Jean Plaidy (28 page)

The lady was Margaret Drummond daughter of John, first baron Drummond, a very able man who had been raised to the peerage for his services to Scotland some ten years before. He was a Privy Counsellor and justiciary of Scotland as well as the Constable of Stirling Castle, and his offices brought him to Court. With him came his beautiful daughter—a fact which caused the King to rejoice.

Marion Boyd, Janet Kennedy—delectable wenches both of them—could not compare with Margaret Drummond.

James paid constant visits to Stirling Castle where Margaret lived in the care of Sir John and Lady Lindsay. It had not taken him long to woo Margaret. Gentle, virginal … a little overwhelmed by so much royal favor, she had quickly fallen under the spell of the King. But perhaps, James thought ruefully, it would be more correct to say that he had fallen under hers. He could think of little else, so it was small wonder that whenever the name of Perkin Warbeck was spoken to him he felt a mild irritation.

He wanted nothing to come between him and his pursuit of Margaret. His thoughts were completely occupied by the possibility of seeing her. There was no reason why they should not be openly together. The whole of the Court knew of his infatuation—including Marion and Janet—and it was easier to face the whole of his Court than those two, particularly fiery Janet.

Who wanted war? Women were so much more enjoyable. And while Perkin Warbeck remained in Scotland he represented a threat. Henry had demanded that the young man be delivered to him. That, James had refused to do of course. Perkin had promised to restore Berwick to Scotland when he came to the throne, in payment for James’s hospitality. That would be good. Berwick was one of the most important Border towns. Certainly he wanted Berwick … and all the other concessions which Perkin had promised.

But promises! … What did they come to if wars had to be fought for the hope of their fulfilment?

No, he wanted no more now that he and Margaret had discovered each other.

He broached Perkin when they met at Linlithgow.

“It seems to me, my lord Duke,” he said, “that you are achieving little here. You do not wish to fight these people in the North … your own subjects, you say … men who had never heard of Richard Duke of York … or perhaps Henry Tudor.”

“I could not bear to see the blood of my own subjects shed,” said Perkin.

“I understand that well. So this is not the place for you. You have your friends in Ireland. I’ll tell you what I am going to do, my lord Duke. I am going to give you a ship. You can sail from Scotland to Ireland taking Katharine and the baby with you. I have no doubt that the Irish will rally to your cause. You will have more chance there than here in Scotland.”

Perkin was left in no doubt that this was James’s diplomatic way of telling him to leave and he had no alternative but to accept the offer of the ship and prepare to depart.

If Katharine was sad to leave her native land she did not show it.

“We are together,” she said. “That is all that matters.”

Perkin was apprehensive. He could no longer prevaricate and he had an idea that the easy life was over. He would have to make some attempt to wrest the crown from Henry Tudor and if he achieved it then his difficulties would begin. In his heart he knew he was unfitted to rule a country. He was frightened by the enormity of this matter, which had come about in the first place through a love of adventure, and an excitement because people noticed his royal looks.

Still it had led him to Katharine, for if all this had not happened he could never have met her.

As he stood on the deck watching the coastline of Ireland grow nearer he could echo her words: “We are together.”

Lord Desmond was dismayed. Life did not stand still, he pointed out, and in spite of the rebellions Henry Tudor still had a firm grip on the crown. People were beginning to like his rule apart from one thing—the exorbitant taxation, and they blamed Empson and Dudley for that. Those two were the most unpopular men in the country and the fact that they did not regard Henry himself entirely responsible was an indication of how he was beginning to be accepted as a good king.

The fact was that Desmond did not want to have anything to do with the rebellion. He could see that Henry’s calm wisdom would inevitably make him the victor.

He said: “The Irish are an unpredictable people. They sway one way and then another. There has been a rebellion in Cornwall. Now that is where you would find your supporters.”

“Henry suppressed that rebellion.”

“Because it was just a rabble. Audley was there to give it some standing, but they were not trained soldiers. No. It would have been different if they had been. After all, they captured Daubeney in the first place. Think what they could have done if they had had some backing. No, the West Country is your hope, my lord. You should go there and raise an army.”

It was quite clear that Desmond did not want to be involved.

Scotland had rejected Perkin, and now Ireland. So there was nothing for it but to take ship to Cornwall.

There his spirits rose.

From the moment he landed at Whitesand Bay Perkin was warmly welcomed and he rode in triumph to Bodmin where memories of the recent march to London were still vivid.

“Good Flammock,” they said. “His parts exposed all over London! And him always such a modest man. That they could do such a thing to Lawyer Flammock is past belief.”

“And don’t ’ee forget Joseph. There’s none could shoe a horse like that ’un … And to think of ’ee … Oh it be past thinking of.”

They were smarting from the humiliation levied on those two worthy men.

