Revenge by David Pilling Page A

bag,” he said, planting a fond kiss on its forehead, “to remind him that the sword is greater than any law.”
     
    9.
     
    Mary first heard the news of her brother’s plight from John Tanner, her mother’s steward. He came clattering into the yard at Sedgley House, balanced like a sack of coal athwart a palfrey that shivered under his weight.
    Tanner was a great slug of a man, used to indolence and his own comfort, and it had been many years since he rode so many miles at a gallop. His appearance, puce-faced and sweating and looking fit to burst, put Mary in great fear.
    “Richard has fled Staffordshire, my lady,” he gasped out after draining the pottle of ale she handed him, “and the kingdom, too, for aught I know. Mauley has gone with him, and, I am sorry to say, your husband.”
    Mary demanded to know what he meant, and he told her of recent events: Mauley’s assault on young Huntley, Richard’s humiliation of the Sheriff’s envoy, the riot and disturbance at Lichfield, and lastly (and worst of all) the robberies and murders at Malvern Hall.
    All these crimes and misdeeds had taken place over the course of a few days and, isolated at Sedgley, Mary was ignorant of them before Tanner’s arrival. Her husband had not returned, and her stubborn pride had kept her from going to seek him at Heydon Court. Had she known what Henry intended, she would have hunted him down and dragged him home by his ear.
    She took Tanner into the hall, where he stood and warmed his saddle-sore backside by the fire while he told the remainder of his tale.
    “The whole county is up in arms, my lady,” he said. “The Sheriff has turned out the garrison of Stafford, and dispatched writs and commission of array to every town. This morning he appeared before Heydon Court with a hundred lances at his back, demanding that your brother and his accomplices give themselves up. A stark man, this Stanley, a bold knight, and swift to his duty.”
    Mary gestured impatiently, not caring to hear of the Sheriff’s virtues. “But Richard and the others were already gone?”
    “Yes, lady. Dame Anne turned them away from the gate as soon as they returned from Malvern Hall, heavy with plunder and the reek of blood and fire still on them.”
    He paused, plucking at his whiskers and staring ruefully at the flagstones. They were swept and scrubbed to a mirror-like finish. Mary allowed her servants no respite.
    “Master Richard tried to remonstrate with her,” he went on. “Dame Anne’s face was as bleak and sad as ever I have seen it, but she would not relent. She bade them scatter and flee. When they refused, she drew her knife and laid the point against her breast, which so amazed and frightened them that they obeyed her wishes, and made off.”
    Mary had to sit at the table and rally her scattered thoughts. “The blame for this lies on Sir Thomas Malvern’s head,” she said slowly. “If he had kept faith with the King, my father would still be alive, and Richard would not have committed such follies.”
    Tanner rubbed his chin. “The thread winds endlessly, my lady. If the Duke of York had not raised arms against the King, if the King had governed the realm better – why, even if his father, God rest him, had not died young, we might have been spared much. If, if, if. We must stick with facts. As for Malvern’s head, your brother removed it from his shoulders and sent it to the Sheriff in a leathern bag.”
    Mary winced at this grisly addition. “Tell me, then, as one in need of advice,” she replied, “what facts must we deal with now? Has the Sheriff seized Heydon Court?”
    “No, thanks to your wise mother. She wheedled him with sweet words, invited him and his officers inside, and regaled them with the best our kitchen and cellar had to offer. I have a notion money changed hands, for Sir John is not above palming silver if it is offered him. However, your brother and your husband are declared outlaws, and so is Nicholas Mauley. The