The Reluctant Queen

At Warwick Court

It had happened just as we had embarked on that stormy sea. I could not believe it. To me he had always seemed indestructible. My poor mother, I thought. What is she feeling now? They had been deeply attached to each other. Although he was rarely with us, I had never heard of any infidelity on his part. She had brought him the means to become the man he was and I believed he was ever grateful to her for that. He had always treated her with the utmost respect. I think he cared for us children in his way. True, he had been about to involve me in a match which was most distasteful to me, but it was the rule for parents in his position to regard their daughters as instruments for bringing glory to the family.

"Warwick is dead!" We heard that everywhere. People talked of little else. He was no more the man who had been the most influential in England, the man whose power enabled him to make and unmake kings.

I felt lost in a bewildering world. My father dead! Where should we go now?

The queen took the news calmly. It occurred to me that, although she expressed her sorrow, she was not entirely displeased.

Warwick had set Henry up as king; he had carried out his part of the bargain. If he had lived, he would have wanted to rule. That was at the very root of his ambition. He had made kings that he might guide them and Margaret was not one to be guided. So now ... he had served his purpose. He had brought Henry back to the throne. And then ... he had fought at Barnet.

She was studying me speculatively. I guessed she was thinking: with Warwick no more, of what importance was his daughter?

She did not dislike me any more. In fact I believe she had a certain fondness for me. Perhaps she despised me a little because I was not ambitious, not fiercely desirous for a crown ... as she was. But there was some rapport between us and that hatred she had had for me in the beginning, as Warwick's daughter, was no longer there. She had even become reconciled to accepting me as a daughter-in-law.

But now where did I stand when my father was killed in battle? Perhaps she was wondering whether she need honour the pledge she had made to marry me to her son.

I would be wholeheartedly grateful to her if she would not agree to that.

What strange days they were days of much activity and terrible uncertainty.

Messages came to us from the Duke of Somerset. It would be advisable for us to go to Lancaster to rally troops. The Lancastrian cause had not been lost by the desertion of the Duke of Clarence and the death of the Earl of Warwick.

I wished that I could have seen my mother. I did receive a letter from her and it was heartbreaking to read it.

She was suffering deeply from the death of my father.

"I know not what will become of us," she wrote.

She told me that she was going to Beaulieu Abbey. I was not to worry about her. She hinted that she believed Edward would not be harsh with us.

It was a comfort to hear from her. I, of course, betrothed to the Prince of Wales, was as deeply embroiled as she was. The fact that I was innocently caught up in a matter for which I had no enthusiasm was of no account. I had become one of them now a Lancastrian. I was allied to my future mother-in-law, and I must needs follow her.

We set out from Weymouth. Margaret was full of energy. She rode at the head of the cavalcade with me beside her, and she rallied men to her cause as she went through the towns and villages. The impostor was back in England; he had murdered the worthy Earl of Warwick. She was caring for his poor fatherless daughter. The earl must be avenged. They must ride with her to drive base Edward out of the country.

By the time we reached Bath we had a small following. Therewe were met by riders who came from Wales with the news that Jasper Tudor was gathering together a fine army to fight for Henry.

Knowing of the queen's approach, Jasper Tudor had suggested that she join forces with him, for Edward of York, with his army, was not far away and, having got wind of their arrival, was bearing down on them.

After consultation with her captains that was what Margaret decided to do. I was full of admiration for her. She would have been an excellent commander if she could have dispensed with that arrogance. How different Edward was! He was friendly with the humblest soldier; he made them all feel they were all men together to work to the best of their ability, he no less than the lowest rank. His popularity was the secret of his success. There followed the fatal Battle of Tewkesbury. I was riding with Margaret at the head of the cavalcade when we were met by Prince Edward with the men he had assembled. He told us that Edward of York was in the vicinity and the two armies must soon come face to face.

The prince persuaded his mother to go with me to a small religious house on the road along which we were passing. He said the battle would be short and triumphant but he did not want to suffer the anxiety of knowing that his mother and I might be in danger. It seemed wise that we should remain with the nuns.

"I shall be content knowing you are there," he said.

"And I shall soon be with you to tell you of our victory."

I looked anxiously at the queen. She had been known to ride into battle with the army and for a moment I thought she was going to refuse.

"You must do as I say," he said.

"I leave my bride in your charge. How could I give myself to battle if I must be in a state of anxiety about your safety?"

I was aware of the thoughts which were passing through her mind. She was no longer young. It was ten years since Henry had lost his crown and she had lived in exile most of that time.

Edward was insistent and finally she gave way.

"We shall be waiting most eagerly," she told him.

"I know, dear lady mother. And you shall be the first to hear of our victory."

I was very relieved when at last she agreed to stay at the religious house to wait for news of the battle.

The nuns received us warmly. I doubted they were partisan. To them we were just two women in need of shelter. True, one of us was a queen and the other destined to become one, but I am sure, whoever we had been, they would have given us shelter.

I was glad to be at peace, if only for a short time. I was exhausted mentally as well as physically. The more I saw of my prospective bridegroom, the more I dreaded the marriage and that now seemed close.

I thought about the armies which would be facing each other. Richard would be beside his brother. I felt desperately sad because we were on opposite sides. I prayed that Richard might come safely through this conflict. As for my future husband ... I tried not to think of him.

