Queen of Trial and Sorrow (32 page)

“He reminds me of Clarence,” Dorset remarked.  “The same sullen pout when he’s crossed.”

Buckingham was handsome and liked to clothe himself in rich fabrics and eye-catching colors and hang jewels about his fine person; he could be good company, charming and witty and able to speak persuasively.  All these things he had in common with George of Clarence but he shared some of the dangerous flaws too.  He had made himself unpopular at Edward’s court by being too outspoken; he was jealous of those in favor and because he was so self-absorbed he lacked the ability to judge impartially.  In any case, I did not like it that he had linked himself with Gloucester.

“I think it’s obvious what he’s up to,” Lionel said.  “He was overlooked and ignored by Edward for so many years and now he sees an opportunity to ingratiate himself with the one in power, to take the place to which he believes he was predestined by birth, at the center of state affairs, instead of hovering on the sidelines where Edward relegated him.  We must remember that although Gloucester is a great man in the north, he enjoys little influence here in the south.  He’ll see Buckingham as an ally with considerable resources, and be glad of him.  And we can be sure Buckingham will be looking for ways to turn the situation to his own benefit.”

“There’s more to it than that,” Dorset pointed out.  “In backing Gloucester, he’s putting himself in opposition to us, and he’ll do all he can to destroy us.”

I gazed out the window.  There were daffodils blooming in the garden, their bright color muted by a drizzle of rain.  How I wished my son were with me, safe with me.

……….

It was the last night of April and I was lying awake as usual.  My sister Anne was sleeping on a pallet at the foot of my bed and the sibilance of her breathing was the only sound in the quiet chamber.  A widow herself, she had barely left my side since Edward’s death, and although my ladies usually attended me during the night in rotation, I was glad to dispense with tradition in order to have her with me.  The great palace was sleeping soundlessly.  My children were nearby, breathing softly into one another’s hair.  I could not bring myself to send them back to Shene yet. 

I was done with tears but not with anxiety.  They were on the road, the three parties, the king, Gloucester and Buckingham, due to meet in Northampton.  To keep myself from worrying about the future, I allowed my mind to drift to the past, to happier times, of which there were so many.  I remembered an occasion when Master Woodhouse had come bouncing into the king’s great chamber in his merry way.

‘Sire Edward!’ he called, interrupting the king in mid-conversation with the Bishop of Ely.

‘Sir Fool?’ said Edward, always inclined to indulge anyone who amused him.

‘You see before you a simple man with little learning, and being perplexed by certain questions, I have come to your noble Highness who is the very fount of knowledge, the very zenith of wisdom in this our England, in the certainty that your most gracious Highness will shed some light on my ignorance.’

Entering into the spirit, Edward said: ‘Alas, Sir Fool, you are mistaken in me.  I, too, have little learning and as for wisdom, I have only enough to know how little I know.  However, here is the Reverend Bishop of Ely, a very learned man, and there is Lord Hastings who, as you may know, is wise in the ways of the world.  Perhaps between us we can help you.  What has you so perplexed?’

‘Sire, there are many mysteries in this universe of ours – ’ the fool got out before the king interrupted.

‘I marvel that you have learned this truth already at such a tender age.’ (Master Woodhouse was not a day under forty and not an inch above four feet.)  ‘Perhaps I should promote you.  Instead of Sir Fool you shall become Sir Sage.  What do you say?’

The courtiers roared with laughter and the king loudest of all.  The fool possessed a stick hung with tiny bells and often strutted around with it tucked into the crook of his arm in the manner of a monarch with his scepter or an official with the staff of his office, and he shook it vigorously until everyone stopped laughing.

Affecting sorrow, he said: ‘I pray you, do not, dear lord and master.  For whereas your Excellency excels in many things, such as your fearsome battlefield prowess, your sagacity in council, and your beauty of person, and whereas God in His wisdom, has seen fit to bestow upon His most deserving son manifold gifts and blessings, I, neither so fortunate nor so blessed, excel only at being a fool.’

