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Back Winter Pilgrims
Chapters (55)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Book
  3. About the Author
  4. Kingmaker: Winter Pilgrims
  5. Dedication
  6. Though the Lancastrian Claim comes from Edward III’s THIRD son, it relies on a) possession and b) that the crown can not pass through a woman – Philippa Mormer – so must fall to the next male in line. The Yorkist Claim relies on their descent from Edward III’s SECOND son, and says it can pass through Philippa. The Tudor Claim ignores the fact of passing through a woman – Lady Margaret Beaufort – or that John, Earl of Somerset, was born illegimate.
  7. Factions in the Wars of the Roses
  8. Prologue
  9. PART ONE
  10. 1
  11. 2
  12. 3
  13. 4
  14. PART TWO
  15. 5
  16. 6
  17. 7
  18. 8
  19. 9
  20. 10
  21. 11
  22. 12
  23. 13
  24. PART THREE
  25. 14
  26. 15
  27. 16
  28. 17
  29. 18
  30. 19
  31. PART FOUR
  32. 20
  33. 21
  34. 22
  35. 23
  36. PART FIVE
  37. 24
  38. 25
  39. 26
  40. 27
  41. 28
  42. 29
  43. 30
  44. 31
  45. PART SIX
  46. 32
  47. 33
  48. PART SEVEN
  49. 34
  50. 35
  51. 36
  52. 37
  53. 38
  54. 39
  55. Acknowledgements

He tries to laugh. Walter sneers. They can hear the King’s men shouting now, a rolling roar, both defiant and taunting, and Thomas looks along the line of men about him, silent in response. Not a face about him shows anything but fear. There is none of the resolution he’d seen in Sandwich, none of the determination they’d shown at Newnham Bridge.

Walter looks as if he’s given up his ghost already and a tremor has appeared in Red John’s cheek. He keeps clenching and unclenching his hands on his bow. After a moment he turns to Thomas.

‘Thomas,’ he says. ‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this one. If it goes wrong, will you find me? Make sure I get a decent hole? I don’t want the heralds to throw me in the river with the rest of them.’

He holds his hand out and Thomas takes it.

‘It’s going to go fine,’ Thomas says. ‘Fauconberg knows what he’s about.’

The words sound hollow, and he wonders he has the nerve to say them, when Fauconberg rides along the line out in front of his troops. Raindrops bounce off his armour and the raised peak of his helmet. He undoes the bevor at his throat and turns to address the men.

‘Men of England!’ he calls out. ‘This is an infamous day. Today, through no fault of our own, we are called upon to make war on fellow Englishmen. Those of you who fought with me in France will know my preference for killing Frenchmen, and so today finds me heavy-hearted. Heavy-hearted that we must take the field against the King’s army.

‘But I say to you that our cause is just. I say to you that God has given it His blessing and though we go against the banner of the King, we do not go against the person of the King himself. So therefore, in the name of God, I command you to spare those whom you may spare.’

‘Lord spare us,’ Walter mutters.

‘Spare first the King. No man among you is to touch the person of the King on pain of death. Where it can be helped, spare too the common soldier where you find him, for he being duped is more to be pitied than despised. Spare him his life so that he may use it more profitably in future.’

As he speaks the rain becomes a drenching downpour. Fauconberg huddles into his armour.