By Loyalty Bound: The Story of the Mistress of King Richard III (26 page)

“What happened?” Anne asked her uncle as she stared at his pitiless expression. “Is Richard safe?”

“Yes, but only just,” he replied and Anne felt the blood drain from her as she became aware of shouting and running footsteps in the streets beyond the house. “Thankfully there are people he can trust,” he continued with another look of disgust in the direction of Lord Stanley, “and a warning was given that there was a plot to kill him at the council meeting this morning.”

“Kill?” whispered Anne. “Did someone try to kill him?”

“Hastings.”

“Lord Hastings?” she asked in bewilderment as Lord Stanley groaned and lowered his sore head into his hands. It had only been the previous evening that the lord had eaten with them at Stanley House.

Her uncle beckoned her to one side, his armour clinking as he seated himself beside her on a bench so that only she could hear what he had to say.

“A man named William Catesby was advising Lord Hastings on some legal matter when he overheard talk of a plot against the life of our Lord Protector and came to inform us of what he knew.” He paused to glare at Lord Stanley who was bleating in pain as a physician attempted to bathe his head and reassure him that it needed no stitching together. “We called the duke out of the council meeting and he decided to discover the truth. Men are supposed to leave their weapons at the door, but when we searched him Hastings had a long-bladed knife concealed within his boot – and I have no doubt that he intended to use it. It was when we rushed the chamber that Lord Stanley dived under the table for cover and broke his head,” he added.

“Is Lord Stanley implicated in this plot?” asked Anne as she watched the countess, calmer now, go to her husband and kneel beside him.

“I do not know. The duke has ordered him to be kept under house arrest for the present time.”

“And Lord Hastings?”

“Executed.”

“Already?” asked Anne in surprise.

“The evidence of treason was indisputable. Buckingham persuaded the duke that it would be politic to take swift and decisive action to set an example and deter future conspirators. Hastings was taken out onto Tower Green and beheaded.”

“God have mercy on his soul,” said Anne as she made the sign of the cross. “This is a horrible thing to have happened, and it sounds as if it has caused much unrest.”

“There is much rumour. But criers have been sent out to reassure people that all is well and to promote peace.”

Suddenly there was angry shouting nearby and a man-at-arms came across to her uncle to say that Edward Stanley was insisting on being allowed inside. Her uncle nodded his assent and Anne saw her husband push the guards aside and stride in. His expression turned to one of relief when he saw his father.

“Were you invited?” he demanded of Robert Harrington who stood to face him.

“I am charged with the duty of ensuring Lord Stanley does not leave this house until given permission to do so by the Lord Protector. I would advise you not to make my task difficult,” he said with his palm on the hilt of his sword.

“Edward. Do not make trouble,” said Anne, going to lay a restraining hand on her husband’s sleeve. “Let us hear what your father has to say first.”

“It is probably not as bad as it looks,” said Robert as Edward’s glance strayed back to Lord Stanley, whose physician was now wrapping a clean binding over the injury. “Head wounds always bleed profusely.”

“Especially when the head is cut off at the neck!” retorted Edward, who must have heard the criers’ announcements. “I must say that I am surprised at the Lord Protector for suspecting my father of involvement in this plot.”

“Well, we shall see,” said Robert. “In the meantime I will post guards at your doors to ensure that no one enters or leaves.”

Anne did not share her husband’s conviction that his father was entirely innocent and nothing that she heard within Stanley House made her change her mind. The whisperings that ceased abruptly whenever she entered a chamber continued and at every moment she was sure that her uncle would come to take Lord Stanley to prison or to his execution. But Edward reassured her that a message had been sent secretly to Lathom and that if anything happened to their father the whole might of the Stanley army would descend on London.

“The Lord Protector has sent for men to come from York but even if they arrive we will still have them outnumbered,” he told her.

“I sincerely pray that you are right in protesting your father’s innocence in this,” replied Anne. She did not argue with her husband, but she had witnessed the long-standing feud between Richard and the Stanleys and she suspected that Lord Stanley would not hesitate to rid himself of Richard if he could.

Robert stood beside the Lord Protector at the doorway of the Star Chamber at Westminster. The council had agreed with Richard that it was unthinkable that the coronation of the king should go ahead without the attendance of his younger brother, the Duke of York.

