The Sun in Splendour

Chapter X THE KING AND PROTECTOR

When he awoke that morning there was nothing to suggest to the thirteen-year-old Edward that this was going to be any different from another day. Time glided along smoothly at Ludlow. He had come to regard the great grey castle as home and when he rode out in the company of grooms and very often with his uncle, Lord Rivers, he was always delighted to come back to the square towers and the battlemented walls guarded by the deep wide fosse. He loved the Norman keep and large square tower with ivy clinging to it. In the great hall Moralities were performed at Christmas and when his mother came special balls were arranged. He loved to ride out into the town which itself stood on a plateau overlooking hills and dales of considerable beauty. It would be hard, his uncle Rivers had said, to find a more beautiful spot in the whole of England.

The most important person in his life was Lord Rivers, Uncle Anthony, who was so eager to be with him and explain everything to him and was such an agreeable companion. They hunted together, played chess together, and he had been very much afraid when his uncle had recently married – for he had been a widower – that he would lose him.

‘No,’ said Uncle Anthony, ‘nothing would prevent my being with you, my little Prince. You are my first concern.’

So although he had gone away briefly he was soon back and it was as it had been before. His wife would visit them from time to time perhaps but she would want to please her husband and that would mean pleasing the Prince.

If Anthony was his favourite companion and perhaps the most important person in his life, his mother held a special place.

She was so beautiful. He had never seen anyone like her. And she was always affectionate towards him. When she arrived she could look so cold, like an ice Queen, and he liked to watch her when she was greeted by the servants and attendants with the utmost respect because after all she was the Queen; and then she would see him and her face would change; it was like the snows melting in early spring. The colour would come into her face and she would hold out her arms and he would run into them and then he thought he loved her more than he could ever love anyone even Uncle Anthony, although of course he admitted to himself he needed his uncle more. His mother was like a beautiful goddess – something not quite of this earth.

Then there was his half-brother, Richard Grey, another of his close friends, who was Comptroller of his Household. His uncle Lionel was his chaplain although he did not see a great deal of him for he had so many other duties to perform, being the Chancellor of Oxford University as well as Bishop of Salisbury and Dean of Exeter.

How could he be so many things all at once? Edward had asked Anthony, who replied that it was possible; and at the same time to be able to keep an eye on his young nephew.

‘After all,’ said Edward, ‘he is a Woodville.’

Anthony agreed. He had always taught the boy that there was something very special about the Woodvilles. They were capable of doing what ordinary mortals could not. The King, Anthony explained, had recognised that. It was why he had married one of them and so given Edward his incomparable mother; it was why he had put so many of them in the Prince’s household so that his son should have the benefit of their virtues.

Yes, there were many of his mother’s family. Her brothers Edward and Richard were his councillors and even Lord Lyle, his master of horse, was her brother-in-law by her first marriage. His chamberlain, however, was not a Woodville. He was old Sir Thomas Vaughan who had been with him since his babyhood. He seemed to be the only one to hold a post in the household who was not a Woodville.

Well, it worked very happily for Edward. He loved to hear of the perfections of his maternal ancestors. He scarcely knew those of his father, although Anthony said that now that he was coming into his teens he supposed his father would wish him to go to Court now and then.

‘I don’t want to,’ said Edward. ‘I like it here with us all. We are all so happy together.’

‘It gives me great pleasure to hear you say that,’ replied his uncle. ‘It is what I have always striven for.’

There were his sisters the Princesses and his brother Richard. He liked Richard and his sisters, but he did not see them very often. He had to be kept apart in his own household. He knew why. Anthony had explained. It was because he was the most important member of the family; the heir to the throne.

He had scarcely known his uncles on his father’s side. Anthony had told him something of them, of his wicked uncle Clarence for instance who had taken arms against the King and had come to a violent death – drowned, they told him, in a butt of malmsey. Edward could hardly imagine what that was like. He was overcome having already drunk too much of the stuff, his uncle told him, and then he toppled in. That was the end of him. It was a Good Thing.

There were certain events which were Good Things and they were the things that the Woodvilles wanted or caused to happen. Then there were Bad Things which were brought about by the enemies of the Woodvilles.

There was his uncle Richard. He did not know what to think of him. He was cold and stern and he had a son named Edward too, and a wife whom they always called Poor Anne. There was nothing very attractive about Stern Richard and Poor Anne. Moreover although his uncle Anthony did not say anything very revealing about him Edward sensed that he did not like him much. Therefore Edward was not going to either.

So he awoke that day with no premonition of the great change which was about to burst on him. He had heard of his father’s seizure for he had noticed that Anthony was a little perturbed and when he asked him why Anthony told him that his father had been taken ill.

That had been hard to imagine. That great big splendid man suffering from the ailments which beset ordinary mortals had seemed impossible.

It was not impossible, said Anthony, his brow furrowed. Men like his father who lived ... Anthony had sought a word and found ‘luxuriously’, often had what was called seizures. They lived so fully that they used up as much energy in half a lifetime as some did in the whole of one. Did Edward understand?

Edward did.

‘Has he used up all his energy then?’ he asked.

‘Oh no ... no. It’s just a warning of what could happen.’

The King recovered. At Christmas Edward had seen him looking even larger and grander than ever. He had talked to Edward and told him to obey the rules of his household and grow up quickly. He had pointed out that heirs to the throne had to learn more quickly than others.

He did his best, Edward explained, and he would try.

‘Well, my son,’ said the King ruffling his hair, ‘you can do no more than that, now can you?’

The King had danced with Edward’s sister Elizabeth and everyone had applauded and Edward had forgotten all about the King’s seizure. Uncle Anthony seemed to have forgotten also for he did not refer to it again.

It was time to rise and his chaplain and chamberlain came in. He must dress at once and go with them to his chapel there to hear Mass. His father had laid down strict rules for his household and one of these was that he must not hear Mass in his chamber unless there was a good reason for his doing so – which, thought Edward, means if I were dying.

After Mass there was breakfast and lessons in between that and dinner. On his father’s orders this was a fairly ceremonial occasion; those who carried his dishes to the table were specially chosen and they must be in his livery. No one was allowed to sit at table with him unless his uncle had given his approval that they were worthy to do so. After dinner there were more lessons followed by exercises during which he must learn to carry arms and fence and joust as became his rank. There followed supper and bed. And so, enlivened by the bright conversation of his Woodville relations, surrounded by their affection and very often their flattery, the days had slipped by very pleasantly and with the passing of each one he was more and more convinced by the charm, the grace and the utter wisdom of the Woodvilles.

A week before his half-brother, Richard Grey, had gone to London. There was a certain amount of whispering going on in the household, Edward noticed. He asked Anthony about it and his uncle replied that it was nothing. People were always whispering together and making dramas out of nothing or very little.

But Uncle Anthony was a little different, perhaps even a shade more affectionate.

He forgot it. There was so much to do during the days. He wondered if his brother Richard was as good a horseman as he was. He would ask Lord Lyle if he knew.

His uncle Anthony came hurrying to him when he returned from the stables with Lord Lyle and he did a strange thing. He knelt down and kissed Edward’s hand.

Bewildered as he was Edward had a faint inkling of what had happened then because loving as his uncle had always been he had never shown that much respect before.

‘Uncle ...’ he began.

But Uncle Anthony cried: ‘Long live the King!’

‘My father ...’ stammered Edward.

His uncle had risen. He had put his arms about him and held him in a firm embrace.

‘Edward, my dear dear nephew, my King, your father is dead.’

‘My father ... dead!’

‘Yes, dear nephew, my lord. He has been ailing this last week and now he has gone. It is a terrible blow for us all ... for the country. But thank God we have a new King and I know he will rule wisely and well.’

‘You mean ... that I will?’

‘You are our true and lawful King Edward the Fifth. We knew the day would come but we had not thought it would be so soon.’

Edward was overwhelmed. King! A boy of thirteen who had been living quietly in Ludlow Castle until this day! Everything would be different now. He had come to it not gradually but at one big blow. And his father was dead ... that big splendid man! It was hard to believe. And his mother, what of his mother?

Anthony put an arm about his shoulders. ‘You have nothing to fear,’ he said. ‘I shall be there beside you.’

‘You will tell me what to do?’

‘Indeed I will, my little King.’

‘Then all will be well.’

His uncle took his hand and kissed it.

‘Now we have to prepare to leave at once. We are going to Westminster where you will be crowned.’

The Queen was deeply disturbed for she realised the danger of the situation and the need for prompt action.

It would have been impossible not to be aware of the immense unpopularity of her family. The King had always been there to protect them and in a manner curb their wildest ambitions. Now that he was no longer there she knew their enemies would rise up against them. Thank God, through her foresight she had put her family into high posts. They were rich and influential as no other family was. They could therefore stand firm, and after the coronation of young Edward rule ... if they were clever, rule absolutely, because her son would be so much easier to guide than her husband had been. Indulgent he had certainly been but he had always kept her ambitions firmly in check, and she had always felt that she had been on a leading-rein and although in his indulgence he had made it fairly long, she would be quickly jerked back if she went too far. Now, if she were careful, there would be nothing to hold her.

She was closest in touch with her son, the Marquess of Dorset. He was now in his early thirties; he had been a great favourite of the King – partly because he had been his companion in vice. His chief companion perhaps. No, Hastings had held that place, but in any case Thomas had been a close runner-up.

As a wife she thought that deplorable, as an ambitious woman with a son through whom she now planned to govern, it was advantageous.

She sent for Dorset. He came with all speed realising the urgency of the situation.

‘What we must do,’ she said, ‘is get the Council with us. I expect trouble from Hastings. A pity we could not exclude him but I fear he was too firmly entrenched. We have the family well represented. We should watch Stanley. I think he will go to whichever side offers the best advantage to himself. We must make sure we do.’

‘What of Gloucester?’

‘He is in the North. On the Scottish border. Far far away. We must wait until the King is crowned before we allow him to be aware of what has happened.’

‘It would be better so as Edward named him as the King’s Protector.’

‘The King already has his protectors and once a king is anointed and crowned, he is accepted as king.’

‘I fear Gloucester.’

‘I will deal with Gloucester,’ said the Queen. ‘Our first act must be to get the King crowned. Let us call a Council meeting in the new King’s name. We will show ourselves amenable and carry on as though the King was alive and then we will bring up the important matter of the King’s coronation as though it were a matter of course.’

Dorset was certain that his mother would succeed. After all, had she not succeeded in everything she did; and surely only the cleverest of women could have kept a man like Edward as long as she did.

The Council was called and all went as planned until the matter of the King’s coronation was brought up.

Dorset said: ‘May the fourth would be a suitable day, I believe.’ Then the protests started. It was far too early. The Duke of Gloucester would not be at Westminster in time. They should bear in mind that he was defending the Scottish border.

‘Then, my lords,’ said the Marquess, ‘we must needs do without the Duke of Gloucester.’

Hastings was on his feet. ‘It would seem that the terms of the King’s will have been forgotten.’

‘The King wished his son to be crowned at once,’ said Elizabeth.

‘What escort will bring him to London?’

‘That,’ replied the Queen, ‘is for the King to decide.’

‘You mean for Lord Rivers?’ asked Hastings. He went on somewhat heatedly: ‘The King should come to London with a moderate escort. He should not have more than two thousand men.’

Hastings clearly did not want the young King to march from Ludlow with an army. Very well, thought Elizabeth, let him have his way. Anything to get the King in London and crowned. For once he was crowned he would not need a Protector and therefore the King’s instructions that his brother Gloucester should take that role need never be considered.

As soon as the Council meeting broke up, Dorset sent his message to Rivers. The King must come to London with all speed and should arrive not later than the first of May.

Hastings had already sent a messenger to Richard in the North telling him what was happening in London and urging him to come with as many men as he could muster for it might be that he would need them.

With a clatter of hoofs the messenger rode to Middleham Castle. He leaped from his steaming horse and demanded of the astonished grooms to be taken at once to their master the Duke.

It was a stroke of good fortune that Richard should at that time be at home. He had returned only a week or so before from the Scottish border and his thoughts were fully occupied by the conflict with the Scots.

It was two months since he had seen his brother and then they had gone fully into the Scottish question. He should soon be on his way north again and was for this short period enjoying a little respite with his family.

His son Edward was not strong. He knew that Anne worried continually about their son. He had inherited his mother’s constitution and sometimes Richard wondered whether he would be better in a more benign climate. There was one other boy in the castle whom Richard watched with interest. The boy was several years older than Edward, and did not know it but he was Richard’s own son. His name was Richard and he had been educated by the schoolmaster whom his father had brought into the castle for the purpose. Richard would have liked to acknowledge him and promised himself he would one day. He was a little embarrassed about the situation; he was so unlike his brother and had rarely indulged in sexual relations with women. Strange that this one affair of this nature had produced two children. Catherine was with her mother in London, but Richard he had brought up here in his retinue. One day, he thought, he will be told.

He wished that he and Anne could have had another. The delicate looks of his legitimate son were a source of anxiety as were Anne’s own. She had been delighted to see him and heartily wished that the wretched wars could end so that they could all be together in the cosy intimacy of Middleham.

He had decided that he could indulge in a few more weeks of family life when the courier came.

He received the man at once and was astounded by the news.

‘My brother ... dead!’

‘My lord I fear so. He went fishing and caught a cold. He did not recover.’

‘A cold ... Edward to die of a cold!’

‘He had been ill before, my lord.’

Oh yes, he had been ill. Richard remembered their conversation. He could almost believe that Edward had foreseen his death. He had harped on it and had extracted a promise from his brother to look after young Edward, to be his Protector until such a time as the boy should be of fit age to govern.

‘When did it happen?’ he asked.

‘On the ninth of April, my lord.’

‘But this is a week ago.’

Thoughts passed quickly through his mind. What could happen in a week? A week already passed and by the time he reached Ludlow ...

‘Why did you not come before? Did not the Queen send anyone?’

‘The Queen sent no one, my lord. Nor did Lord Rivers. I come from Lord Hastings who sent me as soon as he knew that the King was dead.’

Richard was silent. He had turned very pale. He was seeing it all clearly: Elizabeth Woodville and her brother had withheld the information. They had not wanted him to know until the little King was crowned. The Woodvilles were waiting to take command. They would be planning now to rule the country.

He thanked the rider and told him he must go to the kitchens for refreshment; then he went to find Anne.

‘My brother is dead,’ he said.

She put her hands to her heart and turned pale.

‘And,’ he went on, ‘the Queen has not told me. Nor has Rivers. I do not like this.’

‘Why should they withhold the information from you?’

‘They want to get the King into their care. I shall have to leave for Ludlow at once.’

‘Oh Richard ... must you?’

‘Indeed I must. Edward left his son in my care. We talked when we last met. It was almost as though he knew. I gave him my promise ... moreover I can see that the realm will have to be protected from the Woodvilles. Now, I must lose no time. I have to prepare to leave.’

Before he left another messenger arrived from Hastings. There had been a meeting of the Council called by the Queen and it had been declared that the King should be crowned on May the fourth. Hastings had had great difficulty in getting them to agree that the King’s escort should not exceed two thousand. When Richard came he must come well prepared to face a company of that number.

Richard knew what Hastings meant. The Woodvilles were determined to rule. They were going to get the King crowned and then declare that there would be no need for Richard to fulfil his brother’s wishes that he should be the little King’s guardian. Richard could see that his presence was urgently needed and he must go to challenge them; he would take Hastings’s advice and go well armed.

Richard was within reach of Nottingham. He had decided that since the King was having an escort of two thousand, he would do the same. He wanted no suggestion that he came for conflict. He merely wanted the people to know that his brother had appointed him his nephew’s guardian and if Edward was to be escorted into London he was the one to do it.

In Nottingham a courier arrived from Lord Rivers. He sent courteous greetings to the Duke of Gloucester and condolences for his great loss. Lord Rivers knew of the affection the King had always had for his brother and was therefore deeply aware what Edward’s death had meant to Richard. He had left Ludlow with the King and planned to reach Nottingham on the twenty-ninth of April. It might well be that the Duke would be there at the same time. If Rivers arrived first he would await the coming of the Duke of Gloucester if that was his wish.

Richard sent back a message that he would be delighted to meet Rivers and the King at Northampton.

There was a further message from Hastings. He implored Gloucester to make haste to intercept the King. The Woodvilles were in command. They were eyeing him, Hastings, suspiciously because he had reminded them that the late King had appointed Richard as Protector. He believed they would seek to remove him. He begged Richard to come with all speed.

Richard pondered the state of affairs. He saw that he alone could avert civil war. There would be many to side with Hastings. Buckingham was one. He had always hated Elizabeth Woodville ever since he was a child and had been forced to marry her sister. The Queen had managed to make the Council agree to the date of the coronation, so she had many with her for they realised that the Woodvilles had already assumed so much power that it would be difficult to dislodge them. But Richard promised himself that he was going to curb the power of the Woodvilles. He had often warned Edward against granting them so much power. Well, now that Edward was not here, something might be done about it.

He waited with eagerness his meeting with Rivers.

It was a sunny afternoon of the twenty-ninth of April that Richard with his retinue reached Northampton. There was no sign of Rivers and the King’s cavalcade.

Enquiries brought the information that they had already passed through the town and had gone in the direction of Stony Stratford.

This was disturbing and looked as though Rivers had no intention of meeting Richard, who decided that he must stay in the town for a night as his men and horses needed a rest. There was good news. Another courier had arrived and this one came from the Duke of Buckingham who was in the vicinity and on his way to join up with Richard.

Richard ordered that his men should be lodged where they could find places to take them while he himself went to an inn with a few intimates and there settled to spend the night.

They had scarcely arrived at the inn when a horseman came riding into the yard.

It could be Buckingham,’ said Richard; but to his amazement it was not. It was Anthony Lord Rivers.

Anthony came to Richard and bowed low. ‘My lord Protector,’ he said, ‘I come with all speed to welcome you and to explain why I was unable to keep my appointment here with you. It seemed there would not be enough accommodation here for your followers and those of the King so we agreed that he should go on to Stony Stratford and that I would return and explain the position to you here.’

A neat explanation, thought Richard, but he did not believe it was true. The Woodvilles wanted to get the King to Westminster and crowned so that there would be no need for a Protector.

Richard made a pretence of accepting the explanation and invited Rivers to dine with him. Anthony declared that he would be honoured to do so and while they were talking the Duke of Buckingham arrived.

Richard received him with a show of pleasure. Rivers feigned to do the same but he was disturbed for Buckingham was an enemy of the Woodvilles even though he had married into the family – but perhaps it was because of that that he hated them.

Rivers, going back to the inn in which he was to spend the night, was uneasy.

Richard never betrayed his feelings so it was not easy to know whether he had been duped by the explanation that there had not been room in town, or not. The young King, however, was at Stony Stratford and as that was fourteen miles closer to London this seemed a wise move on the part of Rivers.

It was a friendly supper party. The three of them – Gloucester, Buckingham and Rivers appeared to be in agreement about all they discussed. Gloucester was perhaps a little silent, but then that was his way. Rivers would have been astonished if he had been otherwise. Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham talked enough for two men. Volatile and ebullient Buckingham made it a merry party so that Rivers’s suspicions were completely lulled. Moreover Buckingham had never greatly interested himself in state affairs. Rivers regarded him as a dilettante, a lover of luxury, somewhat lazy. Until now in spite of his high rank, he had chosen to live in the country away from affairs. He had married Catherine Woodville, sister of the Queen, when he was very young and having been forced into a marriage for which he had had no desire had always been resentful towards the Woodvilles. Rivers knew that he was not friendlily disposed towards the family but he thought that he was too indifferent to state affairs to consider working against them and that this meeting must be, as Buckingham hinted, accidental.

They parted on the best of terms and Rivers went back to the inn which was a short distance from that one in which Gloucester and Buckingham were to spend the night, promising himself that he would be off early next morning before they arose.

After he had gone Buckingham went with Gloucester to his room. They looked at each other very seriously for a few moments and then Gloucester said: ‘Well, what is it?’

