The Last Plantagenets (57 page)

The historical version goes on to say that, in spite of the ingenuity of Clarence [sic!], Richard succeeded in finding her. That again would be an unusual accomplishment. Members of the royal family were served at table by dukes and earls and members of the highest nobility, my lord This to hand the platter with the mutton, my lord That to hold the royal napkin. Richard could have dined in all the houses of London without laying an eye once on a serving maid. Is it to be assumed that he went prying into all the kitchens in London in search of his lost love or that he was casting a net over the whole countryside? Nevertheless he heard where Anne was, and the only reasonable explanation was that she herself contrived to get word to him.

Richard promptly removed her to sanctuary at St. Martin’s le Grand and very soon afterward they were married. Although they were first cousins and should have had a dispensation, they did not wait to get the Pope’s consent, and His Holiness was forbearing enough not to interfere.

The story is still told as proof that Richard forced Anne to marry him. It reads instead like a page from a very pleasant romance.

In the peaceful years which followed the return of Edward to the throne, Richard was employed largely in the north. He performed his duties so fairly and thoroughly that he won for himself a popularity which did not end with his death.

He resided with his bride at Middleham Castle in Wensleydale, which had belonged to the Warwick family. Here as a boy Richard had lived for some years under Warwick’s guardianship and during that time his acquaintance with Anne had ripened. It was one of the most pleasant spots in all England, situated in the North Riding on the Ouse, almost within hearing distance of the bells of Jervaux Abbey and in easy walking distance of the waterfall known as the Mill Gill Force. Warwick had converted the bare walls of the castle into one of the most magnificent of family seats. The ceilings were lofty and the oak screens masterpieces of carving. The windows held the finest stained glass. Here in 1474 a son was born to the young couple and given the name of Edward. There were no signs of discord in the family.

And there they may be left for the time being.

T
O HAVE a clear understanding of what happened after the death of Edward IV, it is necessary to go rather more fully into the activities of the queen’s family, the ambitious Woodvilles. In the first place it had been clear to all that the king had not long to live. Under the once fine glow of health which had added to his amazing good looks, the telltale purple of overtaxed veins was beginning to show. Edward was becoming corpulent and flabby. His breathing was short and labored, he no longer cared to ride out to hunt or, in fact, to bestir himself in any way. In the evenings he gave himself over so completely to his flagon of wine that he would fall into a state of sodden intoxication. It was generally necessary to carry him to his bed in an unconscious condition.

This last phase of his life had led to some diminution of his popularity. One of his greatest extravagances, for of course the Plantagenet blood in his veins made him lavish with his money, was the erection of an extremely costly stable. Over their wine, men would wink slyly and drink to “the princely stables and the favorite
grey
mare,” a play, of course, on the queen’s name in her first marriage.

With the king lapsing into habits which were certain to cut short his years, it behooved the Woodvilles to get themselves still more firmly established. The queen’s father had been executed during the wars and his earldom had descended to his oldest son, Anthony, the most intelligent of the family. Anthony it was who took such an interest in Caxton and supplied him with his first book—a debonair and doughty man who shared, unfortunately, the selfish qualities of the rest. Elizabeth was not content that her oldest son, Thomas Grey, had been made Earl of Huntingdon and had secured for him the marquisate of Dorset, which
set him above all the earls in the land (the backbone of the older aristocracy) and just below the dukes who had royal blood in their veins. To provide him with the wealth to live up to his title, she had married him to the richest heiress in England.

The greed of the Woodvilles made them so unpopular that even at court it was the source of sly quips. Once the court jester came into the royal presence in a costume which caused titters of amusement. His coat was so short that it did not conceal his anatomy below the waist and with this he was wearing shoes of such length that they almost made up for the deficiencies of the coat. He was carrying a marsh pike in his hand.

The king was not too far gone in his cups to fail of seeing that the jester had prepared some amusing jape for the amusement of the company. He glanced up over the brim of his flagon.

