The Dragon of Handale (21 page)

“But that’s ridiculous! Surely nobody believes such nonsense?”

“They’re only too willing to believe it.”

“But it’s clearly a campaign of lies to undermine King Richard.”

“They’ll pretend to believe it for their own ends.” Ulf was boiling with rage.

“What on earth is the king doing?”

“He’s in London, trying to ensure that the Londoners stay on his side. Robert de Vere is supposed to be raising levies, if he can tear himself away from Agnes de Lancekrona’s bed long enough.”

“That says it all about de Vere. Where is he now?”

“They say he’s in Lancashire, intending to raise forces as he makes his way through Cheshire and into North Wales. But we don’t call him the earl of Oxford anymore. He’s the marquess of Ireland.”

“Such nonsense. Why did the king put Robert de Vere, of all men in charge?”

Ulf gave a snort. “Because he knows he’s loyal.”

“But he hasn’t an ounce of military experience.”

“I know. It’s madness—”

“What about Bolingbroke?”

“He hasn’t shown his hand, but they say he intends to lead his own army down to face de Vere head-on.”

Hildegard shuddered. King Richard’s cousin, Henry Bolingbroke, was coldly ambitious. Clutching at straws, she said, “Surely Bolingbroke will find it difficult to raise a levy with his father’s militia already in Spain?”

“Gaunt sent most of his men back; he’s using mercenaries to help him hang on to his Castilian crown. Bolingbroke’ll be able to call on everyone who owes allegiance to his father. His access to the Lancastrian fortune will make it easy to buy mercenaries. His patronage will ensure the barons and every shire knight will rally to his cause. The king has no war chest. He can’t finance an army of his own—thanks to the royal council running his affairs over the past year.”

Hildegard felt ill at the thought. “Poor Dickon.” She frowned. “He looked so isolated at Westminster last autumn when Woodstock and Arundel showed their contempt for him. They know they’re the stronger and they’ve deliberately run the council to keep him short of funds so he can’t arm himself. The prioress at Swyne told me he has a loyal following of Welsh archers but that elsewhere the magnates closed their doors against him.”

“There’s been no call to muster an array up here. Northumberland is sitting on his hands, waiting.”

“But why?”

“There’s a big argument going on about a swath of land between him and the southern counties.”

“What do you mean?”

Ulf got down from his horse. “This concerns Handale. The lord de Thweng held Kilton Castle from the old king, but he died without a suitable male heir. His eldest son died in childhood and his two remaining sons were already dedicated to the Church. His lands, including the castle, have been passed down the line and have now reached a bastard son and a remaining grandchild, a girl. Whoever marries her gets his hands on a swath of the North Riding large enough to hand him the balance of power between Northumberland and the king. For anybody with ambition, it’s an irresistible prize. They say Northumberland is holding fire until the matter comes to settlement, because the last thing he wants is another enemy on his doorstep. He’s got enough of those over the border in Scotland.”

“So if the new lord of Kilton turns out to be an ally of Bolingbroke and a traitor to the king, Northumberland will dance to his tune?”

“Exactly. He won’t want to be on the losing side.”

“Poor Dickon,” she repeated.

“I don’t need to tell you, that Roger de Hutton is straining at the leash. He’ll call us out for the king as soon as he can. Knowing him, he’d fight Richard’s enemies single-handed if it came to it.”

“When he raises his army, will you go?”

“You have to ask?” He suddenly reached down to her. “My dearest, this is no greeting. Is everything well so far?”

She gripped the hand he held out. “Northumberland’s men were here last night. I recognised their lion badges. They raided the tower and took away Fulke’s bounty but didn’t bother with whatever goods are in the upper chamber.” Her expression was bleak. “It’s beginning to make sense. Can you guess what Fulke had in store?”

He shook his head.

“Feathers for war arrows.” Her grip tightened. “But that’s nothing to what you’ve just told me. I can’t believe it. Surely the earl will support the king? He has to!”

Ulf looked disgusted. “His present excuse is that he can’t leave the northern border unguarded, for fear of the Scots.”