‘He will get the King to London before you,’ said Buckingham.

‘No, he will not,’ replied Richard.

‘My lord, the King lies at Stony Stratford. You may be sure that Rivers plans to have him away before we get to him.’

‘It shall not be.’

‘He will have sent messages to Stony Stratford without doubt.’

‘I have stopped all messengers leaving the town.’

Buckingham smiled.

‘So the King will stay at Stony Stratford until I arrive to conduct him to London,’ went on Gloucester.

Buckingham nodded. ‘You are wise, Lord Protector. I came here to join you, to offer my services. The Woodvilles are in charge ... at the moment. They plan to rule the country.’

‘I know that well. They deliberately refrained from telling me of my brother’s death although they knew that he had named me Protector of the Realm and the King’s guardian.’

‘They are determined to get the boy crowned and then he will be surrounded by the Woodvilles who will proceed to rule. It must never be.’

‘It shall never be,’ said Richard.

He was regarding Buckingham quizzically. Buckingham was fierce in his condemnation of the Woodvilles. He was a considerable ally, representing one of the most noble families in the land as he did. Richard was confident of his ability to conduct affairs in the way his brother would have wished them to go, but the more friends he had the better. Hastings had proved himself an ally; and now Buckingham.

His confidence was growing. Not that he needed support. Richard had always done what he considered right without too much consideration of the cost.

He now said: ‘Firm action is needed, firm and immediate action.’

‘My lord,’ said Buckingham, ‘you will know what action to take.’

Anthony had returned to his room in a mood bordering almost on complacency. Gloucester had been affable – rather unexpectedly so. He had never while the King was alive shown any great regard for the Woodvilles and Anthony knew he had made his brother aware that he considered the marriage of the King and Queen most unsuitable. As for Buckingham he behaved as one might expect a brother-in-law to – but it was the first time he had.

Rivers smiled as he settled into his bed. Of course they realised, these two, that he, Rivers, was of greater importance now than he had ever been. The King was devoted to him and anyone who wished for favour in the new reign would have first to consider Lord Rivers. The Queen too perhaps for he had taught Edward to revere his mother. He was certain that there were good times ahead for the whole Woodville clan.

He slept easily for he had drunk rather more deeply than usual in that affable company, but before retiring he had given instructions that he was to be awakened just before dawn. He must leave then and set out for Stony Stratford where young Edward would be waiting for him. And then ... off to London and the coronation.

When he awoke the first streaks of light were in the sky. He rose startled. He should have been awakened by now. Hearing a murmuring below and with a sudden feeling that all was not as it should be he went to the window and looked out. Soldiers appeared to be surrounding the inn.

Throwing a cloak about himself he went to the door. He was confronted by a guard.

‘What means this?’ he cried.

‘You are under arrest, my lord.’

‘What? This is nonsense. Under arrest. For what reason? Who has arrested me?’

He saw the badge of the Boar on the men’s livery and he knew because the man replied: ‘On the orders of the Lord Protector, my lord.’

Rivers stepped back into the room. What a fool ‘I’ve been! he thought. How could I have been so duped? I should have stayed at Stony Stratford. I should at this moment be on my way to London with the King.

He dressed hurriedly and said that he wished to speak with the Duke of Gloucester. He sent for his most trusted squire and told him to go at once to the inn where the Duke had his headquarters and tell him that Lord Rivers desired to speak to him without delay.

‘And get a message to my nephew, Lord Richard Grey, who is with the King. Tell him to leave at once with the King for London.’

‘It is not possible, my lord. No one is allowed to leave the town. The Protector’s men are posted on all roads.’

‘It is too late then,’ said Anthony. ‘Then I must see the Duke.’

‘I will go at once my lord, and ask if he will see you.’

In a state of great mortification and extreme anxiety Rivers waited and in due course his messenger returned and said he was to conduct him to the Duke of Gloucester.

Richard regarded him sardonically.

‘It was not very clever,’ he said. ‘There was no room for you all in the town! You should have done better than that, Rivers.’

‘My lord Gloucester, it was so ...’

Richard held up a hand. ‘I do not wish to parley with you. I know full well what you planned to do ... you and the Queen. You disregarded my brother’s wishes. You sought to keep me in ignorance of his death until you had crowned the King and established yourselves as rulers of the land. That is not to be, Lord Rivers.’

‘I assure you, my lord Duke, that the people wish the King to be crowned.’

‘Assuredly the people wish their rightful King to be crowned, but in due course, and not in such a manner which will make the most hated family in the country rulers of it. The King will be crowned, I assure you, but it will not be on the fourth of May as you planned.’

‘My lord, the King himself may wish ...’

‘The King I have no doubt will wish what his uncle tells him to. He is young. Perhaps he is not aware of the scheming ambitions of that self-same uncle. Nay my lord, your schemes have been foiled. There is one thing the people do not want and that is to be ruled by the Woodvilles. They shall have their King and a proper Council to support him.’

‘Headed by my lord of Gloucester I doubt not.’

‘Headed, my lord, by the man selected by the late King to do so.’

‘I came in peace.’

‘Then how do you explain the arms in your baggage?’

‘A natural precaution.’

‘Precaution against those who seek justice for the King and the realm?’

‘Ask the King whom he wishes to guide him.’

‘The King has been well primed by his mother’s relations. All know that. The King is a child. Children cannot rule. Enough of this. I granted you this interview and now it is over.’ He called to the guards. Take Lord Rivers away. He is under arrest. He shall be lodged in Sheriff Hutton until such a time as his case can be judged.’

Protesting, Rivers was hustled away.

Richard with Buckingham beside him and their men behind them rode over in the dawn’s early light to Stony Stratford.

The young King, with Lord Richard Grey and his old chamberlain, Sir Thomas Vaughan, was eagerly watching for the arrival of Lord Rivers. He had said that he would come in the early morning when they must all be prepared to leave for London without a moment’s delay.

Lord Richard had arrived only the previous day with messages from the Queen to her son. She was longing to see him, she said. He was her King now and she knew that he would understand how important he had become. She had lost his dear father and she needed him to protect her now.

Edward was overcome with emotion. The idea of protecting his beautiful mother, who always seemed so well able to take care of herself, seemed to him a great task and one he was impatient to undertake. Uncle Anthony would tell him what he had to do. His mother would too, and Lord Richard as well. He need not be afraid with so many to help him.

Lord Richard was a little anxious because his uncle had not yet arrived. He had been so insistent that they leave as soon as it was light. He had said he would be arriving from Northampton in the very early morning. But where was he?

Richard said they should all be ready for when Lord Rivers did come it was certain that he would be in a great hurry and would want them to start off without delay.

Lord Richard was in a quandary. The Queen wanted her son in London for the coronation was fixed for a few days ahead. He decided that they would have to leave without Lord Rivers. They had left the inn and the King had mounted his horse with Richard Grey beside him when there was the sound of horses’ hoofs in the distance.

‘He is here,’ cried Lord Richard. ‘Thank God. And I am sure that he will wish to leave without delay.’

Orders were being shouted. No one was to leave the town.

Then into their midst rode the King’s paternal uncle instead of his maternal one and with him was the Duke of Buckingham.

Gloucester and Buckingham came straight to the King, dismounted and bowed low before him with the utmost respect.

‘Where is Lord Rivers?’ asked the King rather shrilly.

‘I have news for you of my Lord Rivers,’ said Richard. ‘Let us retire into the inn that we may talk in quiet.’

Bewildered the King dismounted and Lord Richard Grey and Sir Thomas Vaughan went with him into the inn. Gloucester and Buckingham followed.

Richard commanded that they be taken to a room and when they were there and the door shut he knelt and kissed Edward’s hand.

‘The greatest calamity which could befall us and this nation has come about,’ he said. ‘Your father, my brother, is dead and you, my lord, are now the true and rightful King of England.’

Edward nodded. There were tears in his eyes. He was frightened. His uncle Gloucester had always had that effect on him. He was wondering where Uncle Anthony was and why he had not come as he promised.

‘It is said,’ went on Gloucester, ‘that your father might be alive today if he had not given way to excesses. There were certain men surrounding him, notably your half-brother the Marquess of Dorset, who encouraged him in these excesses. It is my intent, as your guardian, named to be such by your father, that you shall be saved from these evil influences.’

Lord Richard Grey cried out: ‘My lord ... I protest. I and my uncle have never had anything but the King’s welfare at heart.’

Gloucester waved him aside.

‘Certain men,’ he said, ‘intended to deprive me of the office which my brother in his last words expressed a wish that I should take. They planned to remove me. For this reason I have had no alternative but to arrest Lord Rivers.’

‘You have arrested Lord Rivers!’ cried the King. ‘But he has never done any harm. He is my very good friend ... my very best friend.’

‘My lord, they have kept you in ignorance. There is a plot to destroy me and to govern through you. This plot has been fabricated by the Marquess of Dorset, Lord Rivers and Lord Richard Grey here.’

‘These are my family ... my brothers and my uncle.’

‘It is for this reason that they have laid these grandiose schemes. They have always presumed on that relationship. The Woodvilles were nothing until the King married your mother. Now they are trying to take charge of us all.’

‘I will not believe this of them. I love them all dearly. They have always been my very good friends.’

‘My dear nephew,’ said Gloucester, ‘for years I have shared your father’s confidence. None was closer to him than I in matters of state. I have known his mind since he came to the throne. We have worked together; and only a few weeks before his death he spoke to me of this. He told me that he wished me to take the reins of government until you were of an age to do so yourself. He trusted me, Edward, as he trusted no other.’

‘He trusted me with Lord Rivers,’ said Edward quickly.

‘It is true that your uncle was the choice of the Queen but your father was growing anxious about the domination of her family and intended to make changes.’

Edward wanted to shout at this uncle: ‘I don’t believe it. I love them all. They love me. My half-brother Richard and my uncle Anthony are my best friends. As for you, my lord Gloucester, I don’t know you. I don’t like you. And I want my uncle Anthony brought back.’

But there was something stern and fierce about Uncle Richard of Gloucester. Edward quailed before him, and was afraid of him. He looked as though he rarely laughed. Uncle Anthony laughed a great deal, although he was a very religious man and sometimes wore a hair shirt under his fine garments. Surely that was a sign of holiness? But Uncle Anthony was fun to be with. So was his half-brother. He wanted to command Uncle Gloucester to send Lord Rivers back to him but he did not know how to do it.

‘My lord,’ said Gloucester gently, ‘your father left instructions that I, his brother, who was closer to him than any other, should be Protector of the Realm and of your person. Do you give your consent that your father’s wishes be carried out?’

Edward looked helplessly about him. He wanted to protest. He looked to Lord Richard Grey but his half-brother knew that there was nothing to be done against Gloucester, for it was true that the late King had named him Protector.

‘Y .. yes,’ stammered the King. ‘I agree that my father’s commands shall be carried out.’

‘Then, my lord, we shall return to Northampton,’ said Gloucester.

‘To Northampton! But my mother is waiting for us in London.’

‘I must first of all ascertain that it is safe for you to go there.’

‘But my mother ...’

‘Your mother could not protect you as I shall. We are returning without delay to Northampton and very soon I am sure my friends in London will let me know what is happening there and as soon as it is safe we shall return and you shall be crowned King of England. We shall leave this place in an hour.’

He left the inn and sitting on his horse he addressed the soldiers.

‘Your task is done,’ he said. ‘The King is safely in my hands which is where his father wished him to be. As soon as I have news from London that it is safe for him to go there I shall accompany him to the capital. I trust, my friends, that ere long our King will be attending his coronation. Now there is no need for your good services. Disperse and go back to your homes. You will be told if and when you are needed.’

There was a slight hesitation and murmuring among them then they turned away and did as they were bid.

Gloucester went back into the inn.

‘Where are Lord Richard Grey and Thomas Vaughan?’ he asked.

‘They are with the King, my lord.’

‘As soon as they leave him, arrest them. Let them be sent with Rivers to Sheriff Hutton.’

Chapter XI JANE SHORE

The Queen with her son, the Marquess of Dorset, was eagerly awaiting the arrival of the young King with his uncle Rivers.

She could not understand the delay for she knew that Anthony was at Stony Stratford. That was the last place from which the messengers had come.

‘If we are to be all prepared for the coronation on the fourth there is little time left to us,’ she declared.

‘We will get it done in time, never fear.’

Elizabeth looked with faint exasperation and a great deal of affection at this handsome eldest son of hers. He was like his father who had been an extremely handsome man. She had certainly managed to attract good-looking men, she thought ruefully. Edward had of course been incomparable and royal at that, but her first husband had been a most outstandingly handsome man and Thomas took after him. Thomas of course was not the most steady of men; he was impulsive and she had to confess a little arrogant and quite vain. His stepfather had spoilt him, taking him about with him. Now Thomas was known as one of the biggest rakes in the kingdom.

At first she had been annoyed when he and Edward had gone off adventuring together and then she had thought it was not such a bad thing. Far better that the King should be with Thomas rather than Hastings. Thomas and Hastings did not like each other and she had heard that they were both contenders for Jane Shore now that the King was dead.

What an attraction that woman appeared to have! The King had been devoted to her until his last days. She must have great physical gifts; but there must have been something more than that to hold Edward to her for so long. Hastings, it seemed, was really in love with her – or so rumour went, but she would have none of him. The same rumour had it that she had succumbed to Dorset now that Edward was dead.

Poor Jane! Although he was her son and she was devoted to him, Elizabeth rather pitied the woman who relied too much on him. He was a rake of a different kind from Edward and Hastings. Edward had been a romantic at heart and Hastings most certainly was. There was nothing of that about Thomas. Thomas knew exactly what he wanted and that was the gratification of his sexual appetites which were as voracious as those of the late King – or almost as voracious – for surely none could compare with Edward in that respect.

She was deliberately trying not to think of what might be happening at Stony Stratford because she very much feared something had gone wrong. She had given instructions that couriers were to come in a continuous stream, so anxious was she to be ready when her son arrived.

It had been hours now and there were none. Anthony should be almost in sight of London now.

At last, the messenger had arrived. Something was definitely wrong. The Queen commanded that he be brought to her without a second’s delay. He was breathless and stammered out the news.

She could not believe it. Gloucester had the King! He was at Northampton with him! Anthony and Richard arrested!

‘Oh God preserve us,’ she cried, ‘this is disaster.’

She looked at Dorset. He was never at his best in a crisis.

‘Gloucester has defeated us,’ he cried. ‘A thousand curses on Gloucester. A pox on the man!’

‘But what are we to do?’ demanded Elizabeth. ‘He has arrested your brother and your uncle. What do you think will happen to us when he comes to London?’

‘We must get away ...’ cried Dorset. ‘But where can we go?’

Elizabeth was ready. It had happened before. She said: ‘We must go into Sanctuary.’

She looked about her at all the rich possessions which she so loved. Leave them ... go to Sanctuary. How long would she remain there? And yet she must. How could she know what Gloucester would do when he brought the King to London?

‘We must prepare to go at once. I will take all the children with me. He cannot harm us in Sanctuary. I lived there before when the King was in exile. I shall do it again. But this time I shall take with me ... some of my possessions. I shall not go empty-handed as I did before.’

‘Then let us start at once to collect what you will take with you. There is little time to be lost.’

Elizabeth frantically called to her servants and began directing them as to what must be packed. Others must go and prepare the children. She thanked God that young Richard was with them. He and the five girls must be prepared at once to leave and as soon as her precious possessions were crated they would sail up the river to the Sanctuary.

Meanwhile Hastings had received the news that the King was in Gloucester’s hands. The city was crowded with the nobles from all over the country who had come for the King’s coronation and it occurred to Hastings that he should inform Thomas Rotherham Archbishop of York, who was also Chancellor and who by good fortune happened to be in London at this time, that all was well.

The old Archbishop who was sixty years of age was startled from his sleep by the news.

Hastings’s words intended to reassure him did nothing of the sort. ‘All will be well,’ Hastings’s message ended.

The old man pondered it. He was a supporter of the Queen and he did not like this. ‘All will be well,’ he muttered. ‘But it will never be as good as it has been.’

No, it was a great disaster that Edward should have died so young before they were prepared for his death and thus to leave this innocent child to carry on the responsibilities of the crown. He hastily dressed and as he did so it was brought home to him more and more what this meant. The Queen’s family was too powerful to stand aside and let Gloucester take over what they had decided was theirs.

He must warn the Queen without delay. He set out at once for Westminster Palace. There he found a most extraordinary scene. The Queen was seated on the rushes, her expression blank and despairing; all about her were servants packing crates, taking down tapestries from the walls and putting valuable ornaments into boxes.

‘My lady,’ cried the Chancellor, ‘you must not despair. I have had word from my Lord Hastings. “All will be well”, he says.’

‘Hastings!’ cried the Queen in fury. ‘If ever a man was my enemy that man is. He is determined to destroy me and my family. What he calls good is bad for me, my lord.’

The Chancellor was horrified.

‘Oh my lady, my lady,’ he cried, ‘what shall we do?’

‘You will stand by me, my lord? I shall have some friends.’

‘My lady, you may rely on me to defend your cause.’ He took the Great Seal and placed it in her hands.

Elizabeth took it gratefully and bade the Archbishop go back to his palace. Ere long she, with her family, would be leaving for Sanctuary.

The goods she was taking with her were packed. She sent for her children and they came, bewildered. They had never known the uneasy days. Their lives had all been guarded by their great indulgent all-powerful father. There was lovely Elizabeth, sixteen years old now and who should have been Dauphine of France at this time but for the treachery of Louis, the shock of whose deception had doubtless hastened Edward’s death. Cecily, fourteen years old. And Anne eight, Catherine four and little Bridget three. Seeing them together thus the Queen thought of poor Mary and the great sorrow her death had brought them. Elizabeth and Edward had often congratulated themselves that they had been more lucky than most families because although they had lost three children – Margaret, George and now Mary – they had kept the rest and out of ten they had seven left to them and that was a very good number. The Queen embraced them all tenderly. She kept young Richard close to her. He as the boy was very precious. He was ten years old now and he was always asking questions about his brother and wanting to see him. She had often considered sending him to Ludlow, but she had been unable to resist the temptation to keep him with her.

Now she was glad.

‘My dear children,’ she said to them, ‘something dreadful has happened. Your wicked uncle Gloucester has taken the King from my lord Rivers and now holds him. I am afraid of what he will do when he brings him to London and for that reason we are all going into Sanctuary until we know what is happening.’

‘Are we taking all these things with us?’ asked Richard.

‘Yes, my son, we are not leaving them behind for your uncle to have.’

‘Will he kill Edward?’

‘No, no. Nobody is going to kill anybody. He wouldn’t dare. But he wants to rule through Edward and we are not going to allow that to happen.’

‘Are we going to fight him ...’

‘We are powerful enough to stop him.’

‘The Woodvilles will be able to,’ said Elizabeth. ‘They are the most powerful family in the country.’

‘That is so and rightly,’ said the Queen. ‘Remember, my dears, that you are Woodvilles too. Now Elizabeth and you Cecily, take care of the little ones. We should be leaving at once. The sooner we are in Sanctuary the more relieved I shall be.’

They went out into the barge and soon arrived at the Sanctuary beside the Abbey.

‘I was here once before,’ said young Elizabeth.

‘Yes,’ murmured the Queen, ‘and I never thought this could ever befall us again.’

‘Well, we are together,’ Elizabeth reminded her.

‘Not all of us,’ piped up Richard. ‘Edward isn’t.’

‘We shall soon have the King with us,’ said the Queen firmly.

Waiting in Northampton Gloucester received Hastings’s message.

The Woodvilles had clearly realised they were beaten. The Queen had fled with her children into Sanctuary. Rotherham, the foolish old man, had lost his head and given the Great Seal back to the Queen though no sooner had he committed this act of folly than he had attempted to retrieve it. He had been too late, however; the Queen had gone and when it was realised what he had done he had naturally been deprived of his office.