“The boy has not sought sanctuary of his own free will,” Richard had said more than once over the past week. “He is held prisoner by his mother and it is our duty to free him.” The events of the previous Friday when Hastings’ plot had been uncovered had brought things to a head. Robert thought that he had rarely seen Diccon as angry as he had been when the hidden dagger had been drawn from Hastings’ boot and held up for all to see. His face had been contorted with rage, but rather than shouting he had remained silent as if he could form no adequate words, and when Buckingham had suggested making a swift example of the man he had agreed that the prisoner should be taken to his death.

Robert was well aware that the duke had disliked Lord Hastings. Even when they had been in exile in the Low Countries he had made no secret of his disgust at the man’s morals and the way he treated women. But Hastings had been a close friend of Edward. He had been the one who sent James to Middleham when the queen had seemed reluctant to send news of the king’s death, and Robert knew that Diccon had expected him to be loyal.

Now, he was determined to wrest the king’s younger brother from the queen so that he had both his nephews under his control. A large company of men stood guard along the river and in the halls of Westminster as they waited for the Archbishop of Canterbury to emerge from the abbey with the boy. If he was not successful they would be ordered to breach sanctuary and take him by force and it was a prospect that made Robert uneasy.

At last the door opened and a hush fell as the archbishop came out with his hand clasped firmly around that of a small boy whose eyes were wide with apprehension. Robert heard Diccon’s murmur of relief. He stepped forward to greet his nephew, putting a hand on his shoulder and reassuring him that he was safe and was to be taken by barge to join his brother at the Tower. The boy nodded silently and glanced back at the closed door. The archbishop was explaining that he had promised the queen that her son would be returned to her after the coronation, but Robert doubted that such a thing would happen.

Later that day Anne’s uncle returned to Stanley House with an armed escort and a message that the Lord Protector wished to see Lord Stanley. The Countess of Richmond bade her husband a farewell that she obviously thought could be her last before he was escorted out to the barge that would take him upriver to the Tower. But before long he returned with a self-satisfied smile to tell them that he had been restored to his seat on the council and Anne wondered how much the threat of the Stanley army had influenced the decision.

“Please can we return to Hornby after the coronation?” Anne asked her husband as he walked with her in the garden that evening, enjoying the cool of the day. He was silent for a moment and she glanced up. “What is wrong?” she asked, surprised that he had not immediately agreed to get back to his work and to see Lucy and his children again.

“I have grave doubts that the coronation of the king will take place,” he told her.

“What makes you say that?” she asked.

“You have not heard?”

“I hear nothing but rumours and half whispers,” she told him. “Your father and the countess keep me close confined to the house and always fall silent when they see me approaching. What do you know?” she asked. Edward beckoned her to a low grassy seat, some distance from the house.

“My father has forbidden me to speak of these matters to you because he thinks you may be a spy who carries word to the Lord Protector, but what I have to say is becoming common knowledge and I see no reason to keep it from you.”

“Go on,” said Anne, wondering what he meant to reveal to her.

“At the council meeting before the one when Lord Hastings was executed, it was claimed by Bishop Stillington that the late king’s marriage to Elizabeth Woodville was invalid because he had previously made a contract to marry the Lady Eleanor Butler.”

“And such a promise is binding,” said Anne, remembering their own vows made before the Stanley chaplain when they were betrothed.

“And the rumour that Edward was not his father’s child but was the son of a French archer also continues to circulate. Bishop Stillington says that these are the real reasons the late king had the Duke of Clarence executed. He says that Clarence knew the truth.”

“So Clarence’s assertions that he was the rightful king could have been true and his brother killed him for that reason?” asked Anne.

“It seems possible.”

“If this story of a pre-contract is true, what would that mean for the king? For young Edward?” asked Anne, although she already knew the answer.

“If either story is true then he has no valid claim to the throne.”

“And Richard has,” said Anne as the events of the past few days began to make more sense.

Robert watched the Lord Protector shake his head as the servant came forward with the black garments stretched across his extended arms.

“Not those. Fetch the purple,” he told him. “I mean to ride about the city. Many of the people here do not know me and I would like to show myself to them.”

“Is that wise?” asked Robert. “With all this unrest?”

“It is the unrest I would like to quell,” he replied and Robert, seeing the determined set of his lips, knew that Diccon would not be dissuaded. “Besides it is your task to ensure that I remain safe,” he added with a slight raise of one eyebrow.

Their progress through London was unremarkable although Robert rode close to the duke with a hand ever ready for his sword and his eyes watchful for any trouble. He could not decide if the indifference of the people was a good or bad thing. Most were more concerned with their own affairs and, as long as the peace was kept and not too many taxes were demanded from them, they showed little interest in who ruled them. But others were more vocal and said that the Lord Protector planned to usurp the throne, and as Robert rode beside him through the streets he couldn’t help but wonder what was on Diccon’s mind.