“Wise enough,” she pointed out. “We know they’re still smarting after their defeat at the battle of Neville’s Cross. And there are rumours that they’re rearming, not,” she added, “that there’s anything new in that. They’re always rearming. The sale of arms is what keeps this part of the country out of poverty.”

“Be it so, he’s waiting to see which way the wind blows. Then he’ll come out in support of the victors, whoever they are. Richard has no one except de Vere, with no experience of military matters, and Sir Simon Burley, poor old devil, who might be an acclaimed war hero but is well into his sixties, fighting days over, and can’t be expected to command an army on the move.”

“Ulf, the mystery at Handale, the deaths of the mason and the priest, terrible though they are, seem small beer in the shadow of King Richard’s predicament. I’m frightened. Do you really believe the coalition of Woodstock, Arundel, and Bolingbroke will attack the king?”

“I’m afraid I do. This is just the opportunity Woodstock has been waiting for. There’s another thing. This is top secret.” He looked guarded and in a lowered tone told her, “Northumberland has convened a secret meeting of all the northern chivalry. They arrive at Kilton within the week.”

“To discuss the latest from the dukes?”

He nodded.

“Let’s pray they come out for the king,” she said.

“That may depend on the allegiance of the next lord of Kilton Castle.”

Ulf’is men hobbled the horses behind a screen of trees above the beck, then followed Ulf and Hildegard into the darkening woods.

As they scrambled alongside the beck, Ulf said, “I wonder how Northumberland came to discover Fulke’s illegal imports?”

“This is an ideal coastline for smuggling goods in from the Baltic and Norway, as well as from the south of England.”

“Goose feathers from the port at Lynn? Yes, I can see that. It’s rocky, with a hundred inlets and sea caves round here. Perfect for smugglers.”

“I believe they knew exactly what they were looking for,” she told him. “They were fully prepared when they turned up, with several barges ready to convey the cargo out to the coast. They’ll be on their way to Alnwick Castle by now.” The earl of Northumberland’s stronghold at Alnwick lay several hours up the coast, near Bamburgh.

“So it looks as if somebody informed on this merchant Fulke?”

She nodded. “I believe it was Prioress Basilda.”

“What? I thought he was her benefactor?”

“I believe she fell out with him for some reason and decided to ditch him.”

“Maybe things were getting too hot for her?”

“She’s certainly bitten the hand that feeds her. Something changed. But maybe you’re right that things became too much for her, with an absconding novice and the death of the priest. Have you learned anything from Alys, by the way?”

Ulf shook his head. “She seems to know nothing, neither the name of her abductor who brought her to Fulke nor the destiny planned for her. She is merely grateful to have escaped his clutches Her chatter mainly concerned the dragon stalking the woods, how it howls through the night and terrorises the nuns.”

“Well, that’s all over now.” Hildegard gave him a warm smile.

He said, “Hildegard, talking about the ease by which smugglers can bring in their goods along this coast reminds me of something.” “He smiled fondly. Do you remember that time everybody at Hutton Castle came out to the coast on some holy day or other when my father was head huntsman? How we found a sea cave among the rocks that was only visible at low tide?”

“And how you and some other boys hid inside it and we all believed you were drowned?” She chuckled. “How could I forget! The entire household stood on the cliff top, wailing and praying for a miracle.”

“My father gave us hell when we reappeared at low tide.”

“I was so he leaved to see you safe and sound.”

“What bad boys we were!” By now, they were approaching the clearing where the tower stood. A chill wind had sprung up and was sweeping round the grove.

“According to the weather prophets, a blizzard is on its way,” he murmured as they came to a stop to survey the scene.

“That won’t please the masons. They’re desperate to get away. They want to leave as soon as Sueno de Schockwynde arrives from Durham. If there’s a blizzard, do you think there’s a chance he might not get through?”

Ulf shrugged. “If it snows hard, he won’t have a chance up there on the moors. But come on. We have things to do.” He unsheathed his sword. “And this is the tower? It’s almost dark now. Let’s break open its secret once and for all.”

C
HAPTER
19

The door gaped just as it had when Hildegard last saw it. The padlock hung loose, rattling now and then as it swung in the wind.

