To Hold the Crown: The Story of King Henry VII and Elizabeth of York (7 page)

“Who does like these disturbances? I hear it is an unknown priest who has started all this—a certain Richard Simon.”

“It is. But I daresay it is taken out of his hands now. They have dared crown this Lambert Simnel in Dublin.”

“That is impossible.”

“Alas, not so. They have support from Margaret of Burgundy and two thousand German troops with them. The Germans are good fighters.”

“And what do they propose to do?”

“You can imagine. They will land here and we shall have to do battle. I thought the Wars of the Roses were at an end.”

“They are at an end. They must be at an end. You and Elizabeth have joined up York and Lancaster. There shall be no more wars.”

“That is my fervent hope. But we must always be wary of troublemakers like this upstart priest.”

“Richard Simon . . . why he came here once!”

“Came here!”

“Why yes, to see the Dowager Queen.”

Mother and son looked at each other intently.

“So Elizabeth Woodville is concerned in this,” muttered Henry. “The Queen’s mother! It seems incredible.”

“I would believe anything of that woman. You have given her so much but she is quite ungrateful. I am sure she tries to manage everything here in the Queen’s household and because she cannot, will turn the Queen against you.”

“I have no fear that I shall not be able to influence the Queen.”

“Elizabeth is a good creature, I grant you. I have no complaint of her. She will be a docile wife and she admires you and is of course grateful because of what you have brought her. But I have never liked Elizabeth Woodville, an upstart from the beginning. I should like to see her removed from Court.”

“If she is involved in the slightest way with this affair of the baker’s son then she shall most certainly be removed from Court.”

“My son, leave this to me. I shall discover and when I do I shall ask for the privilege of dealing with the woman. You know you can trust me.”

“I never was more certain of anything,” answered the King. “I leave the matter of the Dowager Queen in your hands.”

The Countess found the Dowager Queen in her apartments surrounded by her women. One of them was reading while the rest of them worked on a piece of tapestry.

The Countess said: “I wish to speak with the Queen Dowager alone.”

The women immediately arose and, bowing, began to retire.

“Wait,” said Elizabeth in her most imperious manner. “I feel sure that what the Countess has to say to me can be said before you.”

“I do not think you would relish that, my lady,” said the Countess grimly, and Elizabeth felt a shiver of apprehension. She knew that preparations were going ahead on the Continent, that Lambert Simnel had been crowned in Dublin, that Margaret of Burgundy had decided to support the boy whom she called the son of her beloved brother Clarence, and that Lincoln had succeeded in getting an army of Germans together to fight the Tudor. It was satisfactory progress, but all the same she hoped that Henry had not discovered too much for he might resort to all kinds of drastic conduct if he knew how far this plot had gone against him.

She did not stop the women’s leaving and when they had gone she said with a strong resentment in her voice: “Countess, it is my place to give orders to my servants.”

“I am of the opinion that they might not be your servants much longer.”

“I do not understand. Are you suggesting that you will choose my attendants for me?”

“I am suggesting that you may not be here at Court much longer.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I am sure my daughter, the Queen, would not wish me to leave her.”

“I think she will when she knows what you have been doing.”

“You had better explain, Countess.”

“On the contrary it is you who should explain. Of what did the priest Richard Simon speak to you when he came on the instructions of the Earl of Lincoln to visit you?”

Elizabeth turned pale. So they knew. It was inevitable. The King would have his spies everywhere. Did it matter? He would soon know when the troops landed.

Elizabeth decided to be brazen. She was the mother of the Queen, so they would not dare harm her.

The Countess was saying: “It is no use denying that Simon came here. He is now in Ireland with that foolish baker’s boy whom they have had the temerity to crown in Dublin.”

“You mean the Earl of Warwick.”

“You know the Earl of Warwick is in the Tower.”

“I know he
was
there, poor child. Put there as my own sons were because of their claim to the throne.”

“You speak treason, Elizabeth Woodville.”

“I speak truth, Margaret Beaufort.”

“The King and I have a way of dealing with traitors.”

“I know you have a way of dealing with those whose claim to the throne is greater than that of the Tudor.”

Elizabeth felt reckless now, which was rare with her. But she believed Henry Tudor was no fighter and there were many in the country who resented him; they had accepted him because they wanted an end to the war, but no one could say that his claim to the throne was very strong.

Now was the time to take sides.

“You admit that you are involved in this nonsensical conspiracy?”

“I admit that the priest came here. I admit that I know the Earl of Warwick escaped from the prison in which your son had put him—poor child, little more than a baby and his only fault being that he had a greater claim to the throne than Henry Tudor.”

“You go too far, Elizabeth Woodville.”