We did not have to wait long for news. We received it from the soldiers who had come straight from the battle field. They were in sore need of attention. I was not sure on which side they had been fighting. They had simply found their way to the nuns, hoping they could have their wounds attended to. I went with the nuns to help if I could.

One of the men who was lying on a pallet looked at me and said: "My lady, you are ..."

"Lady Anne Neville," I said.

And at that moment Margaret appeared. She had heard that there were arrivals at the house and she was hoping for news of a Lancastrian victory.

"What news?" she cried.

"What news?"

Both of the men were silent. I could feel my heart beating wildly.

"I am the queen," said Margaret with an intimidating manner.

"I demand to know."

One of the nuns said: "Your Grace, this man is badly wounded."

That I perceive," retorted Margaret.

"The queen asks him a question and he is holding something back."

The day has gone against us, my lady," said the man.

"Against the Prince of Wales?"

"King Edward is victorious, my lady."

"I do not believe he could be."

The man closed his eyes and lay back on his pallet. She went to him and would have shaken him but two nuns laid hands on her and forcibly held her back. Margaret in her fear and anxiety looked as though she were about to strike them.

I said quickly: "When the men have recovered a little perhaps they will be able to tell us more, my lady. Just now they are too exhausted."

She stepped back.

"It cannot be." she said.

"Edward would not let it be. We had the men ... we had everything."

"Let me take you to your room. Rest awhile. I will go back, and help with the nuns. As soon as there is news I will come to you."

To my surprise she allowed me to lead her away. I think she was so afraid that everything had gone wrong that she wanted to hold off the truth for a little longer until she had schooled herself to receive it. I made her lie down on the pallet in her cell. I said: "Rest assured I shall soon be with you."

"Perhaps Edward will come. They are not far away. He will come as soon as he is able."

I left her and went back to the nuns and the wounded men.

One of the men said: "The queen has gone?"

"She is resting now," I told him.

"My lady, the battle has gone against us. The army is routed. King Edward is victorious. My Lord Somerset has been captured. The army is finished. It is the end, my lady. The king is back."

"Are you sure of this?"

"I have seen it with my own eyes."

"I understand," I said.

"I dare not tell the queen, my lady."

"What are you holding back?"

"It is the Prince, my lady. He has been slain. I beg of you, take this news to her. She must know ... and I dare not tell her."

I stared at him. Could this be true? I tried to imagine what this would do to her. She was a strong woman I had good reason to know but if this were true and the Prince of Wales had indeed been killed ... how could I tell her?

I did not tell her. I must be sure that it was true before I did. I spent a restless night. In the early hours of the morning I awoke to find someone in my cell-like room. It was the queen.

She said: "You are awake, Anne?"

"Yes," I replied.

"I cannot sleep."

"Why is there no news? Edward said he would send word when the battle was over. Surely it cannot still be going on."

"It is over," I said.

"You know something. These men ... there is something they have told you. Tell me. I command you."

I was silent. She had risen. She took me by the shoulders and shook me.

"Speak," she said. Tell me the worst. I forbid you to withhold it. Tell me."

The battle is over." I said. The Lancastrian army is in retreat. The Yorkists have won the Battle of Tewkesbury."

Then why was I not told?"

"The men were afraid. They began to tell... and then they were afraid."

"How dared they keep back anything?"

"They feared to hurt you."

"What else?" she demanded.

I was silent.

"Not you, too, Anne Neville." she cried.

"You must not withhold news from me."

Still I was silent.

Her eyes were wild. It was as though she were on the verge of madness. I thought, how can I tell her that her son is dead?

She must have read my thoughts. I had told her the field was lost. She knew that in any case from the men. What worse news could there be, and where was Edward? Why had he not come? I think she knew in that moment.

I had never seen such blank despair. I wanted to comfort her but I did not know how.

She said quietly: "It is Edward."

I nodded.

"What? Captured?" There was hope in her voice.

Still I was silent.

Tell me, in God's name, tell me."

The men may be wrong," I said.

"What did they tell you?"

That they saw him."

"Yes ... yes." "He was slain."

"Then he is dead. My son is dead!"

I had gone to her. I put my arms round her.

"The men were wrong." I said.

"You know how these stories get around."

She sat on the pallet and stared ahead. I saw the tears on her cheeks.

"He was everything to me," she murmured.

"When he came ... he was the best thing that ever happened to me. He was bright and beautiful. I used to watch him when he was a little boy ... watched him for the madness of his father. But there was no madness. He was bright and beautiful. He would have made a great king. He would have made up for everything. He is not dead. He cannot be dead." I said: "The men were wrong. It was something they heard.

They must have been wrong."

She turned on me angrily.

"Then where is he? If he were alive, he would have come here. He knew I was here. He would have come to me. I have lost him. Nothing matters any more. Oh, God in Heaven, why did You not take me first ... not my bright and beautiful son?"

"We must not grieve. We shall hear more news later."

She said: "Yes, we shall hear more news. But in my heart I know. Never more shall I see his dear face. This is your loss too, my daughter. I have begun to think of you as my daughter. You were to have been his bride. You have lost a husband even as I have lost a son." She gripped my hands and I said again: "It could be untrue. We must remember that."

She shook her head.

"I know. It is the end. Why did we do this? First Warwick and now Edward ... my Edward. Nothing was worth it. York could have the crown ... if they had left me my son." I could think of no way of comforting her. She had loved him.

