Passage to Pontefract (39 page)

Arundel drew away waiting for the moment to attack. His archers were ready and as soon as the French were near enough they would send out a shower of those deadly weapons for which they had become renowned.

There was one enemy to which an invader might fail to give enough attention – and that was the weather – and in particular the winds which could be encountered in the Channel and although this was unpredictable the English were more accustomed to its vagaries and could often judge beforehand what course it was about to take.

Arundel seemed to sense that the wind was going to work for him against his enemies and he was right. Up rose the wind at precisely the moment when it could be most useful to the English. The French were drifting off course. Now was the time to attack. The sky was dark with the shower of arrows which fell onto French decks; then the large ships went into the attack.

The battle was long and furious; but the French, magnificent as their vessels were, were no match for the English.

That day brought complete victory. Almost a hundred ships were captured.

Arundel had shed his slothful nature. Not content with crippling the French fleet he was determined to make it impossible for them to put another on the seas for years to come. Triumphantly he followed the remnants of the defeated armada to Sluys; he attacked it, sank some ships and crippled others, and even landed and burned the towns and villages.

After ten days during which not only did he attack the coast but helped himself to much of the treasure there, he returned to England bringing with him among other things nineteen thousand tuns of fine wine.

There was great rejoicing through the land. There had been so many disasters lately that victory was particularly sweet.

It was as though the Black Prince had been born again.

England had risen out of her lethargy. She had heroes once more.

The most popular man in England was Richard Fitzalan, Earl of Arundel. He was indeed a hero for instead of taking much of the booty to himself, he decided that the people should benefit from it. Wine was very cheap in England that summer. In the taverns people blessed Arundel and drank his health.

Richard and Robert de Vere were congratulating themselves on the manner in which John of Gaunt had been removed from the scene; but what they did not realise was that someone had stepped into his place, and Thomas of Woodstock, now Duke of Gloucester, could be as dangerous as his brother while lacking his ideals and restraint.

As uncle to the King, Gloucester regarded himself as his natural chief adviser. It was true his brother Edmund of Langley, now Duke of York, was the elder, but Edmund had never been one to push himself forward and openly showed his preference for the quiet life. Edmund was not ambitious but he would go along with his brothers if they asked him and he was more inclined to support them than his nephew who, as others did, he still regarded as a boy.

At this time Arundel, the hero of the hour, was a good man to have on one’s side and Gloucester allowed his friendship with him to grow. He knew something of Arundel. A brave fighter it was true and he had shown something like genius in the recent sea battle, but Arundel, like most other men of the Court, was out for his own advancement.

Richard had taken to himself a certain dignity since the departure of Lancaster for Castile. It was time, he said to Robert de Vere, that he showed these people – and in particular his uncles – that he was their king and their ruler. They would have to realise he was no longer a boy to be guided by them.

These sentiments were heartily applauded by Robert who was well aware that he was the one whom these men would like to see removed from the King’s side.

Gloucester had now taken the place of Lancaster in their minds. He was the great enemy. But neither the King nor his favourite realised that they were dealing with a very different character from John of Gaunt and that there was danger ahead.

To slight Gloucester Richard had granted Robert the castle and lordship of Oakham together with the sheriffdom of Rutland. This was infuriating to Gloucester because all these had belonged to his wife’s ancestors and should have come his way.

Gloucester was growing more and more resentful and he was not keeping his discontent to himself.

The climax came with events in Ireland from which country urgent messages were constantly being received. The Irish were now being helped by the Scots and the Spaniards and they were determined to drive out the English colony. Action was needed. It was necessary to nominate some energetic man of high standing and ability to settle the disputes and show the Irish that the English could be as forceful within the country as on the high seas.

There was a great deal of controversy as to who would be the best man to send.

Gloucester and his friends were also complaining against Richard’s Chancellor, Michael de la Pole, whom he had created Earl of Suffolk. The new Earl was disliked largely because he was not of the same high birth as those who sought to overrule him. He had the King’s favour, they complained; Richard listened to him when he should have been paying attention to them. Meanwhile Suffolk’s wealth was growing. He was an able man but like the rest he had to look after himself, his future and his family.

Gloucester wanted him out.

He went to see the King with the object of putting this suggestion to him.

Gloucester had never treated the King with the respect which Richard now expected. He still kept up the old attitude of the uncle talking to the nephew who was only a boy. There was little that could irritate Richard more.

Gloucester said in a hectoring way: ‘Richard, there must be changes. Suffolk must go.’

‘Who says so?’ demanded Richard.

‘
I
say so.’

‘You, my lord? I have yet to learn that the Duke of Gloucester commands the King?’

‘Come now, Richard. This is between us of the family – the wise old uncle to the young nephew, you understand.’

‘It so happens,’ retorted Richard, ‘that the nephew happens to be your King.’

