Chapter Three
Howard Terrington, Lord Ryesdale, had come from a long line of those who supported the White Rose of the House of York.
His father and his fathers before him had battled beside Edward the Third, his son and grandson.
In fact, Edward had granted William Terrington the charter at Whitewell to build a castle.
Though it was more a fortified manor house, it was still formidable and anchored the main road across the Pennines from Lancaster, making it particularly strategic.
Whitewell had seen more than its share of action over the years, more skirmishes than actual battles.
It wasn’t preferential to move an army over the narrow, hazardous road that crossed the Pennines and straight into a battle, so most armies tended to travel far to the north or to the south to bypass them.
Whitewell’s greatest threat came from the mighty Richmond Castle to the northwest, held by Edmund Tudor, Earl of Richmond.
Since both castles were fairly isolated, they took no real part in the major battles in the war between the Roses, but Whitewell spent a good deal of time fending off raids and other forms of harassment.
Here in the northern wilds, the Houses of Lancaster and York butted against each other, intertwined, and territories tended to blend like oil and water.
Howard was well aware of the rivalries, old, new, imagined and otherwise.
But he considered himself far more shrewd than his ancestors in that he fully understood the power of his location.
Since nearly the moment he took possession of the castle when his father died fifteen years ago, he only had his own betterment in mind.
His ambition had started a few years ago when he had first been approached by an ally of the late Sir John Grey, a Lancastrian and relation to the Woodvilles.
John Sutton, Lord Dudley, had been very clear in his mission; he was to secure Whitewell at any cost and when Henry Tudor sat up on the throne, he would make it well worth Howard’s efforts.
The Red Rose of Lancaster needed to secure the mountain pass, a short-cut from Lancaster to the Honour of Richmond, and they were willing to prostitute themselves in that effort.
All of this, of course, was unknown to the common man.
Though Howard Terrington willingly climbed into bed with the Lancastrians at the promise of assuming some of Richmond’s territories upon Henry’s ascension to the throne, his Yorkist allies were none the wiser.
No one questioned why armies of men were given passage over the Pennine road, mostly because the troops stationed at Whitewell were loyal to Terrington and simply did as they were told.
If their lord ordered the road left unprotected, then they would oblige.
But there was more to Howard’s greed. He not only wanted the wealth promised him, he wanted honor and glory, too.
He was not a fighting man. He was a politician.
When his only sister passed away and he became guardian of his niece, one look at the nine year old Alixandrea St. Ave and he knew that he had something to broker.
He could see a beneficial marriage on the horizon, something to bring him the recognition he sought.
So he brokered Alixandrea’s hand like an auctioneer selling prize livestock.
Many prominent families had vied for the honor.
John Sutton had made the final selection; Matthew Wellesbourne, son of Sir Adam Wellesbourne.
The Wellesbournes had passed to Richard through his marriage to Anne Neville and were the prime forces in the king’s arsenal.
It was all the Lancastrian camp could have ever hoped for.
They had planted a seed in the heart of Richard’s strength.
And that seed was Alixandrea Terrington St. Ave.
Not that she knew anything about it. She was a female and untrustworthy as most women were.
Howard spent many years trying to set a marriage date so that he could move his niece and his contingent of four hundred highly trained Lancastrian-loyal men into the heart of the Plantagenet arena, but the House of Wellesbourne had continually put him off.
It had taken ten years to place Alixandrea, and the sleeper army, where they belonged.
Now that the deed was done, it was time to set the plan in motion.
It was rainy this day, the first rain in quite some time, as he sat in his opulent solar at Whitewell. A fire smoked in the hearth and warmed wine ran aplenty. But he was not alone.
“She should be at Wellesbourne in a day or two,” he said. “I anticipate her travel should take nearly two weeks, probably less.”
He spoke to a man standing near the fire. He was a big man, attractive, a mercenary knight from Brittany who had served Henry Tudor for years. Sir Dennis la Londe was a feared assassin and a shrewd warrior, a volatile combination. Today, he was on an errand as a catalyst to greater things.
“I would agree,” he said in his heavy French accent. “And your man; what was his name? Strode? He is aware of our intent, is he not?”
