The Reluctant Queen

Sanctuary

What followed was like a dream and I remember only snatches of it. The ecstasy of riding those night-quiet streets on Richard's horse; the bliss of being close to him; the honor of realising what I must look like in my greasy gown, my hair unkempt, my person redolent of the nauseating smells of the cookshop which had sickened me on my arrival and to which I had grown a little accustomed.

I was not the Anne whom he had known all his life; I was an unwashed, ill-smelling, dirty kitchen slut.

Yet he held me close to him. He was very tender but angry. I knew he was seething with rage. We did hot speak of that then but we should later.

As we rode through those streets I was thanking God and Gilly. She had done it. I would tell Richard that I had promised to reward her and I must be sure that she received that reward. She had made this possible; she had succeeded in getting through to Richard and it was due to her that he had found me.

He said: "I am taking you to St. Martin's. There you will be safe ... in sanctuary. No one can harm you there. The nuns will look after you. Later in the day I shall come to see you, then we will talk."

How well he understood! I did not want to talk yet. All I could do was say to myself: I'm free. It is over. I shall never be in that dirty kitchen again, never shiver on my pallet, listening for footsteps on the stairs. I meant to wash the stains from that place off my body and the memory from my mind.

I was taken into St. Martin's. I bathed and the clothes I was wearing were taken away and burned. My hair was washed. It was wonderful to feel it fresh and sweet-smelling about my shoulders.

I was given a grey habit to wear until I could have some of my own clothes.

I slept in a small cell with a crucifix hanging on the wall. It was luxury to me.

And later Richard came to see me.

"Anne!" he cried.

"You look like my Anne again though very demure. Like a nun. Never mind, you are back with me. I cannot bear to think of it. It fills me with fury."

"But you came. I knew you would come if only I could get a message to you. Gilly ... that woman ... I want her to be rewarded."

"She shall be. She has already been given food, clothing and money. Have no fear on that score. I am as eager to reward her as you are. Now tell me ... if you wish to talk of it. Or would you rather later? There is so much we have to say and we have some time now."

I told him briefly what had happened: how I had been driven away through the night because one of the maids had told me she had a message from him and that I was being taken to sanctuary on his orders.

"I must have been drugged," I said, "for I slept through most of the ride and when I awoke I was in that place."

He held me tightly against him.

"This is George's doing." he said.

"He is determined to prevent our marriage, because while you are unmarried he is your guardian, and has control of the Warwick fortune in its entirety. If you married half of it would come to you. That is the reason."

"If that is so, why did he not kill me?"

Richard was tense with emotion.

"He dared not go so far as that. Our brother has been lenient with him ... too lenient. George relies on his charm and the family affection ... but he could go too far and he knows that. George is a schemer but his schemes are often wild. He acts first and thinks afterwards. We have seen that before. His one thought would have been to get you away from me so that our marriage was not possible. In due course he would have come up with another scheme and then tried to put that into action in his clumsy fashion."

I shivered.

"Don't be afraid." he said.

"Nothing like this shall ever happen to you again. We are going to be married. There are only two obstacles to overcome. We must have Edward's consent and I know he will want my happiness. Then there is the dispensation from the Pope. We are akin, Anne, you and I. Well, there should be no delay about that."

"Your brother will try to prevent it. I'm afraid of him. Looking back, I think I always have been."

"I will take care of George."

"It is not good that there should be this trouble between you."

"It is not good but it exists. I could kill him. I am not sure I will not. When I think of how I was turned away when I came to see you ..."

Tell me."

"I was told you were ill ... too ill to be seen. You can imagine how I felt. I said, "However ill she is, she will see me." He said he could not allow it. It would endanger your life. Oh, what a hypocrite he is! Oh yes, I shall certainly kill him one day."

"And you went away and came back again?"

"I did. I said I would see you. I did not believe you were too ill to see me. I tried to force my way in but his guards surrounded me. I could see that one of us would come to some harm if this persisted. Edward would be angry. He had impressed on us both to remember we are one family and we must stand together.

