I shook my head, refusing to give way. The Mortimer family had much experience of minorities whose interests had to be nurtured. ‘So he is still a child. But there are many who would say that my nephew’s claim is stronger than your own, through the line of Lionel, the old King’s second son.’
‘Through the blood of your mother. A female line. It is not to everyone’s taste.’
It was stated unequivocally.
‘But has not the young Earl of March’s claim as Richard’s heir already been supported by parliament?’ Harry queried. ‘It is a delicate point, I accept, but one that brings us back full circle. What are your intentions, Lancaster? Who will wear the crown if it is not Richard? And you in possession of a powerful weapon in those men camped out there, under your aegis.’
‘We could not support any action that undermined my nephew’s claim,’ I said.
‘You see an undermining that does not exist.’
Harry, fast losing patience, was far more brutal in his choice of words. ‘If Richard dies without an heir I would not like to see you robbing my nephew of his rights. You know all about being robbed of legal rights.’
‘So I do.’
‘Are we participating in a usurpation here?’
The tightening of my cousin Henry’s lips seemed to threaten a squall of temper but his control was stronger than Harry’s and his reply equable. ‘I have not said that.’
‘Some would say it was a usurpation for you to land and collect an armed force. It questions the King’s supremacy.’ Harry pushed harder. ‘Do you intend to destroy it?’
‘Not if the restoration of my inheritance can be achieved any other way.’
Which I considered a supremely enigmatic statement. So much polite wording. So much circling. So much left uncertain.
‘Is it in your planning to remove Richard and take the crown of England for yourself?’ I persisted in plain words.
Now the Earl sighed loudly, moving from one foot to the other. Lancaster’s glance at me was brief and dismissive, before he addressed Harry. ‘Here it is. If I can convince you that my intentions are naught but good, will you give me your hand, Harry Percy? Your father will, but I need you too. You are well named, Hotspur, and there is no one I would rather have riding beside me as we face the unknown.’
‘If you can convince me, I’ll give you leave to call me Hotspur again. You see my concern. You have a following strong enough to play whatever hand you wish.’
‘So I have, but I also have integrity. I know a way to convince you all, I think.’ His glance slid in my direction again. ‘Even you, Elizabeth, with all your Mortimer loyalties.’
His smile held a quality that was hard to withstand, but I would wait and see if he could convince me. Family loyalties were one thing; family assassination was quite another. If Richard had no heir of his own body, my little nephew should be the next King of England.
‘You wish to know my intentions. Then you shall.’
Without more ado we mounted and reconvened at the House of the White Friars on the outskirts of the town of Doncaster; there we were received by the Abbot in full regalia who, without question, ushered us into the chapel. We were expected. Which reminded me never to underestimate my cousin of Lancaster. Foreseeing the doubts that would be raised, with masterful cunning he had made contingency plans to answer them. Expectation and holy awe rippled through my blood. What would be our participation in this sacred place? The saints regarded us with a flat judgement in their painted eyes, making me shiver.
‘I think we have been outplayed and outfoxed,’ Harry said as we knelt in the silent grace, the chapel filling up behind us with Lancaster’s followers, the Abbot offering up prayers for the efficacy of this meeting. Westmorland was here, a sprinkling of other heraldic badges, all of us disarmed in the sacred atmosphere, all eyes fixed on a jewelled coffer which rested on the altar. Lancaster had come here to the White Friars more than prepared. Here, unless I was mistaken, were relics of some importance.
With God’s blessing residing with us, thick as the incense that filled our lungs, Lancaster stood while the Abbot opened the coffer, lifting out a number of gold-girt bones to place them on the altar. Then, both bowing in heavy reverence, Lancaster took from the Abbot and held aloft the jewel-embossed Gospel, raising it to his lips while we looked on, consumed with as much curiosity as piety. What would Lancaster say? This would be as binding an oath as it was possible to make. How binding for the future was Lancaster prepared to be? To my right, the Earl was looking straight ahead as if the proceedings were of no account. On my left, Harry’s fists were clenched against his thighs. I went back to staring at my cousin’s averted face, his head bent in utter respect.
His voice when he spoke was clear, carrying to every man here present, but not loud. It was, I decided, as if he communed with God Himself.
‘I stand here as Henry, Duke of Lancaster, robbed of my inheritance by an ill-counselled King. I have returned to England to reclaim what is rightfully mine, and that is the title and lands of the Duchy of Lancaster. I swear, before all present and in the sight of God and His Holy Spirit, on these Holy Gospels of St John of Bridlington and on his sacred bones, that I will take no more than those things that are mine by law and tradition. I am here to right a wrong.’
Lifting his head so that he might survey the congregation, he took a breath, impressive in his solemn dedication.
‘I swear that I am not come to seize the throne of England. If there is any question of the unfitness of Richard to rule, then I will not be the one to make the accusation. If there is any man in this realm more worthy of the crown than I, then I will willingly stand aside for him. I will not be guilty of taking the throne by force.’
A pause as I marvelled at his willingness to be judged.
‘If it becomes necessary for me to raise money for this venture, I will levy no taxes on the people of this realm without due consent of parliament.’
Which made me catch my breath. This was a forswearing of royal power.
‘I swear this on these holy relics of John of Bridlington. God so judge me in my keeping of this oath.’
Once more he kissed the Holy Gospels, and knelt to receive the final blessing from the bejewelled hands of the Abbot.
‘Amen.’
Which we all repeated with sacramental fervour in a sigh of reverence.
All very seemly, except that Lancaster might have removed his sword, but he was still clad in armour, burnished for battle, which gleamed in the candlelight. A soldier dedicating his future to God.
The Earl, Harry and I were left alone in the White Friars’ chapel to consider what we had just heard.
‘Which makes it all clear enough,’ the Earl huffed. ‘Does it not?’
Harry made no response, more concerned with collecting his sword from the antechamber, clasping his belt around his waist as if he were unclad without it.
Was I the only one to have doubts of Lancaster’s veracity? I opened my mouth to say that nothing was clear to me, but decided against it. It was like staring across a thick winter mist with figures looming. Despite the terrible sanctity of the oath, nothing was clear, nothing decided. Not that I would necessarily believe Lancaster to be capable of deception, no more than any other man of ambition; no more than the Earl whose