“But the rest of ’em just came back. Don’t ’ee do it again … that’s all they did say.”

“Well, stands to reason, they couldn’t do to us all what they did to good Flammock and Joseph.”

“I’d think not. Cornwall wouldn’t stand for that.”

“Aye, and ’e do know it, King or not. He couldn’t treat us Cornish like that.”

And now here was the handsome young man.

“Reckon he could show old Tudor a thing or two… .”

“He could and all … if he had Cornishmen to back him.”

Perkin’s spirits rose.

“This is different from our reception in Ireland,” he said.

The Mayor proclaimed him in the square as “Our King Richard the Fourth.”

The Cornishmen were with him. They were going to have a king of their own choosing and it was going to be this handsome young man, and his beautiful wife who should reign beside him.

“I shall win this time,” said Perkin, trying to bring enthusiasm into his smile.

“I shall be nearby,” said Katharine.

Perkin shook his head. “I want you to be safe … you and the baby.”

She shook her head but he would not listen.

Men were flocking to his banner. They all wanted to go and fight the Tudor. It was an adventure and if all went well they would have put a new king on the throne and if it did not … well, they would just come back as their friends had done when they had followed Flammock and Joseph to London.

Three thousand men had rallied to his banner. This was success. He believed that when he was on the march with such a following more men would fall in behind him.

“I must go,” he told Katharine. She was in tears. Perhaps she who loved him knew that, good husband that he was, he was no leader of men. But it was true, he did seem inspired. If it should happen that he gained the throne she must stand with him, reign as his queen. She fervently wished that it could be happily settled and that they could go away and live in obscurity and leave Henry Tudor his throne.

“They tell me that you will be safest on St. Michael’s Mount,” he told her.

“It will be so far from you.”

“I shall not rest happy unless I know you are in a place of safety.”

“Do you think I can rest happy anywhere until you are back with me?”

He kissed her fondly. “It will not be long,” he promised her.

But she did not believe him. Sadly they parted—she going westward with her child, he marching on to Exeter.

It was true that men fell in with his army. They liked the look of him. He was so handsome; he had the Plantagenet look; he had the appearance of a king—more so than Henry who never smiled and whom they said had aged twenty years since he took the throne.

It was not so easy as he marched on. Exeter stood out against him, so he had to put the town under siege. But he was no soldier. He could only be strong when he faced the weak. As soon as he heard that the Earl of Devonshire with other noblemen of Devon were on the march against him, knowing he could not stand a chance facing a professional army, he gave orders to retreat and fell back to Taunton. There worse news awaited him: Lord Daubeney had reached Glastonbury and was marching onward.

“We cannot stand against him,” he said. “We have not the experience to face a professional army. There is nothing for it but to get away.”

“What will the men say?” he was asked.

He was frightened as he knew he would be. This was not what he wanted. He wanted people to say, “Here is Richard the Fourth. Let us make him our king.” But to fight for the crown … he could not do it. He did not want to fight. All he wanted now was to go back in peace to Katharine.

He could not take his army with him. They would never get away, so he selected sixty of his men and together they left Taunton. But even sixty horsemen found the going difficult. People came out in alarm to watch them, and there was not enough food in the inns for sixty.

Perkin said: “This will never do. We shall be captured at once if we go about in such numbers.”

He selected three men from the sixty and said to them: “When night falls, we will steal away. It will be easy for four of us to make our escape. It is impossible with sixty.”

So the four of them slipped away in the darkness and in due course they arrived at Beaulieu in Hampshire where they found an empty house and there took refuge.

What Perkin wanted to do was lie low until the hue and cry had died down, then make his way back to St. Michael’s Mount, get a ship and take Katharine and the baby, where … ? Perhaps they could go to Flanders. Perhaps he could find John and Katharine Warbeck, those parents whom he had denied. Then perhaps they could all live happily together again.

He wanted no crown. He just wanted to live in peace with Katharine.

He lay on the floor, his companions beside him.

Perhaps he should leave them … slip away. He could disguise himself as a pedlar … work his way back to the Mount. He and Katharine could hide themselves away until they found a ship to Flanders… .

Not yet. It was unsafe as yet. He must be careful to preserve his life because Katharine needed him.

Somewhere in the darkness he heard a sound. He raised himself.

Was it the sound of distant horses’ hooves? Perhaps. Some traveler out late.

He lay down and thought of Katharine. Yes, he would find his way back to her. They must hide themselves and plan to get away.

She would agree. Her wish was the same as his—that they should be together.

Again that sound … nearer now … Perhaps … He looked at his sleeping companions. Should he rouse them? No. It was only a traveler in the night.

And then … the noise was nearer. Not one horseman but many. He stood up. His companions were awake now. They went to a window.

“We are surrounded,” said Perkin.