Jasper (26 page)

Daydreaming of what might have been, if not for Henry, he wondered if he could have become an advisor to the princess and live out his days in luxury at the French court. The Duke of Burgundy, once the thorn in King Louis’ side, was long since dead, killed in a pointless war with the Swiss, his body so mutilated it could only be recognised by his valet. Duke Francis was ill and vulnerable to subjugation by France, yet Jasper would always remain loyal to him.

Looking out of his window at a thunderous sky he saw there was no time to waste if they were to reach England before the winter storms. Henry was no sailor and it would be foolish to risk five thousand soldiers and their precious ships by making the crossing too late in the year. As if to remind him, the skies opened up with torrential rain which drummed and rattled at his window like a bad omen.

Henry was in his makeshift study in one of the duke’s unused state rooms, counting the latest tally of their expenses. He had been tutored well by the duke’s financial controller,
Pierre Landais,
and developed a flair for understanding numbers. He dipped his quill in the silver ink pot and scratched some notes in the margin of the ledger he was working on, glancing up as Jasper entered.

‘The gold brought by Hugh Conway is fast running out.’

Jasper’s brow furrowed in a frown. ‘More men arrived today, all needing food and lodgings. You might speak to Pierre about a loan from the duke? I will find the ships if you can raise more funds.’

‘What progress is there with the ships, Uncle?’

‘Good news, Henry. Duke Francis has provided five ships at his own expense, three of which are warships. The best is
La Margarite
, a good omen, I think. She will serve us well as a flagship.’

‘If each is able to carry three or four hundred soldiers...’ Henry made a quick calculation. ‘We will need another dozen at least.’

Jasper was surprised at the change in Henry since his mother’s letter. No longer content to listen in the background, he seemed fired up with a new resolve and sense of purpose as they worked together on the plans. It was easier now to imagine him on the throne of England, regaining control of the vast treasury squandered so carelessly by York.

Before he could answer they were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door and Hugh Conway entered and turned to Jasper. ‘You sent for me, sir?’

‘I would like you to repeat what you told me about the Duke of Buckingham.’

‘Of course, sir.’ Conway closed the door behind him and moved some papers to sit in the spare chair. ‘The Duke of Buckingham’s father and grandfather were both killed fighting for Lancaster, yet he married the queen’s sister and became a great favourite of the late King Edward. Now Richard has made him chief justice and constable of all the royal castles in Wales.’

‘Are you suggesting he cannot be trusted?’

‘I am not, sir. I felt obliged to point out to Sir Jasper that I was present when Lady Margaret secured his agreement to assist you. I feel he has his own ambitions, sir.’

‘What did he say to make you question his loyalty?’ There was an edge to Henry’s voice.

Hugh Conway shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘The Duke of Buckingham is a powerful man, with influence enough to persuade others that Richard should be made king. He told your mother his own claim to the throne is at least as good as yours, sir.’

‘Now it seems he is out of favour.’ He looked from Conway to Henry. ‘We would do well to be on our guard.’

A cruel wind whipped at the rigging of their ships as Jasper and Henry waited to depart. Soldiers sought shelter wherever they could and raised voices carried from where some had started a fight in the harbourside tavern. Others, mostly mercenaries, deserted while they could, slinking away rather than taking their chances with the angry waters of the English Channel.

The first day of November began with cold rain stinging their faces as if admonishing their failure to sail earlier. As Jasper feared, despite generous loans from Duke Francis, the necessary preparations took far too long. Only five ships were moored among the fishing boats in the tidal harbour of Paimpol, although they hoped many more would join them under the command of the Admiral of Brittany, Jean Dufou.

‘We’ve missed another tide, Henry.’ Jasper peered out to sea where his ships bobbed and tugged at their anchors. ‘We face a choice—to sail in the dark or wait until dawn.’

Rainwater ran from the brim of Henry’s hat as he studied the ominous clouds. ‘There are dangerous rocks offshore. We sail at dawn, when we can see where we are going.’

Jasper laughed. ‘You are beginning to sound like a sailor, Henry. How did you come by that information?’

‘I listen, Uncle. I hear the men’s concerns and learn what I can from them.’

‘You will make a good king, if we can ever get you across this infernal stretch of water.’

The eerie autumn mist hovered over the sea as they made the most of a freshening breeze and trimmed the sails of
La Margarite
for a westerly heading. The plan was to meet the rest of the fleet in mid Channel but there was no telling if they also missed the tide or waited ahead in the glimmering dawn.

Jasper said a silent prayer that God would keep them safe. He glanced across at Henry, now grown into a man, and knew his brother Edmund would have been impossibly proud. He smiled as he imagined what his father would have had to say about a Tudor invading England to take the crown.

They had made some difficult decisions, which he hoped they would not regret. It had been his idea not to bring horses. As well as the difficulty of loading and unloading them, there wasn’t the room, as every space was filled with men. Instead they carried the duke’s gold and hoped to buy horses once they landed in Wales. If they could not, they would march all the way to London.

