Knowing the French as he did, William de la Pole suspected that was a very vain hope indeed.
‘The town is like an armed camp and the French king isn’teven here yet,’ York said. ‘I’m missing something, William. On your honour, will you tell me I’m worrying over nothing?’
‘I … I can’t say, Richard.’ He saw the duke’s eyes narrow.
‘
Can’t?
There
is
something then, something I haven’t been told. I need to know, William, if I’m to protect the king of England on French soil. Do you understand? I cannot be caught asleep if there are plans afoot of which I know absolutely nothing.
Damn
that Derry! Tell me, Lord Suffolk. What have I not been told?’
A great roar went up along the road west. Suffolk looked towards it in relief, taking out his handkerchief to mop his brow.
‘Who is that?’ he said. ‘Surely not the bride yet. Is it the French king?’
‘Or King Henry,’ York replied, watching him closely.
‘Yes, yes of course,’ Suffolk said, sweating heavily. ‘It could be Henry arriving. I had better go and see, if you will excuse me.’
York watched the older man walk stiffly away. He shook his head in disgust, summoning a guard to his side with a sharp gesture.
‘Check the outskirts once more. I want Derry Brewer to be taken quietly. Bring word to me as soon as you have him.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
The guard saluted smartly and trotted away. York’s expression soured as he heard the crowd’s shout and understood that the French king had arrived at Tours. The sun was at noon and there was still no sign of the bridegroom or the bride.
Derry did his best to stroll as he walked through the field of French soldiers, all resting and eating lunch in the sun. Thelast time he’d seen that many together in one place had been a battlefield and the memories were unpleasant. He knew very well why they were there. The cheerful groups gossiping and chewing hard bread would become a military force again when orders came to take back the vast territories of Maine and Anjou.
Derry had expected to be challenged, but on instinct he’d lifted a heavy tureen of soup at the outskirts and staggered on with it. That simple prop had brought him right through the heart of the encampment. There were dozens of other servants fetching and carrying for the troops and whenever he felt a suspicious gaze, he stopped and allowed men to fill their bowls, smiling and bowing to them like a simple-minded mute.
By noon, he was through the camp and able at last to give the now-empty cauldron to a group of elderly women and walk on. The French king’s carriages had been sighted on the road and no one was watching the bedraggled figure wandering away from the camp.
Derry walked as far as he dared down the road, until he saw clusters of soldiers by the cathedral itself. It was just a short sprint away, but he knew he wouldn’t make it. Derry looked around to see if anyone had eyes on him, then dropped suddenly into a ditch by an ancient wooden gate, where the grasses grew thick.
Smug with satisfaction at having walked through a French army, Derry watched soldiers stop and search two carts that trundled past them. York’s men seemed to be everywhere. Derry made a face as he felt ditchwater seeping through his clothes, but he held his sack out of it and kept well down, using the gatepost as cover and waiting for his moment. The men-at-arms stayed clear of the actual cathedral, he noted. The church building had its own gardens, with a wall andgate. If he could just get through that outer boundary, he’d be in the clear. Cathedrals in France or England were all built along the same lines, he told himself. He’d be familiar enough with the layout if he could get inside.
Peering through fronds of dead grass, Derry could see the pretty birds of the wedding party, out in the sunshine of the churchyard. They were so close! He could almost see individual faces. For a moment, he was tempted simply to stand up and call to
‘The town is like an armed camp and the French king isn’teven here yet,’ York said. ‘I’m missing something, William. On your honour, will you tell me I’m worrying over nothing?’
‘I … I can’t say, Richard.’ He saw the duke’s eyes narrow.
‘
Can’t?
There
is
something then, something I haven’t been told. I need to know, William, if I’m to protect the king of England on French soil. Do you understand? I cannot be caught asleep if there are plans afoot of which I know absolutely nothing.
Damn
that Derry! Tell me, Lord Suffolk. What have I not been told?’
A great roar went up along the road west. Suffolk looked towards it in relief, taking out his handkerchief to mop his brow.
‘Who is that?’ he said. ‘Surely not the bride yet. Is it the French king?’
‘Or King Henry,’ York replied, watching him closely.
‘Yes, yes of course,’ Suffolk said, sweating heavily. ‘It could be Henry arriving. I had better go and see, if you will excuse me.’
York watched the older man walk stiffly away. He shook his head in disgust, summoning a guard to his side with a sharp gesture.
‘Check the outskirts once more. I want Derry Brewer to be taken quietly. Bring word to me as soon as you have him.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
The guard saluted smartly and trotted away. York’s expression soured as he heard the crowd’s shout and understood that the French king had arrived at Tours. The sun was at noon and there was still no sign of the bridegroom or the bride.
Derry did his best to stroll as he walked through the field of French soldiers, all resting and eating lunch in the sun. Thelast time he’d seen that many together in one place had been a battlefield and the memories were unpleasant. He knew very well why they were there. The cheerful groups gossiping and chewing hard bread would become a military force again when orders came to take back the vast territories of Maine and Anjou.
Derry had expected to be challenged, but on instinct he’d lifted a heavy tureen of soup at the outskirts and staggered on with it. That simple prop had brought him right through the heart of the encampment. There were dozens of other servants fetching and carrying for the troops and whenever he felt a suspicious gaze, he stopped and allowed men to fill their bowls, smiling and bowing to them like a simple-minded mute.
By noon, he was through the camp and able at last to give the now-empty cauldron to a group of elderly women and walk on. The French king’s carriages had been sighted on the road and no one was watching the bedraggled figure wandering away from the camp.
Derry walked as far as he dared down the road, until he saw clusters of soldiers by the cathedral itself. It was just a short sprint away, but he knew he wouldn’t make it. Derry looked around to see if anyone had eyes on him, then dropped suddenly into a ditch by an ancient wooden gate, where the grasses grew thick.
Smug with satisfaction at having walked through a French army, Derry watched soldiers stop and search two carts that trundled past them. York’s men seemed to be everywhere. Derry made a face as he felt ditchwater seeping through his clothes, but he held his sack out of it and kept well down, using the gatepost as cover and waiting for his moment. The men-at-arms stayed clear of the actual cathedral, he noted. The church building had its own gardens, with a wall andgate. If he could just get through that outer boundary, he’d be in the clear. Cathedrals in France or England were all built along the same lines, he told himself. He’d be familiar enough with the layout if he could get inside.
Peering through fronds of dead grass, Derry could see the pretty birds of the wedding party, out in the sunshine of the churchyard. They were so close! He could almost see individual faces. For a moment, he was tempted simply to stand up and call to
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