White Boar and the Red Dragon, The (7 page)

He had expected to be bored; the other children were very soon nodding and were taken off to bed by their nurse, but he had wanted to stay. It was as if he had been drugged with poppy juice and couldn’t move—and he was still in the dream they had created of gallant knights, ancient battles, and splendid deeds.

He could not sleep due to his turbulent mind, even though his body ached with tiredness.

And then, of course, there was the disappointment—his mother, Lady Margaret Beaufort, had not come. True, a messenger had arrived on an exhausted, sweating horse that had been ridden too fast and too far on such a hot day with the news that her carriage wheels had got stuck in a dry rut in a narrow country lane just thirty miles away and that the wheel had broken when they had tried to get it out by urging the horses to strain to their limit.

She had been forced to take refuge for the night in a poor country inn nearby, while the wheel was repaired by the local wheelwright, but she would arrive some time the next day. Henry was used to being let down by the mother he hardly knew, had never seen since he was an infant. He had grown accustomed to being without the members of his family he was supposed to be closest to. But this time, he had really looked forward to seeing her after such a long time.

The moonlight, streaming into his chamber through the large windows overlooking the Fountain Courtyard, silvered everything about him. It looked cool, even though the night was so intensely hot. He tossed and turned, feeling unable to breathe. What he wanted, needed, was fresh air.

He found himself descending the grand staircase from the state apartments, which led directly down to the Fountain Courtyard.

In the middle of the fountain, the great White Horse statue stood, the moonlight glistening on its streaming mane and tail and reflected in the gushing water issuing from its open mouth. It looked almost real in the eerie light, and Henry fancied that at any minute, its rearing front legs would descend and crush him. He stepped back, even though he knew he must be imagining things, and it was at that moment that he felt he was not alone.

On the other side of the White Horse fountain bowl an old man sat, clad in long white flowing robes. He seemed to be staring at Henry intently, his deep-set eyes as blue as mountain gentians, his long white beard and shaggy eyebrows frosted silver by the moonlight. Henry was not frightened but intrigued, for he recognised the old man. He was one of the ancient bards who had held him spellbound with their stories and poems of old.

‘Henry of Richmond, heed my words—Beware the White Horse, or die by the sword!’

The boy shivered uncontrollably at these strange words. They seemed to issue from the old man, yet his mouth had not moved.

‘What do you mean?’ he whispered, almost unable to speak. His tongue seemed frozen in his mouth. He was not often scared by anything, but now his back was crawling and he felt the hairs rising on the back of his neck with fear.

‘Henry of Richmond, heed my words—Beware the White Boar, or die by the sword!’

Dazzled by the moonlight shining directly into his eyes, dazed by the cryptic words which seemed to be emitting from the empty air all around him and not from any human source, he closed his eyes, but only for a moment. When he opened them again, the old bard had gone. He looked around everywhere, but there was no sign of him. The courtyard was empty. The only movement was the continuous gushing of the silvered water from the White Horse fountain. Henry shook himself, believing he must be in a waking dream and desperate to break out of it into reality.

Westminster Palace, London, September 1464

King Edward IV, his entire court assembled, lolled at ease and somewhat the worse for drink on the red satin cushions of his chair of state, his golden-haired wife, Elizabeth, proudly upright beside him, the wife he loved to near distraction, whom he wanted constantly, but whose very existence, it seemed, was to cause him endless trouble.

Already, half the nobles of England had expressed their disapproval of his clandestine, and what they considered his most unwise, marriage. Married for love? Their eyebrows had gone up in disbelief in the Great Council at his recent announcement that he had married Elizabeth Woodville in secret. Kings married for expediency and for political gain—what was he thinking? She was quite unfit, not even of royal blood!

He had dealt with their expostulations calmly, determined not to let them rile him.

He was king after all, and kings did not have to justify their actions; to ask permission to act as they saw fit!

But he dreaded dealing with the one whom he expected at any moment now; the one who had helped him to power, without whose actions he would have achieved little.