He was relieved when they returned to the courtyard at Crosby House without incident and the gates were closed behind them. And when he followed the duke into the hall and saw the Duchess of Gloucester come forward to greet him with a look of relief he knew that he was not alone in his concern. The duke had men who were loyal to him and who would protect him without question, but the treachery of Hastings had left them all shaken and unsure of knowing friend from enemy.

The duchess greeted the duke formally and he kissed her hand. They had been parted since they left York, the duchess having travelled to London more slowly. The sight of them together unsettled Robert, partly because he felt a pang of jealousy on his niece’s behalf and partly because his own wife had not yet arrived in London. Then Robert noticed the two young people waiting anxiously behind the duchess.

“They pleaded to come. I hope you do not mind,” she said to Richard in a voice that was confident he would not be angry with her. Robert watched as young Kate met her father’s eyes with a wide smile. Diccon embraced first her and then his son, John. Anne would be pleased to have the news that her children were close by, he thought.

The date for the coronation was postponed again, despite the Duke of York joining the king in the Tower, and was now set for the twenty-fifth. But before the day came, London was stunned by a sermon preached by Dr Shaa, the brother of the Lord Mayor, at St Paul’s Cross. He told the gathering the story that Edward had revealed to Anne, that the old king had never been lawfully married to the queen because he was, before God, promised to another. Two days later the Duke of Buckingham made a similar speech at the Guildhall and when Lord Stanley attended a meeting of all the lords of the church and the nobility, he returned with the news that there had been agreement that Richard, Duke of Gloucester, was the legitimate heir and rightful king.

Robert Harrington came to the door of Stanley House with a small but well-armed escort and said that the king had sent for Anne. It was clear from the faces of both Lord Stanley and the Countess of Richmond that they were displeased by such a summons, but they did not raise any objection. Publically they were both expressing their support for King Richard so Lord Stanley nodded his agreement and his wife merely looked sour as Anne, having hurriedly fetched a cloak from her bedchamber, left with her uncle.

It wasn’t far through the busy streets to Crosby Hall where Uncle Robert helped her down from the horse with a smile. “There is a surprise for you inside,” he said.

Anne hurried up the steps, with her skirts grasped in her hands, anticipating a meeting with Richard but it was her daughter Katherine who ran across the high-roofed hall to greet her and hug her tightly.

“Kate!” she cried, kissing the soft dark hair that escaped around the girl’s forehead. “I did not know you had come down from Yorkshire! Is John...?”

Anne glanced up and saw her son smiling broadly, having stepped forward from the shadows.

“Yes, Mother, I am here.”

Anne gently put her daughter aside and stretched her arms to her firstborn who was now as tall as she was. He grimaced a little as she kissed him but held her as tightly as his sister had.

“This is a joy!” she told them. “I had not even dared to hope that you would come.”

“We pleaded with the Duchess of Gloucester,” said Kate with the smile of a girl used to getting her own way.

“Then I am very grateful to her,” Anne told them, her heart warming once again to the woman she could never quite regard as a rival. “And I am delighted to see you both. Are you well?” she asked, though the question seemed unnecessary. John grew more like her late father every day. Although he was Richard’s son his looks betrayed his Harrington lineage, unlike her small, blue-eyed daughter whom no one would ever doubt was a child of the king.

After she had hugged and kissed them again, she asked them more questions about their health and well-being and whether John was making good progress under the tutelage of the Earl of Lincoln, Richard’s nephew, at Sheriff Hutton. They answered with smiles and gentle teasing at her fussing over them and Anne did not see Richard come down the stairs.

“Your Grace,” she said, standing up as he approached.

“My lady.” He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips. He looked older, thought Anne, as her eyes drank in every inch of him, but in a way that gave him an increased dignity. He exuded an aura of authority and confidence as he stood smiling at them and his face showed no trace of the recent crises.

“How are things at Stanley House?” he asked after they had sat down on a bench.

“Lord Stanley professes his support for you, as does the Countess of Richmond,” she told him.

“But you doubt him?” asked Richard, perceptive as ever.

“I have no reason to trust him,” she said. “And neither do you, even if he was not implicated in the plot against you.”

“He is too wily to implicate himself.”

“But you keep him in your favour?”

“I keep him where I can watch him,” replied Richard. “And I am also aware of your position within his household.”

“It would have been easier for you if I had gone to the convent,” she said.

