clothing, as if he might don them again immediately to answer some call to action necessitated by this arrival at Ravenspur.
‘So we swallow the haunch whole,’ he said, enforcing my impression. ‘Raise the banners, call out the retainers. There, decision made, sir. We set out as soon as we have a force vast enough to make an impression on more than a dozen peasants.’
Which could, I thought, be within a handful of days. Grass did not grow under either of these Percy feet, but where I might have been irritated at my lack of participation in this planning, my interest was piqued. Here was something of import. Another Scottish incursion? But Ravenspur was south of where we were at Warkworth, on the east coast, far below Berwick. So not the Scots. And whoever had come to excite the Earl, had done so by sea. The Scots simply raided over the border.
‘I’ve already given the orders,’ the Earl growled. ‘Just in case we decide to march.’
He knew that they would, even as he had asked his son for his opinion. The appearance of indecision was a mere distraction: the Earl had made up his mind to do it. Whatever it was. Harry simply lifted a shoulder, as awake to his father’s mode of decision-making as was I.
‘Where is he going? Do we know?’ Harry asked, dropping his clothing again.
‘Into his own country in Yorkshire and then south, to pick up what forces he can from his own lands, I’d say. He’s come with precious few. Sixty, I hear. God’s Blood! Of what value is that? He’ll need all the help he can get.’
‘So we’ll take ours and join him.’
The Earl’s smile, which spread over his countenance to remind his audience that once he had been a handsome man, was as thin as spring ice.
‘And if he is sufficiently grateful for our support, who’s to say what we’ll gain from it?’
‘Timing, sir, is everything.’ Harry returned the smile. ‘If we are the first to show our support, he’ll be liberal in gratitude.’
Father and son clasped right hands.
Throughout all this I allowed the exchange to continue over my head. There was a difference here from the usual discussion of military intervention in local squabbles. Here was a sudden underlying tension, hot and sere, in this household that was famous for its tensions one way or another. And I knew nothing about it. I might guess, but this planning had been conducted at some point in the past weeks without my being aware, presumably even before Harry went on his circuit of the March. Both father by law and husband had been as tight as Tyne mussels, which for them was unusual, when any prospect of military manoeuvring was heralded by horn from the battlements for all to hear. Nor had I received any information in my usual round of family communications. I found it unsettling to be so ignorant. A tight knot of anxiety surprised me as it grew in my belly.
Why I should be so disturbed, I was unable to determine. I had no gift of second sight, and was well used to being left to watch the Earl and Harry disappear in a glint of armour and armed men with the Percy lion displayed on every breast. But there was something here to wake what I could only think of as fear. Yet what should I fear? My son and daughter were safe in the nursery chambers in the western range of rooms. My husband was alive and luminous with health. The King, my cousin, was campaigning in Ireland but was in no danger that I was aware of.
But something…
I made my voice heard.
‘Which one of you will consider furnishing me with an explanation of what you are planning? Since I am the only one of the three of us to be unhappily in ignorance.’
The Earl’s pale eyes came to rest on my face.
‘It’s men’s work, Elizabeth. Nothing to concern you. Go back to your stitching.’
Men’s work? A curl of temper bloomed in my throat, hot words jostling for freedom, but I knew better than to voice them when it would only bring a further denial of a woman’s place in this household. Instead I closed my lips and plotted. There were ways of discovering what I wished to know; Harry would not dare to treat me with such casual disdain. Yet I was reluctant to give way so easily in this admittedly insignificant battle of wills, and indeed I thought that the Earl would be disappointed if I retired from the battlefield so easily.
I fixed my husband with a straight stare. ‘Are you going to tell me to ply my needle too?’
But Harry was too caught up in unseen possibilities to take much heed of the fire in my eye. ‘Do we inform him we are coming?’ Harry was considering aloud. ‘Or do we wait to see what transpires? Perhaps we do not commit ourselves too early, although it goes against the grain with me to resort to subterfuge.’
Subterfuge was a dangerous word. ‘Commit yourselves to what?’ I demanded.
‘Thomas would advise discretion, of course,’ the Earl said.
‘Thomas would advise loyalty to the crown at all costs,’ I said, snatching at this nugget of information.
Thomas Percy, Earl of Worcester, my father by law’s impeccably diplomatic brother. The third in this Percy triumvirate of power. He was at present making use of his skills with King Richard in his military campaign in Ireland. No man was firmer in his fealty to King Richard than the Earl of Worcester.
‘Thomas is not here,’ my husband replied. ‘So we’ll ignore his advice.’
Upon which the Earl grunted a laugh. ‘This is the plan. We go armed to meet our invader, but with a smiling visage and a sheathed sword. We’ll not be turned away. Then we watch and wait and see what sport plays out.’
I disliked being ignored. ‘And who is it that will be glad to see a Percy force at his gate?’ I asked. I sharpened the timbre of my voice a little to make my point. ‘Should I not know before you ride out from here if you will return on horseback or on a bier?’
Which produced a response from the Earl. ‘You are impertinent, madam.’
‘If it is the latter, sir,’ I continued, with even more impertinence, ‘I would wish to make provision for your interment.’
A little shiver blew over my skin as if someone had opened the window, an unpleasant sensation that was instantly dispelled by the Earl’s request, coldly trenchant, of his son.
‘Would you like to take your wife in hand?’
‘I would like to see him try,’ I said.
‘My wife does not need taking in hand.’ But Harry did wind his fingers with mine to draw me towards the doorway where, the door still ajar as the Earl had left it, he pushed me gently out through the arch.
‘Are you telling me to leave my own solar?’
‘Yes.’
‘Harry…!’
‘Not now. I will come to you.’
‘If you are to meet your doom, I deserve to know. I shall become a wealthy widow.’
‘I did not know you were so mercenary.’ He drew his knuckles down my cheek.
‘But yes. I have to be prepared for an uncertain future. A
