“The mob,” said Bolingbroke, deciding not to tell his father who led them, “are demanding that Richard meet them to hear their grievances. Richard has refused, saying he won’t bow before peasants.”
Lancaster bared his teeth. “He is a little man and a fool. This is no way to start a reign.”
Bolingbroke smiled coldly. “Not for him.”
What was left of Lancaster’s face grew more sad. “I had not thought it would ever come to this … that my brother’s son should so blacken his father’s and grandfather’s names—”
“What? Is this treachery you speak?”
Bolingbroke and Lancaster jerked their heads toward the door, Lancaster moaning at the sudden movement.
Richard and de Vere had walked in and now approached the bed.
Bolingbroke stood up slowly, letting go his father’s hand. “What do you here?” he said.
“Disturbing your talk of treason,” said Richard, his face a mixture of triumph and contempt as he gazed down on Lancaster.
“There is no such thing as treason against fools,” said Lancaster, his eyes glittering with hatred.
Richard’s face worked. “I should have had you hanged as a common criminal.”
Again Lancaster bared his teeth, and then his hands were grabbing at the bed covers.
Bolingbroke started forward, for he thought his father was going to try to rise, but Lancaster only threw back the covers, exposing his ravaged naked body.
“I give this for your stupid words, sodomite!” One of Lancaster’s hands grabbed at his genitals, shaking them at Richard. “And believe it when I say I would piss at you if I had any left in me.”
Richard took a step back, his face pale and shocked. De Vere, his face warped with hatred, stepped up behind the king and placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder, offering Richard his support.
“What’s the matter, Richard?” said Bolingbroke. “I thought you liked the sight of other men’s genitals.”
Now Richard’s face flushed a deep red, and he jerked his head away from Lancaster to Bolingbroke. “You have never loved me!”
Lancaster waggled his genitals once more. “Take it now if you want it. I have not much time left.”
“I will destroy you!” Richard shouted at Bolingbroke.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Bolingbroke said quietly, holding Richard’s gaze.
Several other people had by now come into the chamber: Neville, who moved carefully about the group to stand at Margaret’s side; Raby and Salisbury, who had moved to Bolingbroke’s side; and Courtenay, who stayed by the door, lest it needed to be shut quickly.
Richard, and de Vere, his hand now down at his side, stared about, suddenly realizing their danger.
Richard opened his mouth to speak, but was forestalled by the entry of Northumberland and some six or seven guards.
Courtenay stepped back from the door with considerable alacrity.
“Your grace!” Northumberland said, hurrying to Richard’s side and sharing a very quick glance with Bolingbroke. “The gate in the Lion Tower has given way. Peasants are swarming through the Inner Ward.”
If anything, Richard went even whiter. ” What? Northumberland, you were supposed to protect me!”
“We are all dead if you don’t do something!” Bolingbroke said. “Sweet Jesu, Richard, if you don’t go out and agree to meet with them, then we are all dead!”
“I…I.
De Vere locked eyes with Northumberland, glanced at Bolingbroke, and then took Richard by the shoulders and shook him. “Richard, get out there now! You have no choice about whether or not to meet them if you want to live.
How quickly de Vere sees sense, thought Bolingbroke, when it is his life threatened.
“All you have to do,” Bolingbroke said, “is to agree to meet with them. At daybreak on the morrow, if you do not wish to venture out in the dark.”
Richard sent a simmering glance Bolingbroke’s way, but nodded. “You will come out with me,” he said.
Bolingbroke nodded. “As your grace desires.”
“And Robbie!” Richard said, looking at his lover.
“Your grace, it might be better if I remained—”
“You will do as I ask!”
De Vere nodded—with the utmost reluctance.
IN THE end, Raby and the two squires stayed with Lancaster and the women, while Northumberland accompanied Richard, de Vere, Bolingbroke, Neville and some score of men-at-arms outside into the open gravelled space occupying several acres within the Inner Ward.