She was fiercer in love even than in hatred. Sometimes I had wondered whether she had cherished him so fiercely because he would be king and bring the House of Lancaster back to rule, but now I knew that she loved him not only as the one who was to restore her pride and fulfill her ambitions, but as a son. She said: "Leave me now. I would be alone. Leave me to my grief."

I wanted to remind her that we had only the soldiers' word for this. There could be a mistake. But she was not listening. All I could do was leave her alone with her grief.

The next day there was confirmation. The prince had indeed been killed in battle. The Lancastrians had been defeated. The Duke of Somerset and several important leaders had been captured and executed without delay. The Lancastrians had been completely routed: and King Edward of York had come back to stay.

The advice given to us was that we should stay in the religious house in which we were now sheltering. We had to remember that we were the declared enemies of the triumphant king and our fate would be uncertain. So, for the time being, we should remain where we were.

It was sad to see the grief of the queen and yet even as I did so I was saying to myself: I am free. That which I most dreaded will never come to pass.

My future was indeed uncertain. Perhaps I should be sent to the Tower. I was one of the king's enemies. So was my mother. Isabel, however, was on the winning side because Clarence had changed loyalties just in time.

Anything could happen to me; but all I could think of was that I need no longer dread my marriage.

Another dreary day passed. I knew that something must happen soon. I thought of the grey walls of the Tower of London which I had passed so many times and which had never failed to fill me with dread. Some prisoners spent years of their lives there without knowing for what reason. That would not be the case with us.

Margaret was so numbed by grief that I believed she did not care what became of her. It was different with me. I was fifteen years old; my life was just beginning and I could not bear to think of its being spent in some damp, dark prison. I had escaped from a fate which terrified me. Could it be to fall into one equally undesirable?

So I lived through those hours, startled at every sound, ears alert for arrivals.

They came at last. The guards surrounded the house and their captain confronted the nuns. I heard their voices below and went to the queen. She was sitting in a chair, a book of Holy Writ in her hands. I said: "There are guards here. They have surely come for us." She nodded. I could see then that she did not care what became of her.

"There is nothing we can do," I said.

She closed the book and stood up for the guards were at the door. Two of them came into the room.

"You are Margaret, one-time Queen of England, and Lady Anne Neville," said one. Margaret looked at them with haughty disdain and said: "That is so."

"You are to prepare to leave. Be ready please in half an hour." They had spoken courteously but firmly. Then they left us. Margaret sat staring before her. I went to her and tool hands.

"We must obey them." I said gently.

She gave a harsh laugh.

"Yes," she said.

"We are the prisoners now."

The nuns watched us pityingly as were taken away. I guessed they thought it would be death or imprisonment for us.

As we rode off I thought the countryside looked beautiful; the grass and trees seemed brighter than ever before. That was because I was telling myself that this might be the last time I saw them. I wondered what it was like to feel the axe on one's neck. One quick blow ... and then oblivion perhaps.

Fifteen years is not very long to live. It seems a pity to learn a little about life and then to be forced to leave it.

I looked at the queen; she still seemed indifferent to what was happening. Perhaps she truly did not care. All she could think of was that Edward was dead ... her bright beautiful boy on whom her hopes had been fixed. Now there was only poor sad Henry for her. Did she wonder what would become of her? If so, she gave no sign. And so we rode with that dismal cavalcade to where we had no idea.

At last in the distance we saw the city of Coventry and when we reached it we came to rest before a grey stone building.

There was a great deal of activity around us and as soon as we were led into this place Margaret was taken away, and I was left in the care of two women. I wondered who they were. They appeared to be ladies of the court.

"I'll dare swear you are tired from your long ride, Lady Anne." one of them said to me.

"It was a little exhausting."

"We are going to bring you some food and perhaps you would like to wash your hands."

"I should be very pleased to do so."

A basin was brought in. They stood with me and one of them gave me a towel. Then they came with bread and meat with a flagon of ale.

I thanked them but could eat very little. I was wondering what was happening to Queen Margaret and what was in store for me.

A long time seemed to pass. The ladies were speaking in whispers together. They had clearly been sent to watch over me. Eventually two guards appeared at the door and I was told to follow them.

With wildly beating heart I did so and was taken to a small chamber. Standing by the window was the tall figure of a man, legs astride, his back to the door.

One of the guards said: "The lady, your grace."

He swung round and to my amazement I realised I was in the presence of King Edward. I was so astonished that I could only stare. Then, recovering myself as quickly as I could, I advanced and knelt.

I dared not look up at him. I was trembling and my heart felt as though it were trying to leap out of my body.

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"You could rise." he said.

"It is not very comfortable on the knees."

I stood and lifted my eyes to his face. He was smiling and I was struck by his beauty.

"Little Anne Neville." he said.

"Why, you are only a child still." He drew me to him and kissed me, first on one cheek and then on the other. I was amazed at the warmth of his greeting.

"You tremble." he said.

"You must not be afraid. No harm shall come to you. You are not to blame. They used you, little Anne. I know that well. My brother assures me that you would be our friend. Is that so?" My eyes filled with tears as I lifted them to his face. I loved him then and I knew why it was that the people would have him as their king. He was a king in very truth for that gentle softness in no way detracted from his strength. Indeed, it added to it. I knew now why Richard admired him so much.