It would be fitting now for Gloucester to bring the King to London.

So all was going according to plan. Gloucester could be sure that if Edward could look down from Heaven he would approve of what had been done. He had decided that it would be unwise to send Rivers, Grey and Vaughan to the same place of imprisonment and far safer to keep them separately confined. Rivers should go to Sheriff Hutton as originally intended, Richard Grey to Middleham and Vaughan to Pontefract.

He was now prepared to march on London. The King was a little sullen; he showed clearly that he did not like his uncle Gloucester and deeply resented that the uncle of whom he was very fond should with his half-brother be taken away from him.

Gloucester tried to talk to the boy of his father and how friendly they had been as brothers. Gloucester reminded the young King of his motto Loyaulte me lie which he had always adhered to and on which the late King had always been able to rely. Gloucester implied that he would now transfer that loyalty to the new King.

‘Why, Edward,’ he said, ‘you are your father’s son, my own nephew. To whom should I owe my loyalty but to you?’

Edward listened politely but there was a sullen line to his mouth.

‘Perhaps,’ he said, ‘you could bring my uncle Lord Rivers to me for I do not know of what he can possibly be accused.’

‘He will have a fair trial and then you will understand.’

‘I do not need a trial to tell me that he is innocent of all wrong doing,’ said the King.

‘You are loyal to those you believe to be your friends and that is admirable,’ was all Gloucester said.

He was eager to show the King that he wanted to take nothing from him. All he wanted to do was set him on the throne and help him to govern wisely.

On the fourth of May – the day the Woodvilles had selected for his coronation – Edward the Fifth rode into London.

He was attired in blue velvet which became him well and his fair hair falling to his shoulders made of him a pretty sight. The people cheered him, though they had had their fill of Kings who were minors and knew that good rarely came of them. What England needed was a strong king – a man such as this boy’s father had been.

Beside the King rode the Duke of Gloucester; he was sombrely clad in black, a contrast to the King’s rich garments. And on the other side of the King was Buckingham, clad like Gloucester in black.

Solemnly they rode. The people cheered so wildly that Elizabeth with her children in the Sanctuary of Westminster heard them and she was exultant. It would not be long she promised herself and her family. Soon they would be out of this place and with the King.

The people looked at the Duke of Gloucester, pale, serious and sombre. His brother had relied on him, trusted him.

We have a young King, they thought; but we shall have a wise Protector. Edward in his wisdom has left us well provided for.

News of what was happening outside was brought into the Sanctuary. Elizabeth was desolate. The people accepted Richard; they saw in him a wise ruler, a man who had remained loyal to his brother and had had his confidence. He was serious-minded and had shown that he was a wise administrator by the order he had kept in the North of England. They loved their little King. He was good-looking and youth was always appealing providing there were those who could guide it.

The country unanimously agreed that Richard of Gloucester should be the Lord Protector, and Defender of the Realm.

He was against the Woodvilles but then so was the country. They had watched the avaricious Queen push her family into all the most important houses in the country. Well, that was going to be over now and the Protector had acted promptly and with good sense when he had arrested Rivers and Richard Grey and made Dorset realise that the only place where he would be safe was in Sanctuary.

Dorset was restive. He could not bear being confined in Sanctuary. How could he possibly pursue the kind of life which he had found so necessary to him in such a place? He missed Jane. He laughed slyly to think that she was his mistress. It had happened as soon as the King died – as he had known it would. He had long had his eyes on Jane and he would not have waited for the death of the King. She was the one who insisted on that. Jane was different from other women he had known; Edward had always said she was and he was right. She was not a natural harlot; she was warm-hearted and amorous by nature, born to it, as Edward had said; and yet there was no question of buying her favours. It is not easy to give Jane anything, the King had said wonderingly. Dorset was cynical; at first he had thought she was just exceptionally clever as his own sister was in her way. But there could not be another woman living less like Elizabeth.

He derived great satisfaction from his affair with Jane for a number of reasons. In the first place she was beautiful and desirable; and for another, and this gave him special pleasure, Hastings had wanted her right from the time when the King had first discovered her. Indeed Dorset was not sure whether Hastings had not discovered her first. Edward had come along and jostled poor William out of the way and of course he dared not anger the King over her and Edward would have been furious in the case of Jane though with any other woman he might have been ready to enter into a kind of tournament with his friend.

Not Jane though. There was something special about Jane. Hastings was gnashing his teeth because Dorset had been the one she had gone to on the King’s death.

Dear weak Jane, she had found him irresistible, although she was no fool. She knew his faults. She knew him for the cynical, selfish sybarite he was. She would have no faith in his fidelity; he lacked the kindliness of the late King; that desire in Edward never to hurt people’s feelings if he could help it and always to seek a way of smoothing over unpleasantness was no part of Dorset’s nature. Dorset cared nothing for others; he did not consider them except in their ability to supply his needs. Jane knew this and it was a double triumph therefore that she had come to him. The truth was he was possessed of extraordinary physical attraction. So many women, hating him for what he was, yet found him irresistible; and that Jane, who had basked in the King’s affection and returned it undemandingly for all the years they had been together, should now turn to Dorset was a great triumph – particularly when Hastings was standing by ready to give her the same devotion that she had enjoyed so long from Edward.

To be confined in Sanctuary was unbearable. Yet what would happen if he ventured out? He would immediately be imprisoned for Gloucester would regard him as one of the leaders of the Woodville party.

What a wretched state of affairs to have fallen into so suddenly – and all because one king had died and his brother was determined to rule the country.

‘A plague on Gloucester!’ he cried. But what was the use of words? He had to find a way out of this miserable situation.

He could see only one way of doing it, and that was to escape.

He began to plan. It would be easy enough to slip out of Sanctuary at dark of night, but where would he go then? There were many houses of ill fame in the city and he was known to them. The point was how far could they be trusted? When he was free, son of the Queen, companion of the King, rich, influential, he had been surrounded by friends. It would be different now. Or would it? He was the sort of man people would be afraid to offend for the fortunes of war and politics changed quickly and he was of a vengeful nature.

He knew of one house where the lady in charge was particularly fond of him. He had great confidence in his power to charm. Should he sound her? No. That would be unwise. What if a message went astray? What if instead of the loving arms of the lady he found Gloucester’s men waiting for him? He would find himself in a worse state than he was now.

Nevertheless he must attempt it. He would slip out. He would find his way to the tavern and ask to be hidden there until he could get abroad or away to the North. It should not be difficult. It would be some time before his absence was discovered. His mother would make sure of that.

She listened eagerly when he told her of his plans. She was as weary of this confinement as he was and sure that they could rouse men to follow them. After all was she not the King’s mother? And if Anthony could be freed and Richard with him they could immediately begin to rouse the country against Gloucester.

Yes, he must go. So one dark night Dorset left Sanctuary. He made his way through the narrow streets over the familiar cobbles, wrapped in an all-concealing cloak so that his identity was completely hidden. He knocked; he was let in; he asked for the lady of the house.

She came to him, and when he threw off his cloak she expressed her joy. The old magic had not deserted him. She was as enamoured as ever and clearly flattered that he had come to her.

‘I need to remain here for a night or two ... perhaps a week,’ he told her. ‘Could you hide me?’

Indeed she could and it should be her pleasure.

He kissed her warmly on the lips in his own inimitable way. Old Edward himself could not have done better.

Her response was warm. He knew he could trust her.

Jane Shore was very uneasy. Life had changed so drastically for her within the last weeks that she was quite bewildered. Deeply she regretted the death of the King. Theirs had been a most satisfying relationship. That he was really fond of her there was no doubt and their liaison had been of such duration that some might have said it was habit. That may have been but it was a very satisfying, comforting habit.

Jane had been faithful to the King even though Dorset had often tempted her to stray. She could not explain to herself the terrible fascination Dorset had for her. It was as though he had laid a spell on her. When he was near her that compelling attraction was so irresistible that she had to succumb to it knowing full well that there was evil in it – evil in him.

When the King was alive he had not dared to be too persistent. He had followed her with his eyes and in them had been that burning desire which against her will had drawn a response from her. She had fought it off successfully while the King lived. It was a different matter when he was dead.

Dorset had then claimed her and made her his slave. Jane was both repelled and utterly fascinated by the man. When he was not present she could tell herself that she must break away from him; but he only had to appear and she was lost.

Jane was not naturally a loose woman. She was not meant to be passed from one man to another. She needed a settled and respectable existence and with the King she had had that.

She had loved Edward. Who could have helped it? He had seemed to her – as he did to many – the most handsome man in the world. Moreover he had such charm of manner and such kindliness radiated from him; he was so powerful, so romantic, every inch a king, a perfect lover; he was all that Jane could ever have asked for.

She often thought of the early days, and how it had all come about. Her life had been simple enough in her father’s household for he had been a well-to-do mercer and those early days had been lived in the house in Cheapside where she had been born. Her mother had died and left Jane an only child to her father’s care, which had been strict yet affectionate in its way. Thomas Wainstead had been eager to do everything for his daughter even to finding her a worthy husband in the goldsmith William Shore.

Perhaps all would have been well if Jane had not been so outstandingly beautiful that she caught the roving eye of one of the Court gallants who attempted to abduct her. That man had been William Lord Hastings and she had for ever after been wary of him. He was good-looking but a pale shadow of Edward as every other man must be.

He was rich; he had the means to bribe servants and set the stage for abduction; and this might have taken place had not one of the servants – whom he had bribed to help him drug her mistress – not suddenly grown alarmed and warned Jane.

From the beginning marriage with Goldsmith Shore had been a dire mistake. Jane had wanted to be a good wife to him but she was naturally exuberant, full-blooded and romantic; and the goldsmith who was several years older than herself was certainly no hero of romance.

He was a highly respectable man – naturally he would be since her father had chosen him; he served the Court and was even more comfortably placed than the mercer; he was also deeply religious. Jane found him intolerable.

And then ... it was after the King’s return from exile and that must have been some thirteen years ago ... he had come to the goldsmith’s shop ostensibly to look at ornaments but in truth to see Jane of whom Hastings had spoken. Dressed as a merchant he had filled the shop with his magnificent presence and as soon as he saw Jane she had been aware of the glint in his eyes and understood.

It was a short step from then to becoming the King’s mistress. She had never regretted it although she was often sorry for William Shore who in his way had been devoted to her. In those first days she had worried about her father, how he had taken the news, for there was no doubt that she had become notorious.

In the early days she had often wondered what would become of her when the King tired of her. Jane had never sought advantages; she delighted to please the King and although she knew she shared that honour with many others, still she did not care. She loved him. If she could please him that was her pleasure. This selfless attitude of hers, together with her amazing beauty which never ceased to astonish however many times the King beheld it, and her witty tongue which was never used unkindly remained a source of delight to Edward during all the years of their liaison.

For thirteen years they had been lovers. She was part of his life and a part he never wanted to change.

She had had standing at Court and the King had insisted that she accept a fine house which was full of treasures which he had bestowed on her. He did not want to visit her in some hovel, he had said. And so she had lived in some state although she had not asked that this should be so.

Even the Queen had been kind to her. Elizabeth had sent for her and talked to her most gently. Jane knew that the Queen was aware of the life her husband lived. Perhaps she deplored it, but she preferred that he should have a mistress such as Jane, a good unselfish woman, by no means a harlot, than a succession of mistresses who would try to usurp the Queen’s power.

They had liked each other. Although they were so different – Elizabeth eager to take all she could get and Jane asking nothing – they had one great quality in common: each knew how to handle the King.

They both managed admirably and they were the only two women who had kept their hold on his affections. They respected each other and whenever Jane was at Court she could always be sure that the Queen would treat her with respect. Whether she did this because to do otherwise would have angered the King, or whether she had a real respect for her, Jane was not sure. But she admired the Queen and considered her a clever woman and the Queen clearly had the same opinion of Jane.

And now the pleasant world had collapsed. The King had died suddenly, and Jane had lost her kind protector. She had never felt so alone in her life before.

Then Dorset had come.

She had not wanted another lover so soon. She wanted to mourn the one she had lost – incomparable Edward whom she had loved so deeply and so long.

But Dorset would not wait. He had proved to her without doubt that she could not resist him. He was an impulsive impatient lover. He had long wanted Jane and it had been galling to have to stand aside for that old man his stepfather – King though he was.

How different was Dorset from Edward. There was no romantic lovemaking, Dorset cynically demanded and took. He was arrogant in the extreme and he wanted her to know that he was the master. Every time he left her she promised herself that it should be the last but when he came again he was as dominating as ever.

And now he had fled into Sanctuary. What would happen next? She hated to think of the proud Queen and her beautiful children in that cold place. She had met them all, and had particularly loved little Richard the Duke of York. She remembered so well his marriage to Anne Mowbray. What an enchanting little bridegroom he had made and little Anne was such an appealing bride. Alas, the little bridegroom had become a widower very soon, a fact which did not distress him for he did not seem to know anything about it.

The new King she had rarely seen because he was kept at Ludlow; and now he was in the Tower of London awaiting his coronation and there was this conflict between his uncle Gloucester and the Queen and her family.

Jane shivered; she had always kept away from state matters. Perhaps that was another reason why Edward had found it so restful to be with her.

It was some days since she had seen Dorset. She was not unhappy about that. He frightened her and she always despised herself for being the victim of her own senses, so there was a certain relief in being away from him. How different it had been with Edward! How she longed to go back to those cosy days, those intimate sessions with that most charming of lovers!

Her servants came to her and said that there was a man without who had a message for her.

Her heart started to beat uncertainly. From whom? she wondered. And somehow she knew it was from Dorset.

She sent for the man; she took the crumpled paper. Yes, Dorset. He had escaped from Sanctuary. He was in a house not far from the Chepe. She knew of the house. It was one which was frequented by the men of the Court and had a reputation for harbouring high-class prostitutes.

They were good to him there. He wanted her to come to him at once. It was important.

She crumpled the paper in her hand. She did not want to go. Dorset would have to understand that she was not like the women he was meeting in that house. But he was in acute danger. If it were known that he had left Sanctuary the hunt would start. The Protector would not be content until he had caught him and brought him to trial.

At the moment the Queen’s brother, Lord Rivers, and her son, Richard Grey, were held by the Protector. There was no doubt of what Dorset’s fate would be if he were caught.

She pondered a while and then she decided that she must at least see him.

She told the man: ‘I will come at dusk.’

He went away satisfied.

She went swiftly along by the river through to the Chepe until she came to the address Dorset had sent her. She was recognised at once by the lady of the house, who took her through several passages to a room at the back of the house and there was Dorset.

He came towards her and seized her hungrily. She tried to hold him off but it was the same as ever and she felt her resistance slipping away.

‘Jane ... my Jane ...’ cried Dorset exultantly. ‘I knew you would not fail me.’

‘You said you must see me. What are you going to do?’

‘I’ll tell you later. There is time yet. We have the whole night before us.’

‘I must go.’

‘What, through the streets at this hour! Come confess it, Jane, when you agreed to come at dusk you knew you would not leave until morning.’

‘I will not stay.’

He laughed; and she knew she would.

During the night she learned the real reason why he had sent for her. Of course he had delighted in her body, but there were many handsome women on the premises and any would have been delighted to entertain the mighty Marquess of Dorset even though he was in hiding. The general belief was that the King would soon be crowned and then the Protector would go back to the North; the Queen and her family would emerge into prominence again and they would naturally be the ones who would control the King.

‘I shall have to leave here very soon,’ said Dorset. ‘It’s dangerous.’

‘I am glad you realise it.’

‘Oh yes, Jane, it will be sad to be far away from you, but I have to get away ... to raise an army to come back and show Edward’s little brother that it is not as easy as he thinks.’

‘I doubt he thinks it easy,’ said Jane. ‘Edward talked a great deal about him. He had the highest regard for him. He used to say he trusted him as he did no other.’

‘Please, Jane, do not sing Gloucester’s praises to me. The man is after power like everyone else. He sees himself as ruling the country through his little nephew King.’

‘Edward did not think that.’

‘Edward always refused to see ill in anyone. Look at the manner in which Warwick duped him. We have to think of the little King. He is desperately unhappy because my uncle Anthony was taken from him. He frets for my brother Richard. Just think, those fine men are in the hands of that hunchbacked little upstart.’

‘He is not a hunchback. One shoulder is a little higher than the other, that’s all. Edward used to say that they forced him to wear armour that was too heavy for his bones. Moreover Edward always thought so highly of his administrative power. He trusted him as he did no one else ...’

‘Yes, exactly as he trusted Warwick when the mighty Earl Kingmaker was thinking of unkinging him and remaking Henry.’

‘Wait a while,’ said Jane. ‘See what happens. Go back to Sanctuary where you will be safe.’

‘Dear Jane, you are the perfect mistress but do not seek to meddle in matters of which you know nothing. I am going to instruct you and you shall play your part, I promise you.’

‘What do you mean, instruct me?’

‘I want you to do something for me. You will, won’t you?’

‘If I can I will, but what is it?’

‘Jane. Listen. We need to bring men to our side ... influential men. Men like Buckingham ... but I don’t know enough of him. There is one other whom I know very well and who is important to us. You could help me here, Jane. You could persuade him. He would listen to you.’

‘Who is this man?’

‘Hastings.’

‘Hastings! You know how I feel about Hastings.’

‘Oh come, Jane. You bear him a grudge and that is not like you. What did Hastings do but admire you? What has he ever done against you but look at you with longing? I know that at one time he tried to abduct you and take you by force. Don’t think too hardly of him, Jane. It was the sort of adventure we all indulged in.’

‘I have never forgotten it.’

‘But you have forgiven him. He has always been so eager to show you how pleased he would be for a little notice from you.’

‘You think I could persuade him to change sides?’

‘Yes, Jane, I do ... cleverly, subtly ... as you with your merry witty talk would know how to.’

‘You ask the impossible.’

He took her by the shoulders and shook her.

‘Do this for me. I want to be back in power. I do not want to skulk in Sanctuary afraid of Gloucester’s guards for ever. Come Jane, do this for me. Be my lovely little Jane. It would be a challenge. Do you fear you could not do it?

‘I have not considered doing what you ask.’

‘It would be revenge on him. He treated you with scant respect when he tried to abduct you ... aye, and would have done so but for that last minute dash of conscience which beset your maid. Have your revenge, Jane, and work for me at the same time. Help me out of this wretchedness into which I have fallen. Think of my mother, our proud Queen. Think of the Princesses and the little Duke of York. They are forced to live in Sanctuary, afraid to emerge. Afraid of their lives. Oh Jane, help me ... help the Queen who has always been your friend. You loved the little Duke didn’t you? I think you were a special favourite of his. The King once said that you had told him you looked on Richard as your own. And little Catherine and little Bridget ... Think of them.’

‘I am sorry for what has befallen the Queen, but it is not for me to meddle.’

‘So you will not help your friends?’

‘I would if I could. But Edward named the Duke of Gloucester as the Protector of the Realm and of the little King.’

‘He did not tell him to send the Queen into Sanctuary.’

‘The Queen went of her own free will.’

‘Because my brother and my uncle have been arrested. For what, Jane? For bringing the King to his coronation.’

Jane was thoughtful. Then she said: ‘Lord Hastings was the King’s best friend.’

‘And you should remember that.’

‘He never liked the Queen.’

‘Oh that was due to some silly quarrel about the Captaincy of Calais which went to Hastings when my mother thought it should have gone to my uncle.’

Jane continued silent.

Dorset drew her to him and began to make violent love to her.

‘Promise me, Jane,’ he said. ‘Swear you will help. Amuse yourself with Hastings ...’

‘What you suggest is ... is ...’

He stopped her with his kisses. He was laughing. ‘You’ll do it, Jane,’ he said. ‘You’ll do this for me.’

Jane felt half ashamed, half excited. She was glad to escape from Dorset. When she was with him he was irresistible but she fervently wished that she could fight off the violent passion which he inspired in her. She wanted love. She had it astonishingly enough from Edward. There could be none to replace him but he was gone now and it was no use brooding on the past.