He reached out and gripped the wet wooden rail to steady himself as the ship lurched in the swell. ‘Have you found your sea legs yet, Henry?’

Henry grinned, for a moment looking like the boy Jasper remembered. ‘If these favourable winds hold up we’ll be across in no time, but how are we going to see the fleet in this mist?’

‘It will lift once the sun comes out.’

‘We should post more lookouts. It wouldn’t do to invade England with only five ships.’

Jasper scanned the horizon. The visibility was improving but the skies ahead looked dark and brooding. A shower of foaming spray splashed across the deck, soaking soldiers lining the rail. He smiled at their colourful curses, in English as well as Breton and French. This was more than a mercenary army. Good men came to support their cause from far and wide.

He studied the sails of the other four ships in the little fleet, already starting to disperse in the uncertain seas, yet close enough for him to see a man on the deck of one raise a hand and wave. Instinctively he waved back, a small act of reassurance. Some of those who sailed with him did so for the pay but many lived in hope of a new life under a king they would be proud to serve.

When the squall hit it was as if nature conspired against them. The rain seemed to come from all directions, with such force it took Jasper’s breath away and forced him to seek refuge below decks. Although this was one of the largest ships, chosen as the flagship, the low ceiling meant he had to stoop. The hold was a dark, damp world of cursing, dripping men, their lives depending on the unlucky few with the task of weathering the storm.

He found Henry in conversation with Captain Derien le Du, master of
La Margarite
and one of the duke’s most experienced captains. A likeable, swarthy man, he wore a Breton cap and an oiled leather seaman’s cape over his doublet. Some of the hardier sailors played a noisy game with dice and the others sang old songs in their deep, heavily accented voices, accompanied by someone on a shrill penny whistle.

Henry spotted Jasper and beckoned him to come closer. ‘Captain le Du needs to know if we wish to press on or wait until we see the rest of the fleet.’

The ship shuddered as the bow crashed into another heavy wave and Jasper raised his voice to make himself heard. He realised they were both looking at him for confirmation of their plan.

‘They know we’re headed for Dorset so it makes sense to cover the ground while we can. I don’t relish the prospect of waiting for this storm to worsen.’

The storm finally eased a little and they followed Captain le Du back on deck to shelter in the lee of the sails. Henry pointed to a dark shape off to starboard. With a shock of realisation Jasper saw it was
La Michelle
, one of the ships that had been at their side. Her mainsail was torn and flapped violently in the stiff breeze as they watched the crew struggle to bring it under control.

‘Where are our other ships?’ Henry searched the horizon in all directions.

As if in reply a wave broke over the bows, sending a foot of seawater across the deck. Jasper tasted the salty tang of seawater and looked up at the troubled sky. The storm may have passed but there was no sign of the other three ships.

Captain le Du was philosophical. ‘They might have turned back.’ He glanced at Henry. ‘I was nearly minded to.’ There was a hint of criticism in his voice, although as captain it was his decision.

Jasper cursed at the thought. If the other ships turned back their plans would be ruined. By the time they returned to Brittany winter would have set in and it would mean waiting until spring. Worse still, they had used most of the duke’s loans. The crews and soldiers would still demand payment, as it would not be their fault they never set foot on English soil.

‘We will sail on.’ Henry pointed ahead. ‘I can see land, there on the horizon. The rest of the fleet could be already off the Dorset coast, waiting for us to arrive.’

‘That looks to be the Isle of Wight.’ Jasper squinted into the gloom.

Henry turned to the captain. ‘We could shelter overnight at Poole Harbour and see if there is any sign of the fleet by morning?’

The captain grunted agreement and went to shout orders at his crew. Jasper looked at Henry and tried to recall the boy who shivered below decks on the outward voyage. He was learning fast, and knew how to command men with much greater experience than himself.

After sailing through a stormy, sleepless night, Jasper felt great relief as they made the narrow entrance into the safe anchorage of Poole in Dorset, with
La Michelle
, the one remaining ship, following in their wake. There was no sign of any others from their fleet. This was a disappointment but there was no danger of their being taken for an invading army. They looked like what they were, a couple of Breton ships seeking shelter from the storm still raging in the Channel.

The first light of dawn glimmered on the horizon as they set anchor and tried to have a few hours of sleep while they waited for the other ships to arrive. When Jasper woke there was still no sight of them, so he decided to take
La Margarite’s
skiff ashore. It would be useful to see if there was any news of the Duke of Buckingham’s revolt, although he insisted Henry must remain on board, as landing was not without risks.

As they rowed closer to the harbour wall Jasper spotted armed men on the quayside, watching their approach and called up to them. ‘We are Breton, in need of supplies!’

One of the men stepped forward. He cupped his hands and shouted back in a rich West Country accent. ‘Come ashore, boys!’

They rowed to the stone steps and tied up to an iron ring set into the harbour wall. Jasper’s instinct told him something was wrong. This was where they had arranged to meet the other ships but too many men waited for them on the quayside. Too many to fight, if they had to. An idea occurred to him and he called up again.

‘Is there any news of the Duke of Buckingham?’