The Wounded Hawk

All three were huddled companionably close, and de Vere had his arm about Hotspur’s shoulders.

The laugh had come from both de Vere and Hotspur, and they were staring straight at Bolingbroke.

“This is a bad business,” said a voice, and Lancaster, Bolingbroke and Neville turned about.

Ralph Neville—Thomas’ uncle and Baron of Raby and Earl of Westmorland—had joined them, and now he nodded to the three men standing before the dais. “Those three have an uncommon bond today. Why, I wonder?”

“De Vere is married to Northumberland’s daughter, Philippa,” Neville said. “Perhaps …”

Raby’s eyes had not left the three men, who were returning his stare with more than a little insolence. “There is more,” he said. “I think those men have traded something of greater value than a little woman-flesh.”

Neville looked back to the group, wondering what their alliance could mean for his uncle. Raby and Northumberland were rivals for power in the north of England … and now that Richard was apparently freeing himself of Lancaster’s influence, and Raby was so closely allied to Lancaster’s house and star, it boded nothing but evil that Northumberland and Hotspur now stood so smoothly with Richard’s favourite.

Of course it boded nothing but evil! Richard was freeing himself from all influences who could stay his hand, and allying himself with all those who, for the sake of their ambitions, would condone any devilry he chose to mouth.

“Ah,” Lancaster said. “There’s Gloucester. Hal, Ralph, we should join him.”

They walked over to where Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester, and Lancaster’s youngest brother, stood with several of his attendants. Gloucester greeted his brother, nephew and Raby warmly, and even nodded civilly enough to Neville, apparently forgetting that Neville had once spoken harsh words to him when Gloucester had blamed Margaret for his wife’s death in childbirth.

“The little imp has won himself some new friends,” Gloucester said, nodding over to the Percys and de Vere, all still watching Bolingbroke and Lancaster.

“De Vere?” Lancaster said. “Aye, that he has, and I believe that it bodes—”

“My lords!” cried an attendant by the side entrance. “I give you your king!”

And there was Richard, striding into the hall and smiling at the assembled lords. His lean body was clad in tight-fitting black—a colour he now apparently preferred to green—and he wore no jewels or insignia of office save for a small circlet of gold.

Richard has dressed appropriately for whatever grim tidings he bears, Neville thought.

As the lords bowed, Richard walked to the throne set at the head of the tables and sat down, indicating that the lords, too, should take their places.

Neville moved slightly back as Lancaster, his brother Raby and Bolingbroke all sat midway down the table—

They should have been close to the king’s right hand, Neville thought.

—while their noble attendants, Neville among them, stood two or three paces behind the backs of their chairs.

“My lords,” Richard said, slowly raising his head and staring about the table, “it has now been some months since my beloved grandfather and father died—”

Why not state the truth, demon? Neville thought. They were murdered. He stared at Richard with hard eyes, and for one heartbeat Richard’s own gaze flickered his way and met his stare.

“—and, as is right and fitting, there has been a period of mourning and stillness as we honour their passing.

“But now my father and grandfather’s age has passed, and a new and fresh king sits upon the throne of England. I have been content to stay my hand during these months of transition, but now I must lift it—”

There was a collective drawing of breaths in the hall. What did he mean? Who were to lose their heads, and who to have preferments added to their purses?

“—and break free from the governorship of tutors and regents,” Richard looked directly at Lancaster, “who thought to keep me restrained within the bounds of childhood.”

“Your grace,” Lancaster said in a tight voice, “there was never ‘restraint’ intended. You came too suddenly to the throne without the training and consulship that we thought would be yours during the years of your father’s reign. We—”

“I was nevertheless restrained,” Richard said. “Furthermore, in past weeks I have well noted that some men,” and still his eyes were on Lancaster and his immediate companions, “have thought to gain for themselves a public notoriety and fame that they could well use against me.”

Here it comes, Neville thought, the dagger in Bolingbroke’s back. Nay, the dagger in the back of all associated with Bolingbroke and his father.

Again Richard’s eyes flickered Neville’s way before casting themselves restlessly about the assembled lords.

“I have thought myself in some danger,” he said softly. “Moreover, I have thought England in some danger. Therefore, listen you to these my decisions.

“Lancaster, you are removed as regent. I wish you good health and long life, but I have thought to surround myself with counsellors I can the more easily trust.”

Now the sharp intakes of breath about the table were clearly audible. Some men may have silently applauded, for Lancaster’s fall in favour would surely see the rise of their own influence, but all wondered at Richard’s arrogance that he so easily cast aside, and so publicly humiliate, the most powerful man in England.

“As with regents, so with all the major officers of government,” Richard continued. “My Lord Archbishop of Canterbury,” he nodded at Sudbury, “shall be my new Chancellor, and my Lord Bishop of Exeter,” now he nodded at Brantingham, “shall hold the office of Treasurer.”

Sweet Jesu, Neville thought, the imp has such confidence that he surrounds himself with the great men of the Church. Then his eyes fell on both Sudbury and Brantingham. Or are they great men of the Church? Is it possible they be demons, too?

Almost as if in reply, Sudbury shot Lancaster an apologetic, almost embarrassed, look—the two had been close allies for years. Neville revised his suspicions of Sudbury; if nothing else the man had obviously not yet told Richard about the subversive John Ball within the dungeons of Canterbury prison. If he had, Lancaster would be in the Tower.

“And to replace Lancaster at my side, as dearest friend and most trusted confidant, I appoint Robert de Vere my Chamberlain and,” Richard paused, and looked about the table with amused eyes, “also gift to him the castles and lands of Oakham and Queenborough—”

The sound of murmuring could clearly be heard about the table.

“—as well the castle of Berkhamsted, and create him the Chief Justice of Chester and North Wales—”

The table fell silent as many of the lords stared at Richard with horror.

“—and create him, as token of my love and trust, Duke of Ireland.”

The table erupted. Duke of Ireland? Many men spoke harshly—others, thinking to ally themselves with the new favourite, spoke words of congratulation—but no one spoke more volubly than Gloucester.

He sprang to his feet and slammed his fist down on the table.

There was instant silence.

“Your grace,” Gloucester seethed, “this preferment is beyond reasoning! You have created a man—”

“Who can counter the ill will of my uncle Lancaster!” Now Richard also was on his feet, and all Neville could think of was that Gloucester had very probably signed his own death warrant here this day.

“Lancaster bears you no ill will!” Gloucester said. “None! Had he done so, do you think he would have allowed you to so easily gain the throne? Don’t you realise, you silly pasty-faced youth—”

“Gloucester!” Now Lancaster was on his feet, trying to get Gloucester back into his chair, preferably with his mouth shut.

“Do you not think that I haven’t seen what my uncle and his beloved son are doing?” Richard yelled. “Did you not hear the screams of the crowds for their beloved ‘fair Prince Hal’ yesterday?” Now Richard’s face was twisted with hatred. “I will not nurture rivals at my court!’”

He stopped, breathing deeply to regain control of himself.

The entire table was still and tense. Lancaster had finally managed to get Gloucester back into his chair, while Neville had moved forward very slightly towards Bolingbroke, who sat stunned and disbelieving, staring at Richard.