When Bolingbroke and Neville had come through here earlier it had been almost empty save for some score of men-at-arms scurrying about.
Now it seemed thousands of torch-carrying and weaponed peasants stood there.
Richard hesitated as he looked at the numbers present, and Bolingbroke seized his chance.
“My friends!” he called, striding toward the peasants. “See who I have persuaded to speak with you!”
A roar went up from the crowd and, as it died and before Richard could say anything, Bolingbroke again spoke.
“He has seen my reason,” he said, “and will meet with you at daybreak tomorrow in East Smithfield!”
Lord Christ Savior, Neville thought admiringly. Hal has just presented himself as the rabble’s friend!
“Is this true?” shouted a voice, and Wat Tyler strode forth from the rabble. “Will you meet with us, sire, and listen to our grievances?”
Slowly, reluctantly, his eyes darting about at the armed men confronting him, Richard walked forward a few paces. “Aye,” he said, then cleared his throat and spoke again. “Aye!”
A great cheer went up from the mob, and Tyler locked eyes briefly with Bolingbroke.
Then he looked back to Richard. “Be there,” he said, “or I cannot speak for what my brothers’
anger will lead them to. Do not rob them of their trust in you, for already they have vented their ire on those who have robbed them of their livelihood.”
And he stood back.
Behind him the crowd parted, and in the torchlight Richard and his companions could see four headless bodies lying on the gravel.
Four of the rebels leaned down and lifted the heads up in the torchlight for their king to see.
Two of the men were legal clerks who had been heavily involved in instituting the poll tax, but Richard could not help the small cry that escaped his lips at the sight of the third head.
It had once belonged to Simon Sudbury, the archbishop of Canterbury.
For his part Bolingbroke smiled, for the fourth head was that of the physician who had so hurt Lancaster.
“My men will wait out the night here,” said Tyler, “and in the morning will escort you safely to East Smithfield.”
He paused, his hard eyes staring at Richard. “Do not fail us.”
CHAPTER XII
Prime on the Octave of Corpus Christi
In the second year of the reign of Richard II
(Sunday 3rd June 1380)
IT WAS A GRAY and still morning, heavy with the threat of barely quiescent violence. For Bolingbroke, who had sat through the dark unknown hours with his dying father, daybreak appeared no worse than the night which had given it birth.
For Richard, it seemed as if daybreak could well herald the hour of his execution.
He was furious that his glorious kingship had come to this, furious that Hal was again breathing in the acclaim of the masses, and furious that Hal had so manipulated him the previous night.
Furious that he had been able to do nothing about it.
When I get my chance, pretty boy Hal, he thought, I shall crucify you!
And his people—how was it that his people, his subjects, who should have adored him, who were obliged to adore him—had now massed in angry, resentful battalions outside the Tower’s walls?
This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.
He was king. His word, his very wish, was law. Why couldn’t people understand that?
How dare they refuse to understand that?
They were as treacherous as their fair Bolingbroke …
Richard almost snarled as hateful Northumberland, with his judgmental eyes and bland, severe face, tugged at the fastenings of his cloak, and straightened the sword as it hung at his hip.
How dare he touch him!
“This meeting with a rabble is a mistake,” Richard said.
“It will be the greater mistake if you do not go,” said Northumberland, “because then they will storm the Tower and murder you.” He stood back after giving Richard’s cloak a final tweak.
“I should send Bolingbroke,” Richard said, his eyes sliding this way and that about the chamber, looking for Robbie. Where was he?
“If Bolingbroke went he would come back king,” said Northumberland, and Richard knew at that moment that he loathed the earl. His thoughts flew off at a tangent, wondering how best he might destroy Northumberland …
“I will see all my enemies defeated,” Richard finally said in a low, almost sulky, tone.
Northumberland looked at him, then turned away. “The horses await, your grace,” he said, pulling on his gloves and striding toward the door of the chamber.
“Northumberland!” Richard called, furious that he had to raise his voice to attract the man’s attention.