THE ROUT OF LUDFORD BRIDGE
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October, 1459
The soldiers surrendered before dawn the next day. The massacre that followed was something Grace had never anticipated, even though something in her mind whispered that she should have. Margaret of Anjou had allowed her soldiers to run rampant as they pleased, and the town of Ludlow paid for it in blood, gold and everything else.
The Duchess had deemed it fit to go into the streets to greet the victorious Lancastrian troops. Or rather, their Queen, whose banner could be seen flying not far from them. Grace had never inhaled the scent of death before that moment, and she wished she never had. Blood and human entrails littered the streets, doors to homes were torn of the hinges by greedy hands, wanting to find whatever riches the common folk may hold dear to their hearts. And then there was the horrors the soldiers committed on people still alive. Grace could only watch with horror as an old man's skull was split open, simply for the crime of trying to save his granddaughter from being raped. The girl he was trying to save screamed, and then she was pulled away from Grace's sight and all that could be heard was her begging and the cruel laughing of the soldiers.
Grace was sick to the stomach.
The hem of her dress was dirtied in blood and mud, the redness seeping into the previously yellow gown. The Market Cross was perhaps the worst of it, and Grace forced herself to look straight ahead and away from the horrors. The banner of Margaret Anjou was moving closer, presumably with her in tow. A warm hand slipped into her own, and she quickly squeezed it. She did not know what was going on in George's head at that moment, but it was probably much of the same.
The Duchess stopped walking at the market cross, her shoulders sagging for a moment as she exhaled before she quickly rightened herself. This was where they were to wait, then. Grace wished it wasn't. The sound of horse hooves approaching them came from the main road leading out of the town, and Grace immediately stared down the man on horseback that trotted in their direction.
Although his armor was only a chainmail covered gambeson and steel bracers, it was clear he was not just some back-water soldier. There was an expensive looking ring glittering on his finger, a heavy insignia etched onto it. Grace had to wonder if he had planned to wear it to battle, or if he had only put it on now that victory was assured. His dark hair was lined with silver, as was the carefully trimmed beard on his face. He pulled the horse to a stop in front of the, turning it so he could look down at the Duchess.
"Duchess Cecily," he greeted the woman before him, face looking rather grim as he took in the scene around him. "I am here on the orders of the Queen. The Lady Grace FitzRoy is to be brought to her mother." The Duchess merely stared at him for a moment, her eyes assessing him sharply. The man, as if remembering himself just then, perked up and reached into the saddle bag attached to his horse. When he pulled his hand out, a rolled up letter rested between his fingers.
He handed it to the Duchess and waited patiently as she broke the seal – the royal seal – and unfurled the letter. Her eyes scoured the paper carefully, swallowing up every word as if it was a saving grace, or a death sentence. Then her hands fell limply to her side and she nodded.
"Sir John Howard will take you to your mother, my dear," the Duchess told her, dark circles marring the skin beneath her eyes like two large shadows. Howard, the same name as her mother bore. Perhaps he was a close relative, and even if he was a distant one, surely he would not hurt her. Besides, her mother would never allow just any man to go and retrieve her. It had to be a man she trusted.
Grace stepped forward, accepting Sir John's offered hand and allowing him to hoist her into his saddle. It was a tight-squeeze, but Sir John quickly shifted back so he was only sitting on the saddle halfway, allowing her enough space to get comfortable. From atop the horse, the world appeared so terribly high. Grace looked down at the Duchess and little Richard who was practically buried in her skirts out of fear, then at Marge's mournful face, and finally at George's unconvincing facade of strength.
"Goodbye," she told them, unsure of what else she could say in that moment. The Duchess nodded at her as the children repeated her words. George could barely look at her, it seemed, but when their eyes properly met it was a look so sorrowful that she had to wonder if they were at a funeral. As she heard a blade bury itself into flesh not far from them, it became clear that they were.
Sir John's hold on the reigns shifted. "Hold on tight, my lady," he said, and then he spurred the horse forward. The force of the moment forced Grace's body backwards for a moment, but she quickly leaned forward as to allow Sir John proper space. "And do not look," he whispered into her ear, almost with care. She nodded, and forced herself to stare at the horse's dark mane.