He said: "I sent for you. I wanted to speak to you myself. My brother my favourite brother Richard has told me of your friendship at Middleham. How old are you?"

"I am fifteen, your Grace."

"So young ... so very young. But you will grow up soon. You have suffered too much. You lost your father. That was a sadness for me. I want you to know that when the battle went against him, when I knew that he was in dire straits, I sent one of my men with my orders that his life should be saved. He was too old a friend of mine to die in conflict against me. It was none of my choosing that there should be war between us. We were friends for years and then ... But it is passed and he has paid a bitter price, and you, his daughter, are here. I know that you were put into the hands of the enemy. I know that you were betrothed to the prince. That is over now. Lady Anne, and you are going to be looked after. What say you to joining your sister, the Duchess of Clarence?"

"Oh, your Grace, if only I might!"

"You shall. She will be eagerly awaiting your arrival. And then you will be returned to what you meant to be ... a good subject of the king, eh?"

"Oh yes ... indeed yes, your Grace. I am so grateful."

"There, my child. You have a pretty face. You need rest though ... looking after. It has been a hard time, has it not? But our troubles are over, little Anne, yours and mine. So, let us rejoice. Very soon you will be with your sister. So prepare. But first, there is someone who would like to see you. Wait here and he will come to you."

I could not believe this. I had heard that the king liked to abandon formality at times; I had heard that he was generous and was often criticised for dealing too leniently with his enemies; but still I was astonished. Of course, he knew that it was through no desire of mine that I had been placed in the position I was in; but I was overcome by his air of bonhomie and the manner in which he had brushed aside the fact that I had been captured with the enemy and indeed had been made one of them. I was touched, too, by the way in which he had spoken of my father who had been killed fighting in an attempt to destroy him.

He was an unusual man and I felt in that moment that I would be loyal to him for the rest of my life.

I was left alone for a few seconds and then the door opened and Richard came in.

"Anne!" he cried and came towards me, his arms outstretched. He held me tightly against him for a few seconds. Then he drew back and looked at me.

"You've changed," he said.

"It has been a terrible time, Richard."

"I have thought of you often."

"And I of you ... so much."

He had changed too. He had not grown very much and still there was an air of delicacy about him. He must be nineteen now, for he used to say in the old days that he was four years older than I. But he was a man now ... no longer a boy.

We just stood looking at each other.

I said at length: "The king has been so good."

"He is the most wonderful man on earth."

"I understand how you feel about him. He says I am going to Isabel."

"For a while." he said.

"Then we shall see. Is that what you want?"

"I should like it very much. And my mother ...?"

"She will be in sanctuary for a while where it is safe for her. My brother George thinks you should go to your sister and, of course, Isabel will be delighted that you do."

"Richard, what of Queen Margaret?"

Richard's face hardened.

"I do not know," he said.

"It is not decided."

"Poor woman. She mourns the death of her son so deeply."

Traitors." said Richard.

"All of them. And her son ... you mourn him too? You were betrothed to him."

I shivered and he put his arm round me.

"I did not like that overmuch." he said.

"I hated it, Richard. It is wrong of me, but I cannot help but be glad that I escaped."

"The whole of England should rejoice that you have escaped," he said.

"This will be the end. There will be no more Lancastrian risings. They are well and truly beaten, God willing, for ever." "Do you believe that to be so, Richard?"

"My brother with myself and our faithful friends are going to make sure that it is so. Anne, there is so much to talk of. But this seems hardly the time. When you are with your sister, you will be in my brother's household. I shall see you often. There is so much to catch up. So much time has been wasted."

I nodded.

"This has happened so suddenly. Only a few hours ago I was riding to Coventry wondering if my destination was the Tower."

"You were never blamed, Anne. I am sorry about your father. Edward is sorry, too. He tried to save his life. He offered him a pardon ... before Barnet... but the earl would not take it. He had to go on to the end. How did it happen? He had always been our friend. How could he have turned traitor as he did? I looked up to him so much. Next to Edward I admired him more than any man I knew. He was so brave ... so clever; he knew so much ... and then suddenly... it ends."

"It was a great tragedy," I said.

He took my hands and smiled at me.

"We have to forget it, Anne. We have to start afresh."

He looked at me rather shyly and then, drawing me to him, kissed my lips.

I was still bewildered. The contrast had been too sudden. A warm contentment was beginning to creep over me. It was like the old days at Middleham. Richard was back in my life.

There was much to look forward to. We talked for a short while in a leisurely way, recalling the old days.

Coventry will always have a special place in my thoughts, for I had entered that city feeling all was lost and there I found hope for the future.

I did not know what was happening to Queen Margaret. I did not see her so was unable to tell her of my good fortune. Poor Margaret! How different her fate was from mine. She would be the king's prisoner, his deadly enemy. In spite of his generous leniency, I could not believe there would be a very happy fate in store for her.

Isabel was waiting for me at Warwick Court in London. I ran to her and we were in each other's arms, clinging together.

"Isabel!" I cried emotionally.

"Is it really you? My sister, I can't believe this is true."

"It is. It is," she cried.

"And Anne ... how thin you are! I must look after you, I see."

"So much has happened. There is so much to tell."

She put her arm through mine and, looking over her shoulder at the attendants in the background, went on: "I will take the Lady Anne to her chamber."