While they had been making their way through the woods, the tops of the trees had started to thrash in a rising wind. The air became suddenly warmer and the clouds were distended and looked ready to burst. A silvery light stole over everything.

“How strange it is,” whispered Hildegard as they reached the grey stone edifice. Ulf’s men seemed subdued by the weird atmosphere and the moaning wind.

“I can understand country folk believing the woods are bewitched,” Ulf murmured. “They trees seem to sense something’s afoot. Come on, there’s nobody here,” he continued in a louder tone. “Let’s go in and wait.” He gave instructions to his men, then led the way inside.

One or two feathers lay on the threshold, and Hildegard picked one up. Ulf took it. “Feathers for war arrows. That’s what this is. Northumberland must be rearming. He’ll be delighted with his haul.”

“Except for the fact that it was probably his own consignment that was waylaid.”

“And you believe it was being held here until it could be resold to a higher bidder?”

“Don’t you?”

Ulf chuckled. “He must be pleased he’ll be able to keep his fletchers in work.”

He took the lead up the stairs to the top of the tower. Nothing had changed since Hildegard had been here. The padlock remained on the door of the second chamber, untouched, and the other chamber was empty. Ulf resheathed his sword.

She showed him where she had hidden from Fulke, and his teeth gleamed from out of the shadows in a brief smile. “We might as well do that again. It’s likely to be fully dark by the time Fulke arrives. After one surprise raid, he’ll not expect another.”

“We can’t be sure he’ll come back.”

“It’ll depend on the value he attaches to the goods. If he doesn’t show up, we’ll break the door open and see for ourselves what’s in there.”

They clambered in among the crossbeams, where the shadows were darkest, and settled down to wait.

In the silence that fell once they were comfortable, Ulf reached out across the gap for Hildegard’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

As Ulf had predicted, it was fully dark before they heard stealthy footsteps coming up the stairs. They approached the door of the chamber opposite and came to a stop. Hildegard’s hair prickled. It was as if a ghost had silently climbed the stairs.

There was the chink of metal as somebody fumbled with the lock.

Suddenly, a light flared.

Two shapes loomed in the doorway, then disappeared as the light went out.

The door to the second chamber had been left wide open to invite Fulke to believe that there was no one inside. Now they heard footsteps shuffle. Fulke was not alone.

The light flared again.

From her vantage point high up, Hildegard saw the velvet coxcomb capuchon she had seen before. A brief glint from the hilt of a sword. Again the clink of the padlock. A short pause. Then the creaking of the door as it was pushed open.

Ulf, indistinguishable from the upright beam where he stood, was leaning forward to get a better look. The light disappeared inside the chamber. The voices of two men came, low and intimate.

Fulke said more sharply, “Shut up!”

Hildegard gripped tightly onto the beam where she was hiding. “What have they got in there?”

“So there’s your gold,” came a voice she recognised as the coxcomb’s. Then Fulke again, smug: “And your goods, my dear fellow. Much joy to you. Now let’s get out. This place is giving me the creeps.”

“Afeared of the dragon, are you?” The coxcomb sniggered.

The wind was moaning around the tower with greater force. Anything could be imagined.

A shadow within the chamber doorway lengthened briefly across the floor below their hiding place, followed by another more confused shape; then the light went out as the figures began their descent.

Evidently, something heavy was being carried, as there was a scraping sound and one or two grunted instructions from Fulke. After the sound faded, Ulf reached out and tapped her on the arm. “Let’s go.”

He swung to the floor and lifted up his arms for Hildegard.

“We’ll let them lead us back through the woods, then stop them before they reach the ford.”

“What if they have a barge, like the others?”

“We’ll have to take a chance.”

“Who is that overdressed fellow with Fulke?” Ulf whispered as he and Hildegard stayed inside the tower until their quarry moved off. The grove was lit by three or four blazing torches. The customer, they observed, had brought two men with him as well as a horse. The goods he had purchased were being loaded onto the back of the horse with some difficulty.

“I’ve no idea who he is,” she replied. “I’ve only ever seen him here. He arrives and departs by stealth and never shows his face at the priory.”