White Boar and the Red Dragon, The (21 page)

‘I will, of course. That goes without saying. Send them in now,’ Henry sighed.

‘Uncle Jasper, isn’t that the great Earl of Warwick?’ whispered Henry as a heavily bejewelled, commanding figure emerged from the king’s throne room. Earl Jasper nodded.

‘Aye, boy. To be honest, he is the king now in all but name!’ he whispered this last back, knowing that his words could be interpreted as treasonable if overheard by the wrong ears.

‘What do you mean, sir?’

‘He commands the king! Without Richard Neville, King Henry is a broken reed. But come, I must say no more. The king’s Chamberlain approaches us. Now is our best chance to beg the king for your rightful inheritance! So show great deference and respect to His Majesty—even if he is but a figurehead. Only he can make the decision to reinstate you!’

The boy nodded and following the Chamberlain behind his uncle and mother, approached the throne and knelt humbly with the others at Henry’s feet.

‘Rise, all of you! I believe you have waited a long time to see me? And even longer for the wrongs done against you to be righted? I am sorry for your long wait today, but the earl brought me urgent news which demanded my immediate attention! Luckily, it was good news! How can I help you now?’

Henry’s mother approached first eagerly, curtseying low to the king.

‘Your Majesty, I am glad that you have just received some happy news—whatever that may be! Perhaps, now that you have regained your rightful place and things are going well again for the House of Lancaster, you may consider doing a great service to my son here? He is the rightful Earl of Richmond. But Edward, the usurper, gave all the boy’s estates and his title to George, Duke of Clarence, that grasping brother of his! It is in your power to strip him of what is not rightfully his and return them to their rightful owner by descent—my son Henry Tudor here—your loyal and faithful servant, as indeed we are all your faithful servants!’

Earl Jasper and Henry both nodded vehemently and bowed low again at these words. King Henry was staring fixedly into the face of his young namesake with a very strange look—it was very intense and yet had a faraway quality too.

‘Young man, something tells me that you have a great future ahead of you! Of course I willingly return your title and estates to you—but one day, you will rise far higher! I’m convinced of it! Maybe you will even rule this great land of ours!’

‘What makes you think that, Your Majesty?’ broke in Lady Margaret eagerly, moving several steps forward up the dais. Jasper and young Henry raised their eyebrows at each other, the earl certainly mystified by the strange words, though not Henry, having heard his mother predict the same thing so many times before.

‘I do not know. It is a conviction that is come upon me, and it is growing stronger every minute! The future, after all, is in the hands of the young—and this young man has something in his face and bearing which speaks to me of future greatness! I cannot explain it—I just know it!’ The king fell back in his chair, his brief animation abandoning him suddenly as if it had never existed, leaving him the same sad-faced, pathetic wraith of a man he had been before the boy had appeared.

‘Oh, Sire, if only this could come to pass, it would be the fulfilment of all my hopes and dreams for him! For years, I’ve also believed he would achieve great things and is destined for higher position—even the throne—as you have intimated! But,’ Lady Margaret laughed, ‘not for many years yet, Your Majesty! And it is a mystery that this chance could possibly come to him—seeing as your son, the Prince of Wales, lives and thrives!’

‘Yes, Lady, it is a mystery to me too—but your son is very young yet, and it may be, as you say, many years ahead, this great position which I feel he will rise to! My son will surely succeed me—but the strange conviction within me when I gaze upon this boy here will not be denied!’

‘The king may suffer from his nerves and be weak in body and mind, so it is said, but I think he is no fool if he can see what I have seen plainly all these years,’ commented Lady Margaret to Earl Jasper as they left the audience chamber and entered the ante-room, where they could not be easily overheard.

‘And what he has just said increases my determination a thousandfold—if that be possible—to see young Henry here king in very truth one day! I have worked, and will work to my utmost, to achieve this for him! I will take any risks and undertake any necessary actions to see him on the throne, which will be his rightful place!’