I had wondered fleetingly why I should be going to Warwick Court which had been one of my father's residences. It was the custom for property of traitors to be confiscated. But of course Isabel was not a traitor, being the wife of Clarence who had repented in time.

The room to which I was taken was one which I had occupied on others visits to Warwick Court on those rare occasions when the family had been in London.

She shut the door and we were alone. She stood looking at me and I noticed how she had changed. I suppose she had never been the same since she had lost her baby. Memories came back to me of that terrible night at sea when I had watched that little body being consigned to the waves. How tragic everything was!

"I have thought so much about you." said Isabel.

"To be with that terrible woman."

"You mean Queen Margaret? She was formidable. But I grew to be quite fond of her, in a way."

She smiled and shook her head at me.

"You were always too easily beguiled. And betrothed to that young man! Her son! I have heard such stories about him."

"I never knew him. I only feared that I might have to."

"Well, that is over now and you are back with me. George is going to be your guardian. He will look after you."

"George!"

"Of course. It must be George. Isn't he my husband, and you are my sister. It's natural."

"Perhaps our mother?"

Her face clouded.

"What of our mother? I worry about her. What will become of her? Our father is branded traitor and she, his wife, they will say shared his guilt."

"What else could she have done but what she did?"

That, sister, is not considered. She was with him. She helped him. She was against Edward and therefore I fear for her."

"The king is not unkind. He was good to me." "George spoke for you ... begged that you should be brought here."

"I thought it was Richard who spoke for me."

She smiled.

"Oh, perhaps Richard, too. But the king has put you in our charge, which is the natural thing to do."

"Yes, I suppose so. But how I do wish we could hear from our mother."

"George will let no harm come to her. He knows that would hurt me. We can trust George."

I felt an uneasy qualm. I had never felt that I could trust George. I could not forget that it was only a little while ago when he was with my father. He had thought he could drive his brother from the throne and take it himself. And when my father's prospects were in doubt, George immediately made peace with Edward. Was that a man whom one could trust?

But he was Isabel's husband and she cared for him. She should, of course, know him better than any.

She was looking at me with concern.

"You are so thin." she repeated.

"And you look pale. I am going to look after you. I shall keep you quiet for a while, make you rest and go early to bed. My poor little sister, you are too young to be at the centre of drama as you have been of late."

"I am so happy to be with you, Isabel. If only our mother could be here I should be content."

"Who knows? She may be joining us. George will see what can be done. Now you will rest. Are you hungry? Come and lie down. I insist. I will sit with you and we will talk ... and talk."

I obeyed and she did and, although a certain peace crept over me, it was tempered with faint feelings of apprehension.

Perhaps I could not believe that after all the stirring events of the past I could ever live quietly and at peace again.

I was exhausted and slept well. In the morning a woman came to attend to my wants and to my pleasure I saw that she was Ankarette Twynyho whom I remembered from the past.

Ankarette was the jolly, talkative woman who had been widowed when she was quite young and had served Queen Elizabeth Woodville for a few years before coming to us. She had been a favourite with the queen, perhaps because of her avid interest in people and her talent for gathering gossip. I remembered Isabel's telling me that the queen had recommended her. It was a pleasure therefore to see Ankarette.

The duchess has been so anxious about you, my lady." she said.

"She could speak of nothing but her dear sister, the Lady Anne. And when we thought you were going to marry Prince Edward ... I can tell you we were all dismayed. That would have put you good and truly on the other side, would it not, my lady?"

"Alas, Ankarette, I was not consulted in the matter."

"That's so my lady. I often think how lucky some of us be when it do come to mating. There was I with my Roger. I could have been a contented wife ... but the Lord saw fit to take him."

"So you have suffered too, Ankarette."

"Aye. But I've had my good fortunes and one of them has been to serve the duchess and now you, my lady."

"I am pleased to see you again, Ankarette."

She was indeed assiduous in her care for me; and it was from her that I discovered what was happening outside Warwick Court.

It was she who told me how Queen Margaret had ridden, as a prisoner, in the triumphant procession into London when Edward returned to the capital, king once more, with the Lancastrian armies in full retreat, and the man who had called himself Prince of Wales now dead and his mother the queen, whom the people had hated, vanquished while her husband, poor old Henry, was a prisoner in the Tower.

"Poor soul," said Ankarette.

"I could almost find it in my heart to be sorry for her. True, she has brought great trouble to this country. Ah, if only poor King Henry had been the man his father was ... then we should have had none of this War of the Roses. But then we could not have had King Edward ... and he's the man the people want. He's a king ... every bit of him. So you see, my lady, that is life. A bit of good ... a bit of bad ... both meted out to us all. Let's hope we've had our share of the bad for a while and now let's have a strong dose of the good. But the shame for that poor queen ... a captive driven there with the victors and her husband a prisoner ... her armies defeated. No matter what she is, you must spare a thought for her."

"Yes," I said.

"She would suffer deeply. I grew to know her. She cared so much for her son. I think perhaps that now he is dead she does not mind so much what happens to her." "Poor soul." said Ankarette.

It was not long before there was more startling news, and it was Ankarette who imparted it to me.

She made a habit of going into the streets and talking to people whenever she could. It was sure that when she was in the country she must have missed this a great deal, but here at Warwick Court, she had ample opportunities and because it was in London, at the centre of events, she could keep us well informed. Thus I heard of the death of Henry almost as soon as it had happened.

