White Boar and the Red Dragon, The

Copyright © 2013 by MARGARET W PRICE.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2013901267

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4797-8221-5

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4797-8220-8

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4797-8222-2

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Rev. date: 05/24/2013

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Contents

SYNOPSIS

PROLOGUE I

PROLOGUE II

SYNOPSIS

A historical novel about the lives of Richard of Gloucester and Henry Tudor and the circumstances which led to them both becoming King of England, Richard, for so tragically a short time as Richard III and Henry, as founder of the Tudor Dynasty, Henry VII. Pushed by their forceful and ambitious mothers, who both had strong aspirations for their sons to ascend the throne, despite the many obstacles in the way, this story starts with their very early lives and their constant priming for kingship by their clever, determined, and obsessed mothers, Cecily, Duchess of York, and Lady Margaret Beaufort, Countess of Richmond—particularly the latter.

It is about Richard’s family loyalty and the conflict of loyalties which overtook him: to the memory of his father, Richard of York, and his elder brother Edmund of Rutland, both murdered by the Lancastrians, whom he had promised his mother to avenge; to King Edward IV, his beloved eldest brother; to his mother, to his country, to his friends—and finally, to himself and his honour as a man.

His family motto was ‘Loyalty binds me’, and he always took this most seriously and strove to uphold it in everything he did.

Richard grew up a serious-minded, pious, and upright man, a brilliant military commander and leader, in spite of a childhood illness which threatened to cripple him, but which he fought to overcome with great determination and the resulting slightness of body which belied his strong spirit. He was a great achiever at a very early age, the favourite brother of Edward, the king, who trusted him utterly and honoured his ability with enormous responsibilities and commands.

He was adored by his wife, Anne, youngest daughter of the great Warwick the Kingmaker, who had bought Edward IV to power. He seemed ideally suited for kingship—though he never looked for it or hoped for it, until the sudden untimely death of Edward presented a set of circumstances which almost forced him to take the throne—but only for the best of reasons, which he knew were just and for the good of the country.

Far away, in South Wales, and then in Brittany and France, another young man, with no better or worse claim to the throne than Richard, was being pushed from early boyhood by his fabulously wealthy, highly intelligent, and influential mother, Lady Margaret Beaufort, descended from three royal houses, to go all out for what she insisted was his rightful claim to the throne. At first, he showed little interest—indeed, complete disbelief in the possibility of ever becoming king one day. But, as his influential mother’s and Uncle Jasper’s ambitions for him increased and changing circumstances showed that it was indeed a possibility, then his own ambitions became one with the driving force behind him from these two determined relatives. His mother was utterly ruthless in her methods to eliminate any possible rivals and did not hesitate to remove in any way she could, by scheming and plotting, those who got in the way of her ambition for Henry.

Each young man climbed towards the throne in different ways, neither pushed by personal ambition, but by circumstances and the influence and desires of others, particularly their mothers, both able women out of their time; both with obsessive cravings for power and the necessary determination to succeed in what they had set out to achieve.

There is a sub-plot in the story of Richard’s life—his meeting and love for Katherine Mortimer in Northamptonshire; the birth of their child, who came to be known as John of Gloucester (or Pomfret) later in life, and her loss in tragic circumstances.

Richard’s personal adult life was all about the loss of those he loved best and the strength of spirit which helped him deal with constant bereavements and continue in his good work for the commonweal of the people of England. He became an excellent king—but for a very short time, as he lost his life through the treachery of those he believed to be his friends at the Battle of Bosworth.

The novel is structured in a loose, episodical manner, with no chapters, but in vignettes, letters, and personal diary-like revelations and soliloquies. The writer has tried to get to the heart of each character by letting them reveal their deepest feelings themselves, often at times of great stress, trouble, or uncertainty. It is more concerned with the development of the characters and their effect upon each other than with the fighting and battles of what was later called the Wars of the Roses, though the events of this bloody and terrible period of civil war and the fast-changing political situations are inevitably reflected in the day-to-day life of the protagonists, the choices they have to make, and their eventual fates.

It is written mainly from the viewpoint of the two chief protagonists, but other important characters help to tell the story, mainly by personal comments, revelations, and letters. These include Cecily, Duchess of York, Lady Margaret Beaufort, Anne, Richard’s wife, Edward IV, Francis Lovell, Richard’s closest friend, George of Clarence, Harry, Duke of Buckingham, Bishop Morton, Margaret of Burgundy, Richard’s sister, Kate, his sweetheart, and the two tragic boys—Edward V (later to be one of the murdered princes in the Tower) and Richard’s son, Edward, Prince of Wales.

Episodes are dated accurately with place names where they occur and arranged chronologically in order, within the time scale 1460-85.

