[Roger the Chapman 02] - The Plymouth Cloak (2 page)

'Roger Chapman, you're to come with me. Now. To the Duke of Gloucester. My master is in urgent need of a man who he can trust.'
 

Those of you who have bothered to read my reminiscences thus far will know that during my first adventure - which I referred to just now - I also managed, quite fortuitously, to render a very important service to His Grace, the Duke of Gloucester, as a result of which it appeared that I was now to he pressed into use to do him another. As there was no way in which I could refuse the request, even though it would impinge on time when I should be earning my livelihood, I reflected on the inadvisability of getting mixed up with one's betters in the first place. However, the damage was done, and there was nothing I could do about it now.
 

I recognized the man who had accosted me without difficulty. His name was Timothy Plummer, and I had once rescued him from an importunate pieman, over-anxious to sell his wares, in Cheapside, in London. It was this encounter which had subsequently led to my meeting with his master, the Duke of Gloucester, and all that that involved. I stared at him now a trifle stupidly, as though not quite sure that he were real.
 

'How did you know I was in Exeter?' I demanded. 'I've hardly had time to get my bearings.'
 

'I saw you as you were crossing the West Gate bridge and went at once to His Grace. What does it matter?' he added impatiently. 'The Duke wants to see you. You have no choice but to accompany me immediately.'
 

'I'm aware of that,' I answered bitterly. 'I was going to buy myself a drink at Bevys Tavern. I suppose His Grace wouldn't be prepared to wait?'
 

Timothy Plummer drew himself up to his full height, but still failed to reach my shoulder, a fact which plainly annoyed him. But I was used to that. My size and strength have been, throughout my life, a source of irritation to others. (Not that I am as tall nowadays as I was in my youth. Age and crumbling bones have cut me down to size - physically if not mentally, my children inform me.)
 

'I am not prepared to wait,' he retorted grandly.
 

'It's just that I breakfasted a long time ago,' I grumbled. 'And then only on a couple of barley cakes and honey which a farmer's wife was kind enough to give me.'
 

My little man shrugged. 'I can't help that.' He jerked his head. 'Follow me. His Grace is lodging at the Bishop's Palace. But he must leave Exeter by this afternoon. We've no time to spare. '
 

I accepted the coupling of his name with the Duke's and fell in meekly behind him. He strutted ahead, his blue-and-murrey livery and insignia of the White Boar miraculously clearing a path through the jostling crowds. People turned their heads to stare at us and a glimmer of commiseration entered their eyes as they rested on me. Plainly they thought I had committed some misdemeanour and was being led away for questioning. This, together with my rapidly increasing thirst and gnawing hunger, put me in a thoroughly bad mood. By the time I was shown into the presence of the Duke, I was hard pressed even to speak civilly, let alone display the deference which was his due. All I could see was a man of my own age, almost twenty-one summers, as young and as vulnerable as I felt myself.
 

The Bishop's Palace at Exeter stands in the lee of the Cathedral, a red sandstone building, in sharp contrast to the pale Beer stone of the church. As I entered behind Timothy Plummer, there was no sign of Bishop John Bothe, but there was a hum of activity involving both his and the Duke's officials, whose general deportment and disdainful expressions - particularly when they deigned to glance at me indicated the measure of their self-importance. This was totally at variance with the Duke's own courteous manners and pleasant, welcoming smile.
 

He had risen at my entrance from a carved armchair beside a small and rather smoky fire, and came forward to greet me. He must have noted my sour expression for his eyes twinkled and he said ruefully: 'Roger the Chapman! It's a pleasure to meet you once again, although I fear you cannot feel the same way. I've dragged you from your work and you're cursing my presumption.'
 

'Not - not at all, Your Highness,' I stammered, disconcerted to find that he had read my mind so well. 'It's just that ... that I've had nothing to eat or drink since early this morning and ... ' My voice tailed away as I realized that I had said more than I had intended.
 

