Jean Plaidy (33 page)

Richard put his hand over his eyes. “I love him, Anne,” he murmured. “He was always my wonderful brother. So big, so strong…so powerful. It was heartbreaking to see him thus.”

I tried to comfort him. “Richard,” I said. “This cannot be…the end.”

“The physicians are with him. They say it is a seizure. He clings to life. He knows he must not leave us.”

I prayed with him and we waited for news.

         

The king had recovered. He sent for Richard, and I waited in trepidation for his return. I was very relieved when I saw him for I knew that the news was good.

Richard was smiling. “He is magnificent,” he said. “He looks almost his old self. He says that the Christmas festivities are to go on as usual and he wants them to be more splendid than ever.”

“He has completely recovered then?”

“It seems so. I wonder if he feels as well as he implies, for he did speak to me very seriously. He said, ‘My little Edward is but a child. He is twelve years old. He is young to have responsibility thrust upon him.' I said, ‘But that will not be for many years.' ‘Oh yes, yes,' he replied. But I saw the clouds in his eyes and he went on slowly and thoughtfully, ‘I have had a seizure, Dickon. When this sort of thing happens, it can be called a warning. Oh, I don't mean I am going to die tomorrow. I have years yet. I must have…because Edward is so young.'

“I said, of course he would fully recover. He is as strong as an ox. We could not do without him. Little Edward could not. I could not. England could not. He took my hand and pressed it. He told me he had known all through his life, which had been a somewhat turbulent one, that he could rely on me. I had never failed him. Some had and he was sorry indeed for what happened to them. ‘My good friends at one time,' he mused. ‘Warwick, George, they betrayed me. But never you, Dickon, never you.' I was deeply touched, and I told him how I had always loved and admired him. He had been the hero of my childhood, I said, and he continued to be.

“We sat in silence for a long time. Then he said, ‘I want you to promise me this. If I were to have another seizure, and if that time…' I shook my head and said, ‘No, it will not be so.' He ignored that and went on, ‘I want you to be the one to look after Edward. Guide him…you shall be Protector of England until he is of an age to govern. Then I want you beside him.' I assured him that I would follow his wishes. Whatever he asked, I would do for his sake. He seemed contented then. I said, ‘But you are going to live for a good many years yet, Edward.' ‘At least twenty,' he said with his old jocularity. He seemed happier then.”

“He must be worried about his health.”

“Yes…he began to talk about his achievements, as though he wanted to justify himself.”

“Perhaps,” I said, “he felt a twinge of conscience about taking the throne from Henry who was the rightful king.”

“I guessed it was on his mind. It was right that Edward should take the crown for England's sake…but as you say, Henry was in the direct line. He did not speak of Henry. He went on to stress the improvements he had brought to the country. Trade had increased. ‘I always had sympathy with the merchants,' he said. ‘And some of their wives,' he added, trying to introduce a lighter note. I said in the same mood, ‘I believe Jane Shore is still in favor.'”

“Perhaps that was not wise, since he was stressing his virtues.”

“Oh, he never looked on his amorous adventures as sins. They were natural, he would say, and gave not only pleasure to himself but to his partners in the exercise. ‘It is a king's duty to please his subjects,' he always said. No, he did not mind the reference to Jane; he is always happy to speak of her. I believe he cares very deeply for that woman.

“He went on to say that he understood business, which most kings did not. ‘There is more to governing a kingdom than going to war and giving pageants,' he said. I replied, ‘Well, trade certainly has improved and you have brought law and order to the land.' ‘And,' he added, ‘I have started to build St. George's Chapel at Windsor, which will be a splendid asset to the nation. I have built libraries. And who was it who brought Caxton with his printing to these shores? Did I not do that?' ‘You have done a great deal for the nation,' I assured him.

“Then he went on to talk of that which had always been a matter of contention between us: the French pension. He said, ‘I know you disapprove most heartily of that. I understood your feelings. But it was the right thing to do at the time. I had the money for my country, Dickon: Louis's money. True, it is over now. Louis won't pay another crown. Why should he? He is no longer in fear of Burgundy, and it was Burgundy he was thinking of all the time. It made him my enemy and Warwick's friend…for a while. But Louis's friendship swayed this way and that. Well, after all, he is a king. But let me tell you this: I had Louis's money, which meant that I did not have to tax my own people…merchants and such like. That is another reason why trade prospered. So who shall say it was wrong? The money was better spent that way than in profitless war.'”

I said, “It is significant that he should talk to you thus. Do you not think it implies that he is in fear of sudden death?”

“He always opened his heart to me.”

“He is anxious. The queen will be deeply hurt and humiliated about the Princess Elizabeth. It is a pity she was so insistent on her being known throughout the court as Madame la Dauphine.”

“The queen allowed her avarice and pride to overcome her sense of propriety. She ought to know that royal alliances can never be counted on until they are completed. However, the anxiety over the king's health has overshadowed that other disappointment.”

“The queen must be relieved that he is still alive.”

“It will make her realize how much she depends on him.”

“I think she has always been aware of that,” I commented.

During Christmas the king was as merry as ever and the anxiety about his health began to wane. What could be wrong with a man who danced as he did, ate as heartily and indulged in the usual flirtations with the ladies of the court? It had been a temporary indisposition and the king's strong body could shake off such an inconvenience with ease.

He was determined to promote that theory; and to see him dancing in the great hall with his beautiful eldest daughter—now shorn of her grand title and merely Princess Elizabeth—implied that it was the right one.

Richard's fears were allayed.

“It is true,” he said. “He has the strength of ten men. He will be all right.”

After Christmas we left court for Middleham, and once more I experienced the joy that never failed to come to me when I returned to my home.