Since she had left Dorset she had thought a good deal about Hastings.

She had always told herself that she disliked him. She had never forgotten that experience when she had been about to take the ale which her maid had brought; she remembered still the frightened look in the girl’s eyes and then her confession. Often she had wondered what would have happened if she had drunk the ale and gone into a deep sleep while Hastings was let into the house and carried her away.

Hastings himself had often looked shamefaced and had even told her how he repented that act. She had shrugged his apologies aside. She had told herself that was in the past and of no importance now for he would never attempt such an action with her again. The King had laughed at it. ‘Forgive poor old Hastings,’ he said. ‘He’s a good friend to me. I trust him and that means a great deal. What he did I am afraid we would all have done if the idea had occurred to us.’ She had protested and made Edward see that men who thought they had a right to treat women so were rogues. He agreed with her, and said: ‘But then you are so beautiful, Jane. A temptation to us all, and did I not take you away from that virtuous goldsmith of yours?’

She could sound Hastings. He always looked at her with a kind of brooding tenderness nowadays which made her feel differently towards him.

When she next saw him he was on the way to Westminster to talk with the Protector. They were arranging when the coronation should be, she knew. Dorset had said that the Protector would put it off for as long as possible because once the King was crowned he himself would cease to be so important.

She smiled at Hastings. He immediately hesitated. She supposed she had never done that spontaneously before.

He paused and bowed low. ‘Greetings, Mistress Shore,’ he said. ‘’Tis a fine day.’

‘It is so,’ she answered.

He was still pausing, looking at her with that obvious admiration.

‘You grow fairer than ever every time I see you,’ he said.

‘You are gracious.’

‘Jane.’ She saw the hope leap into his eyes. It had been easier than she had thought.

They supped together. He talked soberly of the death of the King. ‘A sad blow to us both, Jane,’ he said. ‘Nothing will ever be the same for either of us again. You miss him sorely do you not?’

‘Most sorely,’ she confirmed.

‘He was a great man ... a great King. He possessed all the qualities of kingship. That he should go like that ... so suddenly ...’

‘He lived too heartily,’ said Jane. ‘I often told him.’

‘He could not help it. He was made like that. Do you know, Jane, I am twelve years older than he was. Think of it, I have had twelve more years of life.’

‘My lord, I hope you have twelve more left to you.’

‘Now that you are gracious to me, I could wish it,’ he said.

That night she became his mistress.

It was easier than she had thought. He was kindly, tender and he loved her. That was obvious. He told her during that first night together how bitterly he had regretted that first approach. He had always felt that if he had tried to woo her as she deserved to be wooed, perhaps he might have been successful before Edward found her.

‘I have a feeling, Jane, that you would be faithful to the one you loved.’

‘I always was to Edward.’

‘I know it well. He knew it. He loved you for it and although he could not repay you in the same vein he often said what joy you had brought to his life. What of Dorset, Jane?’

She shivered. ‘He is in hiding. I do not want to see him again.’

‘Dorset is not a good man, Jane.’

‘I know it well. I am glad to be free of him.’

Hastings seemed well satisfied with that.

Chapter XII DEATH ON TOWER GREEN

So Jane Shore was now Hastings’s mistress. It was a matter which was talked of throughout the town. Jane was popular with the citizens; so was Hastings.

Gloucester listened with distaste. He had always deplored Edward’s way of life and had on more than one occasion told his brother that it was no way for a King to live. Edward had laughed at him, had called him a monk, and said he could not expect everyone to be like himself. Hastings had been such another; it was something Gloucester had always held against him. He had reason to be grateful to Hastings for he had kept him informed of what was happening in London and in fact had been the first to tell him of Edward’s death. But now that Buckingham had joined him and had shown himself to be so single-mindedly his man he was moving away from Hastings.

His brother’s chief advisers had been Lord Hastings; Thomas Rotherham, Archbishop of York and Lord Chancellor; John Morton, Bishop of Ely; and Lord Stanley. Rotherham had shown himself up as a weakling by handing the Great Seal back to Elizabeth when she was packing her treasures to go into Sanctuary. He was not the kind of man Gloucester wanted about him. Morton was a good man but he had been a staunch Lancastrian and had only become Edward’s minister when it was certain that there was no hope of Henry’s being restored to the throne. It was a matter of expediency and Gloucester did not like such men. Stanley had not a very good reputation for loyalty and had previously shown himself ready to jump whichever way was best for Stanley; there was one other reason why Gloucester would not trust him too far. He had recently married Margaret Beaufort, that very strong-minded woman, who was descended from John of Gaunt and was also the mother of Henry Tudor. That upstart of very questionable parentage had of late begun to hint that he had a claim to the throne as grandson of Queen Katherine the widow of Henry the Fifth through a liaison – though the Tudors called it marriage – with Owen Tudor. Royalty on both sides, said Tudor, counting Katherine of France as his grandmother and John of Gaunt through his mother.

These had been Edward’s men. It sometimes happened that when there was a change of rule there had to be a clean sweep. He wanted none of them – except perhaps Hastings. Buckingham was at his right hand. Buckingham was royal and the second peer in the land after himself. Then on a humbler scale there were Richard Ratcliffe, Francis Lovell, William Catesby ... men who were his tried friends and had been over the years.

He was going to need staunch and trusted friends. The position was dangerous. If he were defeated by the Woodvilles they would have no compunction in destroying him. He was fighting not only for what he believed to be right but for his life.

It would be good to see Anne who was coming south for the coronation which was fixed for the twenty-fourth of June.

He met her on the outskirts of London and as soon as he saw her he was appalled by her frail looks. She always looked more delicate than ever after an absence. He had hoped that she would have their son with her although he had known that the little boy’s health might have prevented his travelling.

Anne smiled as he took her hand; there was sadness in that smile for she noticed how he looked eagerly for their son and the disappointment on his face when he realised he was not with her. ‘Welcome to London, my dear,’ he said.

‘I could not bring Edward,’ she told him. ‘I dared not. His cough has worsened and I thought the journey would be too much for him.’

He nodded. ‘He will grow out of the weakness,’ he said with an attempt at assurance, but he added: ‘Praise God.’

‘Oh yes. He was better in the spring.’ She smiled and tried to look excited but all she could really feel was exhaustion. Being with Richard lately had always been something of an ordeal because she must continually pretend that her health was improving – and as that was far from the case it was not easy.

As they rode side by side into the City, he told her that the King was in the Palace of the Tower and that the coronation would be on the twenty-fourth of June. It was now the fifth so there was not much time.

There was a great deal to tell Anne but he did not want to overwhelm her with the detail of events nor did he wish to alarm her. He could see that she was uneasy when she heard that the Queen was in Sanctuary.

He took her to Crosby Place, his residence in London, and as soon as she arrived he insisted that she rest. He sat beside her bed and talked to her, explaining how the Woodvilles had tried to get control of the King, that their ambitions had to be curbed and it was for this reason that he had had to imprison Lord Rivers and Lord Richard Grey. The King was not very pleased about this.

‘You see, Anne, they have brought him up to be a Woodville. My brother was too easy-going. He allowed the Queen to surround him with her relations. They have taught him that they are wonderful, wise and good.’

‘Does it mean that he turns from you?’

Richard nodded ruefully. ‘But I shall change that. He will learn in time.’

‘I do wish there need not be this conflict,’ said Anne, ‘and I wish that you could come back to Middleham.’

‘It will be some time before I do, I doubt not. My brother left this task to me and I must fulfil it.’

Then he talked of Middleham to soothe her and he asked about their son’s progress with his lessons, for he was clever and his academic achievements made a happier subject than his health.

Anne slept at last and as Richard was leaving her chamber one of his attendants came to tell him that Robert Stillington, the Bishop of Bath and Wells was below and urgently seeking a word with him.

Richard immediately commanded that the Bishop be brought to him. He bade him be seated and to tell him the nature of this important news.

Stillington folded his hands and looked thoughtful. After arriving with a certain amount of urgency he seemed reluctant to explain the cause of his visit.

Richard knew that he was one of those ambitious men who sought advancement through the Church. There were plenty of them about. He had been a staunch Yorkist and in 1467 had become Lord Chancellor, an office of which he had been deprived on the restoration of the House of Lancaster; but it was given back to him when Edward returned. He resigned after a few years and when Edward had been a little disturbed by Henry Tudor’s bombastic claims, Stillington had been sent to Brittany to try to persuade the Duke to surrender him to Edward.

He had failed and later he had been put into the Tower at the time of Clarence’s death on a matter which had been somewhat secret and of which Richard was ignorant. It had seemed too trivial at the time to enquire about and Edward had dismissed it. In any case Stillington had soon been released.

Now here was Stillington with this urgent news which he prefaced by explaining it was for the ears of the Duke of Gloucester alone, for he himself did not know what use should be made of it.

All impatience Richard urged him to explain and Stillington burst out: ‘My lord, the late King was not truly married to Elizabeth Woodville.’

Richard stared at him in astonishment.

‘Oh my lord,’ went on Stillington, ‘this is true. I know it full well. I myself was in attendance on the King when he gave his vows to another lady. She went into a convent it is true but she was still living at the time when the King went through a form of marriage with Elizabeth Woodville.’

‘My lord Bishop, do you realise what you are saying?’

‘Indeed I do, my lord. I have pondered long on this matter. There is only one other occasion when I mentioned it and I told the one whom I thought it most concerned: the Duke of Clarence.’

‘You told my brother this!’ Richard stared in horror at the Bishop. ‘When ... when?’

‘It was just before his death.’

It was becoming clear now. Events were falling into place. Stillington in the Tower. Clarence drowned in a butt of malmsey. Clarence would have had to die, possessed as he was of such knowledge.

How deeply it concerned Clarence, for it meant that he, not Edward’s son, was heir to the throne!

And Clarence had died. Edward had seen to that. At the same time he had imprisoned Stillington and suddenly the Bishop had found himself in the Tower.

But why had Edward let him go free? Wasn’t that typical of Edward? He always believed the best of people. He wanted to be on good terms with them. He could imagine his saying to Stillington: ‘Give me your word that you will tell no one else and you shall go free on payment of a trivial ransom.’ And Stillington would give his word to Edward, which he had kept until this moment. But he was of course exonerated from his promise now.

He was speaking slowly. ‘You say my brother married ... before he went through the form of marriage with the Queen.’

‘I say it most emphatically, my lord. For I performed it.’

‘My brother had many mistresses ...’

‘The Queen was one of them, my lord.’

‘No doubt this was some light of love ...’

‘No, no, my lord. The lady was Lady Eleanor Butler, daughter of the Earl of Shrewsbury. She was a widow when the King saw her.’

‘He had a fancy for widows or wives it seems,’ murmured Richard. ‘Go on. Old Talbot’s daughter.’

‘Her husband had been Thomas Butler, Lord Sudeley’s heir. She was some years older than the King.’

‘He liked older women,’ mused Richard.

‘He went through this form of marriage with her. She was his wife when he went through a form of marriage with Elizabeth Woodville. The Lady Eleanor went into a convent and I discovered that she died there in 1468.’

‘So she died after he went through the form of marriage with Elizabeth Woodville.’

‘Exactly, my lord. You see what this means?’

‘It means that Elizabeth Woodville was the King’s mistress and the Prince now living in the Palace of the Tower is a bastard.’

‘It means exactly that, my lord.’

‘My lord Bishop, you have shocked me deeply. I beg of you to say nothing of this to anyone ... anyone whatsoever, do you hear?’

‘I shall remain silent, my lord, until I have your permission to tell the truth.’

‘I appreciate your coming to me.’

‘I thought it was something which should be told.’

‘It must be kept secret. I must ponder on this. I must decide whether or how it should be acted upon.’

‘I understand, my lord, and I give you my word.’

‘Thank you, Bishop. You have done right to tell me.’

When the Bishop had left Richard stared in front of him visualising the prospect ahead of him.

Jane Shore was happier than she had been since the death of the King. It was a revelation to her that she was actually beginning to care about the man she had intended to dupe and who for years she had deeply resented. But Hastings was very different from that brash young man who had tried to abduct her. She had become an obsession with him over the years when he had watched her with the King and realised her qualities. Now he was finding that kindliness, that gentle wit, all her outstanding beauty was for him.

His friends laughed. Hastings has settled down, they said. His wife, Katherine Neville, daughter of the Earl of Salisbury had long been indifferent to his philanderings. They had had three sons and a daughter so the marriage could be called successful after a fashion. They did not attempt to interfere with each other’s way of life and Hastings had been closer to the King than to anyone else on earth. Edward had even said that when they died they should be buried side by side so that, good friends that they had always been in life – apart from that one occasion when the Woodvilles had sought to sow discord between them and had quickly discovered that it was useless – they should not be parted in death.

Jane talked to him a great deal about the Queen. She was rather sad about her; Hastings believed her conscience worried her. Had she wronged the Queen by taking her husband from her? Hastings laughed at that. Edward had had many mistresses and the fact that Jane had been his favourite had not harmed the Queen in any way.

The King was in the Palace of the Tower and no one whom he wished to see was prevented from seeing him – except his mother and his brother and sisters who were in Sanctuary. No one prevented them but what would have happened to them if they had emerged was uncertain.

He was delighted to see Hastings, knowing him as his father’s best friend. He did know that his mother did not like Hastings but he had a vague idea that it was due to the fact that they went out a great deal together drinking and carousing with women. It was understandable. But all the same Edward could not help being attracted by Hastings.

Hastings had a similar charm to that of the late King. He was good-looking, easy to talk to and made a young King who was not very sure of himself feel absolutely comfortable in his presence. He was very different from his Uncle Gloucester who was so serious always and made him feel at a disadvantage. Mistress Jane Shore visited him too. No one stopped her and he had always liked Jane. She was always so merry and at the same time she seemed to understand that he grew tired quickly and that when his gums bled and his teeth hurt he was a little irritable.

Jane would say: ‘Oh it’s those old gums again is it. Not really our King who scowls at me?’

She understood that he didn’t want to be miserable but he couldn’t help it; and that made him feel a great deal better.

‘I wish I could see my mother,’ he said. ‘I wish she would come here. Why does she have to hide herself away?’

‘I could go and see her in the Sanctuary and tell her you want to see her.’

‘Would you, Jane?’

‘But of course. There is nothing to stop my visiting her.’

‘I am the King. I should be the one to say who goes where.’

‘You will in time.’

‘Anyone would think my uncle Richard was the King. I wish my brother Richard would come here. We could play together and I wouldn’t be so lonely.’

‘I will go to Sanctuary and tell them what you say,’ Jane promised him.

Later she talked to Hastings about the sadness of the little King. ‘Poor child, for he is nothing more, to be there in the Tower with all that ceremony! I don’t think he enjoys his kingship very much. He would rather be with his family. I know you don’t like the Woodvilles, William, but they are devoted to each other.’

Hastings was thoughtful. He did not like the Woodvilles. They had always been his enemies and particularly so since Edward had bestowed the Captaincy of Calais upon him. If they could have done so they would have destroyed him. He had supported Gloucester because he was so strongly against the Woodvilles, and he had thought he would be Gloucester‘s right-hand man as he had been Edward’s. But Buckingham had arrived – Buckingham who had never done anything before this day. And now here he was firmly beside the Protector so that everyone else was relegated to the background.

Hastings was turning more and more against Gloucester with every day. Perhaps Jane had something to do with this. She liked the Woodvilles; she had this ridiculous notion that she owed something to the Queen because she had taken her husband. The Woodvilles were powerful even though Rivers and Richard Grey were in prison, Dorset in exile and the Queen and her family in Sanctuary.

Then it began to dawn on Hastings – with a little prompting from Jane – that as by siding with Gloucester against them he had promoted Gloucester, so perhaps he could relegate Gloucester to a secondary place by supporting the Woodvilles. His visits to the young King showed him clearly where the boy’s sympathies lay. The King wanted to be with his family; he trusted his family; he had been brought up by Woodvilles to believe in their greatness and goodness and he had learned his lessons well. Any who wanted to be friends with the King would have to be friends with the Woodvilles.

This last decided Hastings. He had finished with Gloucester who had taken Buckingham so strongly to his side so that there was room for no one else, although but for him the King would have been crowned before Gloucester even knew of his brother’s death. Very well, he would turn to the Woodvilles. He would feel his way with them and the first thing would be to let the Queen know of his change of heart.

‘If I went to the Sanctuary it would be noticed at once,’ said Hastings. ‘Gloucester would hear of it and I should be under arrest in no time.’

‘I have promised the King that I will visit his mother,’ said Jane. ‘Why should I not take some communication from you?’

So it was arranged, and Jane Shore paid frequent visits to the Sanctuary.

Elizabeth was delighted to see her, to have news of the King, and to receive the information that Hastings was turning away from Gloucester and was ready to side with her and her family filled her with hope.

William Catesby was talking earnestly to the Duke of Gloucester. Richard trusted Catesby; there was a sincerity about the man which he had noticed from the first; he was well versed in the law and could offer useful advice on that subject. It was men such as Catesby and Ratcliffe that Richard liked to gather about him.

He was uneasy about Hastings. The fact that Hastings had taken Jane Shore as his mistress seemed somewhat shocking to Richard. Although he had always been dismayed by his brother’s way of life and thought that side of his nature to be a flaw in the idol, he had accepted it with Edward; he could not quite do so with Hastings. He himself had lived a comparatively virtuous life – he had been faithful since his marriage and it was only before that that he had had a mistress and two illegitimate children.

He knew that he had to make allowances but Hastings had been licentious and revelled in that state; he had, the Queen had always said, led the late King into wild sexual adventures. And now that he was with Jane Shore who had already passed through Dorset’s hands, Richard felt quite disgusted.

This had made him turn away from Hastings. He did not really want the man in his councils. He liked him personally. Hastings was a man who knew how to charm; he was influential but he had to be treated with care.

Now here was Catesby with a disturbing story.

Catesby had worked close to Hastings. It was Hastings who had been a kind of patron to him, who had helped him in his career; he had advanced him considerably in the counties of Northampton and Leicestershire and Hastings it was who had first brought him to Richard’s notice.

Richard had liked him immediately and given him a place in his councils. Now it was very disturbing that Catesby should be talking in this way to him of Hastings.

Hastings trusted Catesby. Hastings was a little like the late King in the way he accepted what he wanted to, and looked the other way if something displeased him.

Hastings should not be so trusting.

Catesby was saying that he could not believe this was really true, but he feared it was. Hastings was in communication with the Queen.

‘How so?’ asked Richard.

‘By way of Jane Shore. She visits the Queen in Sanctuary. I have watched her. I have paid people in the Sanctuary to listen to what is said between the Queen and Mistress Shore.’

‘And Hastings?’

‘My lord, he is ready to betray you, to take sides with the Woodvilles, to get the Queen out of Sanctuary and rouse the people to the side of the King. The King thinks his mother and uncle can do no wrong.’

‘I know that well,’ said Richard. ‘He has made that obvious to me.’

‘Hastings has hinted to me what is in his mind,’ said Catesby. ‘He trusts me. He looks on me as his man. My lord, I owe my allegiance to you ... not to Hastings. Thus I have undertaken the painful task of telling you what is in his mind and what I have discovered about him.’

‘It is a grievous shock to me,’ said Richard. ‘I trusted Hastings. He was my brother’s best friend.’

‘My lord you should trust him no more.’

‘Rest assured I shall not, and when I have discovered that there is indeed a plot I shall know how to act.’

Catesby said: ‘Then I have done my duty.’

‘I thank you. This shall be dealt with. And in the meantime watch for me. Let me know if there is anything more passing between them. Find out all you can of how Hastings conducts himself.’

Catesby swore that he would.

After he had left Buckingham called on Richard and was told what Catesby had revealed. Buckingham listened intently.

‘Hastings was always a fool,’ he said. ‘There is only one way to deal with traitors even if they are fools.’

