White Boar and the Red Dragon, The (37 page)

‘Where would the money come from—the soldiers, the horses, the arms, the ships? And I have no experience of active warfare in the field. Only the theory—which you have taught me. In my head, I know all about tactics and such, but I am a complete novice! How could I command men?’

‘Many nobles in high positions, famous soldiers, such as the Earl of Oxford, de Vere, would aid you. The necessary money would be obtained somehow. All you have to do is wait!’

‘More waiting. That is all I have ever done, wait!’

‘Let us hope the waiting will not be long, now! Preparations for an uprising are well in hand. A little more patience, boyo, and you may yet triumph!’

Anne, Middleham Castle, Yorkshire, Early March 1483

‘Thank God we have arrived home safely at last! The journey was another nightmare of snow, wind, and sleet, but at least I am not ill this time!’

‘Amen to that! I was really worried about you over Christmas. In many ways, it was a good thing that we had to stay at court longer than I had anticipated for me to attend the King’s Parliament, because it meant you were forced to rest while you waited for me. Or I know you would have insisted on coming home before you were properly better. But you still have that cough sometimes, so you must take care. No more riding on horseback and getting soaked through when we have to travel! I know you hate the litter I made you come home in, but at least you were protected in there!’

‘You are right, I do hate the litter! Have you any idea how uncomfortable it is? One feels every bump and shake. I swear my bones are all bruised. I much prefer a horse’s back!’

‘Never mind. At least you seem all in one piece!’ Richard squeezes my arm as if to test its soundness, and I catch his hand and raise it to my lips.

‘My dear lord! At last we will have some time alone together and time for Edward and John. When all these important personages who have accompanied you home go soon, what bliss it will be! The king promised you a holiday from your duties and cares. How long do you think he will leave you alone to live your own life now, after fighting his battles for him all this time?’

‘Who knows? Hopefully until Eastertide, when I expect he will want us back at court.’

‘Oh dear. You do need rest, my love. But, if I know you, as soon as these guests have departed, you will be just as busy riding around administering your estates here and doing the accounts. You are so restless and energetic, I swear that, even if there were no work to do, you would make some!’

‘There is much to catch up on here, Anne. I have been away for a long time. But I promise that you and I and the children will find time to be together. I want that as much as you do, you know that. Now we must rejoin our guests. The laws of hospitality still have to be observed, however tired one is! Later, we will be alone, my love!’

The promise in Richard’s voice washes away the bodily exhaustion I feel. Maybe I will be fortunate now that we can forget the king and his constant needs and demands for a while. Maybe my husband will get another son on me! That is what I desire most, apart from my dear lord’s presence by me…

Edward IV, Westminster Palace, London, 9 April 1483

I can hardly believe that a dip in the river after a simple fishing trip has brought me to this. It was the first really beautiful spring day—I could not stay in—I longed to be outside. But the weather changed in the afternoon, and it poured. I was already wet when I tried to get out of the boat at the landing stage and missed my footing.

I got very cold after the day’s heat. I had been drinking heavily in the boat—as it was such a warm day. I had a hot bath and went to bed, as advised, but the next day I had a fever, which has worsened steadily. Dr Hobbes’s remedies are useless—I have grown weaker each day.

Now there is a bad pain in my side. I can scarcely catch my breath. I am coughing up disgusting brown phlegm streaked with blood.

I see those around my bed shake their heads—I know I must be dying. I must somehow order my affairs.

If only Richard were here—I need him so. He would help me—he always has.

Dear Will Hastings is on one side of my bed, all concern. He truly cares for my welfare, the best friend a man could have.

Who is that on the other side? Ah yes, Thomas Grey, Marquess of Dorset, the queen’s son. He dissembles concern.

I am terrified for my son, little Edward, only eleven, away in Ludlow—the Crown Prince. He will be king soon, when I am gone. But I must make sure that everything is settled for his welfare.

Richard—yes. Richard—he will do the right thing. He will make sure little Edward is safe and these two warring court factions, the Woodvilles and the old nobility must swear—yes, swear—over their dying king—to cease their enmity and become dedicated to the new king’s welfare.