         

It was the middle of April and two months since we had left Westminster. We had settled down once more to the peaceful life—my greatest concern being for my son's health.

He was coughing now and then and I did not like that. It was a continual anxiety. How I wished that I could have other children, but that seemed one of the blessings fate had denied me. Isabel had had four, only two of whom had survived, it was true, but Margaret was by all accounts a bonny child and Edward was in good physical health. Why could I not conceive? Sometimes I wondered if my infertility disappointed Richard as much as it did me. But of course it must; it was only because he was so good and kind that he did not show it.

I was in the solarium when I heard the sound of horses' hoofs. I looked down and saw a messenger. He had apparently ridden far and at great speed.

I ran down. Richard was already with him.

The man gasped out, “The king is dead.”

We were stunned. Richard went pale and shook his head. I could see he was clinging to disbelief. He could not speak for a few seconds, then he cried, “When?”

“On the ninth of April, my lord.”

The ninth of April, and we were now halfway through the month.

“You come from the queen?” asked Richard.

“No, my lord, on the command of my Lord Hastings.”

He produced a letter, which he handed to Richard. I stood beside him and read it with him.

“The king has left all to your protection…the heir, the realm. Secure the person of the new sovereign, King Edward the Fifth, and come to London with him at all speed.”

When the messenger had been sent to the kitchens to refresh himself, I said to Richard, “What now?”

Richard was thoughtful. Then he said slowly, “The young king is at Ludlow with Lord Rivers. I think my best plan is to send to him there. I will tell him that, as Lord Protector and his uncle, I should be the one to conduct him to London and to decide by what route we shall go. I could meet him on the way. In the meantime I must prepare.”

“Oh, what bad news this is, Richard. I know what you felt for him.”

Richard was too full of emotion to speak. He went back into the castle and set about making plans to collect his men together so that they might be ready to start as soon as possible for Ludlow.

For several days nothing happened. Richard was growing restive when there was a further message from Hastings warning him that the Woodvilles were bent on getting young Edward to London and there crowning him that it might be said he needed no guidance from his uncle.

Richard was uncertain. He could not understand why there had been no news from Westminster. He had thought his brother's council would have informed him immediately of Edward's death and the fact that they had not done so, together with the communication from Hastings, meant that the situation was beginning to look alarming.

He decided to write to the queen and the council and no sooner had these letters been dispatched than messengers came riding into the courtyard. This time they came from the Duke of Buckingham.

It was clear that Buckingham expected trouble, but Richard was wary of him. He was very different in character from Richard. Buckingham was adventurous, taking a delight in being at the center of some daring enterprise. It was understandable that Richard was a little suspicious of him. He knew he bore a grudge against the Woodvilles and would seize any opportunity to strike at them, because he had never forgiven the queen for forcing him to marry her sister Catherine. Buckingham had been only twelve years old at the time and had bitterly resented being used. He belonged to one of the most noble families of the realm and had been married merely to further Woodville ambitions.

Buckingham's message was that he was ready to serve Richard and he believed it was imperative for him to come to London without delay.

Richard now realized that it was time he left. He sent Buckingham's courier back with a message that he was leaving Yorkshire for London at once and would meet Buckingham on the way.

I was uneasy. I did not like the manner in which things were working out. It seemed more and more strange that no word had been sent to Richard from London; also, in the messages from both Hastings and Buckingham, there appeared to be a warning.

Richard knew of my fear.

I said, “I am glad you have friends in Buckingham and Hastings.”

“I am going to need all the friends I can find, Anne,” he said gravely.

“I would I could come with you.”

“I, too, wish that could be so. But not this time. It would not be wise.”

“What will you do?”

“As Hastings suggests. Secure the king and ride with all speed to London. I am coming to the conclusion that if I do not do this the kingdom will soon be in the hands of the Woodvilles.”

He was ready to leave. I felt sick with anxiety as I watched the White Boar banner fluttering in the breeze. Then he rode away at the head of three hundred men. He would take no more. He did not want it to appear that he came with an army.

Edward was holding my hand firmly. John and Katharine stood beside him; and we watched until they were out of sight.

I knew this was the end of the cozy life at Middleham.

         

After Richard had left I grew increasingly concerned. Our king was a boy in his thirteenth year, King Edward the Fifth. I had often heard how disastrous it was for a country when a king was a minor. There were always too many powerful men trying to manipulate the boy king. Poor Henry the Sixth had been a baby when he came to the throne. How different the history of our country might have been if his father had lived longer! There would have been no War of the Roses, no kingmaker. Perhaps my father would have lived the life of an ordinary nobleman, spending more time with his family on his own estates. We could have been a happy family. Perhaps Isabel would not have died. Certainly she would not have lost her first child at sea. My mother would never have been a prisoner at Beaulieu. I should never have been affianced to the Prince of Wales and put in a cookshop from which, without good luck, I might never have escaped.

It was all conjecture, but what else was there at such a time? I was in ignorance of what was happening. I feared for Richard. The king had appointed him Protector of the Realm and guardian of the king, but I knew full well that there would be opposition to this, and the Woodvilles, headed by the queen, would do everything in their power to get the king in their control.

The children asked questions. “Where is our father? What is happening?” Katharine was getting too old to be put off with easy answers. She talked to the women. She knew something of what was going on; and she would tell John and Edward.

I said, “Your father has gone to London because there is a new king.”

Edward asked, “What has happened to the old one?”

“He died,” I told him, “and when a king dies, if he has a son, that son becomes the new king…even if he is only a boy.”

“How old is the new king?” asked Edward.

“Twelve years old.”

“I'm ten,” he said proudly.

“It is young to be a king,” I went on. “Your father has gone to help him.”