‘Have a care, my lady! Remember that the king is known not to be in possession of his full wits—this could just be the ramblings of a mentally sick man! Do not set too much store upon his words—nor you, Nephew!’ asserted Earl Jasper, shaking his head. ‘I too have worked all my life to get young Henry here his rightful position and estates back. Now I think we have achieved that at last, it is best not to go chasing after the moon as well!’

‘Pshaw! Believe, Jasper! The king’s words—and his strange conviction—are surely a message from God! A confirmation of what I have always felt and known in my heart!’

Court of Burgundy, Christmas, 1470

‘Dickon, who could have imagined we could fall so low is such a short time! It is Christmas Day, and the most miserable I’ve ever spent! I have a son and heir, born on November the twenty-second, whom I have never seen—and poor Elizabeth is still in sanctuary in that draughty, miserable place! It must be so unhealthy for the baby too! Supposing he sickens and dies? Babies succumb so quickly to any disease going around. A simple cold can kill. Disease is no respecter of persons—not even the Prince of Wales!’

‘Stop worrying, Edward. He comes of strong stock—I’m sure that he is thriving!’

‘But I have not even received one letter from Elizabeth. Surely she must have written to me? I have written to her a dozen times!’

‘I expect the letters are not getting through, either way. Warwick will have seen to that! He rules with a rod of iron at present. Henry is but a poor pawn in his game. This situation cannot last long though! The people still support you, and you have many followers gathering here who will fight to help you regain your throne when the time is right!’

‘That wretched turncoat Warwick! And my own brother George is supporting him now for his own ends. These are two men I loved well, Dickon, in spite of everything. Now they have gone too far. When I return, I will have no alternative but to condemn them both to death for their evil deeds against their rightful king—no more sentiment!’

‘That’s the spirit, Ned! Now we must put on happy faces and join the celebrations, whether we feel like it or not! Charles of Burgundy is your best hope of assistance in regaining your rightful place on the English throne. We must persuade him, by every means, to provide funds to enable us to gather a strong army to return to England and defeat Warwick. You can forget about Henry—he is but a figurehead!’

‘What about Margaret of Anjou? She returned to England in November with her son, Edward, and she is no mean force to deal with. Having her at his side, as well as Warwick, Henry could prevail!’

‘Never! Believe me! Warwick will overstep the mark sooner or later. He will overreach himself. It is inevitable. His overriding ambition will be his downfall. Just be patient, Ned.’

‘I long to believe you. You have wisdom far beyond your years, Dickon.’

‘Come, Ned, put away your miserable thoughts, and let us join the duke and his court in the great Feast of the Nativity. You always did enjoy drinking—and French wines are the best in the world, and the most potent!’

‘And French women are fascinating and very beautiful. Who knows, I may make a conquest here to divert me!’ answered Edward. ‘You are right, Dickon, as always. What would I do without you?’

Richard, though his brother was ten years older, felt the elder of the two as he put his arm round Edward and led him towards the Great Hall where the sound of music and merriment could be heard.

Raglan Castle, Gwent, 28 January 1471

Woking Old Hall,

Surrey,

20 January 1471

My Dear Henry,

I am writing to you hoping you will receive this letter of good wishes in time for your fourteenth birthday on the 28 January. I have paid highly for the fastest messengers to convey this—and your presents, which follow—as it is such a long way, so you had better receive all by then, or I shall have something to say to them!

I only wish I could have visited you in Wales, but it is not possible. However, I will be with you in spirit, if not in body. I am not strong, as you know, or in good enough health to undertake such a journey in mid-winter. I hope you will understand.

As I have told you before several times, I would have had you here with me long since, if I could. But King Edward—now ousted in October last and away in exile in Burgundy with his brother, the Duke of Gloucester, thank goodness—was always adamant that you stay there under the Yorkist guardianship of Lord Herbert, made Earl of Pembroke in 1468, who was executed after fighting in the Battle of Edgecote in July last year. This would have been, I know, very unhappy news for you, and you must have felt very sad, for, after all, he was also a good man and you must mourn him—if misled in his Yorkist affiliations—and he and his family always looked after you kindly and well. I expect you came to regard him as your father, as you never knew your own. That was inevitable.

