By Loyalty Bound: The Story of the Mistress of King Richard III (3 page)

“If the castle is left with only a meagre garrison then it may not hold out.” He turned back to her with a worried face. “I need to go,” he said, reaching for the cloak she had set to dry.

“You cannot go in this,” she protested. “You need to eat and rest – and so does your horse. It would be madness to leave in this weather.”

Robert saw that she was right. The snowstorm was thickening and flakes like goose down were already blotting out the trees that skirted the moat. His journey would have to wait until at least the morrow.

Anne wakened in the night and thought that she could hear thunder rumbling around the castle walls, but as she sat up and struck a flint to re-light her candle she realised that the sound was of heavy footsteps on the stairs and urgent voices.

“It’s the Stanleys,” said Izzie with a mixture of fear and anticipation quivering in her voice.

A moment later there was a perfunctory knock on the door and it was pushed open. Uncle James came in carrying a horn lantern.

“Get dressed quickly,” he said. “You must go downstairs.”

Moments later they were in the hall where Aunt Joan was sitting wide-eyed by a lit brazier with baby William on her lap, and the nurse was soothing their little cousin Peggy who was crying in fear at the huge shadows that flickered across the tapestries on the walls.

“Whatever happens, stay here!” instructed Uncle James as the Duke of Gloucester came in, dressed and armoured. “They mean to take the castle for their own use so they have no reason to either destroy it or burn it to the ground. You are quite safe so long as you stay in the hall,” he told them.

The servants brought blankets and mattresses stuffed with flock and, once the children had been lulled to sleep, Anne lay down near the remnants of the log fire in the hearth. In spite of the earlier pandemonium the castle had now fallen eerily silent, as if it and everyone in it were holding their collective breaths, waiting for the first Stanley strike. But the silence remained unbroken and as the night went on Anne drifted into a restless sleep and did not rouse fully until the whispering of the servants bringing breakfast awoke her. She felt a heavy arm lying across her body and saw that her sleeping sister had rolled closer to her for comfort. Izzie looked fragile and pale in the morning light and Anne could see the streaks of tears on her cheeks and heard her mumbling troubled thoughts as she gently moved her arm. Aunt Joan was still sitting in the chair with baby William in her arms and looked as if she had been awake all night; beside her the nurse and Peggy slept on the same mattress.

The servants had brought bread and small beer and were setting it out on a trestle table at the side of the hall. Anne bent to lift the sleeping baby from her aunt’s arms so that his mother could go and eat. The breakfast was meagre, she noticed. An order had been given for the strict rationing of food and she wondered how long the supplies they had would last.

She knew that during the winter many of the barrels of salted meat and fish and sacks of grain had been used up and that the absence of her uncles and their men to fight with the king against Warwick’s rebellion meant there had been little chance for the cellars to be properly re-stocked. The Stanleys could bring continuous supplies from their land to the south. Once Hornby’s food had gone they would be beaten.

Anne rocked the restless baby against her shoulder and wondered if it would be better to give up now. The end seemed inevitable and this siege could only extend the agony, not only for them but for the children. She kissed the soft head of her small nephew as she cradled him. All this might be his one day if her uncle could reclaim it, and as the baby hiccupped and sighed in her arms she resolved that she would do all she could to keep this land for its rightful owners. Her own possession of it was not as important to her as the Harrington name.

Anne heard someone running up the outer steps from the bailey and the Duke of Gloucester strode into the hall. He must have been awake all night yet his eyes and face were as bright and alert as a man who had just wakened from a long rest. His thin, stern face turned to a smile at the sight of her rocking the baby in her arms.

“Did you manage to sleep?” he asked.

“A little, though I think my aunt has been awake all night. It seems quiet,” she added.

“They are biding their time. They think themselves in the stronger position.” He frowned as he glanced around the hall, his eyes shrewdly estimating the number of loaves on the platters. “Your uncle seems unsure about the level of supplies. I would not have eaten so heartily if I had known your stocks were low. I am on my way to discover the amount of grain and flour that is stored to see how long we can hold out.”

