of loss as I recall the moment at Much Hadam Palace when I first held my newborn son Edmund in my arms. ‘You are thinking little Henry needs a father?’ I had been expecting this discussion. It will need a special dispensation, but Jasper and Margaret seem a good match.

‘Lady Margaret’s mother has already chosen a husband for her, and I have agreed to arrange it.’

‘Margaret should observe twelve months of mourning before she starts planning another marriage.’ It pains me to be reminded how soon life is moving on after Edmund’s death, as if he never existed. I sit back in my chair. ‘So who is this lucky fellow?’

‘We thought to approach the Duke of Buckingham. He is proving a useful ally, helping me defend the Welsh Marches against York’s sympathisers. Margaret will marry the duke's second son, Henry Stafford.’

‘I see the sense of it. Buckingham is one of the few men left who can rival the power of York.’ I look across at Jasper. ‘Like Margaret, he is descended from the royal line, but as the second son, Henry Stafford has no fortune of his own.’

‘He won’t need it, Father. Lady Margaret’s fortune will provide for them both.’

I think about this for a moment. ‘Where will they live?’

‘Margaret owns a manor house in Lincolnshire. She told me she would consider moving there once she is remarried.’

I feel saddened, as Lincolnshire is a long way from Beaumaris, more than two hundred miles, and even further from Pembroke. There will be little opportunity for me to visit my only grandson.

Jasper seems to notice my concern. ‘There is a risk we could lose the Richmond estates, so I’ve requested that the king makes me little Henry’s legal guardian—and that he should receive his education here in Pembroke.’

I notice the glint in Jasper’s eye. He has cleverly found a way to keep his late brother’s son and me safely in Pembroke Castle, as well as protect Edmund’s legacy. I was right to think he had plans for Margaret, but they have proved to be quite different from those I was expecting. Now I know Jasper will not rest until Margaret agrees to his plan.

* * *

‘It feels good to breathe fresh sea air again!’

Bethan pulls off her headscarf and lets the breeze flow through her hair as we reach the seashore. It is a bright spring morning and we have ridden ten miles east from Pembroke Castle along the ancient ridgeway to the coastal town of Tenby. I am officially here to check the progress with the town defences, although I am glad to see the waves rolling onto the long sandy beach.

A surprising turn of events has led to me spending much of my time with little Henry. Now an intelligent child of two years old, my grandson has his mother’s Beaufort determination, as well as her frailty. After Margaret married Henry Stafford and moved to Lincolnshire Bethan has proved to be an ideal nursery maid for my grandson.

I had expected Bethan to want to return to her mother in Beaumaris by now, but she seems to be enjoying our new life in Pembroke. She is good company for me when Jasper is away on business, as he so often is these days, as she is always full of questions and keeps me active with our regular exploration of the local areas.

Our horses’ hooves dig deeply into the sand as we canter along the deserted beach. Seagulls call overhead in the light sea breeze and in the distance we see the island of Caldey, home to a Benedictine Priory. We ride up a steep hill up into the town, which bustles with activity. It is market day and people have travelled from miles around. The numerous taverns are doing good business, and market stalls line the long narrow street leading down to the harbour.

We leave our horses at a stable and I visit my favourite tavern while Bethan goes to see the market stalls. I find a sunlit table by the window where I can watch people coming and going, and thank the landlord, who brings me a jug of frothy, bitter tasting ale.

Conversation drifts across from other men drinking nearby. Although some speak in the local Welsh dialect, most of the talk is in English. I overhear an argument break out when one of the men drunkenly calls Prince Edward the bastard son of a French whore. Others accuse him of being a Yorkist and eject him into the street. I drain my tankard and leave in search of Bethan, who I find at a dressmaker’s stall.

She holds one of the dresses up for me to see. ‘What do you think, Master Tudor?’

I smile at her youthful enthusiasm. She has been well paid but there is little to spend her money on in Pembroke. ‘Too plain for you, Bethan,’ I suggest. ‘You should choose something with bright colours?’

The stallholder, a kindly looking woman, is listening and produces a dress in emerald green. ‘You may try this one on, my lady, if you wish.’

Bethan laughs at the dressmaker’s mistake, but I am not surprised. She has learnt a great deal from Lady Margaret during the year they were together. Her voice sounds almost cultured now and she has more natural grace than some of the noble ladies I have known. She disappears behind the stall and soon emerges wearing the dress, which seems a good fit, accentuating her shapely curves.

I look at her appraisingly. ‘That’s perfect. You can pass for a lady anywhere now, Bethan.’

She buys the emerald green dress, as well as a woollen shawl to keep out the evening chill. ‘I shall keep it for special occasions!’