“Maybe so, but you know that I would never force you to do anything against your wishes.”

“I know that,” she replied, and his words filled her with an aching physical desire for him.

He stood up to leave. “There are many matters that need my attention,” he said, “but you are welcome to spend as much time as you like with John and Kate.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she said as he crossed the hall to run up the stairs. The next time she saw him was at his coronation.

On the fourth day of July, King Richard and Queen Anne moved to the royal apartments in the Tower of London. As she stood on the riverside to watch the royal barge rowed past, Anne wondered about Richard’s nephews. Clarence’s son, the Earl of Warwick, was now under the protection of his uncle as well as Lord Edward and Lord Richard. The king had promised that he would provide for them and maintain them honourably as members of the royal family, but Anne couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for the young Edward who had been raised to believe that he would, one day, be king and who had indeed, albeit unannointed, been their king for a short time. He must be watching the preparations for the coronation of his uncle with disappointment, thought Anne, as she remembered how angry the boy had looked on the day that Richard had escorted him into London. It was not his fault that his parents’ marriage had not been a proper one and Anne hoped that he would be found a fitting place within the new regime.

There was a hiatus as London waited and Anne hoped that nothing would postpone this coronation. But the day dawned fine and dry and the planned celebrations went ahead with no trace of the disagreements and problems of the past few weeks.

Although they were only minor members of the Stanley family, Richard had ensured that Anne and her husband were provided with more than adequate places in Westminster Abbey and Anne could just make out her daughter Katherine in her white gown.

The triumphant notes of the trumpets sounded a fanfare and the congregation turned to watch as the heralds entered through the west door, followed by priests, abbots and bishops with their mitres on their heads and their crosiers in their hands. Next came the earls and dukes carrying the swords, the sceptre and the orb. And, with a fathomless expression, Lord Stanley followed bearing the mace of the Lord High Constable. The Duke of Norfolk carried the king’s crown, and then came Richard. He walked, bareheaded and barefoot in piety, up the carpeted aisle towards the chair of state that was placed ready for him near St Edward’s shrine. He was dressed in a doublet of rich blue, over which he wore a purple velvet gown trimmed with ermine. Behind him, carrying his train, came the Duke of Buckingham.

The queen’s procession followed. Queen Anne, a circlet of gold studded with jewels on her long fair hair, was also barefoot and walked under a silken canopy with a golden bell at each corner. She was escorted by the Bishops of Exeter and Norwich and the Countess of Richmond carried her train.

Following the king and queen came a seemingly endless procession of other lords and nobles of the land, including Lord Edward who was attended by his younger brother Lord Richard and various other henchmen, all finely dressed in new clothes. Anne saw John in his blue and murrey livery and she willed him to look at her as he passed by, but his serious eyes were fixed on his father and Anne wiped away a tear of pride at the sight of him.

She watched as the king and queen came to the high altar where they were anointed with holy oil. Then, as the organ continued to play soft music, they were dressed in cloth of gold and Cardinal Bourchier placed the crowns upon their heads. The bishop put St Edward’s cope upon the king and Richard took the orb in his right hand and the sceptre in his left and made his vows of loyalty to his country in English before the priests sang the Te Deum. A thrill ran through Anne. How could she ever have envisaged that the comely young man she had first fallen in love with so long ago at Hornby would one day become the king of England?

Anne and Edward followed the congregation that made slow progress from the church to the banqueting hall. Following her husband through the crowds, Anne saw Isabella waving frantically to attract her attention. It was so long since she had seen her friend that Anne wanted to stop and speak with her, but she only had time to promise that she would seek her out later before she was ushered to a place further down the hall where John and Kate were already seated.

After kissing them and admiring their new clothes, the trumpets sounded and everyone got to their feet amidst a scraping of benches as the king and queen came in, dressed now in gowns of crimson velvet, to be received by the mayor who offered them hot, spiced wine and wafers. When everyone was seated once more the food was borne in but Anne was too excited to notice much of what she ate during the courses of soups, fowl, meats and custards with a splendid subtlety to accompany each one, the first of which was a decorated white boar fashioned from marchpane.

She and Kate busily compared the ladies’ gowns and headdresses whilst John and Edward fell into some discussion about the symbolism of the holy oil, which Anne hoped John would have the good sense not to repeat to his father. Then there was a commotion at the door and the sound of a horse’s hooves, and the guests cheered as Sir Robert Dymmock, the King’s Champion, ducked his head under the lintel as he rode right into the hall on his horse. The animal danced in the midst of the tables, threatening a disaster at every stamp of its feet and swish of its tail. Sir Robert flung down a shining gauntlet on the floor and challenged anyone who disputed the king’s right to the throne to step forward and fight.