He smiled, the smile which lit up his face, dispelling its naturally sombre expression. 'And that enormous frame of yours needs constant nourishment, is that it?' He turned to Timothy Plummer. 'Fetch some breakfast for our friend here; whatever's available in his lordship's kitchens.' He gave a sudden crow of laughter. 'And knowing how our Bishops generally look after their creature comforts, there should be plenty, and in great variety.' As Timothy Plummer vanished, none too pleased at being sent on this menial errand, the Duke resumed his seat by the fire, indicating that I should pull up a joint stool which stood against one wall, and sit down opposite him. When I had done so there was silence for a moment or two while we regarded one another.
 

1 had forgotten how small and delicate-looking he was, the dark curtain of hair swinging almost to his shoulders. His mouth was thin and mobile, and a deep cleft ran between the upper lip and the wide nostrils of the straight Plantagenet nose. There were shadows round the eyes, as though he slept badly, and the chin was just a little too long and full for the true handsomeness of his big, blond, elder brothers. Yet in his lifetime, I have often heard him spoken of as the most attractive of the three, and I know women found him very good-looking. (To say as much today is akin to treason, but I shall tell the truth and hang the consequences.)
 

If Richard of Gloucester were delicate of body, he was steel-willed of mind, a fact attested to by his unwavering loyalty to his brother King Edward in the face of all adversity and temptation. Unlike his other brother, George of Clarence, his allegiance had never faltered, not even when it had meant giving up all hope of marrying the woman he loved. That sacrifice was now happily a thing of the past, and he and his cousin, the Lady Anne Neville, had been man and wife for eighteen months. And in some small way I had been instrumental in bringing that about.
 

The same thought must have been in his mind also, for he suddenly gave a rare grin and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. For a brief moment we were no longer royal duke and the lowliest of commoners, but friends; two young men born on the same day - or at least so my mother always insisted - drawn together by the bonds of youth and the sharing of a past adventure. He reached out unexpectedly and clasped my hand.
 

'I owe you a great deal, Roger Chapman and instead of rewarding you, I'm about to enlist your assistance yet again. But I promise that you won't go unrecompensed. You will be more than compensated for your loss of earnings over the next few days while you ride to Plymouth, and for however many days are needed until you return.' My lower jaw must have dropped open in astonishment, but just at that moment, a serving-man entered bearing a laden tray, and the Duke laughed. 'Eat your breakfast first and then I'll tell you why I need you.' He nodded dismissal to the server, who had placed his burden on a table near the window. 'Now, take your stool over there and tuck in. I'm sure there's no more than a good trencherman like yourself can manage.'
 

The sight of food put all other considerations temporarily out of my mind. Even my anxiety about what sort of mission it was that I was being asked to undertake was swamped by my gnawing hunger. For the next quarter of an hour I worked my way steady through a plate of boiled beef and mutton, a dish of soused herrings, oatmeal cakes and bacon, sprinkled with saffron, and half a small loaf, all of which I washed down with three or four cups of excellent ale poured from a large pitcher left on the table. As I cleared the final traces of food from around my teeth and drained the last dregs, I looked up to find the Duke regarding me with ill-concealed amusement. For a moment I was overcome with embarrassment, before deciding that frankness was my best weapon.

‘I must apologize to Your Grace if my table manners are less than you are used to, but I rarely have the chance to taste food as good as this - or indeed as plentiful- and I'm afraid I allowed myself to be carried away. I assure you that I don't always eat like a pig let loose at the trough.'
 

That made him laugh openly. 'You didn't,' he said. 'It was a pleasure to see someone enjoying himself so much. His face grew serious. 'It's easy to forget that not all people get enough food to sustain them every day. Now, bring your stool back here again, where we can talk.' When I had complied, he went on: 'How are things going with you? You haven't decided to change your calling?'
 