She liked to talk to me because I was particularly interested in what the people thought; and this was an item of such magnitude that everyone would be talking about it. Indeed it was not long before the rumours began to be circulated.

Ankarette said: "They have announced that King Henry died in the night ... the very night of that very day when King Edward rode in triumph into the city. He died, they said, of displeasure and melancholy." Ankarette raised her eyebrows.

"There are some who are asking if people can really die of such maladies."

"He was without doubt very weak," said Isabel.

"He was weak of mind, my lady, but do people die of that?"

"I suppose," said Isabel, "that if a man is sufficiently afflicted, he can die of anything." Ankarette shook her head.

"They are already whispering ..."

"Are there not always whispers?"

To die at such a time, they are saying. He was kept alive, some say, because he was mad and unfit to rule. If he had died before ... while the prince was alive, that young man would have been ready for the crown ... a king, some would call him instead of a prince. That would have been dangerous. They are saying that the king had been allowed to live while there was the threat of the prince. But now he is dead, there was no longer any need to keep the king alive."

"You listen to too much gossip, Ankarette," said Isabel.

"It is one way of learning what is going on, my lady."

"One learns a great deal about what people think is going on."

"And somewhere in it there might be a grain of truth," insisted Ankarette..

"What will this mean?" I asked. Isabel said: "There will no longer be a threat from Lancaster.

The prince and heir is dead. King Henry is dead. The House of York is next in line. So whatever was thought before, everyone must see now that Edward is the rightful king."

The House of Lancaster still exists," pointed out Ankarette.

"There are the Tudors."

"They descended from Queen Katharine, wife of Henry the Fifth, I believe." I said.

"Through Owen Tudor." said Isabel.

"They are bastards."

"Some say there was a marriage." I reminded her.

"Nonsense." she retorted.

"The House of York is now firmly on the throne. There is no one to displace them now. I am sorry for poor Henry, but he did not care much for life."

"I wonder what Queen Margaret feels now." I said.

"Oh, you are too kind to her, Anne." said Isabel.

"She has caused great trouble. Now that is over. There must be an end to war."

That is what people are saying." said Ankarette.

"But they also say that King Henry was murdered ... and the people do not like a king to be murdered."

"Well." said Isabel.

"He died of displeasure and melancholy. That is what we are told and let us believe it."

"One cannot always believe what one would wish to." I replied.

"Perhaps not. But it is often comfortable if one tries to."

She was right, of course, and poor Henry, I believed, had had no great wish to live in his clouded world. For him it could have been a welcome release, as it was for the House of York and the nation.

His body was exposed at St. Paul's for the people to see and some said there was blood on it which gave credence to the rumour that he had met a violent death. Afterwards they took his body to Blackfriars and there it lay for a while before it was taken by barge to Chertsey and buried in the abbey there.

There was a feeling of relief throughout the nation. The popular King Edward was on the throne, and this was surely an end to the War of the Roses.

The days passed slowly at first and then more rapidly. I was so relieved to be with Isabel and to know that Richard would be coming to see me whenever he was free to do so.

Isabel told me how distressed she had been when George had turned against his brother. "It was our father who persuaded him." she said.

"He adored our father. He looked up to him so much."

I was amazed. Did Isabel not know that George adored only himself and had harboured a grudge because he had not been born the eldest son and above all things he wanted the throne? I suppose our father had promised him that or hinted at it, more likely. Our father had been too wise a man to have put his trust in Clarence. But Isabel loved him. That surprised me really, although of course he was rather handsome; he had his brother Edward's good looks, but he was not quite as tall, not quite so handsome. It was a case of 'not quite' with George. But I supposed he would be considered attractive until he became petulant, bad-tempered and treacherous, and no doubt love was blind to these faults, which was fortunate for Isabel.

Strangely enough, I think that next to himself he cared most for Isabel. Perhaps he found her devotion to him sweet. However it was not the disastrous marriage it might have been. I knew that he, as she did, longed for a child and they mourned the loss of that one who had been born at such an unfortunate time. But for that there would have been a bonny son by now.

I saw Clarence once or twice during that short period. He was extremely affable to me. He told me that the king had granted him the guardianship of my person and he was going to look after me and make sure of a happy future for me.

His words should have been comforting but when he smiled at me I felt a shiver of alarm. I kept remembering that he had been a traitor to his own brother, who had done nothing but good to him and had shown such amazing magnanimity in restoring him to the favour he had enjoyed before his act of blatant treachery. I could never feel safe while he was at Warwick Court. I did ask Isabel about our father's property.

"He would be called a traitor," I said, "and surely when traitors die their goods pass the the Crown?"

Isabel said: "You and I are the heirs of our father's estate and I am, after all, the Duchess of Clarence."

"And our mother?"

"She, I think, forfeits her share. She is after all the wife of a traitor. It is realised that you were forced into your position and are not judged guilty for that reason. I am not sure of these matters. However this place passed to me and George, of course, and I daresay Middleham as well. I am not sure. It is too complicated for me. But there is nothing for us to worry about as far as our inheritance is concerned."

"But our mother ..."

"She is in sanctuary still. George things it is wise for her to remain there for a while."

"I wish we could see her."

"I am sure we shall one day."

"I should like her to know that we are together."

"I think she does know that."

Then she will be relieved."

Isabel nodded.