There was a tense silence for a moment longer than was comfortable before an unseen person raised the cry, “King Richard! God save King Richard!” and bending from his mount the champion accepted a silver gilt bowl in his ungloved hand and drank the king’s health.

Even though it was July the evening grew dark as the feasting went on and great beeswax torches were brought in to light the hall. As they burned and scented the air, it grew too late for the third course of the dinner to be served and the guests began to approach the royal dais to renew their homage and to say goodnight. Anne waited hand in hand with her daughter until it was their turn. With trembling knees she approached and knelt before the king and queen. Richard beckoned his daughter forward for a special kiss then turned his warm blue eyes on Anne. She smiled up at him, knowing that he had no need to hear her devotions, but she gave them anyway, both to him and to Queen Anne, before kissing both her children and returning to Stanley House hand in hand with her husband.

Following their coronation, the king and queen rested at Windsor for a few days before Richard and his entourage started off on a royal progress around the country. Lord Stanley was to accompany him and before he left he gave Edward leave to return to Hornby, but said that Anne must remain with the Countess of Richmond in London.

“Why must I do as your father says when I am your wife?” she demanded of Edward as soon as they were alone. “Why must I be forbidden my home?”

“Anne, please. I would stay but I am worried about Lucy.”

“And you think that I am not?” she demanded. She was anxious to get away from the constraints of Stanley House and be free to run her own affairs and make her own decisions once more.

“Why do you always make difficulties?” asked Edward as she paced the bedchamber like one of the caged lions at the Tower. Anne sighed. She felt a little sorry for him. His father’s influence was strong and far reaching and she knew that neither of them was a match for it, but the thought of a longer stay with the dour countess when all she wanted to do was go home appalled her.

In the end she realised that she had no choice but to do as her father-in-law bid. Edward was not willing to argue with his father on the matter, fearing that he too might be made to stay in London. Anne made him promise that he would write to her with news of Lucy as soon as he got to Hornby and she also pleaded that he would send any news he heard of the king’s progress. He agreed, but she wasn’t hopeful. She knew that once he was back at Hornby he would climb the steps to the tower, close the door and lose himself in his work.

The Countess of Richmond seemed even less pleased when she was told that Anne was to remain behind. She said nothing in her husband’s presence, but later made it quite clear that Anne was not welcome in her private solar and that she should stay away from her except for prayers and mealtimes.

Feeling like a prisoner again, Anne sat in her chamber and gazed out over the London rooftops as unseen visitors came and went. She was well aware that Richard’s place on the throne of England was not entirely secure and that there were people who still supported Lord Edward. She suspected Lord Stanley was one of them and that it was for that reason Richard had insisted he join the royal progress. Anne knew for certain that it was not because Richard enjoyed Lord Stanley’s company.

Robert Harrington watched as yet another coffer was carried out and stowed on the wain. Just how much baggage did one queen need, he wondered. It would be past dinnertime before they even set off at this rate and he knew that he would be the one to take the blame if they were not at Warwick, as arranged, to meet the king.

At last everything was stowed. The horses, brushed to perfection and clad in the king’s colours, stood waiting impatiently and Robert was checking the girths one last time when Queen Anne and her ladies came out. The queen had a small boy by the hand and for a moment Robert thought that it was her son. Then he remembered that young Edward had been left at Middleham because, Robert guessed, the king did not want to run the risk of exposing the child to any danger. When he looked again he saw that this solemn little boy, clinging to the queen’s hand and staring around at the scene before him, was older and he presumed that he was the Duke of Clarence’s son.

The queen bent and whispered something to the boy and pointed towards the waiting horses where a groom stood holding a small black pony with a long, well brushed mane and tail. The boy nodded and she gave him into the care of a squire, before glancing across at Robert.

“Everything is ready, Your Grace,” he told her.

“Then we had better make haste if we are to meet up with the king,” she said and, as her eyes strayed back to her nephew who was leaning forward to pat the pony’s neck, Robert thought that she must be anxious to see her own son who was to meet them at Nottingham.

A few days later Anne was dozing restlessly in her bed, dreaming of Hornby, when she was woken by a knock on her door. She sat up as the images of her home were snatched from her and, twitching back the bed curtain, she saw that a maidservant had come in although she judged that the hour was still very early.