White Boar and the Red Dragon, The (3 page)

‘If it weren’t for you, Anne, I would go mad stuck in this room! Only you, your family, Francis, and Robert come to visit me. George has been only twice, and then I know he could not wait to get away again as quickly as possible! He made that obvious by wrinkling up his nose when he came in! That hurt! I suppose sickrooms do get stuffy and smelly, but I can’t help it and he did not bother to hide how he felt. But that’s George—selfish through and through! I love him but I often don’t like him much!

And then there’s Mother! She has only visited me once, as far as I know! I was asleep and woke to see her standing at the bottom of my bed gazing silently down at me, and the look on her face, I could not make it out. There was pity there, but something else too, something which struck cold deep inside me. I can only describe it as loathing! But she is my mother! Does she loath me so now that I have become a cripple?

Does that make me unacceptable as her son?

She prays for me, oh yes. I know she spends long hours in the chapel praying for me. Doing her Christian duty, I suppose! But what I want is for her to visit me, keep me company, try to cheer me up with kind words as the rest of you do! Why does she keep away from me? Why do I appal her so?’

‘She is a very religious lady. Maybe she thinks she can do you more good by praying to God for your full recovery constantly than by spending time here?’

‘But I am her son! Mothers should love and support their sons! She adores Edward, George too! I’m beginning to think that she does not want to come near me any more, because she cannot bear to see me the way I am now! She has always been strict and severe with me, and I never seemed able to please her, whatever I did—but now—I am sure she hates me!’

‘Richard, I am sure your mother does love you. Perhaps she finds it hard to show her feelings. Some people are not easily affectionate, even to their nearest and dearest.’

‘Edward and George have always been her favourites—Edmund before them too. None of them could do any wrong in her eyes, and I was forever in trouble with her at Fotheringhay, even as a tiny boy! She has always picked on me with constant criticism! I do not think she ever cared much for me, because I was not big and strong like the other boys, and now I am a cripple, she despises me!’

Francis Lovell, Richard’s closest friend, came in at that moment.

‘I heard that, Richard! Stop feeling sorry for yourself! You are not a cripple! Look how much you have improved lately! It may be slow, but every day, you are a little better! And of course your mother does not hate you! Mothers do not hate their children. They love and support them, whatever they are like, whatever they become, whatever they do!’

‘I have only improved because of what you have done—you and Anne! Mother does not bother, whatever you say. Robert and Lord Neville come quite a lot and try to cheer me up with jokes and snippets of scandal from around the castle! But Edward, the brother I love most and who has always loved me and been concerned for me, cannot come here at all because he is always away fighting or busy being king in London and with important affairs of state! It isn’t fair!’

‘Richard, you know he would come if he could. It is a very long way, hundreds of miles! Does he write to you?’

‘Oh yes, often. However busy he is, he has always found time for me. When we came back from exile in Brugge and were under house arrest in London, he would come every day to see me. George as well, of course, but it was me he always seemed most pleased to see!’

‘There you are then,’ Francis assured him. ‘Lots of people care about you! And the Duchess Cecily does too, I am sure!’

‘I will show her! When I am better I will train harder than ever! Exercise improves the body and my muscles need a lot of help! You and Robert must help me with lots of work-outs. When I grow up, I will be the bravest, strongest knight in the country and make Mother proud of me!’

‘Of course you will. You know you can do it!’ cried Anne. ‘Now it is time for your exercises around the room. Then we will rub your shoulder, arm, and leg with that special oil Francis got from the old herbalist in Middleham village. It is good, isn’t it, Francis?’

‘Very good. Earl Neville said that when he strained his leg in that fall while he was hunting, he rubbed it in daily and it worked like magic! The old woman said that if we rubbed it in every day and moved your shoulder, arm, and leg up and down a lot, you would get better more quickly, as the muscles need to build up again. You must not lie in bed any more but try to keep moving and exercising as much as you can.’

‘I will, I will! Let’s start right now!’

Richard heaved himself off the bed and hobbled slowly and painfully around the room, leaning on Anne and Francis for support. The effort made him grimace with pain, but he kept at it.

