The Jewels of Warwick (38 page)

No, she decided, straightening her back and deciding to make the
best of her situation, the choice had been a good one, a perfect
one. None better could be found to shield their venture from prying
eyes. Who cared if dead men did roam these ways, for dead men could
not warn Henry of her rebellious plot against him to win the crown
for herself at last.

 

 

The sky was now streaked with a few feathery lavender bands and she
dismounted in order to gently turn her steed and descend the steep
course back. She would walk ahead and lead the creature safely down
the derelict path just as she had the last two nights.

 

 

As she picked her away carefully along in the twilight, she
wondered, could she stand another day's wait? She would have to, for
she could not forsake this quest, or all her lifelong dreams would
be ruined, just as the town in which she and her men were camped had
been left in ruins.

 

 

She took a dozen steps before the glint of a solitary lost ray of
sunshine on polished steel in the distance caught her eye. Her pulse
quickened again. Had they come at last? Or were these Henry's ships
about to thwart her desires? Had he somehow been made aware of her
treachery? Had she been a fool to trust old man Bridgeman? She had
made him Captain of Arms at More's insistence, entrusted him with a
small fortune in gold, and charged him with raising an army abroad,
and on what basis?

 

 

His only references had come from his own mouth. He could not
account for his whereabouts for almost half of his seventy-eight
years, and these he was rumored to have spent in various prisons and
gaols, not least of which was Newgate Prison.

 

 

Yet Bridgeman's character was such that she could not help herself
but trust the rogue. No one else had need of the poor used-up old
wretch that he was, and he knew it. Without her cause he would have
no purpose left but to wither and die, this she was sure of. He
could never betray her. She had seen beyond his gnarled ugly husk
and broken gait. She had found rare qualities within him, not all
goodly, but certainly useful. He had an eloquent manner, a practiced
poise, a charm that she had never seen before.

 

 

He could bargain, too, all but pick a man's pocket and be thanked
for the deed! He spoke many languages, or so he claimed. She could
test only his Latin and French, both of which were flawless, but the
guttural growls he said he'd learnt in the East beyond the edge of
her maps she could never hope to understand lest she were to become
a bear or a she-wolf.

 

 

But she was a bear, and he would serve as her ragged staff to lean
upon. Even as she thought of it, she could see her family's standard
raised high above the vessel now looming ever larger in the dimness
of the approaching night. It was the coat of arms of the Earl of
Warwick, the bear and ragged staff, and it had good reason to fly
proudly.

 

 

With all caution cast aside, she leapt into the saddle in a most
un-queen-like manner and spurred her mount to full gallop down the
incline.

 

 

The rowboats, oars skimming the water like a restless waterbug's
legs, slid ashore at Saint Annes on the west coast, fifty miles
north of Wales as the crow flies.

 

 

The mercenaries were here at last! She ran to the tent of John, her
first general, to relay the good news. He was having his nightly
shave before a cracked mirror.

 

 

"That is bad luck, dear friend, but this news should quell any
suspicions, for today, anyway. They are just about to land. They've
come, finally!"

 

 

"Good. Just remember, they think they're in Ireland now to
extinguish a minor dissension."

 

 

She nodded. "Aye, I won't forget."

 

 

Topaz and John strode to the edge of the campsite and could see the
two vessels being anchored as close to the shore as they dared. Men
began spilling out of the boats in twos and threes, tripping over
each other to set foot on land, looks of muddled perplexity on their
faces.

 

 

A swarthy seafarer swaggered towards John and Topaz, mumbling to
himself, the bedraggled men behind him regarding the unfamiliar
landscape with dazed awe, heads turning in every direction.

 

 

"What idiot picked this landing spot?" he shouted over his shoulder
to the confounded group, heads shaking and shoulders shrugging in
reply.

 

 

A few of them had their fingers curled around their hilts, swords at
the ready, prepared for the ambush they deemed inevitable. Others
simply looked numb.

 

 

He approached Topaz with what she could now discern as an uneasy
gait and shot John a passing glance. "Wench! Where is thy master?
I'll box his ears... Nay, I'll run him through! What better place
for an ambush? We're lucky the rebels didn't slay every last one of
us!"

