Rebellion by Livi Michael

throughout England,’ she said. The duke looked a little startled at her
     tone.
    â€˜Surely, my lady,’ he said. ‘But a great
     part of it is in the far south – if you ask me, I would say that it is not practical to
     wait for all your supporters.’
    â€˜I did not ask you,’ she said and, at the
     look of bafflement on his face, added, ‘From what I hear you have said quite enough
     already.’
    â€˜My lady?’
    â€˜Have you not spoken to my cousin King Louis
     about
my particular favour
?’
    Instantly the atmosphere in
     the room changed. Even the air seemed startled. The young duke looked horrified and
     started to speak, but the queen faced him fully.
    â€˜You have spoken of me to my cousin the King
     of France, as if I was any peasant woman you have tumbled in a barn. Knowing how that
     would make him see me – knowing how it would undermine my cause. Knowing that I could
     not – nor would not – ever look at you that way.’
    Two bright spots of colour burned on Henry
     Beaufort’s already highly coloured face. ‘Your majesty –’ he stammered, ‘I –’
    â€˜Perhaps you would like to speak openly,
     here and now, of the favour I have shown you? Or perhaps you would prefer to explain
     yourself to my husband, the king?’
    The young duke looked around desperately for
     support, but no one would meet his glance.
    â€˜Your majesty,’ he said, ‘if I have said –
     or done – anything to your detriment – or the detriment of your cause – I am grieved
     beyond measure. You cannot think –’
    â€˜It is not what I think,’ she said, ‘but
     what the French king – and what your king – thinks that will matter. The damage has been
     done. And we have work to do here. You may go.’
    The Duke of Somerset stared at her,
     appalled. He had never been dismissed from her presence before – he had always taken the
     lead in councils of war. For a moment it looked as if he would say something they would
     all regret, then he turned and walked rapidly from the room.
    He left an atmosphere behind him, a palpable
     tension. When the queen turned back to her advisors none of them would meet her gaze, as
     if she had breached some unspoken rule. But the queen would not back down. Her chin
     quivered a little with outrage as she moved swiftly on to the business of
     provisions.
    She was concerned by how low supplies were.
     There was no chance at all of surviving the coming winter without further supplies. ‘We
     should send out some men at once,’ she said. But LordRoos said they
     should not rely on raiding parties, and Jasper agreed. He said, as Tunstall had said,
     that they did not want to alienate all the surrounding countrymen.
    The queen nodded, her chin still quivering.
     ‘But what do you suggest?’ she said.
    In the end it was decided that the queen
     would return to Scotland from Berwick. She would beg the Scottish queen one last time
     for men, money, provisions. In the meantime, her lords would ride south to Bamburgh,
     where more of her ships might have arrived. A sizeable contingent would depart for
     Dunstanburgh, to take the fortress, and then move on to Alnwick, hopefully before the
     Earl of Warwick could arrive. The king and the little prince would remain in Berwick –
     the king was too ill to travel and the little prince had travelled enough. The queen
     would travel with de Brézé.
    The lords could decide between them who
     would take charge of the castles, but she thought that Jasper should take over from Sir
     Richard Tunstall at Bamburgh, because she did not trust the defeated look in Tunstall’s
     eyes. And perhaps Lord Roos would take charge of Dunstanburgh.
    Only Dr Morton ventured to ask about the
     Duke of Somerset.
    â€˜What about him?’ she said. ‘He has caused
     enough damage.’
    But the doctor said she