And he went on working at his exercises, grimly determined to show everybody—especially his mother—that he would never be a cripple. Anne, Francis, or Robert came each day to help him, and he improved quickly—until the day came when he was allowed to leave his room and climb down the steep steps into the Solar, or the Great Hall, even to go out for short walks in the autumn sunshine.

One day, early in December, when the weather was too bitterly cold to venture outdoors, he was sitting on a wooden settle in the Solar by a roaring log fire, feeling rather depressed because he could not go out. He hated being shut indoors, even in winter. Also, Lord Neville, Lady Ann, his wife, Francis and Robert, and Isobel, Anne’s elder sister, had set off a week ago for Warwick Castle, the earl’s most important residence, where he would hold Christmas Court for Edward the King and numerous relatives, friends, and foreign dignitaries. There was much to prepare for in advance at the great castle for the Christmas celebrations. The weather had been dreadful when they left, with intermittent snow and freezing fog, and it would take twice as long in such weather to complete the journey. So he had been left alone, apart from the Duchess Cecily, Anne, and just a few servants, as most of the household had accompanied Lord Neville, with many carts full of stores, furniture, bedding and other articles the Earl considered essential to take with them to Warwick Castle for his stay there with his family for Christmas and New Year. With so many guests to accommodate, they would need them all.

But Anne had insisted on staying. Dear Anne. If it hadn’t been for her constant companionship and care over these last few difficult months, cheering and encouraging him with the exercises, and when the pain became too much, forcing him to continue anyway, he knew he would not have got better so quickly, in spite of her telling him it was his own determination which had done it, for her insistence that he kept to the regular exercises and massage had worked! He was almost back to normal, except for a little weakness still on the side which had been paralysed. This made him limp a bit at times, when he was tired; that was all. Anne had been an excellent nurse, though still so young! He was very grateful to her.

She had refused outright to go to Warwick Castle yet with her parents and the others, insisting that Richard needed her so much she must stay with him. She knew he would only have his austere mother and the selfish George for company otherwise—if they chose to give it at all, that is.

‘Richard! Tomorrow you will accompany George and I to Warwick Castle! The Lady Anne will also be in my care on the journey. I do hope that Edward will definitely be able to join us for the Christmas festivities. We have not seen him for so long. But of course, he may be called away any time to deal with yet another Lancastrian uprising somewhere! Who knows?’

Duchess Cecily was standing by his side, making one of her rare appearances. These days, she seemed to spend most of her time in prayer and had expressed an interest in following the Benedictine Rule. Somehow, Richard could not see her as a nun. She was too self-willed, too self-opinionated. Nuns were humble, self-effacing creatures, which his proud mother certainly was not!

Richard had grown rather sullen and bitter since his long illness because of her neglect of him and made no answer.

‘Did you hear me, boy? Are you deaf as well as deformed? I feel you are sufficiently recovered now to make the journey, though a litter may be advisable.’

‘Never, Mother! I can ride! I am sure I can do that perfectly well!’ he shot out, angered by her cold words. It was as if she had slapped him hard in the face, and her icy tone seemed to confirm what he suspected about her present attitude to him. He was now just a liability, to be dealt with as best as may be. He turned his head away and stared morosely into the flames.

‘I am glad of that, as Earl Neville has told me you may resume your knightly training after the New Year.’

‘Good! And I shall work even harder to catch up and prove to you that I am no cripple, nor deformed!

Everyone else believes in me and cares what happens to me. Why is it that you, my own mother, has no faith in me? Once you laid a great task on my head at Micklegate Bar! Do you not remember? Because I do and am determined to carry it out one day. Avenge my father and brother, you said. That I will do! When, I cannot be sure, but I made a vow!’

Cecily’s eyebrows rose somewhat at his words, and her mouth pursed a little. Then she turned abruptly away.

‘I will instruct your pages to pack your things. We leave at dawn!’ And she was gone.

Against his will, Richard felt his eyes prickling with tears and hastily shook them away. She would not make him cry, she would not! He would show her. He would show them all!