‘So thought I,’ said Richard. ‘But there is more to discover yet. Buckingham, there is something else of great moment that I would say to you. Stillington has been to me with a strange revelation. He says that my brother was not indeed married to Elizabeth Woodville.’

‘Can this really be so?’

‘So says he. He married my brother to Lady Eleanor Butler,’

‘By God! Old Shrewsbury’s daughter. Eleanor was my cousin – my sister’s daughter. She would have been more suitable to be Queen of England than the Woodville woman.’

‘Yes, you are right. Eleanor Butler went into a convent and died there, but several years after my brother’s so called marriage with Elizabeth Woodville.’

‘Then, Richard, you are King of England.’

‘It would seem so ... if Stillington speaks truth.’

‘Why should he not speak truth?’

‘These are weighty matters. They must be proved.’

‘By God, they must be. And when they are ... This is good news. We shall have a mature king, a king who knows how to govern. There will be no regency ... no protectorate ... no boy King. It is an answer from Heaven.’

‘Not so fast, my lord. First we must prove it. There is much to be done. What I fear more than anything is to plunge this country into civil war. We have had enough of that. We want no more wars.’

‘But you must be proclaimed King.’

‘Not yet. Let us wait. Let it be proved. Let us test the mood of the people.’

‘The people will acclaim their true King.’

‘We must first make sure that they are ready to do so.’

Richard stared ahead of him. He had let out the secret. That it would have tremendous consequences he had no doubt.

It was a devastating discovery. Men such as Buckingham could act rashly. Buckingham’s idea was that Richard should immediately claim the throne. It was what Buckingham would have done had he been in Richard’s position. As a matter of fact Buckingham himself believed that he had claim to the throne – a flimsy one it was true but he made it clear sometimes that he was aware of it.

Richard found himself in a quandary. He wanted to be in command because he knew he was capable of ruling. He had proved that by the order he had kept in the North. He wanted to keep the country prosperous and at peace and the last thing he wanted was a civil war.

The young King disliked him more every day and one of the main reasons was that he was imprisoning Lord Rivers and Richard Grey, and the fact that his mother was in Sanctuary. Young Edward blamed Gloucester for this, which was logical enough; but the King did not understand that his mother and his maternal relations would ruin the country if they ever came to complete power. Lord Rivers was indeed a charming man; he had become a champion in the jousts, he had all the Woodville good looks; he was quite saintly when he remembered to be but he was as avaricious as the rest of the family and he wanted to govern the King. That was what all the Woodvilles wanted. So did Richard for that matter. The difference was that Edward the Fourth had appointed his brother as Protector and guardian of the King for he knew – as Richard knew – that Richard alone was capable of governing the country in the wise strong way which the late King had followed.

Yet the King disliked his uncle. The only way in which Richard could win his regard was by freeing the Woodvilles and to do that he would have to become one of them. There were so many of them and they had gathered so much power and riches during Edward’s lifetime that they would absorb him. He would become a minor figure. He would in fact become a follower of the Woodvilles. It would mean too that he would have to sacrifice his friends – Buckingham, Northumberland, Catesby, Ratcliffe ... It was unthinkable. He ... a Plantagenet to become a hanger-on of the Woodvilles!

The alternative to all this was to take power himself. It seemed to him that he had every right to do this. In the first place he had been appointed by his brother to be the Protector of the Realm and the young King. And now Stillington had come along with this revelation. If it were indeed true that his brother had not been legally married to Elizabeth Woodville he, Richard of Gloucester, was the true King of England.

He could take power with a free conscience. If the people would accept him as their King, he could prevent civil war. He could rule in peace as his brother had done. It was his duty to take the crown. It was also becoming his dearest wish.

But he must go carefully. He had rarely ever been rash. He liked to weigh up a situation, decide on how to act, then consider the consequences – the good and the bad for there were invariably good and bad in all matters.

This marriage with Eleanor Butler would have to be proved. Its consequences would be so overwhelming that there must be no hurrying into a decision on it. He must have time to think on it.

In the meantime there were other pressing matters to be dealt with. Hastings, for instance. Hastings had great power. He had believed him to be loyal. Hastings had warned him of the King’s death and the need to come prepared to London. That had stood him in great stead. Without that warning he might not have heard of his brother’s death until after young Edward’s coronation and that would have been too late. He owed something to Hastings.

Yet Hastings was in touch with Elizabeth Woodville; he had seen the King. Jane Shore took messages to the Sanctuary. They were plotting against him. Richard hated disloyalty more than anything. He had chosen his motto ‘Loyalty binds me’ because it meant so much to him.

If Hastings were deceiving him, he deserved to die, and die he must, for he would be the link between the King and the Woodvilles and if his conspiracy were allowed to proceed it could be the end of Richard. They would have no compunction in beheading him, he knew. They hated and feared him; and the King could give his ready consent.

There must be prompt action. He sent for Richard Ratcliffe, a man whom he trusted. Ratcliffe had been Comptroller of King Edward’s household and his efficient management of affairs had aroused Richard’s interest in him. He came from Lancashire and Richard knew his family in the North. He was a man he trusted.

‘I want you to ride with all speed to York. Take this letter from me and it is to be put into the hands of the Mayor. I want him to raise men and come south to assist me, and to do so with all speed.’

He had written that he needed men and arms to assist him against the Queen and her blood adherents and affinity who, he was assured, intended to destroy him and his cousin the Duke of Buckingham, as the old royal blood of the realm.

‘This,’ said Richard, ‘is of the utmost importance. Delay could cost me my life. Impress this on my good friends in the North.’

‘I will do this, my lord, and leave at once.’

Richard Ratcliffe took the letters and set off.

But Richard of Gloucester knew that he could not afford to wait for help from the North.

It was Friday, the thirteenth of June, two days after Ratcliffe had left for the North. The Protector had summoned the Council to assemble in the Tower for a meeting. There was nothing strange about this for meetings at this time occurred frequently and the Tower was usually chosen for them to take place.

Among those who were to attend were Archbishop Rotherham, Morton Bishop of Ely, Lord Stanley and Lord Hastings.

Richard knew exactly what he had to do.

It was going to be extremely distasteful, but it had to be done. It was either that or his own head and disaster for England as he saw it. So he must not shirk his duty. His brother had not when it came to the point. Clarence had signed his death warrant when he had taunted Edward with the illegitimacy of his children.

Edward had been strong, as Richard must be.

It was a beautiful morning. The sun dappled the water of the Thames as his barge bore him along. He alighted and looked back along the river and then turned to face the Tower. The King was there ... in the Palace. He must remain there until the Protector had decided how best to act.

He met Bishop Morton as he was about to enter the council chamber. He was affable though in his heart he was deeply suspicious of the Bishop. A staunch Lancastrian who had changed sides and served Edward of York when it was expedient to do so. Richard could never like such men; he would have had more respect for him if he had refused to serve Edward and had gone into exile. Not the ambitious Bishop. He was very comfortable in his palace in Ely Place, where he had the most magnificent gardens.

‘I hear your strawberries are particularly fine this year, Bishop,’ said Richard.

‘That’s so, my lord. The weather has been right for them.’

‘I trust you will give me an opportunity to sample them.’

‘My lord, it will be an honour. I will have them sent to Crosby Place. I doubt not the Lady Anne will like them.’

‘Thank you, Bishop.’

Stanley, Rotherham and Hastings had arrived. They all looked relaxed. It was clear that they had no notion yet as to what was about to take place.

Richard veiled the distaste he felt on beholding Hastings. He must have come straight from Jane Shore. He looked jaunty, younger than of late. He was clearly enjoying the company of the late King’s favourite mistress.

The council meeting proceeded and after a while Richard said: ‘My lords, will you continue without me for a while. There is something to which I have to attend. I shall be with you ere long.’ That was the first intimation the members of the Council had that morning that something strange might be afoot. That Richard should suddenly leave them in this way was unusual. It was almost as though he were preparing himself for some ordeal and wished to steel himself before attempting it.

Hastings was thinking that although Richard appeared to be cool he had seemed a little preoccupied. For instance he had not glanced Hastings’s way since he had appeared. But there was all that chat about Morton’s strawberries. That was natural enough. Hastings thought: I imagined this. It is because of Jane. She was worried because he was getting very deeply involved in the conspiracy with the Queen.

Richard had come back. He looked quite different from the man who had left the council chamber. His face was white; there was a look of bitter determination in his eyes.

He spoke quietly but firmly. ‘My lords, you know well who it was whom my brother set up as guardian of his son, do you not?’

‘Indeed yes, my lord. It was you ... his brother.’

‘That is true. But there are traitors who would deprive me of my rights ... who would destroy me. What punishment would they deserve who are guilty of this?’

No one spoke. They were all so astonished, taken off their guard as they were.

‘You do not answer me. My lord Hastings, what think you?’

‘Well, my lord, if any have done this they deserve to be punished.’

‘Whoever they be, my lord Hastings, whoever they be? I will tell you who have sought to do this to me. I will name these traitors. They have plotted against me ... The Queen is one ... and Jane Shore, my brother’s mistress, is another. These two have worked together ... against me.’

Hastings felt limp with fear at the mention of Jane’s name. He knew what was coming. He knew her visits to the Sanctuary had been remarked on. Gloucester knew ...

It had happened too suddenly for him to think clearly. He could only stare at the fierce eyes of the Protector glowing in his pale face.

‘Now, if these women have conspired against me then they are traitors ... What should be the fate of traitors?’ There was silence round the table. Everyone’s eyes were on Gloucester. He had turned to Hastings.

‘You are silent, my lord. Tell us what should be the fate of these ... traitors.’

Hastings forced himself to speak. ‘If they have done these things and if they can be proved against them ...’ he began.

Richard turned to him. ‘You answer me with your ifs and your ands. I tell you this, they have done it. And you have been with them in this treachery !’ He struck his fist on the table with such violence that all those watching drew back in their seats. ‘I will make good on your body, my lord Hastings.’

There was a moment of silence. For half a second Richard wavered. He looked at Hastings. He had been fond of this man who had been Edward’s greatest friend. Edward had found great pleasure in his company. But that made the remedy ever more necessary. Hastings had known that Edward had appointed him; and yet he was ready to play the traitor not only to Richard but to Edward.

There must be no softening; he must be strong. Everything depended on how he acted at this time.

He looked steadily at Hastings.

‘I swear I will not dine until your head is severed from your body. You are a traitor, Hastings, and the reward of traitors should be death.’

He rapped on the table. It was the sign he had told the guards to wait for. They came in shouting: ‘Treason.’

Richard looked at the guards and the ashen faces of the men about the table.

‘Arrest these men,’ cried Richard, indicating Rotherham, Morton and Stanley.

Take them away. But not my lord Hastings. No ... not my lord Hastings. You, traitor, shall die now.’

It was the signal. The guards seized the four men. Rotherham and Morton were taken to lodgings in the Tower; Stanley went to his home under guard; but Hastings was conducted at once to the Green and a priest was found for him so that he could hastily be shriven.

Hastings, bewildered still, stood on the Green. It was so sudden. This morning he had said adieu to Jane, now his loving mistress, just as he had always wanted her to be – telling her he would soon be with her.

He had been happy. He was dabbling with conspiracy it was true but that added a certain zest to his life. He had been reckless; he had been foolish; he had never liked the Woodvilles. He saw how foolish he had been to think of throwing in his lot with them. Gloucester was a strong man. Edward had seen that when he had named him as Protector.

And now, this was the reward of his folly. This was the end.

There was no executioner’s block but men had been working at the Tower and they found a piece of wood which would serve.

The soft and balmy air caressed his face as Hastings laid his head on the hastily improvised block and died.

The cries of treason had been heard in the city and the apprentices had come running into the streets brandishing any weapon they could lay their hands on, while the merchants were prepared to protect their shops, and the mayor was ready to marshal his forces. If there was treason in the air, if there were to be battles then London must protect itself.

Richard immediately sent a herald into the streets who rode along sounding his trumpet and asking the people to listen to what he had to tell them. There was no cause for alarm. All that had happened was that a conspiracy had been discovered and those responsible had received their just rewards. Lord Hastings had plotted to destroy the Protector and the Duke of Buckingham and had himself been beheaded. All knew that Hastings had lured the late King to live licentiously and Hastings was at this time the lover of the late King’s mistress Jane Shore – a whore and a witch; he had been with Jane Shore on the previous night and the woman was disclosed as one involved in the conspiracy.

‘Put away your weapons, good citizens,’ cried the herald. ‘Danger has been averted by the prompt action of the Protector.’

The Londoners were delighted to do this. Trouble they did not want. But the crowds stayed in the streets to ask themselves what would happen next. It was an uneasy situation. A King who was a minor was always a source of trouble. The Queen was in Sanctuary and the Woodvilles in decline. That was good. The Londoners had never liked the rapacious Woodvilles. There was the Lord Protector who had proved himself a worthy ruler in the North to look after the country.

‘If the Lord Protector took the crown,’ said some, ‘it would not be a bad thing.’

‘There is the little King,’ replied some of the women.

‘Little Kings cause trouble,’ was the answer.

But they were all delighted that there was to be no fighting in the streets.

Richard immediately called a meeting of the Council to explain the reason for his prompt action. It was always dangerous to execute men without trial.

There was not a man among them who did not realise the need for prompt action. Many of them knew that Hastings had deviated from his loyalty to Richard; they knew too of his association with Jane Shore and it was a fact that the goldsmith’s wife visited the King and the Queen. It was all very plausible. Gloucester had done what any strong man would.

Richard was anxious to show that he bore no personal venom towards Hastings. The late King had asked that Hastings be buried beside him so Richard ordered that the body should be taken to Windsor and there buried close to Edward in that chapel of St George’s which Edward had started to build and which was as yet incomplete. As for Hastings’s widow, Katherine, she should not be deprived of her goods, and Richard would take her under his protection.

Jane Shore, he said, was of little importance robbed of her protectors. She was a harlot and as such should do penance and be deprived of her possessions. He would pass her over to the Church which could decide what her penance should be, and when it was performed she should be forgotten. He would take no action against her. She had been loved by his brother and he would remember that. The penance and the loss of the goods his brother and others had bestowed on her would be punishment enough.

Now to more serious business.

Elizabeth Woodville must be persuaded to come out of Sanctuary. If she would do this she could reside with the King and he and the Duke of York could be together as they wished; and so could the King’s daughters.

If, however, the Queen refused to leave Sanctuary – and she could not be forced to do so – then the Duke of York must be taken from her.

The Council agreed that the choice should be put to her.

There was a great deal of rumour flying round not only London but the entire country.

First there was the spectacle of Jane Shore’s walking through the streets barefooted wrapped in a worsted robe, a lighted taper in her hand.

It was the ultimate degradation. They had sought to humiliate her and this they had done indeed.

She was stricken with grief. She blamed herself for the death of Hastings. She had brought him into the conspiracy with the Queen. But for her he would be alive today.

She could see the people as she walked; they crowded about her, eyes filled with curiosity, with malice, and with pleasure! They had envied her once when she was the adored mistress of the King. They had cheered her often. She had always tried to do what she could for the people. They had known it and loved her for it. But on occasions like these it was not those people who came out to gloat; it was the malicious, the envious, those who considered themselves virtuous.

‘Harlot,’ they called her. Well, she supposed she was. A whore was not a better one because she was a King’s whore.

No. She had loved the King; she had loved Hastings. The goldsmith ... no she had never loved him but she had been forced into that marriage by her father. The relationship with Dorset had not been a good one. She was ashamed of that. But where was Dorset now ... plotting somewhere against the Protector.

The Protector despised her. She believed he always had. She knew he had deplored the King’s fondness for her. The Protector was cold, aloof but just, she believed. He might have sentenced her to death himself instead of handing her over to the Bishop of London.

She was sure that remembering his brother’s fondness for her he had been lenient.

This horror would pass.

Her feet were bleeding for the cobbles were sharp; she was aware of the eyes that followed her. Into the Cathedral she went with her taper; and then out once more to make confession at Paul’s Cross.

Eyes watched her. All marvelled at her; because she who had so much had sunk so low.

Jane was desolate. Edward was gone; Hastings was gone.

What was there left for her?

Chapter XIII ‘MY LIFE WAS LENT’

It was three days since the death of Hastings. The Council had decided that a proposition must be put to the Queen. With an armed guard they rode up the river to Westminster.

It was decided that the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Bourchier, should head the deputation to the Queen and that Lord Howard should go with him.

Richard and Buckingham would await their return in the Palace.

Elizabeth received them with great misgiving. She had heard of Hastings’s execution and that Jane Shore had been set to do penance; she had also heard that Jane had been deprived of her worldly goods.

It was a great setback. Elizabeth had been hoping for a great deal from an alliance with Hastings. She and he had always been such great enemies and the fact that he had sought a reconciliation had been particularly pleasing to her.

Elizabeth had always enjoyed intrigue, and from the moment she and her mother had set out to capture the King and succeeded in doing so, she had believed she had a special talent for it.

She had looked forward to Jane Shore’s visits and now of course someone had betrayed them.

She wondered what this deputation meant. That it was of the greatest importance was obvious from the presence of the Archbishop of Canterbury.

He greeted her with respect as indeed he should. Was she not the mother of the King? How she longed to see her son; and how comforting it had been when Jane had brought her messages from him.

The Archbishop came straight to the point.

‘My lady, it is the wish of the Protector that you emerge from Sanctuary,’ he said. ‘You need have no fear. You have the Duke of Gloucester’s word that you shall be treated as the mother of the King.’

Elizabeth lifted her head and her eyes glittered.

‘What of my brother, Lord Rivers? Richard of Gloucester has imprisoned him. For what reason?’

‘My lady, you must know that your brother Lord Rivers and your son Lord Richard Grey attempted to take the King from the Protector. They withheld from him the news of the King’s death. It is for this reason that they are now his captives.’

‘As I should be if I came out of Sanctuary.’

‘That is not so, my lady. You have not committed these offences.’

‘I do not trust the Duke of Gloucester.’

‘He prides himself on keeping his word. He promised the late King that he would guard his son and that is what he is determined to do.’

‘I am the King’s mother. It is for me to guard him.’

Bourchier bowed his head and started again. ‘The Protector offers you an alternative. Come out of Sanctuary or deliver to me the Duke of York.’

‘Deliver him to you! Why? He is a child. He should be with his mother.’

‘His brother is asking for him. He wants him to join him in his apartments in the Tower.’

‘I shall not let him go.’

‘My lady, you have no alternative. Either you must come out of Sanctuary with your son and daughters – and the Protector promises that if you do you will be treated with the respect due to your rank – or you must deliver up the Duke of York.’

Elizabeth was silent. She did not want to lose her son; on the other hand dared she emerge from Sanctuary? Her great hope lay in trying to raise an insurrection against the Protector which she had thought possible through Hastings.

She must stay in Sanctuary.

What if she let the little Duke go? He would be with his brother. Poor child, he would hate to leave her and his sisters, but he would be going to his brother ... and it would be good for Edward to have his little brother with him.

Should she leave Sanctuary so that they could all be together? It was what her maternal feelings told her she should do. She knew Gloucester well enough to know that he would not be harsh with her unless she deliberately plotted against him. In truth he had been lenient with Jane Shore. He suspected her of plotting; she had indeed brought messages from Hastings; some would have had her head for that. Penance and confiscation had been enough for Gloucester.

No, he would not be hard on her. He would remember his brother’s affection for her and for that reason he would be kind.

She should leave Sanctuary.

No ... no ... that would be the end of hope. She would be safer in here.

She would have to let Richard go.

It was a fateful decision. In later years she often thought of it and wondered what would have happened to her sons if she had left Sanctuary at that time and kept all the family with her.

She sent for Richard. He came running to her. He was a charming little boy, more healthy than his elder brother and of a merry disposition. Poor Edward was often tired, suffering as he did from that strange disease of the bones which, said the doctors, prevented them growing as they should normally. Poor little King, he would never be like his father. It was different with Richard, he was a healthy, normal boy.