Again there was a burst of laughter and applause, and Edward said: ‘Well spoken, sir.  Now, pray tell, what is it that perplexes you?’

Hopping forward, the fool nestled at the king’s feet.  ‘I desire to know, Sire, where the light that illuminates the stars comes from?  In ’56 a new star appeared that had a blazing tail.  Where did it come from and where did it go?  Why do some spirits of the dead appear in the world and others not?  Why does God permit evil to flourish?  Why does plague proliferate in summer?  Why do we sneeze and why do we hiccup?  And why is a yawn contagious?  Why is it that when I see a man yawn I immediately feel an almost irresistible urge to do so?  Why can’t I control my own jaw?’

‘Whoa!’ cried the king.  ‘Master Woodhouse, you overwhelm me.  My poor head is spinning…’ Edward loved Master Woodhouse for his impertinent wit.

Thinking of that merry exchange, I believe I may have fallen asleep with a smile on my lips.  If so, it was the last time, ever.

There was a loud knocking on the door and I awoke with a start, my heart thudding.  Anne jumped up from her pallet and padded across the chamber on bare feet to hold a whispered conversation with one of the ushers who kept my doors.   

“Sister,” she said, returning.  “The usher says there’s someone here to see you and his business is urgent.”

A glance at the markings on the night candle told me it was past the hour of one.  What had happened?

“Shall I tell him to return in the morning?”

“Who is he?”

“His name is Sir Walter Lufton and he is in the service of Lord Dacre.”

Lord Dacre, who was steward to the young king.  Only just settled into a normal rhythm, my heart began to pound like a badly played tabor. 
Dear God, no!  Don’t let anything have happened to my sweet boy! 

“No, I’ll see him now.” Thrusting the covers aside, I slid my legs over the edge of the bed, while Anne knelt to fit slippers to my feet.  “Send someone to fetch Thomas and Lionel.”

I could barely contain myself in patience as Anne helped me into a bed robe and thrust my braided hair under a linen coif, while I awaited the arrival of my brother and son.  Dorset was nowhere to be found, sleeping in another’s bed, no doubt, but the Bishop of Salisbury came hurriedly, and stood at my shoulder as I received the dread news.

The Duke of Gloucester had arrested my son Richard Grey, my brother Anthony and old Sir Thomas Vaughan and seized the person of the king.

The messenger told how the king and his escort had arrived early at the rendezvous, and Earl Rivers decided spontaneously that there wasn’t sufficient accommodation available for all parties and moved on to Stony Stratford, twelve miles to the south, leaving a man behind to explain his reasoning when the dukes arrived.  To avoid any misunderstanding, after settling his charge at an inn bearing the apt name the Rose and Crown, he rode back to Northampton to reassure the dukes.

It was too late for him to return to Stony Stratford that night and everyone expected to see him in the morning but, although they waited, the decision had to be made to move on in order that they might arrive at their next halt before nightfall. As the king and his close companions were in the courtyard about to mount their horses, the dukes arrived with a party of about sixty men, and no sign of Earl Rivers.  

The new arrivals dismounted, and the two dukes went to kneel before the king, heads bared.  Gloucester offered his condolences and the king thanked him and said he was looking forward to completing the journey in his uncle’s company.  His bearing, the man remarked, was both mature and dignified.  Yet even as he spoke his eyes went over the two bent heads to anxiously scan the faces of Gloucester’s company who were crowding close.  Inviting the dukes to rise, he asked after his Uncle Rivers.

Gloucester then delivered himself of a diatribe against our family by saying that his father’s early death had been brought about by certain persons who were frequently to be found in wanton company with the late king and had ruined his health by leading him into debauchery.  Leaving aside the plain fact that the only member of my family against which such an accusation could justly be made wasn’t even present, my son Dorset, to speak so to a bereaved boy about his beloved father was unconscionable.  Gloucester then said that to protect the son from those who had besmirched the memory of the father, he would remove such men from the king’s side because a child of such tender years was incapable of weeding out evil councillors.  Furthermore, said the Great Dissembler, he had uncovered plots to ambush him on the road and in the city by men intent on taking the government into their own hands.  For his own safety he had arrested Earl Rivers.