 

 

Topaz folded her arms across her chest and glared at the captain,
and she noticed him take a tiny step back. "Call me wench, do you?
You will speak to me with the respect due the rightful and future
Queen of England!"

 

 

"England? I have no quarrel with Henry and his legions!" A look of
horror crossed his features. Then he thumped his forehead with the
heel of his hand. "God's blood. I was tricked by that Methuselah
Bridgeman! We spent the entire voyage playing backgammon and
following the stars, when I should have been checking the rogue's
charts to find out where we were really going!"

 

 

He turned, ready to leave as suddenly as he had arrived.

 

 

"No stomach for a fight then, you coward?" she sneered.

 

 

He wheeled on her furiously. "There be no cowardice in wanting to
live. I want nothing to do with any war against Henry, son of the
Tudor warrior tribe! I only have my regulars. You would need the
entire army of Spain to put down Henry! He will gut us and leave us
for the dogs to eat!"

 

 

"Well, then, if you think so little of your band, take your scurvy,
pox ridden pond-scum and go back whence thee came, you worthless
band of brigands!" Topaz spat.

 

 

The captain reeled back in shock, his eyes darkening to the color of
the blackened sea. "Where's Bridgeman?" he demanded, flinging the
words at his men. "He promised Ireland. He promised more gold and
bountiful treasures than I could ever imagine. Fetch him! Clap him
in irons and bring him to me! Fetch the knave! Let him tell me where
his thirty thousand good men and true are! Let him show me his
gold!"

 

 

"No wonder he wanted to be last off the boat!" one of the men, on
the outskirts of the group, spoke up.

 

 

Just as the words left his lips, an explosion shattered the air
about them and a flaming blaze of fire lit up the coastline as if
the very sky had exploded before their eyes. All heads turned in
shock before the men hurled themselves to the ground.

 

 

The muscular captain threw himself in front of Topaz, shielding her
from the flying debris, chunks of wood and canvas that had been the
mercenaries' ships hurtling towards her. The missiles would have
most likely beheaded her had he not wrestled her to the ground.

 

 

When the dazed men finally looked up in disbelief, one of them
bellowed, "There he is, the bastard!"

 

 

A withered figure silhouetted against the flames emerged from the
billowing smoke in a small rowboat, stooped over the oars,
laboriously rowing toward shore.

 

 

The men scrambled to their feet and the captain at last relinquished
his hold on Topaz. She straightened her skirts with a twitch,
dusting off the sand as best she could, and adjusted her head-dress.

 

 

His rowboat skimmed up the beach and several of the men sprinted up
to old Bridgeman, violently rocking the boat until he tumbled out,
sprawling onto the sand. He stumbled to his feet, brushing off the
questions the men were hurling at him. His watery eyes skimmed the
group and fixed on Topaz. He smiled cheerily.

 

 

"Ireland? By Jove, do I have a terrible sense of direction! It must
be my poor befuddled brain, did I say Ireland? I never could read
charts properly since I lost the sight of my left eye!" He
approached Topaz and took her hand in his, kissing it gallantly.

 

 

He turned back to the men and waved a withered arm. "Don't worry,
lads! One war's as good as another; you'll die just as easy here as
there! What would you have from Irish peasants anyway? Steal the
peat from their bogs, would you? Nay, there's richer plunder here!
To London and Henry's treasure chests say I. Thirty thousand! No!
No! I'm quite sure I made it clear at the outset we would have three
thousand men, not thirty thousand."

 

 

"But our food, supplies—"

 

 

"Can all be restored easily enough," he said with an airy wave. "The
whole of the north is loyal to the Plantagenets and wants nothing to
do with Henry Tudor's increasingly corpulent and tyrannical brat.
Lady Topaz is the daughter of the most powerful earl of Warwick, a
landed nobleman of the first order with fine estates that lack for
nothing. You shall have more gold than you could ever imagine once
you help her win that which is rightfully hers."