‘Richard, my little one,’ she said to him, putting her arms round him and holding him close to her, ‘you are going to see Edward.’

‘Oh, my lady, when do we go? Now?’

‘We are not going. I and your sisters have to stay here. It is just you who are going.’

‘Is Edward coming back to us?’

‘No, you are going to stay with Edward.’

‘When are you coming?’

‘That, sweetheart, I cannot say. It will depend on your uncle.’

‘I don’t like my uncle.’

‘Dearest, none of us do but for a while we have to do as he says.’ She held him to her and whispered in his ear. ‘It won’t always be so. Now you have to go with the Archbishop and he will take you to Edward and you will be able to shoot your arrows together.’

Richard smiled. ‘I can shoot further than Edward,’ he said.

‘Well, you must remember that he is not so well as you are. You will always remember that, won’t you?’

‘Yes, my lady. But you will come and be with us soon, won’t you, and Elizabeth ... and Cecily ...’

‘As soon as I can I shall be there. You don’t think I like being separated from my boys, do you?’

‘No, dear Mother, you do not. And you hate ...’

‘Hush ... Not before these gentlemen.’

The boy put his arms round her neck and whispered: ‘Dear Mother, I don’t like them much either.’

‘This is the Archbishop of Canterbury, my love, and Lord Howard. They are going to take care of you.’ She lifted pleading eyes to the Archbishop. ‘You will take care of him, my lord? I want your promise.’

‘I give it, my lady. I pledge my life for the Prince’s safety.’

‘Then take him and remember those words. Goodbye, my little one. Say goodbye to your sisters. You are going to be with your brother and I shall be thinking of you both so dearly. Tell him that, will you?’

‘Yes, dear lady, I will.’

‘And remember it yourself.’

The little boy flung his arms about her. ‘I do not want to leave you, dear Mother. I want to stay with you. I don’t want to go to Edward even ...’

She held him tightly and looked appealingly at the Archbishop, who shook his head.

‘You could go with him, my lady,’ he reminded her.

So she was torn again. She must stay. She dared not go out. How could she know what would happen to her? If she were ever going to regain her hold over her eldest son she must stay in Sanctuary and relinquish his younger brother.

‘Dearest baby, you must go. You must be brave, my love. We shall all be together soon. Edward is lonely for you.’

‘Yes, dear Mother.’

She kissed him tenderly and sent for his sisters who took their leave of him.

And then the Archbishop took the little boy by the hand and led him out of Sanctuary.

That day he entered the Tower to be with his brother.

In his prison at Sheriff Hutton Lord Rivers heard occasional scraps of news as to what was happening throughout the country. That the Protector was in command was obvious. It had been a masterly stroke to arrest him at Northampton for it had given Gloucester a free hand with the King.

Yet how near the Woodvilles had come to success. Once the King had been crowned none could have taken charge of him, young as he was, and Edward was well enough primed to insist on keeping his Woodville relations about him. That would have been the end of the Protector. He would either have had to join the Woodvilles, and quite clearly become an inferior member of the party, or go back to the north. No, that would have been too dangerous. Gloucester had the north with him. It would very likely have been his head for he – Plantagenet that he was – would never have taken a subsidiary role with the Woodvilles.

Oh yes, a master stroke. But then Gloucester was a master at the art of strategy and justice. Edward had thought more highly of him than of anyone else. Elizabeth knew that and had always resented it; but she had realised there was no one to change the King’s opinion and that he would have turned against her if she had tried to.

Gloucester was indeed capable of governing, Rivers conceded that. But oh how the Woodvilles longed to!

And he, Rivers, was at the head of the family. He would have been chief adviser to the King.

Gloucester knew it; that was why Rivers’s fate was inevitable.

Of course Gloucester might have had his head on the spot as he had Hastings’s. That would not have been wise. He might have had the country against him if he had. He wanted to go cautiously, which he had done. He had by the arrest of Rivers and Grey taken over the King; he had delayed the coronation; he had set himself up as Protector, and as the last thing the people wanted was a bloody conflict, for heaven knows they had had enough of that with the Wars of the Roses, they had accepted him. They saw in him a good and steady ruler, and that was what they wanted.

So now there was only one logical fate which could possibly await Rivers. The only question was when would it come, and he guessed it was at hand when the Earl of Northumberland arrived at Sheriff Hutton.

The trial was brief. He was accused of treason and condemned.

It would not have been so easy for them to find him guilty if a quantity of arms had not been found in his baggage which indicated clearly that he was ready to do battle.

He spent his last night in making his will, praying and writing poetry.

‘My life was lent

Me to one intent.

It is nigh spent.

Welcome fortune ...’

He wrote and found some pleasure in musing and writing down how Fortune had treated him and at last brought him to the state in which he now found himself.

He had been told that he would be taken to Pontefract where Richard Grey was being held and Thomas Vaughan would be brought there from Middleham, so that they should all lose their heads in the same place on the same day.

Lord Rivers then asked that he might be buried beside his nephew, Lord Richard Grey.

The request was granted and on the twenty-fourth day of June Lord Rivers, Lord Richard Grey and Sir Thomas Vaughan were beheaded at Pontefract.

Chapter XIV KING RICHARD THE THIRD

Buckingham was growing impatient. A volatile man, impulsive, always seeking excitement, he wanted events to move fast and if they appeared to lag he was always ready to act in such a way as to speed them on.

Richard told him of Stillington’s revelation and Buckingham now suggested that Richard should make this known to the people and then take the crown.

This was a big step which Richard had had in mind for some time, but he hesitated to take it. In the first place it seemed disloyal to the brother whom he had revered for to declare his sons illegitimate would have enraged the late King. On the other hand he must have known the truth – who more than he? And he had had Clarence despatched when Stillington had let the truth slip to him; and Stillington himself had been imprisoned in the Tower.

It was the truth and the fact was that Edward the Fifth had no right to the throne.

The trouble with the country now was that there were rival factions conspiring against each other which was due to the minority of the King. But if the true King were proved to be a grown man, a man who had the ability to govern, what a boon that would be for the country!

Buckingham was right. He should state the truth and tell the people; then he would be proclaimed Richard the Third.

It would save the country from possible civil war – and the country had had enough of that.

He discussed the matter with Buckingham; he pondered the position deeply. It was right that the truth should be known. It was best for the country.

How should the secret be revealed?

‘Let the Lord Mayor of London make the announcement from Paul’s Cross,’ suggested Buckingham. ‘The Londoners will listen to their Lord Mayor as to none other and Sir Edmund Shaa is a good man for the job.’

‘My brother knew him well and thought highly of him.’

‘Indeed he did. Shaa is a prosperous goldsmith and you know how your brother liked such men. Didn’t he find Jane in a goldsmith’s shop? Shaa is a member of the Goldsmiths’ Company and now Lord Mayor, so let us see him and tell him what is required of him.’

‘Yes,’ said Richard. ‘Send for him.’

Sir Edmund Shaa came to Baynard’s Castle for the Protector had moved there from Crosby Place about the time when young Edward had taken up residence in the Tower.

Shaa listened. He had known the late King at the time of his obsession with Eleanor Butler and he could well believe that a marriage had taken place. Yes, he saw that if that were so, the true King was Richard and what a good thing it would be for the country if this was generally accepted to be the case.

‘There is another matter,’ he said. ‘I had heard that your brothers, Edward the King and George Duke of Clarence, were not the sons of the Duke of York, and that so incensed was the Duchess of York when the King married Elizabeth Woodville that she said she would make it known that she had taken a lover while the Duke was away on his many campaigns and that Edward and George were the result of this liaison.’

Richard shook his head, but Buckingham was excited. ‘It strengthens the case,’ he said. ‘Both the late King and his son bastards! My lord, we have to think of the country. We want a good case. We must end this strife, for if it goes on it could well result in civil war.’

‘That,’ said Richard, ‘must be stopped at all events. England is more important than anything. A boy King is the biggest danger which can threaten us.’

Buckingham nodded to Sir Edmund. This was tantamount to the Protector’s consent to give the full details at Paul’s Cross.

Buckingham was exultant. The plot was going to work. Within a few days Richard would be proclaimed King of England.

‘I would not wish it without the people’s consent,’ said Richard.

‘My lord, they will be begging you to take the crown.’

From St Paul’s Cross the Lord Mayor spoke to the people. He had grave news for them. A great discovery had been made. The little King who had not yet been crowned as Edward the Fifth was not the true King after all. King Edward the Fourth had already been married when he went through a form of marriage with Elizabeth Woodville.

This had been proved and the King’s real wife was none other than the Lady Eleanor Butler, daughter of the Earl of Shrewsbury – a lady of higher rank than Queen Elizabeth Woodville at the time of her mock marriage. Of course everyone knew how the Woodvilles had risen since that time but let the people consider, they owed their rise to a ceremony which was invalid and should never have been performed at all. The truth was that the young boy whom they called King Edward the Fifth was a bastard and therefore should never have been called King.

There was only one true King of England. They knew him well. He had done good service in the North and held back the Scots. He had served his country and brother with absolute loyalty and devotion. And he was the true King of England.

There was one other matter. Edward himself had been a bastard. The Duchess of York had taken occasional lovers during her husband’s frequent absences. Both Edward the late King and George Duke of Clarence were bastards. The Duchess herself had threatened to reveal this at the time the late Edward the Fourth went through a form of marriage with Elizabeth Woodville, so shocked had she been that one of what she called such low birth should marry her son. She did not, however, for that would have meant exposing her own dishonour; but now that the King – and make no mistake he had been a great and good King – was dead, they need not despair. What was past was done with. They had a new King, one who had proved his ability to serve them well.

They had King Richard the Third.

There was silence in the crowds about Paul’s Cross. This was the most astounding revelation and if anyone but their Lord Mayor had made it they would have thought he was a madman.

The King married already! The little King a bastard! And those slanderous things they were saying about the Duchess of York!

They wanted to get away to talk together. It was astounding. They did not believe it.

Sir Edmund Shaa watched them walking away, whispering together.

In Baynard’s Castle Buckingham and Richard discussed the people’s reactions.

‘What did their silence mean?’ asked Richard.

‘That they were shocked of course. Although we have heard the rumours they had not. They will take a little time to get used to the idea.’

‘I like it not,’ said Richard. ‘The announcement should never have been made. I liked not the slander against my mother. I’ll swear it is a lie.’

‘The important thing is the King’s pre-contract. You believe that, I’m sure.’

‘I do.’

‘Stillington must be brought forward to show proof.’

‘There is no proof. Only Stillington’s word.’

‘What reason should he have to lie?’

‘He might think it would bring him advancement in a new reign.’

‘He would never dare to lie in such a matter. We must strike again quickly. I will take some of my men with lords and knights to the Guildhall on Tuesday. There I will make a declaration. The people will have crowded into the hall and will have assembled outside. There I shall state the facts again.’

‘I forbid you to mention my mother.’

‘There is no need to. All that matters is that the boy is known as a bastard, and that you are the rightful King of the realm.’

Buckingham went to the Guildhall as he had said he would. There he spoke with the utmost eloquence on the situation which had arisen through the disclosure of Bishop Stillington, and when he had assessed Richard’s claim to the throne, he cried out: ‘Will you accept Richard of Gloucester as Richard the Third of England?’

There was a heavy pause in the crowd which as Buckingham had predicted filled the Guildhall and spilled into the streets outside.

Then some of Buckingham’s men shouted from the back of the hall: ‘Long Live King Richard.’

Buckingham appeared to be satisfied.

The next day the Parliament met. The facts were presented; the marriage discussed, as was the illegitimacy of Edward the Fifth and of Edward the Fourth and the Duke of Clarence. Buckingham reminded the peers that Edward had been born in Rouen and Clarence in Dublin. Richard was a true Englishman for he had seen the light of day at Fotheringay Castle in Northamptonshire. Would they agree that a deputation should be sent to Baynard’s Castle and ask Richard to take the crown? They agreed and the following day, Buckingham led the deputation to the castle where Richard, with a show of reluctance, agreed to accept the crown. The reign of Edward the Fifth was over. That of Richard the Third had begun.

Anne had arrived in London with her son Edward. She was uneasy for she was sure that Edward was not fit to travel. However, on such an occasion she must be present and so must their son, for now she was the Queen ... Queen of England. On the journey down from Middleham her apprehension had increased. She had grown accustomed to the quiet life at Middleham; she had wished, naturally, that Richard could be with them, but since the death of his brother she had scarcely seen him. It had been something of a shock to her to learn that he had been offered the crown and for what reason.

She thought often of Queen Elizabeth Woodville and imagined her wrath at the turn events had taken. And here was she, in Elizabeth’s place. She wondered what those who had departed would think if they could look back and see what was happening. She could imagine her father’s delight. His daughter a queen!

Dear father, who had been good to his family when he had time for them, but he had sought the glittering prizes of life and had in time met his death. What were all those prizes worth now? But she smiled to think how he would have rejoiced to see his daughter Queen. He would have thought everything worthwhile and she wished that she could share those feelings. Alas, the prospect filled her only with misgivings.

She knew that Richard would be uneasy too. He would be a worthy King; he had the gift of governing well; but to think that he had come to power through the dishonour of his brother and his young nephew would disturb him greatly she knew.

He brought her into London by barge but as soon as he had greeted her she noticed the fresh furrows on his brow. He was delighted to see her and their son of course though the looks of both of them added to his anxieties.

She had commanded her women to brighten her complexion for she did not want to alarm Richard with her pallor. There was nothing she could do, though, to disguise the boy’s wan looks.

‘So,’ she said, ‘you are the King now. You were a mere Duke when we last met.’

‘It has all happened quickly, Anne. I want to talk to you about it.’

The people cheered them as they sailed up river to Baynard’s Castle. There was little time, Richard explained, for the coronation was fixed for the sixth of July.

‘So soon?’ cried Anne.

‘Coronations should never be delayed,’ answered Richard.

He talked to his son and was at least pleased with the boy’s brightness. It helped to compensate for his frail health.

He sought an early opportunity of being alone with Anne for he could see that she was bewildered by the astonishing turn of events.

‘You have heard the story. Young Edward was a bastard because of my brother’s previous marriage.’

‘The whole country talks of it.’

‘Everyone of good sense wants a stable country and that cannot be with a King who is too young to govern. There are certain to be rivals – different people eager to get the King in their control. If Edward had been of age I should have subdued the fact of his bastardy for my brother’s sake.’

‘Yes, Richard, I believe you would.’

‘It is not that I wish for the crown ... for the arduous duties of a sovereign. Power is enticing but it brings such burdens, Anne. We were happy at Middleham, were we not?’

‘So happy,’ she said. ‘But such happiness does not last.’

‘And you are worried about the boy?’

‘His health is not good.’

‘We will make him Prince of Wales.’

‘I do not think that will improve it.’

‘Anne, he must get well.’

‘I wish we could have more children. I’m afraid I am not a very good wife for you, Richard. You should have had someone fecund, vital ... someone like Elizabeth Woodville.’

‘God forbid. I dislike that woman as much as she dislikes me. I thought Edward demeaned himself by marrying ... or rather going through a form of marriage with her. It was from that that all our troubles started. The Woodvilles ... the cursed Woodvilles ... they brought your father against my brother.’

She laid a hand on his arm. ‘Richard, that is all over now. Don’t let us brood on the past.’

‘You are right. But let me say this one thing, Anne. I was begged by the lords to take the crown. I hesitated but I saw my duty, though if the people had raised a voice against me I would have refused.’

‘Of course the people did not raise a voice against you. They want you, Richard. They want what you can give them ... a stable, prosperous country ... the kind they had when Edward ruled. They cannot get that without you. If it were not for you the Woodvilles would rule the country now. All know their cupidity. They had done nothing but enriched themselves since Edward made Elizabeth his Queen. They want you, Richard. They are determined to have you. And do not forget, because of Edward’s previous contract, you are the rightful King.’

‘I know it, Anne. It is for this reason that I have taken the crown.’

‘Then, let us give our thoughts to the coronation for there is very little time.’

On the day before that fixed for the coronation ceremony the people crowded out on the river bank to see the King with his Queen and his son go by water to the Palace of the Tower.

Edward the Fifth and his brother Richard Duke of York had been transferred from the royal apartments as soon as they had been declared illegitimate and lodged in the Garden Tower. They did not, of course, attend their uncle’s coronation.

There in the precincts of the Tower the son of Richard and Anne was formally created Prince of Wales, and the next day the coronation took place.

It had been short notice but as a great many preparations had been made for the coronation of Edward the Fifth it had been possible to make use of this. A coronation and its festivities would not have to change because the King to be crowned was not the same one for whom all the pomp had been originally created.

The Duke of Buckingham carried Richard’s train while the Duke of Norfolk bore his crown before him. Then came the Queen with the Earl of Huntingdon bearing her sceptre and Viscount Lisle the rod with the dove while the honour of carrying her crown was assigned to the Earl of Wiltshire.

Anne, splendidly clad, weighed down with jewels, felt tired before the ceremony had begun. Walking under a canopy, to each corner of which had been attached a golden bell which tinkled as they moved, she hoped that she did not show how she was longing for it all to be over. But it had only just begun. The anointing had to take place and afterwards the crowning. ‘God Save the King. God Save the Queen.’

The cries rang out clearly and Richard was straining his ears to hear one dissenting voice. There was none.

Afterwards they dined in Westminster Hall, Anne and Richard seated on a dais overlooking the rest of the guests at their tables while the Lord Mayor himself served the King and Queen with sweet wine as a sign of the capital’s desire to do homage to them.

When the champion of England rode into the hall and challenged any to combat who did not agree that Richard was the rightful King, Anne was aware of her husband’s tension; and when there was not a single voice raised against him, she was aware of his sinking back into his seat with an overwhelming relief; and she hoped that had silenced his fears for ever. The people had chosen him. The people wanted him. He was the rightful King; and he must stop thinking of those little boys in the Garden Tower. Their claim to the throne was null and void. The rightful King was at last crowned.

Darkness fell and the torches were brought in and one by one the nobles and their ladies came to the dais to pay homage to the King and Queen.

And when that ceremony was over they could retire to their apartments and make their preparations to depart for Windsor where they would go when the festivities were over.

Richard was already planning a tour of the country. They would go to the North. He had no fear of what his reception would be there. The North was his country. He had served it well and they were with him to a man.

Chapter XV BUCKINGHAM

The Duke of Buckingham was displeased. The excitement which he so enjoyed had abated considerably. Richard was King and he had been accepted by a docile people. Secretly Buckingham had been hoping for trouble. He revelled in trouble. He found life dull without it.

Moreover Richard had angered him. It was over the matter of the Bohun estates. These had come to the crown on the marriage of Mary de Bohun and Henry the Fourth and now that he was Lord High Constable of England, which was the ancient hereditary office of the de Bohuns, he believed he had a right to the estates.

Instead of enthusiastically agreeing to this, Richard had demurred; and that angered Buckingham. He looked upon himself as a Warwick, a Kingmaker. Who had suggested that Richard should claim the throne? Who had made the announcement at Paul’s Cross and whose men had shouted for Richard at the Guildhall? The answer to that was Buckingham’s, and Richard it seemed, now he had achieved the goal, was ungrateful and was reminding him that he was King. Richard would do well to remember his old friends. In a fit of pique Buckingham left Court and decided to go for a while to his Castle Brecknock on the borders of Wales and which had come to him with his post of High Constable of England. He was looking forward to having conversation with a most interesting guest ... well hardly a guest, a captive in fact.

He was thinking of John Morton the Bishop of Ely who had been arrested at the same time as Hastings during that fateful meeting in the Tower. Morton with Rotherham had been confined for a while in the Tower and being interested in the man – for they had love of plotting in common – Buckingham had asked Richard if he might take care of Morton. The Bishop could not stay all the time a prisoner in the Tower and his rank as churchman demanded that certain respect be shown to him, so Richard agreed that Buckingham might make him a sort of honoured captive in his castle of Brecknock.