As may be imagined, my son was confused by these false utterances, and he said that his father had set Earl Rivers over him and that he relied on his father’s prudence to put men about him who were faithful and honorable.

Gloucester said: ‘They have dealings far from your Grace’s knowledge.’    

At this point, he asked to speak privately and, without waiting for a response from anyone he took the king’s elbow gently and steered him toward the door of the inn.  Seeing his charge being summarily ushered away, Bishop Alcock made as if to follow but the duke told him to remain outside, politely but firmly, and the only ones who went into the inn were Gloucester and his close friends and Buckingham.

The courtyard and the street beyond were crowded with the armed men, pack animals and sumpter wagons of the king’s escort, prepared for the next stage of the journey, and the men were beginning to get agitated, wanting to know what was going on.  When the door finally opened a few minutes later, Gloucester and Buckingham emerged.  Addressing the assembly, Gloucester said he had uncovered a conspiracy to deprive him of the office the late king had entrusted to him and to bring about his death.  He said it was his duty to guard and defend the king’s Grace and the kingdom until the king was of an age to take upon himself the heavy and onerous responsibility of ruling, and until that time he would do whatever was necessary, even give up his own life, to protect the king from those who would use him for their own ends.  In this number, he named Earl Rivers, the Marquis of Dorset, Sir Richard Grey and Sir Thomas Vaughan.  He said, his voice filled with sorrow, that the king was surrounded by traitors.  My son and Vaughan were grabbed by rough hands and hustled away.

Traitors?
There was no plot.  Had there been, the accused men would have taken some steps to protect themselves instead of keeping Gloucester informed of their movements.  It was they who had blundered blindly into his ambush.

Once more Gloucester addressed the assembled men:  ‘I have received his Grace the king into my care, according to the wishes of our late sovereign lord, King Edward – may he know salvation and everlasting peace.’ This pious sentiment was echoed by a multitudinous murmur of voices and the sound of creaking leather as the men crossed themselves.  ‘You are no longer needed.  Therefore, I command you to return to your homes.  Do not gather in numbers and do not approach any place the king is likely to pass on pain of death.’

Two thousand men had assembled to protect the king and not one lifted a finger when his uncle seized his person and sent honorable men, whose only fault was that they were faithful to him, to unjust captivity!

For Gloucester to arrive in Stony Stratford with so few men had been a calculated gamble that might have gone horribly awry, and never was he more at risk than at that moment.  Had any one of those who cared for the king stood forth and challenged him, the story might have had a different ending.  That’s why he had limited the number of men with him.  If two groups of similar size met it might have resulted in an ugly confrontation despite everyone’s best intentions.  Rather than a daunting display of troops, he counted on deceit, surprise and his own undoubted authority, both as the late king’s brother and protector of the young king, to achieve a smooth
coup d’etat
.  Three good and loyal men under arrest, the king in his custody and not a drop of blood spilt.  How clever he was! 

The men of the escort would not have believed he meant his royal nephew any harm, else he would have turned up with an army, not a mere threescore men.  After muttering amongst themselves for a while, they hefted their weapons and their packs and turned around, drifting away down the road in small groups.

I turned anguished eyes on my brother.  “What must we do?”  I cried.  “I want my son safe with me!”

“Courage, Bess,” he murmured.  “Remember, once the king reaches London, Gloucester can hardly separate him from his family.  There is nothing we can do tonight.  We’ll meet again in the morning.  Go and rest.” 

“Rest!  How can I rest?”

Yet I suffered Anne to lead me away, even knowing I wouldn’t sleep.  I lay on my bed staring up at the dark canopy above until my eyes felt grainy and my anxieties had tripled.   Anthony, my son Richard – he wasn’t even a member of the king’s household; he just happened to be there at that time – what would become of them?  What would become of the rest of my children?  Dorset: if he fell into Gloucester’s hands, he would share whatever fate awaited his brother and uncle, and of that I dared not think.  In Warwick’s time being a Wydeville was punishable by death.  Would it be so again?