I shook my head. 'I like the open road. I've never been happy being confined within four walls, which is why I left Glastonbury Abbey. But I've never thanked Your Highness properly for your offer of two years ago, to take me into your household. I tried to explain to your messenger as well as I could my reasons for refusing. '
 

The Duke inclined his head. 'He delivered his message faithfully. I was sorry, but I understood.' His eyes strayed to the fire, which was nothing more now than a fringe of grey ash, trembling along the edge of what remained of the logs. 'I, too, dislike the feeling of being caged. I go to Westminster as little as possible, and when I'm there I dream all the time of the Yorkshire moors.' He turned to smile ruefully at me. 'You and I are two of a kind, it seems, yet another reason why I know I can trust you. But I knew that the moment I first clapped eyes on you. With some people, I can tell instinctively. With others-' his tone grew bitter - 'I shall never understand them.' I guessed that he was thinking of his brother George, but I said nothing. I was not my place to do so. After a further pause he continued in his normal voice: 'So! Down to business. You're naturally wondering why I've brought you here, and I must be ready to set off towards Nottingham as soon as possible.' He shifted in his chair to face me more directly, and I gave him my undivided attention.
 

CHAPTER 2
 

There was silence for perhaps ten seconds before the Duke spoke again. When he did so his voice was a little sharper, a little more urgent.
 

'You understand that what I am about to tell you is of the greatest secrecy; that I trust you implicitly.' He gave a faint, wintry smile. 'Until Timothy Plummer mentioned to my secretary that he had seen you in Exeter earlier this morning, I was at my wits' end to know what to do. Whom to employ.' He shrugged and added bitterly: 'It's not easy nowadays to put faith in anyone.' And I knew that he was thinking yet again of his brother George, and possibly also of that other George, his cousin, the Archbishop of York, now immured in Hammes Castle.
 

I said quickly: 'Your Grace need have no fear. You can trust me implicitly.'
 

'If I were not convinced of that fact I should not be talking to you. Your presence here is fortuitous, but it seems like an answer to prayer. And who knows? It may well be.'
 

I guessed that he was probably right. God was calling in the second part of the debt I owed him for renouncing the chance to become one of his priests. I determined to have a brisk word with the Almighty; to ask Him just how long this was likely to go on, but now was neither the time nor the place. Instead I smiled, albeit with clenched teeth, and murmured: 'God moves in mysterious ways, Your Highness.'
 

The Duke glanced at me, a trifle suspiciously I thought, and then went on: 'You cannot be unaware of the rumours of invasion which have been plaguing the country all spring and summer; of the fact that Duke Francis is said to be backing Henry Tudor's claim to the English throne and is ready to send a contingent of Breton ships and men to reinforce that claim. Even as we speak, the Earl of Oxford is cruising in mid-Channel, waiting for the opportunity to attack yet again somewhere along our shores.' He lowered his eyes and began fiddling with his rings, slipping one of them repeatedly on and off his thumb. 'Nor can you be ignorant of the fact that ... that certain people very close to the King and myself have been implicated in this treason. In short, my brother and my cousin. ' There was a protracted pause, then he raised his eyes and continued more cheerfully: 'However, the King and I are by no means convinced of Duke Francis' s complicity in this matter. Not one of our agents, either in Brest or St Malo, has reported seeing anything which could be construed as an invasion fleet. Nevertheless, we have decided to dispatch a messenger to Brittany with a letter for the Duke.' Again he shrugged. 'Its contents are of no consequence either to you or to the man selected for the task. Suffice it to say that certain assurances have been asked for and promises made. But it is vital that the letter reaches its destination safely.' He rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and regarded me straitly above his clasped hands. 'You are wondering what your part is in all this. Let me explain. '
 

I was indeed wondering and, for a few brief, panic stricken seconds, had been afraid that I was the selected messenger. But a moment of reflection soon allayed my fears. For such a mission it was necessary to employ a man who knew Brittany well and was familiar to its Duke. This could not apply to me who, at that time, had never left the country and knew nothing of life beyond seas. I muttered something indistinctly and hoped that Duke Richard would mistake it for enthusiasm.