"I came back again. This time I saw your sister Isabel. She was very distressed. She said you had run away and she did not know where you were. Then I knew the situation was really serious. I suspected my brother of some nefarious plotting but I could not think what. I insisted on searching Warwick Court. In fact I have been searching all over London. He always had his hangers-on ... people in his service. It has ever been like that. He likes to do things in secrecy, but he is quite without commonsense. I was frantic with anxiety."

"And when Gilly came to you?"

"Ah ... that woman. She had some trouble getting to me. Thank God she was not one to give up! She kept screeching your name. She cried out that they would be in trouble if they did not take notice of her and bring her to me, because she had news of you. At last she managed to reach me. I could scarcely believe her story, but I was determined not to pass over any possibility. So I came... and here you are now ... safe in sanctuary, thank God."

"And what of your brother?"

"He will not be able to reach you here. You are in sanctuary. This day I shall see Edward. I shall tell him what has happened. He will help me, I know. Once he gives his consent, George will be powerless."

I closed my eyes and was silent for a moment.

He said: "What are you thinking, Anne?"

"This time yesterday I was there ... hopeless ... helpless ... wondering if I would be there forever. And now, here I am, safe you. It has come about so quickly. I cannot believe it to be true."

"It is true and soon I shall take you away from here."

"I believe I shall never feel safe .. . from George."

"Once you are married to me, he can do nothing, and you will remain in sanctuary until that day."

"You understand. It is like a nightmare. It is over, I know, and yet I cannot believe it. If I close my eyes I think I am lying on the dirty pallet .. . dreaming."

He kissed me tenderly.

"It is over, Anne," he said.

"You will forget. When we are together it will pass from your mind."

I was not sure that it ever would. I felt I would always remember that hot kitchen, Tom's lecherous eyes, two women fighting in the yard. They had been written indelibly on my mind and would stay there forever.

I said: "What of those people in the cookshop?"

"They have all been arrested."

"Tom, Meg and the girl Jane?"

They will be questioned."

"And punished?"

"Surely they deserve it?"

"The real culprit is your brother. What will happen to him? I hope they will not be punished unless he is." Richard was silent. Then he said: "This day I shall speak to Edward. The main thing is that you and I shall marry. I shall not feel really at ease until I am taking full care of you. At the moment my mind is at rest because you are here in sanctuary and I know you are safe. We have to be content with that for a while, Anne .. . but only for a little while."

"It is contentment enough for me to know that I am free of that place and with you." He held my rough hands and looked at the broken nails. Then he kissed them.

"These will heal." he said.

"You will grow away from it, Anne. I assure you of that. My first and most important mission in life will be to care for you."

Then he left me and I sat for a long time, marvelling at the chance which had been brought to me out of that nightmare.

I saw Richard next day. He had seen the king and told him the whole story of my adventure. Edward was deeply shocked, not only by what had happened to me but that Clarence should be suspected of having arranged it.

He sent for Clarence.

Knowing the three brothers as I did, I could well imagine the scene between them when Richard described it to me. I could feel Richard's smouldering anger; hear Clarence's lies, the implausibility of which he would try to hide with a persuasive charm; and I could picture Edward, hating above all things trouble in the family, seeking first to placate Richard and then George.

"I accused him of doing this dreadful thing to you," said Richard, "and he promptly denied it. He had the effrontery to say that you had attempted to run away because you were afraid of me. You did not want to marry me and thought you might be forced into it. He was so absurd that even he began to realise it. He said he knew nothing of the cookshop. He was your guardian. Edward had given him that right and duty and he intended to keep it."

"But what did the king say?"

"He could not believe George, of course, but you know how they have always been with George. When caught in some wrong doing he would flash that innocent smile on Edward or our sister Margaret and come up with some wild excuse, and he would be forgiven. That was how it was with Edward. He said, "Anne is safe now. She had a frightening experience, poor child. We must be kind and gentle with her." And he was ready to dismiss George's part in it. It was not that he believed George was innocent, but he did not want to know about it."