“So they are in a stronger position?” she asked.

“No,” he reassured her. “We are well protected and have ample ammunition. We can make their life uncomfortable, especially if there is more bad weather. Pray for more snow, Lady Anne,” he advised as he went to the door that led down to the cellars.

The baby in her arms shifted and began to cry and the nurse took him to be fed and have his swaddling changed. Anne took a cup of ale and her apportioned piece of bread and went to sit on a bench by the fire that had been re-kindled with an extra log. She wondered how many logs were left. There was plentiful woodland but it was all outside the castle walls, good only to supply the Stanleys with wood for the fires they would burn to try to undermine the foundations.

“Oh...” moaned Izzie as she woke and sat up on her narrow mattress. “I thought it was all a bad dream,” she said, rubbing at her reddened eyes.

“Here, have something to eat,” said Anne, passing what remained of her own meal to her sister. “It’s not that bad. The duke thinks that they will withdraw before long, especially if the weather worsens.”

“I presume you’re talking about Gloucester,” said Izzie as she broke off a piece of the bread. “Your confidence in his ability to predict the future amazes me. Anyone would think that you were in love with him.”

Annoyed by her sister’s taunting, Anne snatched up her cloak and, leaving Izzie eating the food, followed the Duke of Gloucester down to the stores. Izzie’s words had stung her. She wasn’t in love with him, but there was something about the duke that excited her, and it wasn’t just because he was the king’s brother and had shown them such favour.

Outside the sky was grey, like metal, and the dull cold make her body ache. As she passed the open door of the kitchen she could see that it was filled with women and children cowering in every corner. She was approaching the low doorway to the grain store when she saw the duke come out.

“What are you doing out here?” There was a mixture of concern and anger in his voice. “Go inside!”

Anne faced him, ready to challenge his belief that she should do everything he told her, but before she could answer him his strong hand closed around her arm and he pushed her back towards the keep. Without giving her a moment to protest he urged her past the kitchen, up the steps and into the small solar at the back of the hall.

“I did not want to embarrass you by reprimanding you in front of the servants, Lady Anne, but you must understand that you are not to go out of the castle... for any reason!” His steely eyes glinted with suppressed anger and the retort she was about to make failed on her tongue. “Do you understand?” She watched him silently, aware that it was not fear he provoked in her with his manner but a desire she had never known the like of; a desire that he would close the short space between them, take hold of her again and use his body to subdue the cravings that she was at a loss to comprehend. “Do you understand?” he repeated.

“Yes, Your Grace,” she managed to reply, her lips fumbling as she spoke.

“I have enough to do without rescuing you from your own stupidity,” he told her and, hurt at his words, Anne swallowed back her unbidden tears. He obviously thought that she was just a silly and wilful little girl. Izzie was probably right about him after all, she told herself. But as he brushed past her, he momentarily laid a hand on her shoulder and his touch burned into her body long after he was gone.

James Harrington glanced up as he felt something soft and wet fall onto his ungloved hand. Snow. The Duke of Gloucester had seen it too, he thought, as he saw the young man glance upwards as he came along the wall-walk.

“If we implement rationing we can last two, even three weeks,” said the duke as he reached him and turned to stare down. Below the castle walls James could see more tents than he cared to count pitched just beyond the range of his archers, though if Stanley had hoped for some spring sunshine to launch his attack then it seemed he was going to be thwarted and that God was on the side of the Harringtons after all.

“It will be cold and wet for them if this snow moves in,” said the duke as he looked up at the heavy skies to the west. “But Stanley is a determined man and will not easily give up.”

“Now that Anne is of an age to be married his attempts to take the castle can only increase,” replied James. “If he takes possession of her and Elizabeth and marries them into his family then my lands will be lost.”

“It is unjust,” said the duke, “but my brother sees it from a different perspective. He believes that rewarding Stanley will keep him loyal.”

“And he gives no reward to those who are already loyal,” said James, bitterly.

