said Thorseby. “What further sign do you need than this pestilence? If you do not move, and soon, then the pestilence shall envelop all England.” Sign of God or not, Hotspur well knew the advantages the sudden eruption of the pestilence had given him. First Exeter’s revolt. Nasty, but not deadly enough to Bolingbroke’s reputation for Hotspur to be sure of any chance of success if he then moved. But now this. A clear sign of God’s ill will. The rumours of what had happened in St Paul’s with the supernatural appearance of the black Dog of Pestilence while Bolingbroke had been viewing Richard’s murdered corpse would almost certainly ensure England would rise up against Bolingbroke should an alternative present itself. And Hotspur meant that alternative to be himself. The golden hero from the north, untainted by any association with Bolingbroke—Hotspur had not kept himself apart from Bolingbroke since his landing at Ravenspur for nothing—who could restore England to godly rule and a golden age.
