The Order of the White Boar Read online

  ‘I was at court for a time last year. The Duke was kind enough to include me in his company when he went to London to meet with the King.’

  ‘He didn't take me,’ said Edward, a pout hovering near his mouth.

  ‘Perhaps you were a little young, Ed,’ said Alys. ‘It’s a long journey and there’s nothing much for us to do at court. You wouldn’t have liked it. And the air in London is not so fresh and clean as it is here.’

  ‘It’s full of smoke,’ agreed Roger. ‘All those coal fires. I spent half my time there coughing.’

  ‘Is it? Did you?’ Edward looked from one to the other, uncertain whether to believe them. ‘I've never been to London. I've hardly been further than York.’

  ‘Why would you need to?’ I chipped in. ‘What’s so marvellous about London? I should think you can get everything you could possibly want in York.’

  I was proud of my city – and also wanted to cheer Edward up. But even as the words passed my lips, I envied Roger his trip to the capital. My father had been once to London, a year or two before. His tales of its wonders had filled me with a longing to one day visit there myself – to see the multitude of people from every far-flung land, the wide, shining river crowded by boats of all shapes and sizes, the colours and sights and sounds of the rituals and progresses of the royal family and the great guilds and companies of the city.

  ‘Matt’s right, Ed,’ said Roger. ‘London's over-rated. York can match it in every way. Think of the wonderful mystery plays we saw at Corpus Christi last year. Or the Masses in the Minster with the angelic singing of the choristers. St Paul's and the Abbey in Westminster have nothing to beat that.’ He shot me a glance. ‘You know, Matt, I hadn’t realized before – it will have been your voice that helped take us closer to heaven.’

  His voice was earnest, but his mouth twitched. I didn’t mind him pulling my leg if it helped to perk Edward up.

  ‘I think it would take much more than just Matt’s voice to drag you anywhere near heaven,’ said Alys, and Roger laughed. But Edward said in all seriousness,

  ‘Yes, my mother told me you were in the Minster choir, Matt. And that you’re learning songs for when my father returns. Is that why you came here?’

  I felt the colour rise in my cheeks and was grateful for the dim light in the mews. I had whispered my story to Roger that first night, thinking Alys would tell him anyway sooner or later. But I hoped no one else would discover the truth, especially not Edward. We had swiftly become friends, despite our differences in age and rank, and I worried that he would think less of me if he knew.

  ‘In a way. Sir William has been teaching me all sorts of songs, although he tells me your father particularly likes church music.’

  ‘Yes, my father is very religious. If he had his way, I think he would have someone with him at all times to sing such songs.’

  ‘Indeed, the Duke is so pious, he should have become a priest. Then he would have had God’s backing to tell us all what to do.’

  We all swung round, startled.

  Behind us in the gloom stood Hugh. On his wrist was perched a falcon rather larger than Lady, hooded in black velvet as though about to be taken outside. His tone was genial, but discomfort crept on to Edward’s face. Alys perhaps spotted it too, as she was quick to retort,

  ‘And so he might have done, as many youngest sons do. But if you remember, his father and older brother were treacherously slain in battle. King Edward needed all the support of his remaining family. Perhaps otherwise Duke Richard might have been meant for a life in the church. What of it? There’s no shame in it.’

  Hugh flinched at her sharp reply.

  ‘I meant no harm, cousin.’

  ‘I'm not your cousin yet,’ Alys flung back, and for the second time since I’d known her, she stalked off. Startled hawks all around flapped and danced on their perches as she passed, buffeted by the tidal wave of anger.

  Roger glared at Hugh before following her at a run. Edward and I were left alone with the newcomer. Edward smoothed Lady’s feathers to calm her as she bobbed up and down on his wrist.

  ‘A very temperamental girl,’ Hugh said, almost to himself, as he watched Alys and her loyal knight leave the mews. ‘I will have to tell my cousin.’

  Edward, a shadow flitting across his face, returned Lady to her perch and started to tie her jesses to it.

