Trinity Read Free

than you can ride, faster than you can sail, so that you understand my meaning, as well and as fully as I intend it, when you return to your home? I am willing, Gascault.’
    ‘Please don’t, my lord,’ Gascault replied.
    ‘Please?’ York said. His face was hard, darkened by the dimming lamps as if shadows crept over his jaw. ‘I will decide, after you are gone. There is a ship waiting for you, Gascault – and men who will take you to the coast. Whatever news you report to your king, I wish you all the fortune you deserve. Good night, Vicomte Gascault. God speed.’
    Gascault rose on trembling legs and went to the door. Salisbury kept his head down as he opened it for him and the Frenchman took a deep breath in fear as he saw the soldiers gathered beyond. In the gloom, they had a menacing aspect and he almost shrieked as they allowed him out and turned in place to march him away.
    Salisbury closed the door softly.
    ‘I do not think they will come – at least, not this year,’ he said.
    York snorted.
    ‘I swear, I am in two minds. We have the ships and the men, if they would follow me. Yet they wait like hounds, to see if Henry will wake.’
    Salisbury did not reply at first. York saw his hesitation and smiled wearily.
    ‘It is not yet too late, I think. Send for the Spaniard as well. I will speak my lines to him.’



Part One
     
    LATE SUMMER 1454
     
People crushed by law have no hopes but from power. If laws are their enemies, they will be enemies to laws.
Edmund Burke
     

1
     
    With the light still cold and grey, the castle came alive. Horses were brought from their stalls and rubbed down; dogs barked and fought with each other, kicked out of the way by those who found them in their path. Hundreds of young men were busy gathering tack and weapons, rushing around the main yard with armfuls of equipment.
    In the great tower, Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland, stared out of the window to the bustling sward all around his fortress. The castle stones were warm in the August heat, but the old man wore a cloak and mantle of fur around his shoulders even so, clutched tight to his chest. He was still both tall and broad, though age had bowed him down. His sixth decade had brought aches and creaking joints that made all movement painful and his temper short.
    The earl glowered through the leaded glass. The town was waking. The world was rising with the sun and he was ready to act, after so long biding his time. He watched as armoured knights assembled, their servants passing out shields that had been painted black, or covered in sackcloth bound with twine. The Percy colours of blue and yellow were nowhere in evidence, hidden from view so that the soldiers waiting for his order had a sombre look. For a time, they would be grey men, hedge knights without house or family. Men without honour, when honour was a chain to bind them.
    The old man sniffed, rubbing hard at his nose. The ruse would fool no one, but when the killing was over, he would still be able to claim no Percy knight or archer had been part of it. Most importantly of all, those who might have cried out against him would be cold in the ground.
    As he stood there, deep in thought, he heard his son approach, the young man’s spurred heels clicking and rattling on the wooden floor. The earl looked around, feeling his old heart thump with anticipation.
    ‘God give you good day,’ Thomas Percy said, bowing. He too allowed his gaze to stray through the window, down to the bustle of the castle grounds below. Thomas raised an eyebrow in silent question and his father grunted, irritated at the footsteps of servants all around.
    ‘Come with me.’ Without waiting for a reply, the earl swept along the corridor, the force of his authority pulling Thomas along behind him. He reached a doorway to his private chambers and almost dragged his son inside, slamming the door behind them. As Thomas stood and watched, the old man strode jerkily through the rooms, banging