Howard nodded, studying the red liquid in his cup. “Very much aware. He has been instructed to unleash the troops the very moment the marriage takes place.”
La Londe moved away from the fire, moving to the lancet windows.
Rain dripped down on the sill, trickling down onto the floor.
“Excellent,” he said. “The time is upon us, Terrington. All that we have planned and hoped for is finally coming to fruition. Your niece’s marriage could not have come at a better time. ”
La Londe often knew things that Howard did not. He was far more into Henry Tudor’s inner circle than Terrington was.
“What do you mean?” Howard asked leadingly.
Dennis turned from the window. “I mean exactly what I said. There will be no long wait for our plans to come to pass. What will happen at Wellesbourne will happen with deliberate purpose to coincide with Henry’s imminent arrival.”
Although Howard had been hearing rumors about this for quite some time, it was the first confirmation he had received. It was what every Tudor ally had been waiting for. “Henry is finally coming? When?”
“Soon,” la Londe said vaguely. Howard Terrington was not someone he wanted to divulge everything to, at least not all at once.
“Within the month we will unleash our army inside the walls of Wellesbourne and effectively cripple a great deal of the king’s support.
By the time Henry reaches England’s shores, Richard’s strength will be compromised.
This is exact as Lord Sutton had intended, Howard.
Bring down Wellesbourne and you cut off Richard’s right hand. ”
“And weaken his resistance.”
“Exactly. But there is more, mon ami.”
“What more is there?”
“Wiltshire and Pembroke are moving their armies to Shrewsbury. So are several other nobles. And do you know why?”
“Nay.”
La Londe lifted an eyebrow. “Because it is the midsection of the country. Occupy it, fill it, create a noose around it and effectively cut off the north from the south. Separate Richard from his allies. And then the noose shall tighten as Henry arrives with his army of French and Teutonic mercenaries to assume his rightful place.”
Howard could only think of what he would gain once Henry took the throne. “So it comes,” he muttered, more to himself than to la Londe. “We’ve waited so long that I can hardly believe it. And to know that my niece will play a part in it…”
“As I said, her marriage to Wellesbourne could not have come at a better time,” la Londe reiterated. “You should be congratulated. Your niece will accomplish what hordes of men could not. The fall of the White Lord of Wellesbourne will be a great feat.”
It was why Howard had married her off in the first place. He could see that his place of respect with Henry Tudor would be assured. “Do not forget that, as the widow of Wellesbourne, she will be a very wealthy woman and much desirable as a reward to a worthy ally.”
La Londe looked at him as if he was daft. “Why do you think I am here?” he said. “Never imagine that I have maintained my contact with you all of these years simply because I enjoy your company. I want something from you, Terrington.”
Howard was astute enough to understand the implication. There could be no other choice. “You want my niece?”
La Londe nodded slowly, his pale-colored eyes narrowed and glittering. He was a terrifying man at times. “I have met the Lady Alixandrea. She is quite a prize. With Wellesbourne’s wealth, she will be more than adequate compensation for my loyalties.”
As much as Howard was fairly indifferent to his niece, he wasn’t at all sure he wanted to see her wed to la Londe.
But the man had indeed risked himself to support Henry Tudor’s cause and had earned such compensation.
In fact, it was only through such adequate recompense that la Londe sold his powerful loyalties.
“Fair enough,” he said. He drained the last of his wine. “But we must veer back to the subject at hand; if Henry’s arrival is as imminent as you say, then we must waste no time. The wheels must be put in motion.”
“But the wheels are already in motion,” la Londe barely let him finish before he was responding.
“There are two purposes at heart, mon ami. Not only must we destroy the infrastructure of Wellesbourne, but in capturing the castle we must draw Richard’s troops away from Henry’s arrival.
While some of the York allies are concentrated on regaining Wellesbourne, Henry will land in England and meet with potentially less resistance. ”
“My men will create a diversion.”
“Precisely. And they must hold that diversion until Henry arrives.”
“When will we know?”
“I would expect word to arrive within the next week. It is nearly June; Henry has been gathering strength for some time now. He plans to be on the throne by September.”