  Hugh watched his inexpert fumbling for a moment, then said to me,

  ‘So, Master Wansford, you’re trying to gain favour with the son as well as the mother, are you?’

  Although he spoke in his earlier affable tone, his attention to me caught me unawares.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Oh, nothing. Except we’ve all heard about your singing lessons.’

  ‘What of it?’

  ‘Just a friendly warning. The Duke will see through it, you know. He won’t take kindly to someone like you trying to better himself by mixing with his family. He may be both pious and arrogant, but he’s no fool.’

  My cheeks flushed warm, even as my hands clenched into fists at his words.

  Was what he said too close to the truth? It was not my intention. But perhaps the Duke would view my familiarity with his son as blatant ambition. No noble would like that. Had Hugh been right that day when he called me an upstart?

  Yet, as the memory stung me again, his next words took me by surprise.

  ‘Do you ride, Master Wansford? Perhaps we should ride out together one day.’

  And he turned on his heel and walked away.

  Chapter 6

  Windfollower

  During the next two days of unrelenting rain, our small riding party grew into a fair-sized expedition. Edward mentioned it to a fellow page, who asked to come and then spoke of it to another. Soon almost a dozen were intending to join us.

  Roger was disappointed, but we could hardly stop them from riding with us. All pages were entitled, expected even, to ride often. And Edward was excited at showing off his new-learnt falconry skills.

  The last two to say they’d join us were Hugh and his friend, Lionel. We didn’t have the courage to refuse, though afterwards I wished that we had.

  At dawn on the third day the dale had been shrouded in a thick mist, but by the end of lessons it burnt off to reveal a glowing blue late summer sky. As Roger and I stood in the queue of chattering pages waiting to wash before dinner, Edward rushed up the steps to us. Before he had even caught his breath, he gasped out,

  ‘Mother says I may ride out with you this afternoon. Can we take Lady?’

  The pages clustered about us glanced around at his eager words. Hugh was among them, standing two or three places ahead of us. Gazing down on us, he said politely,

  ‘So you do ride, Master Wansford. And as well as Master de Kynton here no doubt.’

  I said nothing, and grasped Roger’s arm to stop him too, knowing he was still angry after the afternoon in the mews.

  Hugh seemed not to notice our silence and carried on, a bland smile on his face.

  ‘If you have no objection, Lionel and I will join you on your ride. Perhaps we can try our falcons against each other.’

  When Roger and I arrived at the stables after dinner, with Lady, hooded, upon his gauntleted wrist, our companions were already assembling. Edward was atop a fat grey pony, and Alys and Elen were being assisted to mount their horses – Alys on her spirited chestnut and Elen on… on Sir William’s old mare.

  Roger’s quick eyes caught my grimace.

  ‘Don’t worry, Matt,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll find the head groom.’

  But before he could move, Hugh emerged from the darkness of the stables, followed by a young under-groom leading two saddled horses. The first, a glossy dark brown, was as big as a knight’s war-horse. Hugh took the reins and swung himself easily into the saddle. The other was hardly smaller, a pale grey colt, almost white. It shifted nervously, hooves rattling on the cobbles, as the groom handed me its reins.

  My heart sank.


  Hugh gazed down at me, pulling on his leather gloves.

  ‘I heard you don’t have your own horse, Master Wansford, so I think we’ve found just the one for you. A fine local-bred colt. Runs like the wind they tell me, and that means something in these parts, believe me. In fact, his name is Windfollower. I’m sure you’ll find him an exhilarating ride.’

  Once again, his tone was amiable, but this time I was close enough to see something other than friendship in his eyes. But I also felt the rest of the party, including Alys, watching me.

  I couldn’t back out.

  I thanked Hugh, hoping no tremor in my voice would betray my fear, then checked the saddle’s girth and gathered the reins ready to mount.

  Roger, beside me, said in an undertone, ‘Are you sure?’

  In reply I simply nodded to the groom, who boosted me up into the saddle.

  It was a long way up.

  I struggled to inch my right leg over the colt’s broad back and down to feel for the stirrup with my toe.