The Woodvilles—a self-seeking, venomous tribe, I realised this too late—I have not asked for the queen. She will want to be in charge of the boy—of the country—but this cannot be. Richard—it must be Richard. He must be Edward’s Protector now that I am about to quit this world.

I will make him Protector of the Realm—I can trust him utterly to do the right thing. He has always been completely loyal to me in life. He will continue to be after I am dead. I do not have long, I know it. My eyes are covered by a thick, shifting mist. I see faces of others long gone—whom I loved and lost.

George, forgive me. I am sorry, so sorry. I regretted signing your death warrant, believe me. I have never ceased to be melancholy since that dreadful day you died in the Tower—forgive me, forgive.

Richard, I need you, my dear brother. Where are you?

I must call for my confessor now. I have done all I can to make sure things are settled for the future of the realm and young Edward. Now I must make my peace with God. I have so many sins to confess. Oh, mea culpa, mea culpa.

Anne, Middleham Castle, Yorks, Mid-April 1483

If I did not know how strong-minded and level-headed Richard is, I would have feared for his sanity the last few days. His soul is torn asunder with overwhelming grief for Edward. Never did a man love his brother more dearly, I think. He seems lost, yet he has always been the truly strong one. And he knows it.

For Edward was weak in many ways. Where ruling the kingdom was concerned and as a soldier, he was very strong in will, but as a man, he was weak-willed—often, and easily led, especially in his last years, mostly by the Woodvilles. He admitted as much.

Richard is his own man. He could never be led into anything, whether personal or in the interests of the country, which he did not believe was right or needful. He is like a firm rock in a raging sea; completely steadfast; a calm and dependable support—to me always—and to his friends and followers. Edward depended on him utterly. Richard knew that too. But, at the moment, the rock is almost torn from its moorings. But I know that however many torments of soul beset him at this dreadful time, he will survive, as strong and determined as ever.

It is a terrible burden to bear. First the loss of George, foolish George. And now this.

So unexpected, out of the blue! Edward was not very ill, at first. Just a chill, they said. But he deteriorated rapidly. His profound melancholy contributed to his death, the doctors vowed. He seemed to just give up. And in only one week, he was dead.

I pity the Duchess Cecily, his mother. What torments must she be feeling, poor woman? All her sons dead now, except Richard. How she despised him for his physical frailty as a boy! He has told me of it, and I saw it for myself, but not for years now. She came to realise his true worth and admires his strength of spirit and courage in the face of adversity, for he takes after her in this. She has had a terrible life, full of tragedy and loss and has survived it all by her indomitability!

Richard was not told at once about the king’s illness—not even about his death! No one bothered to inform him, until the lying-in-state and the funeral were all over and Edward joined his ancestors in the crypt at Windsor. Richard never had a chance to say goodbye to his beloved brother, let alone attend the funeral. This must be a terrible source of extra sadness to him. They were so close.

A messenger eventually arrived with the devastating news. Richard was felled like a lightning-struck bough. For two days, he shut himself away and would speak to no one, not even me. He left his food and drink untouched; would not unlock the door to let the servants bring it to him. I begged him to let me in, to offer comfort where I could. But he ignored me.

Eventually he emerged, looking like a ghost, so white and drawn was his dear face. I longed to run to him, hold him in my arms, kiss him, and enfold him close, giving him comfort in the only way I know, but something held me back. My own husband—and he was unapproachable—even to me!

Then the second messenger came. And Richard was galvanised into action. It was as if he had awoken from a deep sleep or had emerged from a dreadful prison of the soul no one else could enter. He is normally a man of action and few words, but now words rushed from his lips in torrents. Instructions—endless instructions to his men! And then came the letters he must write. At last, he stopped long enough to talk to me.

