The voice was soft and somber. It also happened to come from the King of England. Richard III sat in his small solar, just off his bedchamber, a place that was both comforting and convenient and safe for him. He did not travel the halls of the Tower too often, for it had become a dangerous place with rival factions vying for control. Sometimes it was more dangerous than even the most violent parts of the city. These days, he tended to stay to his well-guarded chambers, but when he did go out in public, it was surrounded by a host of knights. He would take no chances.
The king had called his most powerful knights to his side as soon as they arrived at the Tower. Like an eager child, he was determined to see them and after the usual social pleasantries, he delved straight into business.
Much was at stake and there was no time to waste. Matthew leaned against the wall near the hearth while Gaston stood on the opposite side of the room, arms crossed and massive legs braced. Luke, John and Mark stood somewhat in the shadows, as did Patrick and Arik. Also present was Francis Lovell, Lord Chamberlain of the Royal household and one of Richard’s closest advisors. He was young, intelligent, and loyal to the bone. But he was more a politician than a warrior, with sage advice for those who would actually see the field of battle. And as a ward of the Earl of Warwick, he had connections that were unsurpassed, making him an invaluable ally.
“When Henry does sail, we shall be ready for him, Your Grace,” Matthew said quietly. “He has a sufficient build up in Gloucester, as we discussed earlier. And you have received our earlier intelligence, so you know as much as we do at this time.”
“Something is building,” Richard said quietly.
“Agreed,” Matthew said. “But we are unsure what, exactly, it might be.”
“Surely you have an opinion, Sir Matthew,” Lovell spoke, moving to stand next to the king. It was an almost protective gesture. “Your military expertise is beyond question. Surely you have formed a judgment.”
Matthew was silent a moment, his attention moving to Gaston. De Russe met his gaze steadily, and Matthew was fairly certain that, based upon all intelligence given at this time, they had come to the same conclusion. He felt confident speaking for them both.
“Henry will not land upon the shores of England,” his voice was low and steady. “To do so would be foolish since the country is so blatantly divided. He cannot be guaranteed the support he requires. But Wales is not divided in the least; it is Beaufort’s country and it is my estimation that he will make landfall in Wales, move east to his mother’s property to gather her armies, and then sweep into England through the Marches and on to Gloucester to collect the mercenaries there. By that time, he will have acquired a substantial force and in perfect position to strike the heart of England.”
Richard looked at Matthew with something of fear and resignation. “Where do our forces stand against him?”
Matthew lifted his eyebrows as he shifted on his big legs. “Warwick moves south to Gloucester, Norfolk moves west from his holdings, and de Russe and I move northwest. There are other armies poised to join us, but those are the main body of your forces at this time. We will converge on him and destroy him.”
“Just like that?”
“In theory, Your Grace.”
Richard folded his hands, his long, thin fingers wringing against each other. Then he stood up; he was short, rather pale and thin, making him appear older than his years. He liked to think that he was a great military tactician, when in fact, hedepended on others to feed him ideas that he could claim as his own. He’d never seen a true battle, but insisted he controlled military engagements by virtue of his wishes. His military career was, at best, lackluster, which is why he depended heavily on men like Matthew Wellesbourne and Gaston de Russe. They were the heart of his forces.
“London is crawling with Tudor loyalists,” the king muttered. “My glorious tournament is full of them. ’Twould seem they wish to make a statement against me and my allies by competing on the tournament field.”
“Victory shall be yours, Your Grace,” Gaston said, his voice low and reassuring. “I am competing, as is Matthew. There is not a man in London who believes any of Tudor’s fools can outshine us. If a statement is what they want, a statement is what they shall have. We shall crush them.”
Richard knew he had the strongest knights in the realm at his side. But he also knew that Henry Tudor had many powerful men in his favor also.
“Robert Montgomery is in London, champion of Somerset,” he said. “So is one of Neville’s men, Artur de Soulis. And Dennis La Londe has entered.”
Matthew and Gaston exchanged surprised glances. They had not yet heard this.
“He serves Tudor directly,” Matthew said. “That is a fairly audacious statement to have him compete.”
“I saw him earlier today, here at the Tower,” the king moved across the carpeted floor, his fine slippers making soft noises across the threads. He stopped at the window, glancing down to the courtyard below and watching the ravens feed. “He is big and he is dangerous. I am extremely uncomfortable with him residing within these walls.”
“Do you wish for us to remove him, Your Grace?” Gaston asked.
Richard nodded without hesitation. “He stays here as a guest of Lord Grey of Northumberland. I want him removed.”
“As you wish, Your Grace,” Gaston replied. “I will see to it personally.”
Richard felt better immediately. He turned away from the window, facing the room full of powerful men. Seeing their confident faces gave him courage. “Then it is settled,” he said. “I will see you all at the feast tonight. I have a new cook all the way from the Holy Land and am anxious to show off his talents. Matthew, I understand that your have brought your new wife to London.”
Matthew nodded. “I have, Your Grace. She is eager to meet you.”
“As I am eager to meet her,” Richard’s gaze lingered on him. “I saw her from my window earlier when you arrived.”
“I am sure you will approve of her, Your Grace.”
Richard simply nodded. “Gaston’s wife is also here,” he said casually. “I am looking forward to more fair companionship than your own this eve.”
Matthew looked strangely at Gaston, who refused to meet his eye. Only when they were out in the corridor with no one else around them did he speak.