‘I know that full well. Have I not done homage to you with my peers? There is unrest in the country. You must dismiss Suffolk. The man is an upstart. Who is he? Is he of noble birth? He has climbed to his special position through sharp practice.’

‘That is a lie,’ said Richard.

‘I seem to remember one John Cavendish fishmonger …’

‘That was all cleared up. Cavendish was a rogue.’

‘My dear nephew, it is not good for you to have for your friends those who consort with fishmongers! Dismiss this man. It is what the country and your ministers want.’

‘Gloucester,’ said Richard, his voice rising on a note of anger, ‘I would not dismiss the meanest varlet in my kitchen at your bidding.’

Even Gloucester could see the Plantagenet temper rising – and as he had had his full share of it he knew how far it could carry them.

‘You should think of my words,’ he said, and bowing went out.

Richard was fuming with rage. Robert de Vere was close at hand. He had been listening to the interview.

‘Your uncle gives himself airs,’ he said. ‘By God’s teeth, there is an arrogant fellow.’

‘I think he’s worse than Lancaster.’

‘We feared Lancaster more,’ Robert reminded him.

‘I will show him,’ cried Richard. ‘Yes, I will. I will show him he had better stop interfering with me. I shall dissolve Parliament and we will go to Eltham and we will stay there. See how they like that. The Parliament conspires against me, Robert. Why should I allow them to do that? Yes, let us go to Eltham. We’ll amuse ourselves there.’

Richard began to laugh suddenly.

‘Robert, I have an idea. How would you like to be Duke of Ireland?’

‘A Duke, Richard! Do you mean it?’

‘Duke of Ireland.’

Robert was thoughtful. ‘I should have to go to Ireland. That would mean leaving you … unless you came with me.’

‘I’ll tell you what we’ll do, Robert. We’ll make you the Duke of that country. Then perhaps you can send your deputy to sort out its troubles. Oh Robert, imagine their faces when they hear.’

They were convulsed with laughter considering it. It had soothed the King’s temper. He was merry again.

Gloucester came to Eltham accompanied by Thomas Arundel – the younger brother of the naval hero – who was Bishop of Ely.

Richard wanted to refuse to see them but he thought better of that when he heard that they had not come on their own decision but had behind them the backing of the Parliament which did not like Richard’s attempt to dissolve them, nor did they appreciate his leaving Westminster for Eltham.

When Gloucester and the Bishop were received by the King, they intimated that they wished to be entirely alone with him, without even the presence of the Queen and certainly not de Vere.

Richard, feeling obliged to grant this request, faced his uncle and the Bishop and haughtily asked what they wanted.

‘We have come here to tell you, my lord, that the Parliament requires your presence at Westminster.’

‘And shall I tell you, my lord, that I prefer to be here.’

‘This is a State matter, my lord.’

‘It would be well to remember it.’

Gloucester made an impatient gesture.

‘Richard, I appeal to you as your uncle and one who has your welfare as deeply at heart as any. You cannot rule without your Parliament. Others have tried to do it and failed. I beg of you take heed.’

‘I have never been able to rule,’ cried Richard, ‘except once when the rebels were at our gates and the rest of you were cowering behind the walls of the Tower. Do you remember that, my lord?’

Gloucester did remember. That had been a terrifying time and he knew that he – like so many – had not distinguished himself by his bravery, whereas this boy – a stripling – had ridden out to face the mob. It was true. And because of that, great deeds had been expected of him. It had been his hour of glory – but alas a brief one.

Gloucester said: ‘I remember it well, my lord. Who will ever forget? But you cannot live for ever on one brief spell of glory. You have a country to rule and a country is not a mob of unlettered peasants. You must listen to your Parliament. You must return to Westminster. You must not give your ear to favourites. Suffolk must go. The Parliament is demanding that.’

‘It is not for them to demand.’

‘Richard, I would like to remind you of what befell your great-grandfather.’

‘I have heard it before.’

‘Yes, but have you ever thought how easily it could happen to you? Imagine him … in his chamber of terror. They say they used a red hot poker …’

‘Stop it!’ cried Richard. ‘I have heard it. I do not wish to hear it again.’

‘Then remember it only as an example of what can happen to Kings who do not please their people. We shall expect you in Westminster within the next few days.’

‘Get out from my sight!’ shouted Richard.

Gloucester and Arundel bowed and departed.

Both Robert and the Queen tried to divert Richard, but they could not. He kept thinking of his tragic great-grandfather. That night he was awakened by nightmares. He screamed in his sleep.

It was almost as though the ghost of his great-grandfather was at his bedside warning him.

The next day he returned to Westminster. In due course, Suffolk was impeached and fined. There was a list of charges against him, among them that he had received grants from the King to which he was not entitled and that he had misappropriated funds. They were clearly trumped up that he might be banished from his office.

Richard had given way, terrified by the ghost of his great-grandfather.