This Buckingham had done and had become on good terms with the Bishop. He enjoyed his conversation. Morton was a clever man – shrewd and devious, and as such he appealed to Buckingham.

That he was at heart a Lancastrian, the Duke knew; he also knew that he was not averse to changing sides when expediency demanded it, but he would be pleased of course to put forward the side he really supported while he tried to live amicably with its enemies.

In spite of this he had been one of the last King’s chief advisers; he had helped to arrange the treaty of Picquigny which had brought such good fortune to England at the expense of the French; he had negotiated for the ransom the King of France had paid for Margaret of Anjou. Edward had thought highly of him. Of course Edward had a habit of believing the best of everyone until their perfidy was proved. Morton had gone from strength to strength until the meeting in the Tower.

That his head was full of plans, Buckingham had no doubt, and that they were not for the good of Richard the Third he was certain.

That suited him in his present mood, and so he was looking forward to seeing the Bishop at Brecknock.

When he arrived he went to the Bishop and greeted him warmly, asking if he lacked anything he needed for his comfort.

‘The captive has nothing of which to complain,’ the Bishop told him.

‘You must not think of yourself as a prisoner, Bishop.’

‘My lord Duke, you are kind. But what else am I?’

‘A friend I hope.’

‘I doubt a friend of Richard of Gloucester would be a friend of mine.’

Buckingham sent for wine and they drank together. The wine was good and warming and Buckingham enjoyed his wine.

The Bishop watched him closely. He knew that something had happened between the two who had been so close together. Buckingham had been Richard’s first man. Now what? Morton asked himself. He felt gleeful. He summed up Buckingham – feckless, unreliable, friend today and enemy tomorrow. He was surprised Richard had put so much faith in him.

Morton had not been idle during his captivity. He had been making plans. He was going to stir up trouble for Richard of Gloucester and he felt he knew how to do it. It was not that he wanted to support the Woodvilles although he might have to make a pretence of doing so. That was not important; he was rather good at making a pretence. He had his eyes on someone over the seas, someone who could be said to belong to the House of Lancaster. Morton would like to see the red rose win the final triumph over the white. A great excitement gripped him as he wondered how he could use this rift which had clearly sprung up between Buckingham and Gloucester. Gloucester was a strong man; it would not be easy to fault him; but Buckingham was weak and vain; he was over-excitable and impulsive, and could not see very far ahead. He was the ideal dupe.

Buckingham had turned to the Bishop.

‘I have been a good friend to Gloucester,’ boasted Buckingham. ‘I have put him on the throne.’

‘That is so,’ agreed Morton. Flattery was what the Duke wanted. That was easy. ‘But for your good services methinks we should not have this King set above us.’

‘I put him up ... I could put him down.’

‘There may be something in that, my lord.’

‘He has a claim to the throne it is true.’

‘When he declares his brother’s children bastards, yes.’

The two men surveyed each other. Did they want to put Edward the Fifth back on the throne?

Morton knew that was not the aim of the ambitious Duke. Nor was it his.

As soon as he realised that Richard was aware of his infidelity to him he had begun to plot. And he was in touch with a very resourceful lady who was very clever and had had one idea in her head since the death of Edward when it had become clear that there was going to be considerable conflict while a boy king reigned.

This was Margaret Beaufort, Countess of Richmond, whose third husband was Lord Stanley. But Margaret’s first marriage had been to Edmund Tudor and the result of that marriage was her son, Henry Tudor, and it was on this son that Margaret’s hopes were fixed.

Margaret’s ambitious plan was to make him King of England. That he was worthy, she insisted. His grandfather was Owen who had married Katherine widow of Henry the Fifth, and his mother Margaret Beaufort was the daughter of the first Duke of Somerset, John Beaufort, who was the son of another John Beaufort who himself was the son of John of Gaunt and Catherine Swynford. Margaret insisted that her son Henry Tudor had royal blood from both sides and if there were questions of his legitimacy on both sides she would brush that aside. The Beauforts had been legitimised by Henry the Fourth; and she insisted that Katherine of Valois had married Owen Tudor.

In Margaret’s eyes Henry Tudor had a claim to the throne.

Morton was interested in the idea. If Henry Tudor became King he would bring back the House of Lancaster. It would be the triumph of the red rose over the white – and possibly the final victory.

Richard stood in the way.

Morton had been in touch with Margaret Beaufort. She had not been idle. She was busily sounding possible recruits to her cause. That was how she had come into contact with Morton. She was married to Lord Stanley who would it seemed likely be ready to change sides at the vital moment. He had always had an eye to the main chance and he was clever enough to have ingratiated himself with Richard – until of course that fateful council in the Tower when he had been arrested. But he had quickly been released being able to give a plausible account of his activities, and was now back in the Council.

Well, he was Margaret’s husband and presumably she must know that he could be relied upon when the time came. In the meantime it was useful to have him appear to be Richard’s friend.

This was the plot into which Morton hoped to lure Buckingham but he could see that the noble Duke had ideas of his own.

He would have to go carefully, but he did not anticipate a great deal of trouble from the emotional Duke. His support would be the greatest help. The whole country would be aghast if Buckingham, who had done so much to put Richard on the throne, were openly to turn against him.

‘It would seem,’ went on Morton, ‘that my lord has regrets at the turn of events.’

‘I begin to think the country has acted with some haste in offering Richard the crown.’

The country! Morton was secretly amused. Wasn’t it Buckingham who had done that? But for that meeting in the Guildhall and the applause of his men which they had clearly been ordered to give, would Richard have taken the crown?

‘It is only when a man comes to power that he emerges as himself.’

‘’Tis true, my lord. But you had a foresight, eh, at the Tower that day.’

‘I did, my lord. When Hastings, his friend, lost his head ... without trial ...’

‘It was shameful. And Rivers and Grey.’

‘He is a tyrant.’

‘I agree.’

‘My lord, could something be done about it?’

Buckingham’s eyes gleamed. ‘There are others with equal claims to the throne.’

He was preening himself. Already trying on the crown. This would need care, thought Morton.

He wanted Buckingham’s help to further Henry Tudor but how could he get that when the conceited Duke saw himself as a contender for the throne?

‘You know of my royal descent?’ said the Duke.

‘I do, my lord.’

‘The Woodville children are disqualified on account of their bastardy. If Richard were dethroned ... well then.’

He was smiling and Morton smiled too.

God forbid, he thought, but he pretended to be excited and he allowed a new but subtle deference to creep into his manner when he looked at and spoke to the Duke.

Of course it would take a little time. He would go along with Buckingham; and when he judged the moment ripe he would show him how impossible it was for him to reach for the crown.

They had many discussions. Subtly the Bishop sowed the seeds of doubt in Buckingham’s mind.

‘If there was no truth in this Eleanor Butler story,’ the Bishop pointed out, ‘Richard would be exposed as an usurper.’

‘Then the people would claim young Edward as their King.’

‘And,’ the Bishop pointed out, ‘they would accept no other.’

They looked at each other intently. Inwardly they decided that the illegitimacy of the late King’s children must be adhered to otherwise there would be too many to come before the next King. Myself, thought Buckingham. Henry Tudor, thought Morton.

‘There is Stillington,’ said the Bishop. ‘He will cling to the story. It must be true. Stillington would not have lied about such a matter. He places himself in great danger by doing so. Moreover he is a man of the Church.’

That made Buckingham smirk but he hid his cynicism because he wanted to remain on good terms with the Bishop.

‘There is no doubt that Edward went through that marriage with Eleanor Butler,’ he said.

They talked of possibilities but whichever way they looked Richard was the true King and the only way to depose him would be to murder him.

They spent days in discussion. Buckingham could not tear himself away from his fascinating companion. Morton had ideas there was no doubt of that. He played on Buckingham’s feelings to such an extent that within a week, the Duke’s hatred of Richard had so increased that to destroy him became an even greater obsession than to seize the crown for himself.

‘We need an army to oppose him,’ said Morton slyly.

‘I could raise men.’

‘Enough?’

Buckingham considered.

‘Henry Tudor is working in Brittany. He could do a great deal. He would have the Welsh with him.’

Buckingham was silent. Henry Tudor was a claimant to the throne.

‘It is a pity that you are married, my lord,’ said the Bishop.

‘Aye. Married to a Woodville ... forced into it when I was a child. I have never forgiven the Woodvilles for that.’

‘Nay. That is one thing we shall have to be careful of. We don’t want the Woodvilles back in power. I was going to say that if you were not married and could marry the late King’s daughter ... that would please a great number of people. There are still some who crave for the old days and even if he did foist his bastards on the nation people still admire King Edward the Fourth.’

‘You mean that if I were unmarried and married Elizabeth of York it would be a sop to the Yorkists?’

‘I mean that exactly, my lord.’

There was silence and after a few moments, speaking slowly and carefully, Morton said: ‘Henry Tudor plans to marry Elizabeth of York.’

Buckingham was thoughtful.

After a while the idea began to take form. It was true that his claim to the throne was slight. He could not really see himself being accepted. But this Henry Tudor ... if he married Elizabeth of York then he would unite the houses of York and Lancaster. That was something which would win the applause of the people. They would see in such a marriage a real end to the Wars of the Roses for although there had been no battles for a number of years the rival factions were still there. There would always be Lancastrians ready to stand against Yorkists until the houses were united.

Buckingham began to see a great deal of hope in the plan. It would ruin Richard and that was what he wanted.

He wanted Richard deposed and dead; and he began to see that the best hope of bringing that about was to support the Tudor.

Very soon his enthusiasms were won over. It was a superb piece of diplomacy on Morton’s part. He could be thankful for his imprisonment which had brought him to Brecknock. This was the beginning of his power. He was going to put Henry Tudor on the throne and win his eternal gratitude.

Ambition had brought him to the Church not religion, for the Church offered opportunities to a man who had great ability and few influential relatives.

And now he had been given this great opportunity. He arranged a meeting between Buckingham and Margaret Beaufort who was delighted to have Buckingham on their side. This was a great breakthrough and Buckingham’s help could be decisive. She told him that her son was lying in wait until the moment was ripe. He was leading a very precarious existence on the Continent. Francis Duke of Brittany had been his friend but Francis was now in his dotage and was eager to be on good terms with Richard the Third.

‘Francis would have given up my son had Richard sent his men to take him, but good Bishop Morton warned him in time and Henry escaped with his uncle Jasper who has been his constant companion for so many years. He brought him up. We could never have survived without Jasper. But my son Henry is coming back and he will rule this land, I promise you. It will not be long ...’

‘Amen,’ said Buckingham, now one of Henry Tudor’s fiercest supporters.

‘We have good friends,’ said Margaret, ‘and Bishop Morton is one of the chief among them. He has brought us you, my lord, and now that you are with us that brings victory very close.’

Buckingham was flattered and eager. He wanted to go into action. There should be no delay.

There were more talks with Morton.

One day Buckingham said: ‘Henry Tudor when he has defeated Richard of Gloucester in battle will marry Elizabeth of York. Will it be meet and fitting for a King of England to marry a proclaimed bastard?’

‘No,’ said Morton. ‘It will not.’

‘In that case if Elizabeth is not a bastard then neither are her brothers.’

‘You speak truth,’ said Morton, and hesitated wondering whether to tell the Duke the plan which had been forming in his mind for some time.

‘If Henry Tudor married Elizabeth of York it would have to be that she was the heiress to the throne in the eyes of those who did not accept the Stillington story.’

‘How could she be while her two brothers lived?’

There was another pause. Then Morton said slowly: ‘It could only be after her two brothers were dead.’

‘Dead! The elder – King Edward the Fifth – is something of a weakling I believe. But even if he died there is his brother the Duke of York.’

‘When Henry gained the throne they would have to be removed ...’

‘Removed!’

‘There is no need to go into details. The position has not arrived just yet. The Houses of York and Lancaster must be united as they would be by Henry Tudor and Elizabeth of York. Elizabeth must be seen to be the true heiress of York and Henry of Lancaster. Of course if the Princes are alive ... they would be heirs. Edward first and if he had no children – and we know he is too young for that – there is Richard, Duke of York. Only if they are removed and Elizabeth proved to be legitimate can she be the heiress to the throne. Henry on one side for Lancaster, Elizabeth on the other for York. It would be the perfect unity.’

‘But there are the Princes ...’

‘My lord, sometimes it is necessary to take certain action.’

‘You mean that if Henry Tudor landed here and defeated Richard, killed him in battle, that time would come.’

‘You see that it is so, my lord.’

‘I see it is so. I see that King Henry Tudor could not marry a bastard, therefore Elizabeth must be legitimate. I see that she can only be heiress to the throne if her brothers are dead.’

‘Then you see my point exactly.’

‘But the children ... those two boys in the Tower.’

‘The time is not yet ripe. We should not consider that yet. Rest assured it will be taken care of when the time comes.’

‘What will the people say of a King who murders children?’

‘They will say nothing for they will not know. My lord Buckingham I am talking of things which may never come to pass, but we know you and I that it is sometimes necessary to take actions which are obnoxious to us. But if they are performed for the good of the greater number of people they are acceptable in God’s eyes. What this country needs is the unity of York and Lancaster, an end to the conflict which will never really cease until this comes about. The unity of York and Lancaster can be brought about by the marriage of Henry Tudor and Elizabeth of York.’

‘That I understand but ...’

‘You concern yourself with the children. It is a minor matter. It may not be. It cannot be until Henry Tudor lands on this island and proclaims himself King and Elizabeth of York his Queen. Thank God she is in Sanctuary and no husband has been found for her. No husband must be found until Henry Tudor comes.’

Buckingham was thoughtful, and the Bishop said no more that day.

Later he told the Duke that if the Princes were removed the blame must be attached to their uncle Richard.

‘On what grounds?’ asked Buckingham.

‘That he fears them.’

‘Why should he? The people accept their bastardy. They have therefore no claim to the throne and Richard is the true heir.’

‘That is true. But we must ensure the peaceful reign of the new King. It will never be so if people blame him for removing the Princes.’

‘But you say they must ... be removed.’

‘They will be a menace to him because he must in marrying their sister accept their legitimacy.’

‘Exactly, and they provide no threat to Richard who does accept their bastardy.’

‘People forget. There are ways of dealing with these matters. If you tell the people something constantly and forcibly enough in time they believe it. I propose to begin now. I am setting some of my servants to whisper in the shops and the streets and the taverns ... not only here but all over the country and particularly in London. I am going to tell them to spread the rumour that the Princes have been murdered in the Tower.’

‘People can see them shooting their arrows in the gardens of the Garden Tower.’

‘I know. But all will not see them and those who do not may believe. Rumour may be a lying jade but she can be a useful one.’

‘I don’t like it,’ said Buckingham.

Morton was uneasy. Had he gone too far?

‘It is nothing. The boys are safe enough. It is just a theory I had in mind. Perhaps the people would not object to the bastardy. Perhaps the marriage between Henry Tudor and Elizabeth of York will not take place after all. I was just looking ahead to the possibilities. The first thing is to depose Richard. Let us give our energies to that.’

‘That is what I am most eager to do and I think the time has come for us to go into action.’

When Richard heard that Buckingham had put himself at the head of an insurrection to come against him he was deeply shocked.

Buckingham, who had been his friend, his Constable, and the one who had been closest to him in the struggle. He could not believe it.

He immediately set about calling an army together and gave instructions that they were to meet at Leicester. He was quiet and calm, hiding how deeply wounded he was. He did say that Buckingham was the most untrue creature living and everyone knew that if ever the Duke fell into the King’s hands that would be the end of him. He was declared a rebel and a price was put on his head.

Richard was supported by his good friends John Howard, Duke of Norfolk, Francis, Viscount Lovell, Sir Richard Ratcliffe and William Catesby ... all men on whom he could rely. But then he had thought he could rely on Buckingham. No, Buckingham had come up too quickly. It had been an error of judgement to have relied on him to such an extent. Then there was Stanley. He did not trust Stanley. He was after all the husband of Margaret Beaufort, mother of the Tudor. He was watchful of Stanley and must make sure that he was given no opportunity to be false.

There were risings in Kent and Surrey and East Anglia. These were quickly suppressed and Richard marched on to Leicester.

Buckingham was in difficulties. He had moved towards the east with a force made up mainly of Welsh troops but when he came into Herefordshire he found the rivers Wye and Severn in flood and impassable. There was no help for it but to attempt to retreat but that became out of the question for he found he was hemmed in by enemy troops. He was forced to wait and the men grew restive. The expedition was ill-timed and ill-planned. Men began to desert and the Duke saw that there was nothing left to him but escape.

There was a big price on his head. If he fell into Richard’s hands there would be no mercy. He could not expect that. Therefore he must escape.

Perhaps he could get across the Channel and join Henry Tudor. Then they could plot together and come back in triumph.

One of his retainers, Ralph Bannister, who had a house near the town of Wem, took him in and Buckingham stayed for a few days at his mansion of Lacon Park.

Everyone was talking about the débâcle and the price on the Duke of Buckingham’s head. It was a large price for Richard was very eager to get the traitor into his hands.

For a day or so Bannister resisted the temptation but after a while it became too much for him. He advised Buckingham to leave his house and showed him a hut where he could stay for a while until he could make good his escape. But no sooner was Buckingham in the hut than he was arrested and taken to Salisbury by the Sheriff of Shropshire.

He asked to see the King. He wanted to talk to him. He confessed that he had been a foolish traitor. He had wronged the King who had been his friend. But if he could but see the King, if he could talk to him, if he could explain ...

It was no use. He could hardly expect Richard to see him in the circumstances for never had a man more blatantly played the traitor.

It was the second of November, a dark day and a Sunday, when Buckingham was taken out to the market-place and there laid his head on the block.

Chapter XVI RUMOURS

The insurrection was over. Henry Tudor had not landed. Of the fifteen ships which the Duke of Brittany had given him all but two had been destroyed by storm. He had come close to the coast with those two but seeing the soldiers on land had thought it wiser to return and try another time.

Richard was triumphant, but he had received a warning.

Another matter which had deeply disturbed him was the rumour of the death of the Princes and that he was named as their murderer. Of what purpose would their death serve? They were no menace to him. He was the true King. The bastard sons of his brother did not threaten his position.

The only way in which they could do so would be if they were his brother’s legitimate sons. And if they had been it would never have occurred to him to take the throne. He would have remained as Protector of the Realm and guardian of the little King until he was of age to govern.

It was a disturbing rumour. Did it mean that there was a plot afoot to murder the Princes and lay the blame at his door? It was a feasible plan, the logic behind which became clear to him when he heard that in the Cathedral at Rennes Henry Tudor had sworn to marry Elizabeth of York and thus unite the houses of York and Lancaster.

He thought a great deal about the matter and the more he thought the more certain it seemed to him that some harm was planned for the Princes. They were in the Garden Tower at the moment and his very good friend Sir Robert Brackenbury was the Constable.

He decided he would warn him to guard the Princes well, and he summoned to him his Master of Henchmen Sir James Tyrell. He told him that he wished him to take a letter to the Constable of the Tower and that he should prepare himself to leave at once.

Richard then wrote the letter in which he asked Sir Robert to guard the Princes well. He feared for their safety. He thought it would be a good idea if they were removed from their present lodging and put into a secret one until such time as it would be safe for them to emerge.

He would explain his fears to Sir Robert sometime when they were together. For the present he knew he was his very good friend and could trust him.

The year passed uneasily. Richard was aware that the Bishop of Ely was one of his greatest enemies and he heartily repented putting him in Buckingham’s care. After the débâcle Morton had escaped to Flanders and now had probably joined Henry Tudor.

It was difficult to govern as he would have wished with so much to deter him. How lucky Edward had been to have the people with him. After the defection of Buckingham Richard felt he could never trust anyone again.

He wished that everyone would forget their grievances, that they would try to work with him for a prosperous state. He was sorry that Elizabeth Woodville remained in Sanctuary. He wanted her to come forth – she and her daughters.