‘His Lordship Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick!’ his Chamberlain, William Hastings, announced, ‘and his Lady Wife Ann. Also his youngest daughter, Lady Anne!’

Warwick the Kingmaker! For that was what he was called by all and sundry! His great friend and most loyal supporter—up to now. The richest and most powerful noble in England! But what was his reaction going to be to his new queen? He soon knew!

‘My Lord King!’ Neville bowed low, and his wife and daughter curtsied. The king lifted his hand to acknowledge his important visitors. Lady Neville and Anne then quietly withdrew and joined the other court ladies. What was to come was men’s business, and they knew how Warwick felt; how he was boiling with rage inside, whilst outwardly calm.

Warwick barely acknowledged the new queen, and she, very aware of the snub, drew herself up in determination and laid her heavily bejewelled hand on Edward’s arm in a gesture of possessiveness. He patted her hand with his free one and then caressed it lovingly. None of this was lost on Warwick. He sniffed loudly and lifted his chin before speaking.

‘My lord, you will live to regret your actions, believe me! They are the height of folly! The French alliance, it was all set up. Now ‘twill be gone like a puff of wind! For ‘tis a serious snub to the king of France after I had arranged your betrothal to the French princess!’

‘After you arranged! You cannot arrange every aspect of my life, especially not the personal side!’

Edward smiled dotingly on Elizabeth, who laid her cheek on his shoulder briefly. ‘What care I for the French king? He will no doubt have little trouble in finding another suitor for his princess—if she is half as beautiful as my Bess here!’

‘That is not the point, Sire. There is far more at stake than your personal happiness! There is the whole future of England to consider! The people are tired of war. This alliance could have ended the wars with France for good and all!’

‘Well, what’s done is done and cannot be undone—even if I wanted it—which I most certainly do not! Learn to live with it, Richard! I am very grateful for your past support and help in getting me to the throne—you know that—but now I am king, I will be a king with a will of my own!’

‘And that is it? That’s all the thanks I get for risking my life and those of my men again and again to gain you the throne? Now I am to be made to look a fool in front of the whole of Europe just to satisfy your lust?’

‘Have a care, Richard. I am an amiable and easy-going man and have always been your friend, but if we are to remain friends, remember to whom you speak now!’

‘How could I forget, since I was the one who made you what you are!’ flashed Warwick bitterly.

‘I think you must agree with me, Richard, that this interview is best ended, before I lose my temper with your attitude! Amiable I may be, but you know my anger can know no bounds when stirred up! As king, I cannot condone your words, so I am telling you now as a friend to go away before I am forced to do something I may regret!’

‘Something else? Don’t try to threaten me, Edward! When you have had time to think, you will realise that I am right and that you have made the biggest mistake of your life! It is one which could lead to calamity for the House of York! Come, my dears, we are leaving!’ Warwick gestured to his wife and daughter, who immediately left the other ladies and came to his side meekly, but not before Anne had cast a covert glance at Richard of Gloucester, smiling shyly up at him as she caught his eye. He returned her smile, thinking how beautiful she had grown lately.

After Warwick and his ladies had gone, the Earl breathing heavily and hard put to it to contain his temper, Richard’s attention was immediately back on Edward, who was also furious and now lost his temper. He was stamping angrily around the room, even kicking at the furniture.

‘How dare he? Who does he think he is? I’ve a good mind to have him arrested for speaking so to his king!’

‘Why don’t you, my love? He is about to cause you big trouble, I am sure!’ the queen wheedled. She hated Warwick and hoped he had gone too far this time and Edward might take her advice. It would be a thorn out of her side, certainly, if Warwick were eliminated.

‘He fears for the future of the realm, Ned!’ Richard quietly intervened, defusing his elder brother’s anger. ‘He can foresee repercussions, which perhaps, on reflection, you may realise too. I think that is all he meant by his words. Kings do not normally marry out of the royal blood!’

‘Dickon, dear brother, are you against me too?’

‘Not against you, Ned, but fearful for you, as no doubt Warwick is!’

