Fortune's Wheel by Rhoda Edwards

Author:Rhoda Edwards [Edwards, Rhoda]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi
Publisher: Endeavour Press
Published: 2016-02-17T05:00:00+00:00

9

Le Temps Perdu

March 1471

Also scripture saith, ‘woo be to that Regyon

Where ys a kyng unwyse or Innocent.’

Moreovyr it ys Right a gret abusion,

A womman of a land to be a Regent —

Qwene Margrete I mene, that ever hath ment

To governe all Engeland with myght and poure,

And to destroye the Ryght lyne was her entent,

Wherfore sche hath a fal, to her gret langour.

A Political Retrospect (c. 1462)

9

On the night of the second Sunday in Lent there was a frost, It made ice on the ship’s deck, and the sailors cut their hands on the rigging. When Richard came up at dawn, he found that they were not tossing about as much as they had during the last nine days, but he was warned that it was like glass underfoot and as easy to go overboard as winking an eye.

The captain said, ‘Wind’s changed. Due east. Should make way in half an hour, if your Grace is agreeable.’

Agreeable! The last person capable of making the decision to sail or not was himself, or for that matter his brother the King.

‘Master Lister, when you think fit.’

The captain nodded. ‘Got to move fast,’ he said. ‘Take our chance.’

On all the ships anchored near, men were at the same tasks, shouting and clambering in the frost-stiff rigging. The bare masts blossomed with sails, and the noise of wind in the canvas grew louder; it groaned and roared like lions with bellyache, flapping and straining. The anchor chains came up with a rattle, and King Edward’s fleet sailed for England.

The crossing was swift and easy, with the east wind chasing them, and by Tuesday evening they stood off the coast of Norfolk. It was a deceptively clear evening. The sinking sun danced on a sea sparkling like mackerel scales. The little fishing town on the cliffs looked only a stone’s throw distant, the boats drawn up against the jetty at the cliff foot. The captain said it was Cromer. The great lord hereabouts was John Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, King Edward’s kinsman.

A boat was lowered from King Edward’s ship, and a party went ashore. It was dark when they came back, and they rowed to where King Edward waited for news, then to Rivers’ ship and then to Richard’s. Richard leaned over the side to shout down to them. Their boat was heaving and pitching under the tall wall of his ship, the sailors using rope fenders, lanterns swinging light across the grim faces of the landing party.

Sir Gilbert Debenham, who was a local man himself, and had been recognized on shore, said the Duke of Norfolk was in London, in custody; Lord Howard was in sanctuary at Colchester, and the county in the hands of the enemy. The Earl of Oxford and his two brothers had a firm grip on the east of England — it was alive with their men. To land here would mean certain disaster. The King had given orders to sail north and to try the Yorkshire coast, in the hope that Percy of Northumberland would be open to negotiations.

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