He Who Plays The King by Mary Hocking

Author:Mary Hocking [Hocking, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pan Macmillan

Chapter Eleven

1

The noise of the wagons rolling over the cobbled London street drowned the voice of the crier. People shouted angrily and waved clenched fists, although few of them knew what they were angry about. This did not please Christopher Ormond who liked to establish good cause for his anger. ‘What does he say?’ he demanded of the man standing next to him.

‘He says the armour of those wagons belonged to Lord Rivers. Lord Rivers meant to have himself crowned King, only the Duke of Gloucester put a stop to that.’

Ormond was really angry now but kept silent, telling himself that it would serve no purpose to make public protestation. ‘I should merely gratify my own passion,’ he thought; though, in fact, it was fear of punishment that kept him silent.

The last of the wagons was passing. Ormond had a good view, having climbed onto the low roof of the stables adjoining The Cock Tavern. He watched the bend in the road. Already he could hear the sound of horses’ hooves and the angry cries had turned to cheering. Into the narrow street rode the young King attired in blue, riding a rather dour horse, and flanked by the Dukes of Gloucester and Buckingham in black on somewhat more lively mounts. The boy King looked from side to side as though afraid the people might press in upon him, while his dark-clad companions talked across him, the Duke of Buckingham pointing to The Cock Tavern as though recalling something of interest associated with it. The Duke of Gloucester, seemingly unimpressed by his handsome companion’s tale, leant across to speak to the boy who thereupon, still looking at the people as though he feared them, held up his hand in stiff acknowledgement of their clamour. The boy’s face glistened white as lard in the sunlight. The people cheered as wildly as though there was something miraculous about this sickly boy.

The street was full of men and horses now as the black-clad followers of the Dukes of Gloucester and Buckingham rode by, hard men, unused to London, not rating its people very high. There was not much cheering now, the Londoners saving their breath for the arrival of their own men. Ormond turned away and began to push his way to the back of the roof where there were steps leading down to the courtyard of the inn. ‘Don’t you want to see the rest of the procession?’ A man caught his arm. ‘See! Here they come!’ He pointed to the plum-coloured robes of the burgesses of the city. Ormond took no heed, but clambered down the steps into the shadowed courtyard. To his left there was a narrow alleyway which ran along the backs of the buildings flanking the street. Here he was near the Thames and had he been a Londoner would have known by the smell that the river was at low tide.

In the distance he could see a wharf with boatmen idling in the sun, not having much custom on this festive day.

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