  It would also be a long way down.

  And it would hurt if I fell.

  But —

  But I wouldn’t fall.

  I clicked my tongue and the horse’s ears flicked backwards to listen. A little pressure on the reins and its dancing hooves were stilled.

  Perhaps a horse so responsive would be easier to handle than I feared.

  Hugh, leaning down to accept his hawk from the falconer, shot me a sideways glance, but his face was unreadable.

  Once everyone was mounted, we set off. I squeezed the horse’s flanks lightly with my legs and was relieved when it walked forward.

  The string of riders passed across the courtyard, through the outer gateway and across the drawbridge. Soon the foremost horses were trotting along the cobbled road down towards the village. My colt, again with only the slightest pressure on its sides, followed their lead.

  By the time we had steered our way through the village – across the wide marketplace, past the simple stone cross stabbing skywards at its centre, skirting the garden plots and strip-fields towards the river – I had begun to enjoy myself.

  Roger, however, riding alongside me, asked,

  ‘How goes it? You seem rather – well, he seems rather large for you.’

  ‘I’ve never ridden such a magnificent horse. He does exactly as I bid him.’

  ‘All well and good now, but…’, a frown furrowed his brow, ‘well, I think I recognize this horse. If I’m right, he’s the son of Storm, the Duke’s favourite stallion. I think he’s only just been broken to the saddle. Be very careful.’

  I did my best to heed his warning, but it was not easy. Not on this lovely September afternoon, cantering along the water meadows on this beautiful horse, with such well-born companions. What would my father or my old school fellows say if they could see me?

  From the riverside meadows, we rode up towards the moor edge and slowed to pick our way through the purple haze of heather. A lapwing broke cover, startled by the leading horses. My eyes followed its wheeling flight, luring my gaze back to the view now spreading out in our wake.

  Far below us now snaked the river. Beyond, I could just trace the road that swept down to the valley from the town of Leyburn, nestled among the distant hills, across the old stone bridge, and up into Middleham village. The castle crouched above the sprinkling of houses like a she-wolf defending her cubs.

  How different this boundless landscape was from the flat fields and woodlands around my home in York. But, for the first time in weeks, my insides didn’t ache with homesickness.

  The horses ahead had halted and Hugh was readying his falcon for flight. Roger spurred his horse over to join him.

  Soon, by turns, first Hugh’s, then Roger’s bird was soaring high into the sunlit sky, and swooping low again to chase the lure swung by its master. Edward, the youngest among us, laughed with delight, pointing this way and that as first one bird, then another, hurtled past him.

  I watched the spectacle alone, outside the knot of riders. But after a while, Alys guided her horse over to stand alongside mine. A few moments passed before she spoke, her eyes still following the plunging flight of the birds.

  ‘Thank you for letting Edward come with you.’

  My surprise at her words mingled with my gladness that she had sought me out.

  ‘Don’t thank me. I’m happy to spend time with him. The more I see him, the more he reminds me of my brother Peter. They’re a similar age. Besides, Roger arranged everything.’

  ‘Except your mount, I fear. Please take care. I don’t trust Hugh and I can’t help feeling he chose that horse for you for a reason.’

  My first instinct was to reply that she had no reason to worry, that I could handle the horse. But then my dread on first sight of him came back to me, and I glanced down at the bilberry bushes so far beneath me. And reminded myself not to spurn another friend through misplaced pride.

  ‘I hope I shall get back to the castle in one piece. So far I’ve enjoyed our ride. Though I must admit to feeling more secure on Sir William’s old mare.’

  Her eyes flicked over to where Elen sat atop the mare, keeping close to Edward.

  ‘Yes, Roger told us when we stopped. I’m sorry for that. If we’d known, Elen would have found some other mount. The under-groom recommended the mare, but Hugh was with him at the time. Perhaps Master Soulsby made some arrangement of his own.’

  ‘Perhaps he did.’ I had forgotten his question about riding when we were alone in the mews. Had he planned something? I had checked the girth and bridle before mounting. Neither had been tampered with, and so far the horse had behaved well. Maybe this day luck would be with me.