‘I must go to London as soon as possible! The king appointed me Protector of the Realm before he died. Hastings wrote post-haste to tell me. Otherwise, I would not have known! That Woodville woman has deliberately prevaricated. I know why. She does not want me there. She wants to get the Crown Prince safely to Westminster before I can arrive and oversee his swift coronation! Once that is done, I would not be officially needed, and the Woodvilles would be in complete charge. Apparently, they have set a date for the coronation already, 4 May. And the reason for this haste is most apparent to me. And to Hastings. That is why he has sent me these instructions: “I advise you to secure the person of the prince as quickly as you can, then get you to London!”’

‘Will you have to go to Ludlow to get him?’ I ask uncertainly.

‘No, I have written to him already concerning his father, the king’s death and offering him my deep condolences. I have also sworn my deep allegiance to him. Now I must gather my men and try to meet the new king and his retinue on the road, long before he reaches London. According to Hastings, he will set out almost at once with his guardian, Lord Rivers, also Vaughan. It is the only way!’

‘The only way? To do what?’

‘To save him from the queen’s clutches and her overweening ambition for her wretched family!’

‘But she is his mother. Surely she will do the right thing by him. What harm can he come to in her care?’

‘She hardly knows him, remember. He has spent his entire life at Ludlow. What she really wants is to get him into her care so that she and her family can assume authority and be the real power in the land now that Edward is gone. Not if I can help it! If I can get to the boy quickly, I can take him into my care at once—as Edward wanted—and forestall her plans. Now there is a great deal to do, for I must be away as soon as may be. I must leave you, my dear Anne!’

‘How long for? Will you stay in Westminster once you have the prince secure?’

‘I will have to. But, for how long? Who knows? It all depends on what happens then!’

Richard, Northampton, 29 April 1483

I am moving into very dangerous waters now, I know it. My plan to secure the boy king here and put him under my protection, as my poor brother Edward desired, is fraught with many difficulties.

I had arranged to meet Earl Rivers, the boy’s uncle and governor with his charge at Northampton, but reaching here, I found the wily Rivers had sent the boy ahead with Lord Richard Grey and Vaughan to Stoney Stratford. This is fourteen miles nearer to London!

Earl Rivers came to me very nonchalantly at my inn here in Northampton and explained that the only reason his nephew had been sent on to Stoney Stratford was because there was not enough accommodation for his large retinue in Northampton. It all sounded innocent and convincing enough, I suppose, but I am naturally cautious and something about it made me suspicious, so that I smelt a rat. Something was not quite right—I sensed that strongly.

The Duke of Buckingham was of the same mind. He had ridden post-haste from Brecon Castle in Wales to join me in my endeavours, after promising to do so in his earlier letter to me at Middleham. He has already become a tower of strength. I am grateful for his enthusiastic support in the difficult course of action I have started. Now there is no going back. I am determined to see it through, for Edward’s sake. He may be dead, but I am still utterly loyal in my intentions towards him and his son. I will carry out his wishes as well as I am able.

I invited Lord Anthony to dine with us at our inn and he accepted with eagerness. The landlord provided us with excellent meat and wine and the evening grew very convivial. But I was always on my guard, and at last, when Rivers departed to his own lodgings, completely won over, I think by our seeming acceptance of his good faith, Buckingham and I got down to the real business in hand. Both of us were clear-headed enough, having managed to actually drink very little, while Rivers had partaken deeply.

‘Rivers is but a Woodville pawn. He is obeying the queen’s instructions, I am sure of it. There is more to all this than meets the eye. Rivers is too affable, by half!’ I asserted.

‘To be sure, Stoney Stratford is that much nearer to London. They are desperate to convey the boy there as soon as humanly possible. It is a race against time. With him in their hands, they are in power. Perhaps they had hoped to avoid you altogether, my lord, by making such haste,’ declared Buckingham.

‘Well, they have failed. I have never trusted the queen. And now she is showing her hand most decidedly! We must get the young king away from Rivers. Also, we must arrest the queen’s son, Lord Richard Grey and old Vaughan. They guard him too closely. I will have them taken into custody and decide what to do with them later, when we have secured the king. Earl Rivers must never get to Stoney Stratford to claim his charge. We must get there first and take the boy into my protection.’