Pembroke Castle, South Wales, 30 September 1462

The young Henry Tudor, now almost six years old, looked up from his primer in a state of excited animation at the sound of horses’ hoofs in the castle courtyard below. He turned to Lady Anne Devereux, his face all lit up in a way she had never seen before. He looked almost happy for once!

‘It’s Uncle Jasper. It must be! He’s come back at last!’

Avoiding the restraining arm of his tutor, he ran to the window and gazed down. But what he saw there made him draw back, uncertain and afraid.

A troop of mounted and armed soldiers had surged through the open portcullis, headed by a large, bearded figure in full armour, who was covered in dust and mud, as indeed the whole party were. Henry could almost smell the sweat from the hot, tired men and the lathered, winded horses. He backed away from the window and ran back to Lady Anne.

‘‘Tis the Yorkists come to take me away! Perhaps they have caught Uncle Jasper and now they want me! He said they would not hurt me, but I have heard such terrible tales about what they do… !’ he trailed off, shaking.

‘What tales are these, boy? Who has been frightening you?’

‘Why, the castle servants tell me. Nurse Bethan said—’

‘Whatever she said, she had no right to! She is here to protect you, not to terrify you! I will speak to her shortly!’

‘No, my lady, please don’t be angry with her. She is kind and good and looks after me well. Who are these men, then? They look as if they have just ridden fast from a battleground!’

‘Which indeed they may have! Though I see no blood upon them. It is my lord husband, Lord Herbert! It is so long since you met him you have forgotten what he looks like! The king has granted him The Lordship of Pembroke for his outstanding services to the Crown and for fighting so well in the Battle of Towton last year! He is lord now, not only of this castle, but of all the lands and towns of Pembroke, and everyone must be loyal to him and swear their allegiance—!’

‘No, that cannot be!’

She was cut off in mid-sentence by a desperate cry from Henry, who jumped away from her in great distress.

‘No, it is not possible! Uncle Jasper is lord here! He is Lord of Pembroke! He will come back soon, when the fighting is over, to claim his rights and to look after me again! I don’t understand!’

He dissolved into tears, shaking his head as he rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands. He was always being told that boys must be brave and never cry, but it was hard not to sometimes, very hard. Lady Herbert drew him to her and wiped his eyes with her kerchief. ‘There now, little one. None of us understands this terrible war which has gone on for so long and torn our countries and its peoples apart!

How could a small boy be expected to? The Yorkists have a White Rose as emblem, and the Lancastrians have a Red Rose, but roses are beautiful things and smell so sweetly, and all there has been for years is the smell of death… !’ She trailed off, no doubt remembering that it was a vulnerable child she was talking to, who must be protected from such knowledge.

‘Is my Uncle Jasper dead then, if Lord Herbert’s been given this castle? He must be dead!’

‘No, I am sure we would have heard. Lord Herbert was made Lord of Pembroke in July, two months ago. A messenger came to tell me in August and also informed me that your uncle was hiding in the northern mountains somewhere. I am sure he is safe!’

‘And no one thought to tell me this news before? And every day, I have prayed for his return, not knowing whether he was alive or dead…’

‘We thought it best to keep this news from you as long as possible. We knew it would upset you! Children should be shielded from life’s unhappy events!’

‘Not this one! Not any more! I am not a baby. I want to know everything that is going on, especially if it has to do with my Uncle Jasper!’

‘I know you love him dearly, boy, and miss him sorely. But I have done my best for you since we came here. We all have. We try to keep you as happy as possible in the circumstances.’

‘And I thank you for it, my lady. But I beg you, do not shield me any more. I need to know about things.’

‘Very well, Henry. I promise that from now on, you shall hear all the news like the rest of us, good or bad! But come, my lord husband will be waiting in the Great Hall below! I am sure he is most anxious to meet you!’

She took Henry’s hand and beckoned to her daughter, Maude, who had been sitting quietly by their tutor, Master Scotus, writing out some latin verses, for she shared Henry’s lessons with him, and his love of learning. She was a girl of few words, but very intelligent, like Henry, and they competed to see who could earn the most praise from this eminent Oxford scholar who taught them every day. She was a year or two older than Henry, but they had become great friends and were always in each other’s company.