Now stop talking and collect your belongings.’
‘Why?’
‘We’re leaving.’
I looked at him aghast. ‘What about the feast? Do we not celebrate? If there is to be tilting and swordplay, how can you resist? King Henry will be delighted to defeat you and all comers. Will you not allow him that further victory against the Percy name?’
‘I’ll resist the temptation.’ He sat next to me to pull off the extravagant shoes. ‘There are only so many times I can bow before him on one day. Look, Elizabeth, it’s done and we must accept it. For now at least. But I’ll not sit through a ceremonial banquet with my father standing throughout, lofting the Lancaster sword as a symbol of what we have just done. I do not wish to see Westmorland holding the royal rod of office. Nor will I exchange lances or sword blows on the tournament field with the King. Enough is enough. It all leaves a sour taste in my throat.’
‘What will King Henry say?’ I took one shoe from him, then the other, smoothing the leather between my palms while he pulled on his boots.
‘I’ll not tell him.’ My brows flew. I dropped the shoes. ‘I’ll send a message. I’ll make some excuse of insurrection in Richard’s name in the north that needs to be put down by the Warden himself. He’ll happily send me off with his blessing in absentia.’
I was already on my feet, opening coffers and removing the jewels I had been wearing.
‘What will your father say?’
Muffled in the folds of the plain wool under-tunic that he was pulling over his head, Harry’s words were clear enough. ‘He’ll cry foul but we’ll be gone.’
‘So you’ll not tell him either.’
Harry, emerging, grinned as I recalled him grinning when he was much younger.
‘Be honest with me,’ I said, helping him to pull on a thigh-length, more serviceable tunic, running my fingers through his hair to restore the semblance of order. ‘I feel a need for honesty on this day. We seem to have been surrounded by trickery and false promises for too long.’
‘There has been no trickery, Elizabeth. We are loyal subjects, we support Henry’s authority, we make the most of opportunities in the north or wherever he demands our participation, and we will ensure that he pays us for the loan of our armed retainers. It will all be to our advantage.’
‘But what about…’
‘I know.’ His fingers on my lips stopped the word ‘Mortimer’ before it could be uttered. ‘Perhaps one day. Not now, not yet. And there is no point in blaming me.’ He kissed me in passing, which went no way to soothing my heart, my sense of failure. ‘We will rule the north in Henry’s name.’
‘Percy deceit and double-dealing.’
‘No. Percy pragmatism. Can you accept that? I would rather we were not at odds for the whole of the journey back to Alnwick.’
‘Very well.’ But I had not quite forgiven him. Or the Earl. Still, I tried for a lighter note between us. ‘I know what it is,’ I said. ‘You can’t bring yourself to sit silent through Sir Thomas Dymoke’s challenge at the feast.’
Sir Thomas, King’s Champion and full of conceit, would challenge to a duel any man who questioned the King’s right to the throne. He would enjoy every minute of the ceremonial.
‘No, I cannot.’ Harry was grimacing. ‘He’s nothing but a pompous bagpipe, and I might be tempted to take him up on the offer. Now, are we ready to go?’
At last we had both set aside our finery. ‘What do we do with these?’ I asked.
Harry regarded them, symbols of Lancaster hegemony. ‘Fold them neatly, I suppose.’
‘You have never folded your garments neatly in your life…’
‘And we will return them with thanks. Until the next time.’
‘Harry…’
I waited until he turned to me. But then a rap on the door forestalled any further conversation, particularly as the door was opened without any invitation from within. The Earl stood on the threshold, casting an eye around the room as his presence filled it, equally garbed in red damask, three strips of gold braid on his right breast defining his rank. A crimson chaperon, decorated with a cloud of white fur, enhanced the impression of status and power.
His smile faded.
‘What in God’s name are you doing?’
‘Going home.’
‘Are you a fool, man?’
‘I’ve done all that is necessary. I’ve acclaimed. I’ve witnessed. I’ve taken an oath that is binding unto death. I do not have to eat and drink and joust.’
‘What’s ruffled your fur?’ He turned on me. ‘Is this your doing? The claim of the Mortimer child is not worth mentioning. Why give it time and space?’
Accusations proceeded to fly between them, needing no intervention from me.
‘You knew this was to be the outcome,’ Harry accused.
‘So did you if you will confess it.’
‘Yes, but I don’t have to like it.’
‘You’ll like the rewards well enough. Even your uncle of Worcester can come to terms with necessity.’
‘As I have done.’ Harry’s temper, kept in hand in dispute with me, now flamed as bright as his hair. ‘But I’ll not sit at his table and raise a cup of his best spiced wine to seal what is a chancy alliance at best. I think we have been used as magnificent puppets, my lord father, won over by oaths and fair words. And gold chains.’ He gestured to the sparkling gems on the Earl’s breast. ‘Are Percy jewels suddenly not good enough for you? Make sure King Henry pays you well for all our services. Without us he would never have been wearing that crown. Our prestige and our troops made all the difference. We were the first to support him with soldiery in any number capable of giving battle.’
‘Without doubt, nephew.’ The Earl of Worcester, similarly opulent in silk and fur and gold braid, had arrived in the wake of his brother. Shorter, less robust, but unmistakably Percy, he held himself with quiet confidence. ‘We have become kingmakers indeed.’ He smiled at me. ‘I was about to say that you look superb, Elizabeth, but there seem to have been some rapid changes since I saw you at the crowning.’
He embraced me.
‘A rapid change of plan,’ I said.
Meanwhile Harry’s stare remained severe. ‘Have you too come to terms with your conscience, Uncle?’
‘I have. It was necessary.’
‘And yet you were at Richard’s side in Ireland and when he landed.’
‘And now I am here.’
‘Well, Elizabeth and I will be in Alnwick by the time you have both finished roistering, and when you have returned Lancaster Sword to its owner, my Lord Constable.’
Worcester looked from Harry to me, as if he had known the tenor of the conversation before he arrived. Perhaps he had. ‘There’s no chance for young Mortimer, you know.’
Thomas Percy, Earl of Worcester. Younger than his brother, slighter in build, his features not so hawkish, Worcester had an air of gentle elegance about him and a gift of drawing advantages out of the most unfavourable of circumstances. Unwed, with no family of his own, he had dedicated his life to service to the King. He had a name for diplomacy and cool speaking that could smooth the clash of magnate ambitions. Erudite, educated, charming – I liked him. I could not quite understand how he had given his name to this change in circumstance, except that he had always been attorney to the Lancasters. Perhaps that had been the persuading element in his dramatic change of loyalty since no one would know better