"But surely some action should be taken against him? And what of the people in the cookshop?"

Richard lifted his shoulders. He said: They were too frightened to talk coherently. Edward said, "Anne is safe. Let that be an end to the matter." And they were released."

"At least they were not the real culprits."

"No. But you suffered at their hands."

I shivered. Indeed I had. I said: "And George ... for his part in it?"

"My dearest Anne, George joined your father and fought against the king and for a while it cost Edward his throne, and yet when George came back and said he was sorry, it had all been a mistake ... well, it was like the parable of the prodigal son. We killed the fatted calf. That is my brother Edward, and do not forget he is king and his word is law."

"So this matter is waved aside, is it?"

He nodded.

"But the important thing is, Anne, that you and I want to marry and George is going to raise obstacles to that."

"And Edward will let him?"

"Edward wants to remain on the best of terms with both of us."

"Is it not a little difficult in these circumstances?"

"It is very difficult, but Edward is a master in such diplomacy. It is why he is the king he is. Conflict is something he abhors. It is ironical that he should have been at the centre of the War of the Roses."

"Do you think he will give his support to George and there will be no marriage for us?"

"I think he will prevaricate and that the speedy marriage we hoped for may be delayed."

"If George's misdeeds are going to be passed over as though they never happened he will try again."

"I think he has had a shock. I shall not allow his crime to be forgotten. He insists that you ran away and were kidnapped by the cookshop people and forced to work for them. That would not seem wildly impossible, except, as I pointed out, I had learned from you what had happened and that made nonsense of his tale."

"And the outcome is ...?"

"... that he refuses to relinquish his guardianship of you, and he will not give his consent to our marriage."

"But surely, if the king will give his consent...?"

"George insists that Edward made him your guardian and as such his consent is necessary."

"Then that means "It means that I shall not allow George to prevent our marriage, but instead of the ceremony's taking place immediately, there will be some delay while I deal with George and try to make the king see the truth about him."

"What of the cookshop people?"

"They have been allowed to go. George declares it is a monstrous charge and they did what they thought was best. They saw a homeless and what they thought demented girl on the streets; they needed a kitchen maid so they took her in. That is their story. A gently nurtured young lady was naturally devastated to find herself in such a position and when she tried to explain, they did not believe her and thought she was deranged."

"I am surprised that this can be acceptable and allowed to pass as though it were a normal happening."

"If George were not the brother of the king it would have turned out very differently, I assure you. George is powerful because the king does not want to offend him. He has affairs of state on his mind. He told me that he cannot have a quarrel between his two brothers. He needs our support George's as well as mine."

"How can he trust George who has already shown that he can be a traitor?"

"He doesn't really trust him, but he deludes himself into thinking that he does. Edward is the finest man in the world but he has a very soft part... and that is his heart. He is devoted to his family. I know he loves me "And he should. Have you not always stood by him?"

"Yes, and he remembers that. But he loves George too. He still thinks of him as his little brother. George would have to do something really terrible for him to turn against him."

"I should have thought he did that when he was leading an army against him."

"As your father did. But he, too, was forgiven in the end. That is Edward. And I love him dearly for it. He is the best brother a man could have."

"I know how you feel for him, Richard, but he should return your devotion in some way. How can he placate George at your expense after all he has done, not only to me but to you and to the king himself?"

But Richard could only say: "That is Edward," and he went on to tell me that George accused him of wanting to marry me for my fortune.

"He has gained a great deal through Isabel and he does not want to share it. He wants it all."

"What of my mother?"

"She is virtually a prisoner."

"Richard, I want something done about her. I cannot be happy while she is shut away."

"She is in sanctuary. No harm can come to her."

"But she is accustomed to being with her family. She will be pining for us."

"Something will be done. I know Edward will help us."

"Providing it is not against George's wishes?"

Richard was thoughtful.

"It might be that he will try to hinder your mother's release. After all, her fortune is involved in this."