“If I did not agree with you I would not be here,” replied the duke, “but do not expect me to express disloyalty to my brother. I believe he has misjudged this matter and that if you can keep possession of Hornby for now he will change his mind.”

“I am more grateful for your support than I can say, Your Grace. You do the Harringtons a great honour by your presence here.”

“Your father and brother gave their lives for my father. I would like to see that debt of honour repaid.”

James met the duke’s eyes and saw his sincerity. He was so much like his father that it was almost like seeing the same person, he thought, unlike the king whose height and fair features betrayed his ancestry to the Nevilles of Raby. He took a breath, determined to bring the conversation back to his niece Anne and wondering if he dared to suggest that the duke’s family debt to the Harringtons might stretch as far as his considering a marriage. But the opportunity was lost as a resounding thud made them both look to where a scaling ladder was now positioned against the outer wall. The archers were firing at the men attempting to climb and James smiled in satisfaction as he heard one fall to the ground with an agonised cry, an arrow protruding from his right shoulder.

“It seems that Stanley is not frightened by the snow after all,” said the duke, “though it can only make the rungs more slippery. The man is a fool.”

But a dangerous fool, thought James, and a persistent one too.

Inside Hornby Castle the days fell into a routine. At daylight the women would wake to the sounds of men on the battlements hurling abuse and arrows at the Stanley army below as they emerged from their tents. The insults were most likely returned and, although she couldn’t make out the words, Anne was in no doubt that they were equally coarse and demeaning and called into question the manhood of the Harrington retainers.

Breakfast in the hall consisted of what was left of the previous day’s bread and a small cup of ale, leaving Anne with a constant thirst that she found harder to bear than the hunger. The brewing of ale had also been rationed to preserve the grain stores. At dinner time they were allowed a little salted fish or bacon with a small portion of potage; on other days it was sops and potage and this grew weaker and more watery as time passed. Suppers were frugal affairs too and Anne found she often lay down to sleep feeling hungry.

The days became long and monotonous trapped in the fetid atmosphere of the unaired hall, and apart from playing with baby William to allow her aunt to get some sleep, singing to little Peggy and arguing with her sister, there was little to do; although Anne spent much of her time thinking about the duke and yearning to catch a glimpse of him.

Occasionally a thud would reverberate through the castle as a rock or boulder was hurled from the trebuchet that had been built and often her head would pound along with the rhythmic battering of the ram on the outer gate. Throughout the day there would be shouting as arrows were rained down on men who emerged from the tunnel they were mining under the curtain wall, though Uncle James reassured her that little progress was being made and that the walls were thick and strong.

Then, one morning, Anne was woken at first light by the sound of laughing from nearby. She sat up in alarm, clutching her cloak to her chest and trying to steady the rate of her pounding heart. She strained to try to make sense of what she could hear. Were Stanley’s men inside the castle, she wondered. She stared at the door and expected them to storm through it at any moment to take her and Izzie captive.

She clambered to her feet as the latch clicked and the door was pushed open. She stood straight and proud, braiding her hair, which had become loosened as she slept, resolved to face the consequences of defeat with dignity. But it was Uncle James who came in with a delighted grin sweeping the exhaustion from his face, and her fear turned to hope.

“They’ve gone!” he announced in wonderment. “They must have begun to withdraw during the night. There are just a few stragglers left striking camp.” He took his wife in his arms as she ran to meet him and lifted her up and spun her round. “We won!” he laughed and kissed her on the lips in full view of everyone. “You’re safe,” he said to Anne.

“What’s happened?” asked Izzie, from where she sat on her flock mattress, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“The Stanleys have gone. We saw them off!”

Robert Harrington woke with a jolt to the familiar sound of an army on the move. For a moment he thought he was on campaign. Then he recalled that, as he had approached Hornby the previous night, and was relishing the thought of a tub of hot water and a hearty meal, he had seen that the castle was surrounded by Stanley’s army and he had been forced to take cover in the forest.