The Traitor's Daughter. Joanna Makepeace

before admitting anyone.”

      Philippa smiled in answer. “Be assured we shall do that, Peter.”

      He left and she snuggled close to her mother, still huddling within her own frieze cloak. “Aren’t you chilly? I am still. Why don’t you put your cloak back on for a while?”

      “No, don’t fuss. I am quite comfortable out of the damp air.” Cressida looked round the gloomy stable and gave a little petulant shrug. “I shall be glad when we are well on our way tomorrow.”

      “Grandmère will be glad to see us.”

      “Yes, indeed. I only hope and pray that we are in time to see your grandfather.”

      Philippa made no answer. She was aware that her mother entertained little hope that Sir Daniel would continue to survive the collapse which he had suffered some two weeks ago, which had left him partially paralysed. The message which Lady Gretton had managed to send to her daughter in Burgundy had informed Cressida that her father had lost the power of his speech. Philippa knew, as her mother did, that attacks such as these were often followed by others, which, eventually, led to the death of the sufferer. Cressida had pleaded with her husband to be allowed to journey to Gretton to see her father and take with her their only daughter, his grandchild, whom he had never seen. Reluctantly, the Earl had given his permission and allowed Peter Fairley, his trusted squire and friend, to be their sole protector.

      Philippa watched as her mother stretched wearily out on her straw bed.

      “You do believe that we shall be safe,” she queried softly, “that at Gretton the servants can be trusted and…?” Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

      Cressida lifted her head and gazed doubtfully at her daughter in the flickering light of the lanthorn.

      “Nothing can be certain, child. The servants have been with your grandparents for years and will, I believe, be discreet. They loved me as a child and they are all aware of the dangers. Travelling under assumed names, we should be safe enough, but if you are afraid I could instruct Peter to see you safe on a ship bound for home—”

      “No, no, I insist on going with you. I am most anxious to see my grandparents,” Philippa declared passionately. “I am most concerned for your safety. Papa was saying that the King’s spies will be extra-vigilant since the Yorkist gentlemen will be in a state of great anger and agitation due to the summary execution of Sir James Tyrell and the lying confession about the murder of the Princes, which was published after his death.”

      Cressida sighed heavily. “When will this realm be fully peaceful? I doubt if I shall see it in my lifetime, yet the Tudor King holds the state firmly. He should be able to do so,” she added bitterly, “he has managed to destroy all the rightful heirs who might have challenged him for power and then he married the Yorkist Princess, Elizabeth, in order to secure the loyalty of some of the disaffected nobles.”

      Philippa bit her lip as her mother once more lay down. The journey had tired her so. She needed rest badly. Philippa had rarely seen her beautiful mother so downhearted and distressed, not even when the Earl, her father, had risked himself on hazardous adventures for his patroness, the Duchess Margaret, who had struggled over the last twenty years to bring down the Tudor monarchy.

      Philippa’s father had made her aware of the situation which had made him a hunted traitor in his own land, even though she herself, now seventeen, had been born after the tragic events which had caused it.

      She knew that for over fifty years, since 1450, there had been struggles for supremacy amongst the Lancastrian and Yorkist heirs of King Edward III. In 1461 the weak Lancastrian King Henry VI had proved so incompetent that his cousin, Duke Richard of York, had challenged him for power. He had been killed in the fighting which had broken out, but his son, King Edward IV, had finally won a bloodthirsty battle at Towton in Yorkshire and had then assumed the throne and ruled ruthlessly and competently for over twenty years, despite sporadic outbursts of violence which had threatened the peace. Unfortunately he had died unexpectedly in 1483, leaving the protectorship of the realm and care of his two young sons and older five daughters to the care of their uncle, his younger brother, Duke Richard of Gloucester.

      Almost immediately the peace was threatened again due to the minority of the young King, Edward V, who was just thirteen years old when Richard brought him to London to be crowned. On the journey the Queen’s relatives made a bid for power which was defeated and two of them were executed. The Princes were placed for safety within the palace of the Tower of London, traditionally used to house the new monarchs before their coronations.

      Philippa was aware that her father, Martyn, Earl of Wroxeter, had been a trusted friend of Duke Richard and eventually left his own estates on the Welsh Border to become his confidante and spy master.

      The Bishop of Bath and Wells had made a surprise announcement at a meeting at the Tower, revealing that the late King’s marriage had not been lawful and therefore his children were illegitimate. He, himself, he had declared, had betrothed the king formally to Lady Eleanor Butler and that lady had still been living when the King had married the widow of a Lancastrian nobleman, Lord Grey of Groby, and betrothals were binding, so much so that a dispensation from the Pope was required to break one. This revelation had thrown the realm into disarray once more and Duke Richard had finally been persuaded to accede to the throne as King Richard III. Philippa’s father had served him faithfully and fought for him at the tragic battle of Redmoor two years later when Henry Tudor, descended from the Lancastrian, Prince John of Gaunt, and his mistress, Katherine Swynford, had arrived in England in a bid to seize the throne. The King had been treacherously betrayed by Lord William Stanley, who was married to Henry’s mother, and his brother, Sir William, on the very battlefield and had died in a last courageous charge.

      Since that time the Earl’s fortunes had been totally destroyed as he lived in almost penniless exile in Burgundy. Philippa knew, only too well, that her chances of finding a husband, since she had no dowry, were hopeless.

      This business of Tyrell’s execution had heightened their danger, she knew. Sir James, like her father, had been a member of the late King’s household, but had been on a mission for King Richard to France at the time of Redmoor so had taken no part in that battle. He had made his peace with the new King, Henry, and had served the Tudor house, though his estates had been confiscated and he had been deprived of his official posts in Wales. He had been later appointed Governor of Guisnes and, for the following sixteen years, had remained in France, then, suddenly, he had been accused of treasonable correspondence with the Earl of Suffolk, the late King’s nephew. He had refused to surrender himself, but had allowed himself to be lured from the safety of his castle and on to one of King Henry’s ships in Calais harbour by the promise of safe conduct. He was then captured and taken to the Tower of London and, later, unceremoniously executed. After his death it had been announced that he had confessed to the murder of the Princes, King Edward’s young sons, who had disappeared from the Tower, on the order of their uncle. This slur upon the honour of the dead King Richard had naturally angered many of the late King’s former supporters. A little shiver ran through Philippa’s body, for she suspected that her father knew more about the fate of those young princes than he would ever divulge, not even to his closest family. Was this the reason why King Henry hated him so much and wished to have him in England directly in his power? She knew, only too well, that in the dungeons of the Tower men could be forced to divulge their closest-held secrets. If the King could hold the Earl’s wife and child as hostages, would not her father come to their help and surrender himself, as Tyrell had done? The secret of their journey to Gretton must be kept at all costs.

      Her thoughts ranged to her friends, Richard and Anne Allard, who had been her companions four years ago when she had gone to Westminster to serve King Henry’s queen, Elizabeth of York. They had all been forced to flee together from England when Richard had involved himself in trying to help the young Earl of Warwick, who had been a prisoner in the Tower. Philippa sighed deeply as she remembered how that unfortunate young man had been executed with another pretender to the throne, Perkin Warbeck. Richard and Anne had been pardoned and returned to England. Philippa would have dearly liked to see them while she was here but knew that would be dangerous for all of them.