“Ha, sir fool!” he said. “Whyfor this costume?”

“Upon my word, sir king,” replied the fool, “it is indeed unsafe to venture out in any other. The
rivers
are so high in your realm that I could hardly hope to get through them, save by the use of this staff.”

It is reported that everyone laughed, even the king himself.

Edward’s end came suddenly and it proved a disconcerting matter to the sharp-eyed Woodvilles. It had been expected that the heir to the throne would be left in his mother’s care. Through her they could control the kingdom even more completely than they had done while the sodden king lived. A household for the young Prince of Wales had been set up under the control of Lord Rivers with the title of governor. A council had been appointed to assist in the boy’s education and training. Richard was a member of the council, but he had found himself hemmed in by members of this ubiquitous family. Sir William Stanley was steward, Sir Richard Crofts treasurer, the two sons of the queen’s first marriage were both active and voluble members. Richard, watchful and disturbed, was in such a complete minority that he carried no weight.

This household had been established in the castle of Ludlow, a long way from London and quite close to the Marcher country. The heir to the throne was here, under the watchful eye of his uncle Rivers, when fast-riding pursuivants, covered with dust and red of spur, came pounding at the gate with word that King Edward was dead. They had brought other information which was most disturbing. Edward’s will appointed his brother Richard protector of the realm and made him also guardian of the heir. This disposition of power should have been expected, for the late king had always placed the greatest reliance on his younger brother. No better proof of this can be cited than Edward’s action and words on the historic occasion when he learned that the Kingmaker had turned
his coat. He sent a messenger in great haste to Baynard’s Castle. “Bring back Gloucester,” he directed. “In these difficult matters, that boy’s head is better than a whole council.”

The
History
states that Richard was in London when Edward died and that he persuaded the widow not to send a large escort to Ludlow Castle to bring the Prince of Wales back to the capital, thereby making it possible for him to gain possession of the prince’s person. This, of course, is untrue and is only one of the glaring misstatements with which that document is crammed. It is an invention to convey the impression of plotting on Richard’s part from the beginning.

Richard was in the north when his brother died. He had paid only two visits to the court from the time that he married Anne. In that period he had been successful in repelling Scottish attacks, in maintaining law and order, and in winning the respect and admiration of the people. A messenger reached him a few days after Edward had breathed his last, dispatched by Hastings, the lord chamberlain. It informed him that the late king’s will appointed him protector of the realm. There was a note of urgency in the message. “Get you to London,” advised the chamberlain.

Richard’s motto was
Loyaulte me Lie
, Loyalty Binds Me. This applied above everything else to his feeling for his dead brother. He had loved Edward very much. In the deepest grief, he rode to York and attended a Requiem Mass, to which all the nobility of the north were summoned. After the service, they were required to take an oath of allegiance to the young prince.

Richard was anxious to have his dead brother’s wishes carried out in a proper and legal way. Instead of acting on the urgent note from Hastings, he waited for formal notification from the council of his appointment. When nothing reached him, he sent a messenger to Lord Rivers at Ludlow Castle, asking what plans had been made for the departure of the prince for London. He, Richard, desired to honor the new sovereign by accompanying him. No answer was received, and still no word came from the council.

At this point a second messenger reached Richard from Hastings which explained what was going on. The Woodvilles were moving fast to get authority into their own hands. The consideration which drove them to hasty action was that a protector’s authority ceased as soon as the young king had been crowned. They must, therefore, arrange to have the coronation before Richard could put in an appearance. They set the date for May 4, less than a month after the king’s death. The queen’s oldest son by her first marriage, the Marquis of Dorset, was constable of the Tower and so had control of the national armament and the treasure which the late king had amassed. A meeting of the royal council was held at which Dorset gained approval for a bold move. The royal fleet
was needed, he reported, to repel the attacks of French freebooters along the coast. The council agreed to an order to mobilize the navy and confirmed Dorset’s recommendation that the queen’s brother, Sir Edward Woodville, be placed in command. Dorset then took it on himself to provide the new head of the navy with a portion of the royal treasure. Official orders were being issued in his name and that of Lord Rivers, using the terms
avuncular regis and frater regis uterinus
.

