‘Nonsense,’ Tyballis sniffed. ‘I can look after myself. I’ve been doing it long enough.’
Jon stepped forward. ‘My responsibility is to my family,’ he said, standing solid. ‘My wife, my children. I have a friend lives the other side of the tanneries. A little farm he has, with pigs and cabbages. I’m taking my family there, quick as I can. Tyballis, you want to come with us – then come. I’ll lead.’
She shook her head. ‘No. Once Drew gets back I want to know about it. I don’t want to hide where he can’t find me.’
Everyone looked at each other. The night was cold. The children were shivering. ‘Hurry,’ Jon said, nodding to Felicia. ‘I’ll waste no more time talking.’
Casper turned to Tyballis. ‘Reckon I’ll go with you, and don’t much care where. London – Jerusalem – don’t matter to me neither way. So, how’s about it, my Lady Feayton? You’ll let yer old gaol mate look after yer again?’
Within minutes each group had separated from the others, scurrying into the darkness. Tyballis felt her eyes water and hoped it was the cold. She looked at Casper and said softly, ‘Thank you. But if you’d prefer –’
Casper grinned. ‘What I’d prefer,’ he said, ‘is to get a bastard move on. Ain’t no point getting nabbed now. You want London? Then it’s the river for us.’ And he took hold of her elbow, steering her quickly into the narrow alley leading directly south.
Tyballis whispered, ‘The river? Is that – quite – necessary?’
‘Ain’t no choice,’ Casper said cheerfully. ‘Want into the city this time o’ the night? Thames is the only way. ’Sides, ’tis a proper sweet sight, the Thames. Heart of London, it is, and swells a Londoner’s heart with pride. Not that I’ll be wanting you to swim, mind you. I’ll thieve us a boat. You just leave it to me.’
Andrew left Middleham Castle in the duke’s personal entourage. Under the title of Lord Feayton, he rode a short way behind the duke, but some way ahead of the steady tramp of the attendant retainers. It was a small muster; three hundred Yorkshire men, unarmed and cheerful as the pale spring sunshine attempted to break through the cloud cover.
The Duke of Gloucester had not taken Mister Cobham fully into his confidence, but prior to leaving Middleham he had talked with him at some length.
‘I have no proof,’ the duke said. ‘I will never forgive and I will never forget. But I cannot order Dorset’s nor Rivers’ executions without naming cause.’
Andrew bowed his head. ‘I had proof only against Lord Marrott, your grace. But even that was lost to me. Something more yet may be found.’
The duke was leaning against the wall by the long alcoved window, his elbow to the stone. He looked out across the dales, and spoke softly to the sky. ‘I know the Woodvilles. Before long they will incriminate themselves in one manner or another. Their own appetites will ensure it.’
Andrew stood by the hearth. It was empty of fire, and a great copper urn stood instead, filled with the rustle of dried flowers and wild grasses. ‘Will you have me stay in London, your grace, to watch them, and all those who threaten the peace? Some of the foreign spies are still active: Mancini, Brassard, Dominguez. Lady Richmond’s man Bray still keeps in regular contact with her son Henry Tudor. Colyngbourne also remains much involved.’
The duke looked back at Andrew over his shoulder. ‘Between you and Brampton, you have given great service, Mister Cobham. It must certainly continue. The worst has now happened. But there will be more to come.’
‘My lord.’ Andrew bowed slightly. ‘There have been mistakes, but I believe most were unavoidable. Edward Brampton, William Catesby and myself are always at your service. You know this.’
‘You finally admit to trust, Mister Cobham?’ The duke strode back, seating himself at a small table. He took up the quill, dipping the nib into the bowl of gall ink. ‘You work in consort with Brampton and Catesby, and now trust their counsel?’
Andrew smiled. ‘They trust mine, your grace.’
The duke laughed and handed over the small folded parchment on which he had written. ‘My signed pledge of funds,’ he said, ‘which should cover your needs, as well as mine with regards to further service. Take this to the Chamberlain’s office when we arrive in London.’
‘You mean to leave at once, my lord?’
‘At first light the day after tomorrow,’ said the duke, ‘and you will accompany me. I intend meeting up with Rivers and my nephew on the road within six days. If the earl cooperates in good faith, I may bide my time for retribution. But I would prefer he never reaches London.’
Andrew smiled again, eyes narrowed. ‘I am at your service, my lord,’ he repeated.
The duke shook his head. ‘Not that way, my friend. You know my beliefs. This must all be legal, and if possible, seen to be legal. What is more, it must be just. His late highness entrusted me with the position of Protector and I mean to fulfil that trust to the utmost of my ability. You know my mind and my opinions on loyalty and justice. That cannot include assassination in the dark.’
Andrew Cobham was quite prepared to do it in daylight. But he said only, ‘As you wish, your grace. I shall be honoured to ride at your back.’
Both within the city walls and without, the people of London were frightened, often confused, and frequently angry. Armed ruffians strutted the streets, showing the Woodville livery and Dorset’s badge. Others wearing no badge of any kind still claimed special orders and could not be refuted, robbing at knife point and at will, taking advantage of conflicting direction and mistrust. Both London sheriffs organised their voluntary constables and doubled the Watch. Despite this, fear mustered its own insecurities. No honest man willingly walked the dark alleys except in company, and no woman ventured out alone. The people feared the consequences of a child on the throne, knowing France sat large and hungry across the Narrow Sea, the French King Louis a spider waiting and watching from his throne. Even more they feared a local war. The Duke of Gloucester’s appointment had been publicly announced, but the new Lord Protector lived in the north, and they had no news of him. Each day crowds gathered at St Paul’s Cross, hoping for an end to confusion. Council business was not made public, but they quickly knew when Woodville agents came collecting taxes, and there was talk of a new naval commander, a Woodville lord busy arming his ships.
At the law courts, down Goldsmith’s Row and through the Cheaps, in markets and shops, business continued as usual. At the docks, at the warehouses, the steelyard, wharves, wherry ranks and fishing piers, trade remained brisk. All across the land the spreading farms, villages, townships, monasteries and great estates prospered. Life bustled, ebbed and bustled again. But each man eyed his neighbour with new suspicion, kept his sword hilt close to hand as he walked the streets, and feared beginning any new commerce until the future became once again secure.
Some trust was put in Lord Hastings, for ‘Surely he is a lord much experienced in political duties.’ Yet the recent arrival of the Duke of Buckingham upon the scene, with his sudden show of noisy cavalcade riding London’s streets from Westminster to The Tower and his proclamation of loyalty to the Lord Protector, was noticed more with nervous perplexity than hope. Indeed, when it was known that he had departed with intention of joining the Duke of Gloucester upon the road south, folk were glad to see him leave. The country’s mighty lords, without a king or leader to hold them in check, were good for business but not for peaceful nights.
And the Duke of Gloucester, named Lord Protector but still absent from the city, had once brought peace to the Scottish borders, but might now bring battle to the city streets. His motto was loyalty, his proven record of discipline and trust, and his known prowess in battle meant a man who would not countenance a Woodville snatch and grab. But he had not yet arrived in the city, nor had the new young king.