"He is monstrous. This is all because of George's love of money and power. I wonder Isabel is so fond of him."

"George knows how to charm ... just as Edward does. But Edward's affability comes from the heart. George puts on a mask whenever he thinks the need arises."

"Only when we are married and freed of George shall I be at peace." I said. Richard understood and. I think agreed with me.

Isabel came to see me at St. Martin's. I was shocked by her pallor and I could not help noticing how thin she had become.

"Oh, my dear Anne," she cried.

"I have been hearing about that terrible thing that happened to you. How could you have run away like that without telling me?"

"I was promised that I was being taken to Richard."

"How could you go to him then? To leave us when we were looking after you!"

"Isabel, you don't understand. George was keeping me from Richard."

"Of course he was not. Or if he were, it was only because Richard is after your money."

"Richard was not after my money. That is George."

"My dear sister, this has upset you. Let us not talk about it." I said with some exasperation: "Isabel, we must talk about it. It is at the heart of the matter. I want to marry Richard. I am going to marry Richard and no one not even George is going to stop us."

"Anne, you are very young."

"Oh no, please. Not that old theme. I was not too young to be betrothed to Prince Edward. Most girls in our state are married by the time they are my age. Why this sudden concern for my youth? I have been through a great deal. I am not a child and I want to marry Richard. I always wanted to marry Richard."

There are those terrible stories about him. Those children ... and he is their father. What do you think of that?"

"That is over."

"That is what he tells you."

"Most young men have a mistress before they marry."

"And what about the children?"

"Isabel, you know very well that there is nothing unusual in this. Richard will be faithful to me from now on."

"What if he is like his brother the king? They say no woman is safe from him."

"Simply because these women do not want to be safe from him. You know very well they go to him most eagerly. Richard is not like the king. George is more like he is."

"Are you suggesting that George ...?"

"I am not suggesting anything. But it is silly of you to talk thus of Richard. Richard is a normal young man and I know he will be a good husband. This thing which George did to me "George did nothing to you except care for your future. He was very worried when you ran away."

"It was his doing. He arranged it. He deluded me into thinking I was going to Richard. He made one of his servants trick me; he sent me to that horrible cookshop. Isabel, you can have no idea what it was like there ... that kitchen ... and I had to wash the horrible, horrible pots. It was the most menial of all the tasks. Imagine that."

"It was horrible, but you should not have run away. You should have trusted us."

"I trust you, Isabel, but I do not trust George. I know he is behind this and I know why. It is unfortunate that you and I are heiresses, Isabel."

"When George married me he did not think of that."

I did not say what was in my mind but merely marvelled that she had lived with him so long and did not know this. I think he was fond of her because she saw him as the George she wanted him to be rather than the one he was: and that suited him very well. And I knew that whatever evidence was brought against him she would never believe it.

I talked then of our mother.

I said: "Richard wants her release. Would it not be wonderful if she could come and live either with you or with me?"

"George thinks it is better for her to remain at Beaulieu."

"She is more or less a prisoner there."

"Oh no. She lives in comfort. She is very happy there."

"Isabel, you know our mother. She will never be happy while she is parted from us. She always wanted to be with us in the old days."

"Well, we are grown up now."

"Richard will ask the king if she could be released and be with one of us."

"Why don't you come back here with me?"

I looked at her hopelessly. What was the use of telling her that, having once savoured something of George's 'protection', I was of no mind to try more of it. But she was his wife and theirs was what would be called a happy marriage. She would never look closely into George's motives. I wondered whether she was afraid she might see something which she would rather not.

How I wished that I could have talked to my mother!

Perhaps I should soon. Richard was a determined man. His methods were not impulsive like those of George, and I felt sure he would get his way in the end.

I talked to Isabel of the old days: we laughed a little. I could see that that was the best way and I was pleased to be with my sister again.

Time began to pass. The king would not give a decision. Richard explained to me that he felt he could not offend George. George was so hot-headed. One never knew what steps he would take. He had too much power and he had a following in.the country.