"I am sure she will be forgiven soon."

"She must be very sad. She and our father were very fond of each other."

"What a tragedy it all was! Why did the king and our father have to quarrel?"

"I think they both misjudged each other, but it is done now and at least you and I are together."

"Let us be thankful for that. I have been asking George what we should do about arranging a match for you."

I was silent.

She went on: "George thinks you are too young yet. I said, "But she has already been betrothed and would have been married by now if everything had gone differently." But George thinks you should wait awhile. He says you have been through a terrible ordeal with Margaret and you need rest and care. Later we will think of it."

I was grateful to George and I was thinking of Richard. I wondered whether he was thinking of me.

I could not talk about Richard to Isabel. She would guess my feelings for him because she knew of our friendship in the past: so it was pleasant to be able to speak of him with Ankarette, taking care not to betray the extent of my interest in him.

I said to her one day: "I believe the Duke of Gloucester is often in the company of the king."

"Oh yes, so it is said. Indeed, they do say that Richard of Gloucester be the king's very favourite of all his family. He were mighty fond of his sister, Margaret, that married into Burgundy, which was a very good marriage from all ways you look at it. Think what a help she was to the king when he was in exile."

The family always stands together. So you think the Duke of Gloucester is his favourite brother."

That I do. Well, the little duke admires the king and 'tis no hard job to be fond of someone who sets you up like that, I reckon. Duke Richard has stuck by the king through all his trials. The one King Edward could trust most in the whole country is his brother Richard."

That was true, of course. Richard would always be faithful. I said: "He was with us quite a long time at Middleham. He came to my father's castle to learn what young men have to ... mostly about going to war."

"Aye, I do know."

They had a man who was at Agincourt to teach them."

"He must have been getting on in years."

"Yes, but he was more or less a boy when he fought in that great battle, and, as you say, very old when he taught the boys."

"Well, they grow up, don't they? Why, the little duke himself must be nigh on twenty. They'll be finding a wife for him soon, I wouldn't mind wagering."

"Do you think so?"

"You mark my words. Soon someone will come on the scene. You'll see. In the meantime, he's doing what you expect all young men to. There's a little boy, so I've heard."

"A little boy?"

"Yes ... name of John. John what I don't rightly know he'd be called. There's a girl, too. Katherine, I believe. But the boy's not long arrived."

"I don't understand. What have these children to do with the Duke of Gloucester?"

She looked at me in astonishment.

"Why, he be their father, of course. You look really shocked. Why, my Lady Anne, what do you expect of a young man? They say he is good to their mother and makes sure they are well cared for. He's quite fond of them, they say."

"Richard... a father!"

"I've heard it's all very respectable ... well ... as respectable as such things can be. He's no rake like his brother. He just has his mistress and I've only heard of the one. And now there are little ones. All very natural, of course. I reckon he'd marry her if she were Lady this or that. But what can he do... he being the duke and brother to the king? Widow ... I've heard when she was very young.

"Tis a terrible thing for a woman to be widowed young... as I can tell you."

"I see," I said.

"These children ... how old are they?"

"Well, as I've heard ... can't say more ... the boy's a bit of a newcomer, not more than a few months. The girl would be older. Two years maybe."

"So it has been going on for a long time."

Ankarette was saying: "He's quite a young man. They say his brother keeps him with him as much as he can."

I was not listening. I was thinking: Richard with a mistress! And all this time I was thinking he was in love with me!

Isabel noticed my preoccupation.

She said: "You have to grow away from the past. You have to be thankful for what you have. We were unlucky enough to be born at this time. There were wars and troubles all through our childhood. We did not hear much about it when we were at Middleham, but there was always conflict of some sort waiting to spring up. Then there was that time at sea when we had nowhere to go and they would not let us land at Calais."

I put my arms about her and we wept together, she for her baby and I for Richard who loved not me but someone else.

I had wondered why he had not come to see me. Now I knew why.

But when we had been together he had talked to me as a lover might. Or had I been mistaken? Had I read into his words what I wanted to read?

This was a bitter blow. I was only realising now how much he meant to me.

They would, no doubt, find a husband for me sooner or later. What a fool I had been to think of Richard! Just because he had drawn me to him at Middleham, because he had been part of my childhood, one whom I had always looked upon as my special friend ... and all the time he had been in love with someone else. He was the father of two children.

It was a shock to me when he arrived at Warwick Court. I told myself I could not face him and wondered if I could excuse myself. Could I become suddenly ill? But Isabel would know I was not. I had to face him. I had to stand beside Isabel and receive him.

He took my hand and kissed it; then he looked eagerly into my face and I could have sworn I saw love there. Images came into my mind of him with this woman ... this widow who would know of matters which I would not understand. How to please him, how to attract him. I kept thinking of the two children ... a family. He wanted to know how I fared. He looked at me anxiously.

"You do not look well, Lady Anne." he said.

"My sister has been somewhat tired of late," said Isabel.

"She eats too little and does not take enough interest in what is going on. She broods. I scold her but she takes no notice of me."

"That is a great mistake," said Richard.

"That is what I tell her. What is past is gone."

"One must look at the future," added Richard, smiling at me. We talked lightly. Richard said he would have come before but the king had to make sure that the country was quiet and only two days after his triumphant entry into London, they had had to be in Kent subduing threats of risings.

