Chapter 36: Dorset
May, 1455
Henry Beaufort, Earl of Dorset threw the letter onto the ground and groaned. “Why am I doing this?”
He felt Morgan snuggle into his side and heard the man whisper. “Because you are a dutiful son who knows what is at stake if you don’t?”
Henry looked at Morgan, the man claimed to be a descendant of Owain Gwyndyr, and with his dark hair and dark eyes, he certainly could’ve passed as one. Henry didn’t much care though, he loved Morgan. The man was strong willed and caring, something Henry had not experienced with others. And Morgan was always the wife in their dealings, never the husband. Henry took a breath and then said. “This isn’t going to end well. Father doesn’t like York and York doesn’t like Father. Sooner or later they’re going to start a fight and then my future wife and I are going to have to choose.”
“Why do you think there’s going to be a fight?” Morgan asked.
Henry shifted slightly on the bed and said. “Because that’s how this ends. My father and York cannot get along with one another. They cannot stand one another. They will fight one another to kill the other and remove a rival for the King’s attention.”
“They sound like the wives of some of the men here.” Morgan joked referring to a trend that had developed in Glamorgan of women fighting one another to win the affections of their husbands.
“I know.” Henry said simply. “And now Father wants me to marry York’s daughter.”
“He says she looks pretty.” Morgan pointed out.
Henry frowned. “I don’t care if she looks pretty, she’s a fucking child.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” Morgan asked. “That way you can shape her views as you wish. Make her hate her father, make her love you.”
Henry shook his head. “I won’t do that.”
“Why not?” Morgan asked, Henry saw that now the man was frowning as well, he looked oddly adorable like that.
“I am not a monster, Morgan. I won’t turn a girl against her father.” Henry said. “And I won’t demand something of her that she likely won’t give.”
“So, you’ll be miserable then?” Morgan asked.
“I won’t be miserable. I’ll have you.” Henry replied, leaning down to kiss Morgan on the lips.
Morgan pulled away after a few moments though and said. “That’s only if you come back here. I don’t know if you will. And you said it yourself, the King might want you to remain at Westminster.”
Henry sighed. Morgan was right there. Father had written to say that the King wanted him to attend a betrothal ceremony at the end of the month, and from there who knew. “You could come in my household.” Henry suggested.
Morgan laughed. “You know that won’t go over well. A Welshman in the heart of the English state? Oh, that most definitely won’t go down well.”
“Then we will just have to wait.” Henry replied, kissing Morgan again, his hand slid down onto Morgan’s chest and was working its way down when there was a knock on the door. Henry sighed, stood up and walked to the door, opening it and looking at Sir Richard Dagenham, the Commander of his Household Guard. “Yes?” He asked.
If Dagenham was perturbed by Henry’s nakedness, he didn’t show it. Instead he simply said. “A letter arrived from the border, my lord.”
“And what does it say?” Henry asked.
Dagenham reached into the bag that Henry saw was slung around his shoulder and pulled out a slightly crumpled letter. The man then handed it to him. Henry opened it read it.
Lord Henry,
We have been attacked. Men flying no banner but coming from the Lordship of Gwynllwg attacked the town and tried to burn the castle. We captured one of their number who told us that he had been ordered to do so by one of their senior commanders. Who, he would not say.
We think that there will be another attack next month. Please send aid.
Yours
Sir William Montagu, Garrison commander Caerphilly.
Henry swore once he had finished reading. He looked at Dagenham and asked. “Is the rider who brought this letter still here?”
“Yes, my lord. He’s being treated right now.” Dagenham said.
“Good, I’ll get ready and then go and see him. Tell Floris and the others that I want them in my solar by the end of the evening, we’re going to plan.” Henry said, his mind whirring.
“Of course my lord.” Dagenham said.
Henry shut the door and walked back into the room proper. Morgan looked at him then. “What’s happened?”
“That cunt Warwick ordered men to burn Caerphilly.” Henry said.
Morgan sat up straight then. “Why?”
“Because he’s a cunt who wants to start a fight.” Henry said, grabbing his clothes from the floor.
“Do you know it’s him?” Morgan asked, getting up from the bed.
Henry stopped what he was doing and looked at Morgan. “Who else could it be? Warwick is the Lord of that shit hole next to us. He’s made his intentions clear before now.”
“Then perhaps storming off to fight him isn’t a good idea.” Morgan said.
“What would you suggest then?” Henry demanded.
“Is the rider who delivered the letter here?” Morgan asked.
“Yes.” Henry said, breathing heavily.
“Then speak with him, hear what he has to say. Meet with the council, get their thoughts and then act.” Morgan replied. “Charging off into the night to face Warwick is a dangerous idea. And it’s what he wants. Don’t give him that.”
Henry took a breath. “You’re right.”
Morgan smiled. “I know.” The man then kissed him on the cheek and said. “Now go meet with that rider.”
Henry finished putting his pants and shirt on and laughed. “Yes, Sir.” With that he turned around and walked out of his bedroom. He knew Morgan was right, but he was still angry. How dare Warwick do something like this. Especially now when the King had just recovered.