“Well, what is it to be? The Tower? Do you think the Queen will allow that? And what do you think the people will say when they hear that the Queen’s Mother is sent to prison merely for saying the Tudor has a very shaky claim to the throne? If you imprison people for saying that, you will have the whole country in captivity.”

“Silence,” cried the Countess. “You are to leave for the nunnery at Bermondsey without delay.”

“A nunnery! I am not ready for that.”

“You will have a choice. It is the nunnery or the Tower. If you go to the nunnery it can be said that you go for your health’s sake. The King and I give you this chance.”

“You and the King do not wish the country to know that I believe the boy Lambert to be the true Earl.”

“That matter will soon be settled. Prepare to leave for the nunnery.”

“I will see my daughter first.”

The Countess lifted her shoulders.

“You must be ready to leave before the end of the day.”

When she was alone Elizabeth felt deflated. The victory was theirs, but she was sure it was a temporary one. Power was in their hands now. It was true they could have sent her to the Tower and she was not so popular with the people that they would greatly care what became of her.

To be sent to the Tower, put in a dark cheerless cell—those places of doom in which a prisoner spent long days and nights, to be forgotten and remembered only when he or she was no longer there and none could be sure how that prisoner had died and none cared.

My little boys, where are you? she wondered. Do
your
ghosts roam the Tower by night?

And what of the Earl of Warwick? Had he really escaped? Had he gone the way of the little Princes? Who could say?

The Queen came to her. She looked disturbed. So the Countess had told her what was planned.

She went to her daughter and took her in her arms but the Queen was somewhat aloof. The Dowager Queen had never been demonstrative . . . not like King Edward, and it was not possible to become so just when the moment demanded it. It would be so easily detected as forced.

“They are asking me to leave for Bermondsey,” she said.

“I know. You have been involved in this foolish uprising . . . if that is what it will come to. How could you!”

“How could I? Because that boy in Ireland whom they have crowned has more right to the throne than Henry Tudor.”

“How can you say such foolish things! Henry is my husband. I am the Queen. Our marriage has put an end to the Wars of the Roses. York is honored in this marriage as much as Lancaster.”

“Is it? You are the King’s puppet. You do as he says. I am treated as of no importance. Lancaster is in the ascendant. Where is York now?”

“My son is of the houses of both York and Lancaster. Henry is going to make this country great. He knows how to do that but he must have peace. We want none of these foolish troubles . . . and this is a particularly stupid one. I am surprised that you received that priest. I think that Henry is being very lenient in sending you to Bermondsey.”

Elizabeth’s spirits sank. They had taken her daughter from her. They had made her one of them. Perhaps she had been foolish to become involved in this affair. After all would it be so good for her if the young boy was on the throne when her own daughter was Henry’s Queen? But Elizabeth was too meek. She was already one of them. She was on their side against her own mother.

Elizabeth Woodville began to realize that she was lucky merely to be banished to Bermondsey.

There were crowds in the streets of London watching a young boy on a white horse. He was some twelve years old, very pale, for he had been a prisoner in the Tower since the King’s accession and before that had lived in some restraint at Sheriff Hutton.

He was a little bewildered now and looked about him with a kind of dazed wonder as the people pressed round to look at him. He was on his way to St. Paul’s Cathedral where he could hear Mass and confess his sins, which would not take long for there were few sins a prisoner of twelve years old could commit.

The people studied him intently. Was he the real Earl of Warwick as the King said he was? Or was he a substitute? Who could say? Important and influential people said the true one was in Ireland now . . . coming to England to claim the throne.

Who could know the truth?

The King and the Queen were present and the Earl rode close behind them. Looks of recognition passed between the young boy and the Queen, and they shared memories of Sheriff Hutton where they had both been in restraint before the battle of Bosworth. Both had been buffeted from one position to another and all because of who they were.

The young Earl knew why he was in the Tower. His father had died in the Tower, killed they said on the orders of his own brother the great King Edward, to whom Clarence had been a menace. That was the trouble, they were all menaces if they were in the line of succession to the throne—except Elizabeth. She had other uses. She was a Princess and by marriage had joined the Houses of York and Lancaster.

The boy looked at her pleadingly. She understood. He was saying: I should like to be free again. I should like to go into the country, to ride out, to smell the grass and the trees. Freedom is the most important gift in the world and one which is not appreciated until it is lost.

He was hopeful. Elizabeth was kind and she was the Queen now. She would remember their friendship at Sheriff Hutton. Perhaps she could persuade the King to let him go free. If he could only be released he would promise never to try to gain the throne. He would barter all his claims . . . for freedom.

So he rode through the streets where the heralds proclaimed him—Earl of Warwick, son of Clarence . . . alive and well and lodging at the Tower.