The White Rose

Barnet

At nightfall two horsemen rode away from Westminster Palace. They were Robert Stafford and his faithful, inseparable Lormet, who was at once servant, squire, travelling companion, confidant and general factotum.

Since the day that Robert had selected him from among his peasants in Northamptonshire and attached him to his own person, Lormet had become, so to speak, his perpetual shadow. It was a marvel to see how anxiously this fat little man, already grey-haired but still hale and hearty, attended his young giant of a master on all occasions, closely following him in order to protect him. His cunning was as great and effective as his devotion. It was he who had stolen the horses of the brothers Bryan on the night of the trap.

Dawn was breaking as the two horsemen reached the gates of the Percy estate at Barnet. They put their smoking horses into a walk and Lormet yawned a dozen times or so. At over fifty, he was still able to stand long journeys on horseback better than any young equerry, but he was inclined to suffer from lack of sleep. Robert Stafford dismounted and walked through the gates which guarded the home of his paternal aunt, Matilda Stafford, Dowager Duchess of Northumberland and Countess Wiltshire.

'Listen, Lormet,' said the giant, 'I want this fat bitch to hear from me the extent of her disaster. Here begins one of the greatest and happiest days of my life. No beautiful girl in love with me could give me greater pleasure to see than the hideous phiz of my aunt when she hears what I have to tell her about the happenings at Westminster. And I want her to come to Westminster and accelerate her own ruin by braying to the King; I hope she dies of vexation.'

Lormet yawned loudly.

'She'll die all right, my lord; she'll die, you can be certain of that; you're doing everything you can to bring it about,' he said.

'To think that it was my grandfather who built it; to think that it is I who should be living here!' Robert went on.

'You'll live here, my lord; you'll live here all right.'

'And I'll make you the doorkeeper with a hundred pounds a year.'

'Thank you, my lord,' replied Francis as if he had already acquired that high position and had the money in his pocket.

Robert leapt from his percheron, threw the bridle to Francis and, seizing the knocker, banged it hard enough to break down the door.

The noise echoed from top to bottom of the house. The wicket-gate opened and a huge guard came out, wide awake and carrying in his hand a cudgel heavy enough to fell an ox.

'Who goes there?' demanded the servant, indignant at the row.

But Robert Stafford pushed past him and entered the house. There were plenty of people in the corridors and upon the staircase; a dozen valets and housemaids doing the morning cleaning. There was anxiety upon every face. Robert, creating disorder in his wake, went up to the first floor, to Matilda's apartments, and cried 'hullo' loud enough to make a row of horses rear.

A terrified servant ran up, a pail in his hand.

'Where's my aunt, Peter? I must see my aunt at once.'

Peter, his head bald and square, put down his pail and replied, 'She's having breakfast, my Lord.'

'Well, I don't care! Tell her I'm here and hurry up about it!'

He bounded up the stairs and hurled open the doors to his aunt's chambers. Matilda was indeed eating breakfast.

"AUNT! All is lost!"

She looked up, not in the least surprised.

"What is lost Robert? Another lawsuit?"

"Aunt.... we are all in grave danger. The king holds our fate in hollow of his hand."