Extract:
’Twas therefore in a somewhat disgruntled frame of mind that I took breakfast next morning. Not only, it seemed, had Lord Stafford not arranged for my nightly visit, he had not even had the courtesy to invite me to break fast with him. Indeed I was obliged to obtain what sustenance I could amongst the polloi in the castle kitchens. Soon afterwards however came the summons for which I had been waiting, indeed which formed the whole purpose of my visit.
I was shown to the Earl’s apartments by one of his lackeys. ‘Ancient Pistol, my lord,’ he murmured suavely, and disappeared.
The castle apartments were not as luxurious as those to which I had been accustomed at Savoy House. It was of course not to be expected that a mere provincial earl could compete for magnificence with the Royal House of Lancaster. I allowed my gaze to wander around the room. The stone walls were bare save for a couple of tapestries – one an indifferently executed battle scene, the other the Earl’s arms, a red chevron on yellow ground, or as I apprehend those knowledgeable in chivalry call it, a chevron gules upon a field of or. There was an embossed brass portrait of a left-handed warrior armoured in comparatively modern fashion, with a caption describing him as Ralph, Earl of Stafford, presumably the present Earl’s father or grandfather. Otherwise the room was empty apart from a large oaken chest topped with a couple of candlesticks, unlit at this hour and season, and a silver crown. A couple of homespun woollen mats lay upon the rushes on the floor, and facing the empty fireplace stood a sturdily-built man in early middle age with reddish hair, wearing a tabard of the royal arms.
I was about to speak when I suddenly realized to whom I had had the honour of being introduced. The crown, the royal arms … the build and even the hair colour. The King had been campaigning in the north, and was said to be making haste from Nottingham to join forces with his son at Shrewsbury. Stafford would lie on or near his route. In short, this was not the mere Earl of Stafford, but Harry Bolingbroke, erstwhile Duke of Hereford, later of Lancaster, and now King Henry, of that name the Fourth.
‘My liege,’ said I, throwing myself with some discomfort amongst the rushes on the stone floor. ‘Little did I know when entrusted with my mission, that I should have the honour of being summoned to your Grace’s royal presence. As your Grace’s humblest and most loyal subject, I was content with whatever trifling service I could yield, seeking no reward other than the knowledge that I had in some small measure been of assistance to your Grace. I prostrate myself before you, and kiss the ground beneath your noble feet. Long live your Grace, rightful King of all England! And death to those unnatural traitors who seek to depose the Lord’s anointed!’
The man turned round and tutted irritably. ‘Oh, stand up, Pistol, thou daft bugger. And save all that bollocks for when thou meet’st the King. Not that he’ll be any more impressed by such vile toadying than I am.’
I now perceived my error. If the reader has had the good sense to read the second of my previous volumes, he will be aware that I had previously met Harry Bolingbroke, albeit briefly and under far from auspicious circumstances. Suffice it to say that the man to whom I was now speaking bore him only a superficial resemblance, being of similar age, build and colouring.
‘Ah,’ said I, scrambling to my feet.
‘I am Edmund, Earl of Stafford,’ said the man.
‘Er, yes. My lord, permit me to say what an honour …’
‘Spare me any more of thy revolting antics, Pistol. I will take the further grovelling as read. Still, there is one good thing about thy vapourings: to wit, it proves that when clad in the royal livery I can be mistaken for the King.’
‘Ah,’ I said again, by now somewhat nonplussed, as may be imagined.
‘Half a dozen of the King’s loyal followers will dress thus at the forthcoming battle to confuse his enemies. It makes his Grace less of a target. Indeed, Pistol, thou wast so anxious to be of service to the King that methinks ’twould be no bad idea for thee to dress likewise. What sayst thou?’
‘I should naturally be honoured, my lord.’
In fact I was very far from keen on the idea, the whole point of the exercise being of course to minimize the danger to the King by getting others to share the risk. To be frank, I was shocked that the King, who as a young man had been a knightly warrior, crusading amongst the heathen and putting them to fire and sword, should so far have lost his martial spirit as to resort to such an unknightly ploy; a stratagem indeed so discreditable that in our language we English lack a word for such a thing. The frog-eaters, who naturally have frequent resort to such contemptible devices, ploys, call them ruses de guerre, and the less forgetful of my readers may recall that I previously used the term of the method used by the king to effect the capture of his predecessor. I grieved that our sovereign had become thus corrupted by the lure of ambition and power.
It would needless to say have been injudicious to voice my opinion on such matters, and almost equally inadvisable to refuse the offer. Promising to pose as the King would cost me nothing, even if I had no intention whatever of doing so.
‘Excellent, good Pistol. Evidently thou’rt not such a crawling, spineless wretch as I’ve been led to believe. And now to the business of thy visit. I apprehend that thou’rt here as a royal messenger. To what end?’
It occurred to me that it was still possible that the lady sent last night had been employed by the Earl to make my stay more pleasant, and if it were indeed he who had arranged it rather than Sir John, it would be both discourteous and impolitic not to thank him. ‘Before getting down to more serious business, my lord,’ said I, with a sly wink, ‘perhaps I might be permitted to thank your lordship for the … ah-ha! … present last night.’
He stared at me blankly.
‘I mean, my lord,’ I continued, ‘the delightful tavern wench your lordship was generous enough to provide for my delectation. A raunchy baggage indeed! As I’ll wager your lordship hath oft discovered in the past, ho, ho!’