"Bear with me for a while." he said.

"I promise you all will be well in the end, but we must proceed slowly in the matter."

Going slowly was the last thing we wanted.

"There is, of course, the dispensation from the Pope," Edward had said to Richard.

"You should have that, you know."

I wondered about George then. Would he have some plan to bribe the pope, to persuade him in some way to withhold the dispensation?

But in spite of these obstacles which had to be overcome, I could not help feeling an immense relief every day to be in such comfortable surroundings. Always the memory of the cookshop must come back to me, no matter what happened, and I must say to myself, at least I have escaped from that.

It may be that such experiences bring some good to us since they make us less likely to complain about minor irritations.

Christmas came. I must spend it in sanctuary. Richard said he would not have a moment's peace if I were to emerge.

He told me that it had been a miserable festival at court. Edward was not pleased because of the strife between him and George, and whenever he and George were in each other's company they came dangerously near to conflict.

Edward was getting angry.

"He is so lenient most of the time," said Richard.

"But he does hate trouble in the family. So you can imagine, Christmas was not what it should have been."

Then came the day when Richard arrived at St. Martin's. I could see at once that he was very excited.

"Edward has a solution." he cried.

"I wonder if you will think it a good one."

"If it means that I can leave here and we shall be together, I certainly shall."

"The heart of the matter is, as you know, the Warwick inheritance. Edward feels that if George had the larger share of it he might be prepared to give his consent as your guardian to our marriage."

"I do not care for the estates."

"Nor I. It will make my brother very powerful, of course, and that is not good. He has enough already to make him a menace. Nothing will satisfy him but to have the bulk. He wants Warwick... the castle and the earldom ... and Salisbury as well, which are the important ones, of course. And you and I are to have Middleham."

I clasped my hands in pleasure.

"Oh, that will be wonderful, Richard. How often have I dreamed of Middleham!"

"Yes. Middleham will be ours. The place we love best, and with it all your father's northern estates. And there is something else, Anne. Edward wants me to hold the north for him. He says there is none other whom he can trust to do it. Our home would be in the north."

"In Middleham!" I said ecstatically.

"We should be back there in the place which has so many memories for us."

"That makes me very happy. And George has agreed to this?"

"Not yet. It remains for him to do so."

"Do you think he will?"

"He wanted everything, of course, and that is what he was planning to get."

"But he failed to do so. Perhaps ..."

"We must wait and see. But I have a feeling that he will take what he is offered. The earldom of Warwick will surely tempt him."

"I long to hear that he agrees, but I cannot help thinking that he has come out of this far too well. When you think of what he did to me... I believe he intended to be rid of me altogether."

"He would not have dared. Anne, what do you say to this chance? Are you sorry that I have told you Edward will agree to it?"

I shook my head.

"I only hope that George will."

When the proposition was put to him George was a little hesitant, I heard. He had schemed to have the entire inheritance and no doubt felt he had been cheated of it. But, thanks to circumstances and Gilly, that plot had been foiled; and here I was, safe in sanctuary. And while his villainy had not brought its just deserts, he was still able to bargain; but at length he realised that he must settle for the larger share of the Warwick fortune.

Richard told me how Edward had sent for him.

"There were tears in his eyes," he said, "and he turned to me and cried, "The Lady Anne is yours, and I wish you great happiness in your marriage. And now all you need is this dispensation from the Pope." And when he said that there was a hint of mischief in his smile."

"Why? What did he mean?"

That he would not expect a man in love to give too much thought to such a matter."

"You mean ...?"

"That nothing should be put in the way of our marrying and since the dispensation from the Pope was so long in coming, we might do without it."

He put his arms round me and held me tightly to him.

"There shall be no delay." he said.

"We have waited long enough. It will not be a grand ceremony, of course. We do not want to call the Pope's attention to our disobedience. But do you care? Do I care?"

"We do not,"I said.

"Then let there be a wedding, and then ... to Middleham!"