The new political situation means that, at long last, what you have waited for so long will happen soon—your Uncle Jasper will be able to take entire responsibility for you again! It will no doubt be a big wrench for you, though, leaving Raglan Castle after all these years and going to live with your Uncle Jasper in Harlech Castle, which he recaptured from the Yorkists, and which I know he is keeping well-defended, in case they try to get it back!

Now that God’s Anointed, King Henry VI, is back in his rightful place on the throne, I shall continue to importune him to restore to you your rightful title of Earl of Richmond and the many estates in Yorkshire belonging to it, appropriated by George of Clarence, Edward’s younger brother. When Edward was king, he could deny George nothing, it seems, and allowed him to hold on to what was never rightfully his, in spite of my constant pleadings on your behalf! Henry did promise me, when we visited him at Westminster last November, that he would reinstate you and would authorise it, but nothing has happened yet. I fear his befuddled brain and the strong influence of the Earl of Warwick and Queen Margaret have persuaded him against it or he has just forgotten all about it, no doubt, so sick is he in his poor head.

But because you are, as I have told you before, of royal blood and have a good, if not the only true, claim to the throne directly in line from Prince Edward, poor Henry’s son, I am determined to get the king to act on your behalf in the matter of your title and rightful estates, of which you were wrongfully deprived. They are your entitlement, your birthright. It is quite inconceivable that Clarence should continue to hold on to them now, even though he is in close cooperation with the Earl of Warwick, the real king in effect, if not in name. Not so long ago, there were many between you and what I know in my heart to be your ultimate inheritance—the throne. Now there is only one sick man and his only son, who has resided in France with his mother Margaret D’Anjou for so long that he is, I am sure, almost wholly French in character. He is said to have a very unpleasant and cruel nature—not ideal material for kingship. Who knows, something may happen to prevent him ever attaining kingship? So you have a definite chance. Henry is old and sick in mind and body, so I do not expect he will live long, even if Margaret returns to support him.

On the Yorkist side—if they ever return to power, God forbid—there are only George of Clarence and Richard of Gloucester, Edward’s brothers, who have any real claim to the throne after Edward—but it is certainly no better than yours!

As you know, Richard was sent into Wales in November 1469 to restore order there after the Lancastrian rebellions in Cardiganshire and Carmarthenshire. He was only seventeen then, and was made a leader of hundreds of soldiers, and he was only four years older than you at the time! He was given so much power by Edward, his elder brother, and so many influential positions, right up to the time last October when they had to flee into exile in Burgundy, that I imagine his head must have swollen to twice its normal size! But all that has changed now, of course! Think of it, Constable of England and Chief Justice for Wales whilst still nothing but a boy of seventeen! Apparently, being so able a commander, he carried out his duties excellently. I suppose Edward had no one else he could trust to take on such important work, except this young and able brother of his—known to be his favourite. And now they are both landless and powerless exiles, stripped of everything! They say that King Edward and Richard escaped only in the nick of time from Warwick’s pursuit, with just the clothes they stood up in! How are the mighty fallen!

You too could have a really great future and important responsibilities like Richard by the time you are his age. Uncle Jasper will help you, I know. I am sure that you will be happy to be with him again after all these years you have been separated from him and living at Raglan Castle with the Herbert family.

My dear son, enjoy your birthday and think on your glittering future—which may not be so far off, now that the Lancastrians are supported by the great Earl of Warwick. He is very powerful and influential. He exerts his will to accomplish great things! King Henry is lucky to have him as a supporter, especially as Queen Margaret has been so far away in France for so long and he himself is so weak and sick. He must depend on him greatly.

Write soon and let me know how you are. There will be some presents arriving for you on your birthday, as usual, as I mentioned, which I know you will like!

Your loving mother,

Margaret,

Countess of Richmond

Henry read his birthday letter, as always feeling that his mother expected too much for him—and from him—but also excited by her predictions for his future. That seemed to be the one thing that constantly obsessed her mind.