As they trotted out of the town, they passed the Queen's party of soldiers and her flying banner. Grace did not look in her stepmother's direction, because the only emotion she could truly feel for her at the moment, was mind-numbing hatred.
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The warm water enveloped Grace as she slowly eased herself into the bath. Tendrils of steam danced in swirls around her and the warmth eased the tension of her muscles. Unfortunately, it did not ease the tension in her mind. Her mother sat beside her, running her fingers comfortingly through her hair as they sat in silence. There was not much to say after their greeting and embrace, and even if her mother was talking, Grace was not sure she would be able to answer. Her tongue felt like led, painfully heavy.
Katherine picked up a rag and dipped it in the water before bringing it up to Grace's back. The warm water ran down her skin, followed by the gentle scrub of the rag. The water around her was tinged slightly pink, from the blood that Grace had unknowingly got on her feet and legs when she walked through the carnage filled streets of Ludlow. A light melody filled the air, and it took a while for Grace to realise her mother was humming some tune. She did not recognize it, but still she allowed her mind to drift with it, following every note of this calming ode until her thoughts weren't running as fast anymore.
"Why had father not come to see me?" she was speaking before she even realised it. It surprised her greatly, actually. The mere prospect of exerting the energy need for this was already exhausting enough. Katherine's movement with the rag paused, and then she continued over Grace's shoulder and down her arm. Her red hair was left loose, prepared for bed and already dressed in only her chemise.
Grace had been stuck in this tent for half the day before even her mother came to see her, apologising greatly for the delay. Apparently she had been helping the nurses and physicians in patching up some of the injured from Ludlow. It had been clear from the haunted look in her eyes that the events of that day weighed heavily in the pit of her stomach just as much as they did Grace's. The day was not even finished yet, and with the night many more outrages would be committed.
"You know that he has his kingly duties, darling," Katherine explained, nudging a wet lock of Grace's hair from her face. "He must speak to his commanders and address the soldiers, and then they will plan our next move. He will most likely see you tomorrow when we break fast." Our next move. Grace did not think she wanted to be counted as one of the people who caused the sacking of Ludlow. Did not want to be thought of as someone who agreed with the plunder.
Grace only nodded at her mother words. She could only stare at the water, watch as the surface blurred as tears flooded her eyes. Whatever numbing anger had accompanied her for the past few hours, it was gone now, and only exhaustion and overwhelming guilt remained. She had no reason to feel guilty, she had not caused any of this. But the feeling remained, like a twisting serpent coiling in her stomach, injecting her with venom every second that passed.
"How could father do this, mother?" The words were choked, strained. Katherine sighed, using her free hand to wipe away Grace's tears. It was a pointless act, as new tears soon replaced the old ones. A sudden flash of the things she had seen came before her eyes. Blood, entrails, corpses, everyone being put to the sword or violated. How could her father allow such a thing to happen? He was the King, and his word was law. Something in her mind whispered to her that it hadn't been her father, but rather the woman she called stepmother who had done it. For some reason it did not even surprise her.
"Do not think it such things," Katherine told her gently, placing down the wet rag with a heavy sigh. Grace shook her head, either in denial or pure shock, she did not know which.
"And the girl that was given in exchange for me? What will happen with her now?" Katherine looked shocked for a moment, as if she had not expected Grace to know of the exchange. Her face was quickly wiped of any emotion. "Speak plainly with me, mother, I wish to know the truth of the matter."
Katherine stared at her for a moment, and then nodded, submitting to Grace's will surprisingly quickly. "She will remain in our care, though she will most likely be removed from Henry Percy." The deathly pause between her next words made Grace shiver. "The Queen will ride down their herself without warning. There has been word... that he has committed atrocious acts upon her." Grace's eyes fluttered shut and the serpent in her stomach tightened uncontrollably fast. It reared its ugly head.
"Like the things I saw today?" She needed the confirmation, needed to know if what she thought was true. If she herself had been living by in luxury and happiness, making new friends and enjoying herself in the gardens almost daily for the past year, while Cecily Neville had only suffered. Katherine pursed her lips, and nodded.
"Yes, like the things you saw today." There wasn't anything Grace could say to that.
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Author's Note
A very short chapter today but an important one for the decisions Grace makes later on!