"Soon he will have everything under control," he said.

"The king grows in stature every day."

"So you think, my lord duke, that all will soon be well?" asked Isabel.

"I am sure of it," he replied.

"The people are going to realise how fortunate they are in such a king. Edward is going to be the greatest king England has ever had."

"Does that mean you will be staying in London?" I asked.

"I cannot believe that will be so. Suffice it that we are here now."

I think Isabel guessed that he had come to see me and she left us together.

As soon as we were alone, Richard turned to me.

"Anne," he said.

"I have wanted to speak to you for so long. I know you are very young still, but you have had so many experiences. I was heartbroken when I heard of your betrothal to Edward. Thank God that marriage was averted. I do not know what I should have done if it had not been."

"Why?" I said, a little harshly.

"Why? But we have always known ... have we not? Has there not always been this special love between us?"

"Love?" I said, trying to remain cool.

"Anne, I have always loved you. I thought you cared for me."

I was silent and he said rather pathetically: "Is it because I am small? I am not as straight-backed as I should be. I am lacking ..."

"I would not have you other than you are," I said.

"It is ..."

I could not go on but he insisted: "Please, Anne, tell me what is wrong."

"I... I have heard ... perhaps it is only gossip. Oh, it must be. I don't think I could bear it if it were not..."

"Of what do you speak?"

I said: "Of your mistress ... of your ... family."

He looked at me in amazement. Tell me what you have heard," he said.

My spirits were lifted. I was wrong, of course. It was just stupid cruel gossip. I had been foolish to listen to Ankarette.

"I have heard that you have a mistress and there are two children," I blurted out.

"Do you think that because of that I cannot love you."

"I believe you cannot love two people at the same time."

"Listen to me, Anne. It is true. There are these two children. I was going to tell you of them. They live with their mother whom I have seen from time to time. There will be an end of that now. It was just... a friendship."

"With two children?"

They are pleasant children. You would like them."

"How can you tell me this?"

"Because it is true and I would have no secrets from you."

"And you still see this woman?"

"I shall not do so when you promise to marry me."

"What about her?"

"She has always understood. I shall see that she is well provided for. She will probably marry."

"And your children?"

They shall be cared for. I hope one day "Yes? What do you hope?"

That you will receive them. Katherine, the little girl, is an enchanting creature. I believe John will be, too, but he is young yet."

I said: This has been a shock to me."

"I understand and I am sorry."

"I feel bewildered. I had never thought..." My dear Anne, you have been sheltered from the world. There is nothing extraordinary about this ... except that I have had only one mistress. Most men have had scores. The king ..."

"I could not have been in love with you if you had been like the king in that respect."

"I am not like him. All I wanted was to live ... naturally. I am a man. I have waited so long for you. That is all. I love you as my wife and you only. Anne, I want you to promise that you will marry me."

"I have looked forward to this for so long and now it has come "I understand that you are shocked. I should have explained to you myself. How did you hear?"

I did not want to betray Ankarette, so I said: "It was the women talking."

"Gossip." he said.

"But true."

"Please understand. You will understand. It is not unusual for a man to take a mistress when he has so long to wait for his true love." I put my hand in his.

"Richard," I said. I know one thing and that is that if you go away from me now and we have not plighted our troth, I shall be desperately unhappy."

"If only you will understand."

"I will try to understand. Then I shall be happy. It is hard at first." He put his arms about me and kissed me tenderly.

"Anne, you are so young. You will grow up ... with me beside you. It is what I have always wanted. Even in those days at Middleham I loved you ... I looked for you I wanted your admiration. I always wanted to do the things which were hard for me, to make you proud of me."

"I am proud of you and I do love you. The past does not count really. We can be together. That is all that matters."

"I shall speak with my brother. I know he will want my happiness and he will give his consent to our marriage now that he knows you want it, too. We have come through our troubles, Anne. We are going to be happy from now on."

"Yes." I said slowly.

"You still look sad. Why? You are not still thinking of...?"

"No. I was thinking of Queen Margaret."

Richard looked puzzled.

"Our enemy! Why should you think of her and at this moment?"

"Because I am happy and she is so sad. I am free and she is a prisoner. I was with her so much, I grew to know her ... admire her in a way. I know she was rash and impulsive and arrogant... but she is courageous and I shall never forget her misery when she heard of the death of her son."

The man who would be king!"

"He had a right, Richard. He was the king's son."

"There are some who doubt Henry was able to beget a son."

"There will always be rumours."

"You must not think of her. She is being taken care of."

"Is she? In some dark dungeon in the Tower?"

"I doubt my brother would be overharsh with her."

"I wish I could see her once more."

"Do you really mean that?"

"I should like to let her know that I cared for her. I think she must be feeling very much alone. She liked me ... in a way. I think I could bring her a little comfort."

"Do you want that very much?"

"Yes, I do."

"Perhaps it could be arranged. I could ask the king. I think he might grant such a request."

"It would ease my mind a little. I am sure she will be stoical. I think she lost heart for battle when her son died."

"I will see what can be done. And Anne ... will you promise me that you will forget everything that puts doubts into your mind now that you and I have found each other at last, and all obstacles are being swept away, leaving it clear for us to be together for the rest of our lives?"

"I will," I said.

I felt elated. The past did not matter. He loved me more deeply than he had ever loved another woman.

I was happy, happier than I had ever been before.