On receipt of this second message, Richard proceeded to act with the decision and vigor he had always displayed on fields of battle. With a troop of 600 men, he set out briskly for the south. The party from Ludlow was well ahead of him. But Lord Rivers had led his escort of 2000 due east until reaching Stony Stratford, intending, no doubt, to follow from there the great road called Ermine Street, which ran straight south to London; but for some reason he had indulged in a long pause before going any farther. It was when Richard was within a few miles of the earl’s party that he was joined by the Duke of Buckingham with 300 more men. The latter brought information which removed from the protector’s mind any doubts he may have had about the intentions of the Woodvilles. He caught up with Lord Rivers before that somewhat dilatory nobleman had stirred himself to leave Stony Stratford.

The head of the Woodville family seems to have been taken by surprise. At any rate he did not offer any resistance. Richard placed him under arrest and packed him off to Pontefract Castle, together with a number of his lieutenants, including the queen’s youngest son, Richard Grey, and Lords Vaughan and Haute. He then dispersed their force and, with his own men serving as an escort for the young king, proceeded to London.

The news of what had happened reached London before he did and the queen lost no time in rushing for sanctuary at Westminster. She took with her the Duke of York (the younger of the two boys who were later reported as victims in the Tower), all of her daughters, and quite a household of ladies and gentlemen, as well as a corps of servants. Apparently she expected to stay there for some time. One report speaks of Archbishop Rotheram of York going to Westminster to speak with the queen and finding there “much rumble, haste and business; carriage and conveyance of her staff into the Sanctuary, chests, coffers, packs, fardels, trusses, all on men’s backs, all in a rush, some even breaking down walls to get the possessions into the Sanctuary.”

Elizabeth’s son Dorset had taken even more alarm—as well he might, considering the treasonable acts in which he had indulged—and had joined her there. Becoming still more unsure of his position, he slipped out of Westminster and betook himself across the North Sea to the safety of the Low Countries. A confession of guilt can be read into the haste
with which the Woodvilles abandoned the spoils and ran to cover. They had gambled and lost.

The members of the council seem to have been relieved by the arrival of Richard and they proceeded to co-operate with him in his capacity as protector. The young king was given possession of the royal apartments in the Tower and a later date, June 22, was set for the coronation.

It now becomes necessary to return to the wild charges, the misstatements, and the absurd details of the
History
. It is therein declared that one Dr. Shaw, brother of the lord mayor and a preacher of great eloquence, presented himself at St. Paul’s Cross on June 22, the Sunday when Prince Edward was to have been crowned king, and pronounced all members of the family of Edward IV illegitimate. Taking as his text “Bastard slips shall never take deep root,” he proceeded to challenge the right of the prince to succeed because the marriage of the late king to the beautiful widow, Elizabeth Grey, was not lawful. The king had brought into the world a child by another woman, one Elizabeth Lucy, who should, therefore, have been his queen.

The
History
proceeds to rule out this claim advanced by Dr. Shaw by declaring there had been no pretense of marriage in the Elizabeth Lucy affair. “She,” quoting from the
History
, “confessed that they were never ensured. Howbeit, she said his grace spake so loving words unto her, that she verily hoped he would have married her; and that if it had not been for such kind words, she would never have shown such kindness to him, to let him so kindly get her with child.”

It has never been explained where the
History
got this story about Elizabeth Lucy. There had been many women in Edward’s promiscuous life but none bearing that name. As will be shown later, Edward was supposed to have married Lady Eleanor Talbot, years before he succumbed to the charms of Elizabeth Grey. Evidence on this entanglement was introduced into Parliament, where it was debated at length; and as a result the children of Edward IV were declared illegitimate.