Richard did not miss the look of pure hatred thrown his way by Elizabeth. They had taken an instant, if silent, dislike to each other the moment she had been brought to court by her doting husband. He could see right through her—and she knew it—to her shallow, avaricious, and vicious nature, and she realised immediately that here was a rival for her new husband’s love. Richard was his favourite brother and they had always been very close. Edward listened to and acted upon Richard’s advice, though he was ten years younger.

She knew she was in the presence of a superior mind in Richard, who was far and away beyond the intellectual capability of her golden boy of a king, in spite of his extreme youth. She also resented the fact that Edward constantly rewarded his ability. He had already bestowed great powers upon the boy, apart from estates. The king had made him Constable of England and only lately had put him at the head of his armies who went to quell the Lancastrian uprising and fighting in Northumberland.

She knew—and was glad—that this had also gained him the enmity of George of Clarence, who was now bitterly jealous of Richard because of what he perceived as the constant favouritism bestowed on this brother who was three years younger than him.

George may have derided Richard earlier for what he considered his lack of normal interest in the pursuits of young men, but now he feared his mental capacity. Edward’s constant preferment of Richard had caused an ever-widening rift between all three brothers, which did not bode well for the future.

Middleham Castle, Yorkshire, Early Spring, 1465

Lord Neville, Earl of Warwick, strode out to the tilting grounds where Richard of Gloucester was matched against Robert Percy at the quintain. His face was set and very red, and his anger, suppressed in front of the king’s messenger, burst forth now as he reached the boys.

‘There is a message come from the king, Richard! He wants you back at Westminster forthwith! No explanation, but I know why. It is obvious! I am in his disfavour, so he wants you away from my influence! Apart from anything else, it is a great pity, for you have not finished your training yet. But what His Majesty decrees must be obeyed! So you had better get your pages to help you pack. You must start at dawn—it is a long journey!’

Warwick could not contain the bitterness in his voice, no more than he could quell that in his mind. The rift with Edward had probably widened irrevocably now, as the king no longer trusted Richard to his care.

‘But why should Ned send for me now? If he disapproved of your influence over me, why did he let me come back here at all after your disagreement at Westminster last September? I am sure you are wrong, my lord, and he requires me for some special work or mission.’

‘He will probably use that as an excuse for recalling you to court, but I know better! I know how his mind works, and he can be very devious! He will never come out with it in a straightforward way!’

Richard was very downcast at the thought of leaving Middleham Castle, which he had grown to love, as he loved his gruff mentor, though Warwick was a hard taskmaster. He was very fond of the whole Neville family: John, the earl’s younger brother, who was an excellent trainer in the knightly arts, Isabel, Warwick’s stately elder daughter, his wife, the Countess Ann—and of course, Anne, his youngest daughter—especially Anne. It would upset him greatly to leave Anne, and he knew she would feel the same about his sudden enforced departure. He must find her before going to do the earl’s bidding and try to explain.

‘My lord, I am very sad to leave. You have all treated me with such kindness and made me feel part of your family life. You have been like a father to me—and I never really knew my own…’ he trailed off, at a loss what else to say. He did not want to leave this secure and happy family nor face the court with its undercurrents of jealousy and backbiting, especially among the queen’s many family members and adherents. Her presence at court made it an unpleasant place to be those days.

‘We have done our best, lad, to make you happy here and shall miss you too—especially my younger daughter Anne, I think! Here she comes now. I will leave you two young people to say your goodbyes privately. I know it will be a big wrench for you to part from one another!’

Neville was well aware of the close friendship between Richard and Anne and hoped—as he felt sure they did—that one day something more would come of it.

‘Oh, Richard, I overheard the messenger telling father and came at once! Do you really have to go? What does the king want?’

‘I do not know yet, Anne. But he has trusted me already with some great tasks which George really wanted. For some reason, Edward is convinced that I can carry them out better.’

‘Which I am sure you can! You’re far more responsible than George, and the king knows that and honours your ability!’