He sent word to her telling her that if she came out no harm should befall her.

Elizabeth was wary. She could not forget that her brother Anthony and her son Richard had been beheaded at Richard’s orders. He had answered that they had deserved their fate and they would have had his head if events had gone the other way. It was no use going over the past. That was done with. She had five daughters; she should think of their future.

He did not remind her that she had a son, the Marquess of Dorset, who was now on the Continent with Henry Tudor.

A letter was delivered to her in Sanctuary which Richard had written himself.

‘I swear,’ he wrote, ‘that if the daughters of Elizabeth Grey, late calling herself Queen of England, will come to me out of Sanctuary and be guided and ruled by me I shall see that they shall be in surety of their lives and that as they are my kinswomen, being the undoubted daughters of my brother, I will arrange worthy marriages for them ...’

He also offered to pay an annual pension to Elizabeth herself.

Elizabeth considered the offer. He could hardly dishonour it, she said. And she was anxious about her daughters.

On a bleak March day she emerged from Sanctuary and decided that she must accept the offer and rely on the mercy of the King.

During that month Richard left London for Northampton. It seemed certain now that Henry Tudor would make another attack with the coming of better weather. Richard must be prepared. Until Henry Tudor was dead there would be no peace for him, he realised. Henry Tudor wanted the throne and he was going to do everything he could to gain it. Moreover there were many who would help him in this endeavour. Richard was surrounded by people whom common sense forced him to doubt.

Norfolk, Lovell, Ratcliffe, Catesby, Brackenbury ... those he believed he could trust with his life. But there were others who filled him with doubt. The conduct of Buckingham and Hastings had made him distrustful, suspicious of everyone.

He longed for peace. He was a born administrator. He wanted to encourage trading as Edward had. That was the sure way to prosperity. A country wasted its substance in war.

There were other anxieties. Anne’s health was failing. She was so easily tired. He was worried about his son too. Anne had sent him back to Middleham because she thought it was better for him to be there. Her thoughts went with him though, and although she made a great effort to accompany Richard and smile at the people and appear to be merry he was aware of what a great effort it was and how very tired she felt.

They were halfway through April when the messenger came from the North. He was brought immediately to the King and Richard knew at once that the news was bad.

‘Have no fear,’ he said. ‘Tell me quickly.’

‘My lord, it is the Prince.’

‘He is ill ...’

The man looked at him silently.

Richard turned away to hide his emotion. ‘He is dead,’ he said slowly. ‘My son is dead.’

‘My lord, I fear ... it is so.’

‘I will tell the Queen,’ said the King; he waved his hand in dismissal and the messenger glad to escape hurriedly left.

Anne valiantly tried to suppress her desolation. It was impossible. For a time she gave up all pretence that she was well. She sank to her knees and covered her face with her hands.

He tried to comfort her, but there was no comfort. This delicate boy, whom they had loved even more tenderly because they had suffered constant fear for him, was lost to them.

He had suffered from the same disease which had afflicted both Warwick’s daughters, and meant that they could not hope for any but a brief life span.

They had cherished him – their Prince of Wales, their heir to England ... and now he was gone.

And looking at Anne, so desolate in her grief, Richard wondered how soon it would be before he was mourning his wife.

The future was grim. The Scots were giving trouble on the border now that Richard was no longer there to keep them in check. The King of France was showing friendship to Henry Tudor. Richard knew he must get his hands on that man. If he could capture him and bring him to England, get rid of him, then they might settle to peace. He sent men to Brittany to capture Henry Tudor, but Morton had his spies in England. Among them was Rotherham who was able to inform Morton of what was planned. Morton then warned Henry Tudor in time so that he escaped into France. Morton was a dangerous enemy. Richard knew that now and cursed himself for not destroying him when he was in his hands. He was far more dangerous than Hastings would ever have been.

He was indeed more dangerous than Richard knew. He had heard of Richard’s instructions to Brackenbury and thought that if everything went according to plan that act might be of considerable use to him.

Morton had staked his future now on Henry Tudor’s victory and if he could bring about the marriage between Elizabeth of York and Henry Tudor he would be delighted with his plans. If that marriage ever came about and it was to be effective those little Princes would have to be disposed of. So they had been kept out of the way at Richard’s request. Well, that might be useful. It would give credence to the story that they were already dead. He was sorry that Elizabeth Woodville had come out of Sanctuary with her daughters. That was unfortunate on two counts. First if she had believed that Richard had murdered the Princes – her little sons of whom she was so fond, for whatever else she was she was a devoted mother – she would never have put her daughters in his hands. Another fear – and perhaps an even greater one – was that Richard might find husbands for the girls. Then the marriage between Elizabeth and Henry Tudor could not take place and would the people accept Henry Tudor if by doing so they were not going to unite the houses of York and Lancaster?

We need to move fast, thought Morton. And yet how could they? They must be absolutely sure of success when they came in.

The weary year was passing. Henry Tudor had made no attempt to land. Clearly he was not ready.

Richard guessed there were traitors all about him. One morning there was discovered on the door of St Paul’s a rhyme which could only spell treachery:

It was a criticism of the King and ran:

‘The Cat, the Rat, and Lovell our dog

Rule all England under a hog.’

The Cat was Catesby, the Rat Ratcliffe and Lovell – a name frequently used for dogs – was Francis Lovell – all faithful friends. And the hog was himself taken from the sign of the Boar on his staff.

The rhyme was traced to William Colynbourne who had been an officer in the household of the Duchess of York. Richard was deeply wounded not only by the criticism of his rule but because this man had been one of his family’s servants. Colynbourne had committed a greater sin than writing seditious doggerel verse. He was found guilty of sending messages to Henry Tudor giving the state of the defences of England.

He was accorded the traitor’s death and suffered cruelly on Tower Hill.

One urgent need was staring Richard in the face, and that was the importance of getting an heir. There had always been anxiety about Edward’s health and he and Anne had longed for another child. She had been so delicate that he had begun to feel that they would never have another and while they had the young Prince they could put their hope in him. But now he was gone. Moreover Anne’s health had deteriorated rapidly since the death of Edward. It was clear that a great interest had been taken out of her life and she felt so ill now that she could no longer disguise it.

Richard called in the doctors.

Could they not do something? Surely their skill was not beyond helping her.

They shook their heads.

‘It is a disease of the lungs, my lord. The Queen cannot recover. She can only grow progressively worse.’

The physicians were uneasy and he was aware that there was something else they wished to say to him. They hesitated, each waiting for the other to speak.

At last one of them said: ‘My lord, the Queen’s disease in these stages is contagious. You should no longer share a chamber with her.’

The implication of this was obvious. He and Anne would never have another child.

He explained gently to Anne. She understood. She said: ‘I can’t have long left, Richard. Bear with me for these few weeks. Then when I am gone you must marry again ... marry a healthy young woman who can give you sons.’

He shook his head. ‘There would never be anyone else I could love as I do you. Oh I know I have not told you often enough, not shown you. It is my way.’

‘I know ... I know and I would not have had you otherwise. You have been good to me always ... and it was always you I wanted. Do you remember, Richard, when we were together in those early days at Middleham?’

‘I have never forgotten them. For that reason I have always loved Middleham. I would we could be there now ... together ... with our son ...’

‘Time passes, Richard. We have had some bad times ... I shall never forget those days I spent in that hot and foul-smelling kitchen ... Sometimes it comes back to me now ... I dream ... and I wake up and am thankful that that is over. But we must look to the future. When I am gone ... I want you to be happy, Richard.’

‘I could not hope to be.’

‘You will be. You will succeed. You will be a great King – even greater than your brother. Oh Richard, I want you to be happy. If you are, everything that has gone on before will be worthwhile.’

‘You are going to get well,’ he said firmly, ‘and when you are we will have children, sons ... sons and daughters.’

‘Yes,’ she said to comfort him. ‘Oh yes.’ And she tried to pretend that she believed that possible.

Christmas had come. It was spent at Westminster and in order to keep his promise to look after his brother’s daughters, Richard had them brought to the celebrations. He had said that they should have gowns suitable to their rank and Elizabeth of York was attired as magnificently as the Queen.

She looked beautiful and her stay in Sanctuary had clearly done her no harm. She was sparkling, merry and clearly delighted to be free at last.

She showed marked appreciation to the King who was very gracious to her. She was very beautiful with her long golden hair flowing about her shoulders – a marked contrast to the Queen who, although she made a brave effort, looked as though she were visibly fading away.

Morton’s spies at Court noticed Elizabeth’s deference to the King and that he paid her due honour. They sent word to Morton who was horrified at the thought of Elizabeth’s being at Court and clearly enjoying it, and at the accounts of the King’s graciousness to her and her willingness to please.

Any marriage of Elizabeth of York not to Henry Tudor would render the scheme of making him King impossible. Elizabeth must not marry ... until Henry Tudor came to claim her.

Morton did not like all this talk about the King’s graciousness to Elizabeth. His task was to win the throne for Henry Tudor and he, shrewd plotter that he was, knew that slander against Richard would be of as great importance as winning a battle. Elizabeth must not marry.

In the meantime there was a chance to defame Richard further.

Why not send out hints that he was contemplating marrying his niece? He was married to Anne yes, but a little dose of poison would soon remove her and then he would be free.

Anne would be dead soon, according to reports. She was weaker every day. So that story could sound plausible.

Richard could not understand why people should hate him so, why they should continue to send out these evil rumours.

Catesby and Ratcliffe said that it was because Henry Tudor had people working for him secretly and slander was one of the weapons they were using against him.

Events weighed heavily upon him. He must be prepared for the coming of Henry Tudor and each day he saw Anne growing weaker and weaker.

On the sixteenth of March Richard was summoned to her bedside. He sat there holding her hand while the chamber was filled with darkness.

Outside the people stood about in the streets staring up at the sky for the sun’s face was slowly being obscured.

It was the greatest eclipse of the sun which the people of England had ever seen and they thought it must have something to do with the passing of the Queen.

Anne was unaware of it. She knew only that Richard was with her, holding her hand and that she was slowly slipping away from him.

‘Richard ...’ she tried to say his name.

He bent over. ‘Rest, dearest,’ he said. ‘It is best so.’

‘Soon I shall be at rest,’ she murmured. ‘Soon I shall see our son ... Oh Richard, I shall be with you ... always ...’

His cheeks were wet. He was surprised. It was long since he had shed a tear.

An utter desolation had come to him.

She had gone ... this companion of his youth, this faithful wife; the one he had loved even more deeply than he had loved his brother.

There would never be anyone else. He did not change. Loyalty bound him.

The rumours were at their height. He was going to marry his niece.

Elizabeth of York was agreeable and Elizabeth Woodville would welcome the marriage. It would settle differences. The Woodvilles could hardly be against a King who was the husband of one of their daughters.

Marry his niece! It was incest.

Typical of him, they said. He was without scruples.

Richard knew that he must think of marrying.

Rotherham had pointed out that a King without an heir was storing up trouble. He should marry. People were saying that his niece was a strong and healthy woman.

‘She is indeed,’ replied Richard, ‘and I doubt not that she will bear strong children when the time comes.’

Rotherham reported to Morton that the King was contemplating marrying his niece.

Sir William Catesby and Sir Richard Ratcliffe took an early opportunity of speaking to the King.

He must not marry Elizabeth of York. They themselves were very anxious to keep out the Woodville influence for they feared it would go hard with them if ever that family crept back into power. They had placed themselves on Richard’s side so clearly against the Woodvilles. But that was not all. They served Richard faithfully and they feared that a marriage with his niece would damage his reputation even further. They had no doubt that the Pope could be induced to grant a dispensation. But it would be wrong and if Richard was going to look for a bride he must do so elsewhere.

‘My dear friends,’ said Richard, ‘you have no need to warn me. I had no intention of marrying my niece. It is just another of those evil rumours which have suddenly started to circulate about me.’

Catesby and Ratcliffe were greatly relieved.

Richard smiled at them. ‘Surely you did not believe I would marry my niece? I tell you this, I am in no mood for marriage. I still mourn the Queen and have other matters more urgent. Spring is coming. The Tudor is certain to make an attempt some time this year.’

‘That’s so,’ said Catesby, ‘but all the same I should like to find the source of these rumours.’

Richard sighed. ‘My good friends,’ he said, ‘I agree with you. It is the insidious enemy who can harm us more than the one who comes in battle. I long for the day when I shall face the Tudor on the battlefield. I pray God that the task of taking him may fall to me.’

‘In the meantime, my lord,’ said Ratcliffe, ‘we must put an end to this rumour.’

‘I will send Elizabeth away from Court,’ said Richard. ‘It is not fitting that she should be there – in view of the rumours – now that the Queen is no longer with us.’

‘Where should she go, my lord?’

‘Why not to Sheriff Hutton. She will be away from the Court there. One or more of her sisters could go with her. It shall be for them to decide. My Clarence nephews are there, Warwick and Lincoln. She will be company for them and they for her. Yes, to Sheriff Hutton.’

Catesby and Ratcliffe were well pleased. They hoped they had stopped the rumours about Richard and Elizabeth.

Chapter XVII BOSWORTH FIELD

August had come and Richard knew that across the Channel plans were coming to a climax. It seemed certain that Henry Tudor would attempt a landing.

Richard was prepared. He was feeling philosophical. Soon the test would come and it was going to be either victory or death for him, he knew.

He faced the future with a kind of nonchalance. He had lost his wife and son. There was nothing left but to fight for the crown.

If he defeated Henry Tudor he would plan a new life. He would try to forget the sadness of old. He would try to be a good King as his brother had been. But that could not be until he had cleared the country of this evil threat of war.

Wars had clouded his life. These incessant Wars of the Roses. He had thought they were over – all had thought so when Edward rose so magnificently out of the horrors of war and took the crown. If Edward had lived ... If his son had been a little older ...

But it had not been so and now he was faced with this mighty decision. He would do his best and he would emerge from the struggle either King of England or a dead man.

At the end of July Thomas Lord Stanley had come to him and asked permission to retire to his estates. He was very suspicious of Stanley. Stanley was a time-server. He was a man who had a genius for extricating himself from difficult situations. Such men were born to survive. They lived by expediency. They swayed with the wind. Richard had little respect for Stanley and yet he needed his help.

He had been arrested at the time of Hastings’s execution but after a very short time had been freed, in time to carry the mace at Richard’s coronation.

He had married Margaret Beaufort, the mother of Henry Tudor, but he had continued to serve Richard.

Richard did not trust him but he was too important to be ignored and it seemed to the King that to have him close at hand was better than to spurn him and send him right into the ranks of the enemy.

That his wife had played a part in the Buckingham insurrection was undeniable. When Buckingham had been beheaded Stanley had expressed his agreement that the Duke had deserved his fate. It would have been a different story, Richard was fully aware, if Buckingham had been successful.

At the time Stanley had promised to restrain his wife. He would keep her quietly in the country, he had said.

Now he wished to go to his estates as they urgently required his attention.

Ratcliffe and Catesby put it to the King that Stanley could turn against them and the wisest course was to watch him. After all he was married to the mother of Henry Tudor.

‘I know,’ said Richard. ‘If he is going to turn traitor it is better for him to do so now than on a battlefield.’

So Stanley left but Richard said he must leave his son behind to answer for his loyal conduct.

There was nothing for Stanley to do but comply.

And on the seventh of August Henry Tudor landed at Milford Haven.

Richard was at Nottingham when news reached him that Henry Tudor was near Shrewsbury.

He sent for the men he could trust: Norfolk, Catesby, Brackenbury, Ratcliffe.

Stanley had not returned but had sent an excuse that he was suffering from the sweating sickness. His son, Lord Strange, had attempted to escape but on being captured had confessed that he and his uncle Sir William Stanley had had communication with the invaders.

The Stanleys would betray him, Richard thought, as he had known they would.

There was no time to be lost. They must march now and on the twenty-first of August the two armies arrived at Bosworth Field.

Richard spent a sleepness night. He was fatalistic. Would there be victory on the following day? He felt no great confidence, no great elation. Sorrow weighed heavily upon him. But this should be the turning-point. If Fate showed him that he was to go on and rule he would be a great King. He would learn from his brother’s successes and mistakes and he would dedicate himself to the country.

They were there ... his good friends. Brackenbury – his good honest face shining with loyalty – Catesby, Ratcliffe, Norfolk ... the men he could rely on.

And the Stanleys – where were they?

He mounted his big white horse. No one could mistake him. It was indeed the King’s horse. And on his helmet he wore a golden crown.

‘This day,’ he said, ‘decides our fate. My friends and loyal subjects remember that victory can be ours if we go into this fight with good hearts and the determination to win the day. At this day’s end I will be King or a dead man, I promise you.’

The trumpets were sounding. The moment had come and Richard rode forth at the head of his army.

The battle waged. The sun was hot and the Lancastrians had the advantage because it was at their backs. The Stanleys waited. They would decide which side they were on when the decisive moment came. In the meantime they had no intention of fighting for Richard.

They were Henry Tudor’s men and had worked hard for his success. They were ready now ... waiting for the precise moment which would be best for them to depart.

That moment came. The Stanleys were riding out crying: ‘A Tudor. A Tudor.’

Richard heard them and smiled grimly.

Catesby was urging him to fly. He laughed at that. He rode forward brandishing his axe.

He saw Ratcliffe go down and Brackenbury.

My good friends ... he thought. You gave your lives for me ... for truth ... for righteousness ... for loyalty.

A curse on the traitor Tudor!

‘Treason!’ he shouted after the retreating Stanleys who were making their way to the Tudor lines.

He would find Henry Tudor. He should be his special prey. He would take him in single combat. It was their fate which was being decided. Plantagenet against Tudor. If Richard did not succeed it would not only be the end of a King, it would be the end of a line. Glorious Plantagenet supreme for generations would give way to the new House of Tudor – begotten by bastards ... with none but the flimsiest claim to the throne. And the rule of the proud Plantagenets who had governed the land since the glorious days of Henry the Second would be over.

It must not be. It was for him to save it.

‘God help me,’ he cried. ‘I must find Henry Tudor. The fight is between us two.’

In spite of his small stature he was an impressive figure as he rode forward, the sun glinting on his golden crown, his white horse galloping forward.

His friends called to him but he did not heed them.

‘I shall find Henry Tudor,’ he shouted.

With his small band of followers he rode right into the midst of the enemy’s cavalry.

Now he had seen it – the Welsh banner held aloft by William Brandon, Henry Tudor’s standard-bearer. There was the Tudor. He was well protected, surrounded by his men, by no means in the thick of the fight. Trust the Tudor for that.

‘I have come to kill you, Tudor,’ he muttered. ‘It has to be one of us.’

It was folly he knew. There were too many of them but he was there. He had glimpsed Henry Tudor ... He struck at William Brandon, and the man went down.

He saw Ratcliffe who was trying to protect him. His horse had collapsed under him but he was immediately on his feet.

‘My lord ... my lord ...’ It was Ratcliffe again. But Richard did not hear. He had seen Henry Tudor. He had come close enough to strike down his standard-bearer. He was going to take Henry Tudor.

He went forward wielding his battle-axe.

‘Treason!’ he cried. ‘Come, Henry Tudor ... Come out and fight.’

His men were falling about him, Ratcliffe was down now, but Richard fought on valiantly, the crown on his head. He was determined to storm his way through to the Tudor. If he were going to die he would take him with him.

They were attacking him now. The blows were coming fast. Then he was sinking into darkness. He fell to the ground and his crown rolled from his head.

It was the end. The battle was over. It was victory for Henry Tudor. Of Richard’s loyal friends Norfolk, Ratcliffe and Brackenbury were slain. Catesby was captured and hanged; Lovell escaped to live on into the new reign.

It was Lord Stanley – to whose treachery Henry Tudor owed his victory – who found the golden crown in a hedge and placed it on Henry Tudor’s head.

So ended the battle of Bosworth, the last in the Wars of the Roses. So ended the rule of the Plantagenets. A new reigning family had come to England with the Tudors.