  But I also remembered what else Hugh had said.

  ‘I don’t think he likes me much. And he said the Duke wouldn’t either.’

  ‘The Duke? How so?’

  ‘Hugh said he would think I wasn’t the right sort of person for the castle.’

  ‘Don’t listen to him. You are here. Therefore Duke Richard has agreed to it. Nothing happens here without his say-so.’

  ‘But he’s been away in Scotland all this time.’

  ‘The Duchess and Sir Thomas send and receive letters by messenger every day. And anyway, what makes you think you’re not the right sort?’

  ‘I’m just a merchant’s son. Not even a very wealthy one. Although my father is part of the city council.’

  ‘I’ve often heard the Duke praise our merchants. He trades with them himself. I’ve also heard the mayor of York applaud him for fairness in all his dealings with local people. Why would he treat you any differently?’

  ‘It’s just what Hugh said.’

  Alys snorted in a most unladylike way.

  ‘Hugh has his own reasons for saying things against the Duke. You shouldn’t listen to them. His Grace got his measure long ago. He treats all the pages equally. They’re all beaten when they do wrong, but Hugh – well, Hugh is beaten more often than anyone. I think he holds it against the Duke personally.’

  ‘Roger says he was beaten just before the Duke went away.’

  ‘Yes, and he richly deserved it.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Someone found him throwing stones at a dog – just a poor one-eyed cur from the village. It comes up to beg scraps at the kitchen. He injured it badly. Edward said that when the Duke asked why he’d done it, Hugh just laughed and said it was for target practice. The Duke was so angry that he took a stick and beat Hugh himself, there and then. He always says if you have power over someone or something, you shouldn’t misuse it.’

  ‘And yet he would see you married to Hugh’s cousin?’

  The thought escaped from my mouth before I could bite it back.

  Alys drew herself up very straight. From her changed manner, it was as though a curtain of ice had fallen between us.

  ‘I am a ward of the Queen, not the Duke. I must do as I am bid.’

  And she tugged on her reins, urging the pony back t
owards the throng of laughing pages and the plummeting hawks.

  I remained where I was, an outsider again. And now, not just worry about Hugh, but my foolish words weighed like a stone in my stomach.

  Elen was fussing over Edward as Alys approached them. Even seen at a distance, his face had a distinct pallor. Alys bent to speak to him, then called to the group around the birds,

  ‘Gentlemen, it is getting late. We must return to the castle.’

  Hugh’s voice was raised in complaint, but Roger immediately drew in his lure and placed the hood over Lady’s head. In a few moments, the riding party was once more wending its way down from the moor top, skirting marsh and cotton grass, until we reached the stretch of meadowland behind the castle.

  The shadows of trees edging the meadow were lengthening and ahead of us rabbits were emerging from burrows among their roots. Roger was riding with me, chatting about how well Lady had flown, when Hugh spurred his horse alongside us. Upon his broad face was a jovial smile.

  ‘Let the ladies continue homeward, de Kynton. I say we should have some real sport. A silver piece for the first falcon to catch a rabbit.’

  Roger couldn’t resist. We reined back our horses and he and Hugh dismounted, while I pulled Windfollower round to gain a better view. Alys, passing, glanced across in concern, but she continued on with Elen, leading the tired Edward on his pony.

  ‘Your bird shall fly first as it’s the younger,’ said Hugh.

  Both boys took the hoods from their hawks’ heads. Lady began her familiar bobbing routine and the light of the hunt flared in Roger’s eyes. He stood up in his stirrups and released her. She floated for a moment above him in the air, then shot like a bolt from a crossbow towards the nearest of the rabbits, turning at the last instant, her clawed feet outstretched.

  That was the last thing I knew with any clarity.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Hugh’s gauntleted fist point down towards the ground and the lure in his other hand flung towards my horse’s hooves. His falcon instantly followed it and the horse, startled, reared up, kicking out with its front feet at the bird.