We continue down the hill to the harbour and the smell of fresh fish fills the air. As we turn the corner we see the little harbour is alive with activity. The fleet has returned and men are unloading wicker baskets overflowing with fish. They use long ropes to haul their catch from the holds of the boats high up onto the stone quay, where the merchants of the town are already haggling for the best price.

One of the merchants recognises me and calls out. ‘Good day, Master Tudor!’

I raise my hand in acknowledgement. ‘Good day, sir. How is the progress with the walls?’

‘They should be finished within the month or so, sir. You must come with me and see.’

We follow the merchant to the highest part of the town, where the old stone wall is being raised by the height of a man and made wider to create a walkway. Jasper started the improvements two years before and a team of stonemasons has been working on it ever since. The old moat has also been dug out to a width of thirty feet, and with the new gun ports, installed at Jasper’s expense, Tenby is now one of the best defended harbours on this stretch of coast.

Looking down at the busy scene in the sheltered harbour below I realise this place is beginning to feel more like home than Beaumaris ever was. I have found unexpected happiness here with my grandson and Bethan. My only wish is that Jasper would be able to settle down without the shadow of York’s rebellion looming over us like an unwelcome storm cloud.

Back in Pembroke Castle little Henry shrieks with delight as I carry him high on my shoulders in the spring sunshine. The grassed area of the castle’s inner ward has become Henry’s playground, as the soldiers are mostly away with Jasper, leaving only the men on guard duty at the gatehouse.

‘Careful, Henry!’ Bethan laughs and shouts to me. ‘Hold on tight!’

‘I have him—you fuss about him more than his mother.’

‘When is Lady Margaret coming back to Pembroke?’

I carefully lower Henry to the ground. ‘Jasper said she might be back in the summer.’

‘That’s a long time for a child. He will hardly recognise her.’

‘I must admit I have mixed feelings about it. I didn’t think she would agree to leave Henry behind.’

‘I wouldn’t have.’ Bethan watches Henry toddle after the red leather ball, his favourite toy.

‘As Lady Margaret is still under age, she is still officially Jasper’s ward. I was surprised though, when the king awarded Jasper joint wardship of little Henry—but then I was surprised when you decided to stay on here at Pembroke.’

‘You know the reason well enough, Master Tudor.’ She looks at me questioningly. ‘Have you said anything to Sir Jasper yet?’

‘There hasn’t been the right time.’ The words sound like an excuse, although it is the truth.

Little Henry brings me his ball, which I take and throw a little distance for him. He toddles off in pursuit, his eyes shining with Beaufort and Tudor determination.

‘I‘ve hardly had the chance to speak to Jasper since he was appointed
constable of Aberystwyth and Carmarthen. Even when he does come back he goes straight to Tenby.’

Bethan’s expression shows she has heard it all before.
When Jasper returns to Pembroke I must reveal my secret, something I have kept well, although if I delay any longer it will be too late. I know my son as well as anyone, yet I have no idea how he will react to my news.

I wait until we are alone one evening and all the servants are stood down.

‘There is something I need to tell you, Jasper.’

‘You’re thinking of returning to Beaumaris?’

‘No—well not yet at least.’

He smiles with understanding. ‘You want to spend more time with little Henry?’

‘And with you, Jasper.’ I take a deep breath. ‘Bethan...’ I cannot look him in the eye. ‘She is expecting a child.’

‘Do you know who the father is?’

‘I do.’

‘You?’

‘It was never my plan.’

‘Bethan is even younger than I am.’ Jasper sounds more amused than disapproving.

I’m unsure how to explain my actions to him. ‘When I first met Bethan she’d never travelled further than the Wednesday market at Caernarvon. She has changed a great deal since then.’

‘So it seems.’ He raises an eyebrow.

‘You didn’t suspect?’

‘Well, at least you were discreet. We have to keep this from Lady Margaret, of course, she would not approve of such a thing.’

‘There is no need to tell anyone. I thought you deserved to know you are to have another half-brother—or sister.’

 
Jasper sits looking at me, his head tilted to one side, as if seeing me in a new light. ‘I also have a secret—and this seems as good a time to share it with you as any.’

‘You have finally decided to marry a rich widow?’

He gives me a wry smile. ‘My secret is that you have a granddaughter, named Ellen—or at least that is what her mother would have me understand.’

Now it is my turn to look surprised. ‘Where is she? How old is she?’

‘It was a year ago, in North Wales. Her mother is a woman named
Myfanwy.
’ Jasper smiles at a memory as he says her name. ‘I would not say we are close.’

I understand, as Jasper has his own life to lead. ‘I would like to meet her when we are next in the north.’