 

 

"Gold... Hmm... Maybe this is worthwhile after all," the captain
said, his gaze never once leaving her face.

 

 

Topaz could hear the men muttering among themselves, clustering into
a tighter huddle. "Aye, I've heard something about the English Crown
Jewels being..."

 

 

Bridgeman turned to the sea captain, a crooked grin on his
weather-beaten face. "Well, Captain Vogts, no matter what anyone
says, since your powder seems to have destroyed your ship, it looks
like you and your men have made your mind up for you."

 

 

"Clever old bastard, aren't you," the captain said with a shake of
his head.

 

 

"Resourceful. I have faith in my cause and in this woman here. I
would ask you to do the same and let us band together in a common
cause."

 

 

The captain sighed.

 

 

Bridgeman twirled around to face Topaz, his sodden doublet slapping
his skin in the breeze. "Now that that's settled, let me introduce
you formally. Captain Franz Vogts, this is Lady Topaz of Warwick,
the rightful and future queen! Lady Topaz, this is Captain Vogts,
recently a commander of the Swiss Guard."

 

 

The captain flashed a look over in Topaz's direction, scratching his
head, then threw another glance at John. Gathering himself to his
full height, he regained composure, and began scanning his huddle of
men.

 

 

In the end he stated, "We'll rest here tonight, but we'll have none
of this madness! We march south tomorrow and by God we'll not stop
'till we reach the channel, and then just long enough to board a
ship to Calais!"

 

 

Topaz took a few haughty steps up to Vogts. Even at his full height,
she was at exactly his eye level and her stern gaze bored into his.
"I'll not be sorry to see you go!" She jabbed him in the chest with
her finger. "Why, our poor village fool is a braver man than ye. Why
not trade your fancy doublets and polished armor for his fool's garb
now? The bells would become you better!"

 

 

"'Tis an army well suited to fools, my dear," Vogts replied. She
could see his cheeks flush hotly, his pale sallow skin turning
blotchy with rage. "I'll not be one of them!"

 

 

They glared at each other for another silent moment and then stormed
off in opposite directions.

 

 

She could see Bridgeman out of the corner of her eye strolling over
to the campfire, emitting an amused guffaw.

 

 

"Just what entertains you so, you old vagabond?" Topaz shouted over
the crackling fire and the confused mutterings of the men as they
dispersed to set up camp. "What manner of men are these that you
have brought me? They possess naught but cowardly swagger and loud
mouths, which will be hungry come morning, no doubt!"

 

 

Bridgeman rubbed his hands and wriggled out of his doublet. It hit
the sand with a soggy plop. "Men you wanted, Lady Topaz, and men you
have got. They are the best Europe has to offer; strong men with
bold hearts, each one worth four of Henry's men! Worry not, dear
lady, I have not gotten to this age by poking at lions. Give our
captain a good night's sleep on solid ground and methinks you'll
find his manner much improved by morning."

 

 

"I hope so, Patrick. The whole kingdom rests in your hands."

 

 

She left the old man to dry out and went to join John in his tent to
partake of the strong ale that was undoubtedly flowing by now.

 

 

Vogts appeared at Topaz's tent early the next morning. She was
already awake, having bathed in the sea among the driftwood of the
destroyed ship before the first light of dawn, and was now sipping
the last of her breakfast ale.

 

 

"You come to bid me farewell?" Topaz eyed the smooth linen shirt
slashed at the sleeves, light breeches tapering to fine glossy hose.
"Be off with you! Not a groat more will you get from me!"

 

 

He shook his head. "I do not come here for the balance of my
retainer. I've been thinking."

 

 

"Oh?"

 

 

"Wales is South, a Tudor stronghold and fierce loyal to Henry. I'll
not tangle with the Welsh. For sure those flames were seen last
night. Old Bridgeman is not so daft. He knew we would have no choice
but to join your venture once he destroyed our ships, and so we
shall. Your middle guard we will form, so I can keep my eye on you
and protect our interests. We'll head away from here inland now, and
lead you to London, but don't stand in the way of our plunder when
we get there, Lady Topaz!"