Ravenspur: Rise of the Tudors by Conn Iggulden Read Free Book Online Page B

been taken as easily as children. Yet there was no one and Henry gaped at the sight of a shingle beach. The door had been placed at the back of a cleft deep in the harbour cliffs, hidden from any passing eye. Out on the deep water, half a dozen ships rocked at anchor. Gulls called overhead as Henry and his uncle crept to the outer edge and peered along the docks.
    There were guards there: four, in the livery of the Herbert family. They were alert enough and bore weapons, but they were facing into the town along the road. Henry felt Jasper’s gaze and looked up into his uncle’s eyes, seeing amusement and relief.
    ‘You see the boat there?’ Jasper said. ‘With the stag pennant? That’s mine. She’ll take us to that glorious ship waiting for us, the one with the low waist. Understand?’ He waiteduntil his nephew nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Now, lad, you might have seen two of those guards have crossbows. It isn’t enough to just run for it, or they’ll walk over and put a bolt in our backs as the oarsmen get going. We’ll have to take it slowly, to stroll, maybe one at a time. All right?’
    ‘Why a stag?’ Henry asked. He saw his uncle frown in surprise, glancing out once again at the guards waiting just two hundred yards away.
    ‘A hart, lad. I was born in Hertfordshire. So was my brother. Now go on.’ He gave his nephew a push to send him out, but Henry resisted, looking stubborn.
    ‘A hart?’
    ‘The county crest! Perhaps a small joke as well, as I have been hunted my whole life. And I am hunted now, in case you had forgotten.’ He went to push Henry out again.
    ‘
Wait
,’ Henry snapped, jerking away. ‘My mother was English. If my father was born in England, how can I be Welsh?’
    His uncle’s expression grew less stern. For all the madness of it, with soldiers hunting behind them and watching for them on the quays, he chuckled. His brother’s son was in earnest, so he answered.
    ‘You don’t know this? What does it matter where we are born? You are what you are made – and you are the blood that made you. Where you are born is just … for taxes. “Tewdyr” is a Welsh line, son.’ Jasper pronounced their name with a heavy emphasis, making it sound odd to Henry’s ear. ‘It was my father’s name. Your ancestors stood with Glendower when he fought the white dragon banners of the English. I honour him for that, though they broke him. They have ever been a hard race. And if birth matters at all, you were born in Pembroke Castle!’ He saw the boy looked troubled still and clapped him on the shoulder.
    ‘Look, you have the same blood that runs in my veins – alittle French, some English and some of the finest Welsh ever shed in a good cause. Have you tasted brandy or grain liquor yet?’ Henry shook his head in confusion. ‘Ah, then I will not talk to you about the fine results to be had from blends. Just remember this: men who carried your blood raised the flag of King Cadwallader, the red dragon, the
Ddraig Goch
. Red like the rose of Lancaster, is that not a fine, poetic thing? It matters, lad. It matters that you do not shame all the men who carried your name and your blood who went before and wait for us both. When we see them, I do not want you to be ashamed.’ Henry was astonished to see Jasper’s eyes grow bright with the sheen of tears. ‘I wish you could have known my father, lad. And there is you, the fine, brave boy – and the last of his line. Be proud of that. Understand? Now, it is time, whether you are ready or not.’ His uncle peered out once more to where the sun sparkled on the sand and shingle, glittering on a blue sea. The soldiers had moved a little further along, standing perhaps three hundred yards from where they watched. Jasper smiled.
    ‘Henry, my brother was not a stupid man. He could beat me at chess without even seeming to try. So when I tell his only son to run for the boat, his son will run, is that clear? His son, his fine Tudor boy,