The book has been thoroughly researched in detail, with much cross-referencing done, so that the writer is confident there are no inaccuracies in places/times/events etc. Richard and Henry met only twice in this novel—possibly only once in real life—at the final battle. The first time was at Raglan Castle, Gwent, in 1470, in which were sowed the seeds of what could have been a close friendship, if they had not been on opposing sides—as the circumstances of their childhood and youth had much in common which drew them to each other and could—indeed should—have formed the basis for a natural friendship, which both desired. But conflicting loyalties to the Houses of York and Lancaster and political situations made it impossible—made them enemies instead of friends later on.

They met the second-and final time on Bosworth Field, where one was to lose his life—in that terrible bloody climax. Forced to fight the friend of his youth for his Crown and country, Richard is treacherously betrayed and cruelly slain by those he believed to be his allies and friends—and Henry Tudor becomes king—almost by default.

The writer feels that, after reading this novel, anyone who had an ambivalent
attitude to Richard’s supposed guilt as an evil murderer—which is the picture we see of him passed down in popular history—will have come down on his side unequivocally!

PROLOGUE I

Richard, Micklegate Bar, York, 1460

‘Vengeance is mine! saith the Lord! Remember that, boy! God will avenge men’s evil deeds! We must believe that. Otherwise, how can any of us bear that-abomination?!’

Cecily Neville’s voice shakes as she points upwards to the gruesome remains of the heads of my father, Duke Richard of York, and my brother, Edmund Rutland, stuck on poles above Micklegate Bar by laughing Lancastrians.

‘Traitors? They are the traitors—the fiends who did that! Not only to the rightful king, my poor husband, and your seventeen-year-old brother, Richard, but to all true English people! Never forget this sight! Hold it in your mind forever, to give you the strength to do what must be done!’

She holds a hand up to her eyes, but only briefly. She has seen so many horrific sights and experienced so many terrible things in her life that she does not show her feelings easily. I know that. She has told me about them often enough, though I do not want to hear. She has never shown any weakness, even when following my father around the country on his many campaigns.

But I am a different matter, if she cares to look. My whole body is shaking, as if with an ague. I can smell the rotting flesh above me, even taste the miasma of it in my mouth, and my eyes are brimming with bitter tears, which I try hard to hold back, as my mother is constantly telling me how one must be self-controlled, even in dreadful situations. Her words ring in my head—as she intends them to—repeating themselves over and over, like a death knell.

‘Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord! Hold this in your mind forever—to do what has to be done! Vengeance! Vengeance!’

PROLOGUE II

Henry Tudor, Pembroke Castle, South Wales, 1461

‘Uncle Jasper, Uncle Jasper! What is happening? What are you doing? Where are you going? Can I come too?’ I pull hard at my uncle’s reins, quite distraught. I do not understand what is going on—all the grim, set faces around me and the frantic preparations to depart. I only know that I am not to be included. And no one is speaking. No one is telling me anything. I am not used to being ignored.

My nurse takes hold of my arm firmly, but not unkindly.

‘Come, Henry, come with me! Your Uncle Jasper has no time to talk to you now, whatever! Get away from the horses’ hoofs! You will be trampled on!’

I shake myself free, annoyed with Nurse Bethan’s efforts to restrain me. I will find out what is going on. I will! ‘Uncle, where are you going in such a hurry? And why aren’t you taking me?!’ I grab hold of my uncle’s left boot and yank at it as hard as I can, determined not to be ignored. I am almost in tears with frustration.

‘Because you’re too young at only four years old, Nephew. I can only take men with me. There’s a great Yorkist army coming here, and if they catch me, they’ll kill me! I have to get away fast and go into hiding in the mountains!’

He bends his huge frame down and pats me on the head encouragingly. ‘But I’ll be back soon, never fear! As soon as it’s safe to do so! You must be good now, boyo, and do as your nurse tells you!’

‘Will you write to me, Uncle? I shall miss you so much!’

‘And I you, lad! I will find time somehow to write. You will be safe enough here. They won’t harm you or the servants. It’s me they want! I hope to see you before too long, God willing!’

He turns his great horse’s head round towards the gateway, waves once more to me, now crying uncontrollably, and rides out of the courtyard at the head of a small company of soldiers, who are his bodyguard and go everywhere with him.

I am now quite inconsolable and my tears fall freely as I watch my dear uncle’s departure. I do not know when he will return and I feel so lonely already.

‘Now, Henry, young gentlemen do not cry! Be brave! That is what your Uncle Jasper would want, and you must behave in a fitting manner! I am sure your uncle will get away safely and be back soon to see you again!’

Just then, Gwen, the little maid from the kitchen, comes up to me and pushes a big plate full of newly baked laver bread in front of my nose.

‘Cheer up, little one! I have cooked this especially for your tea! I know how you love it so! It is your favourite, so come in now with me and enjoy it! Put away those tears! Your uncle would not like to see you cry so!’

‘I couldn’t tell the lad the truth now, could I? That the likelihood of my coming back is very slim?’

‘No, my lord. He is just too young to understand. Better to leave him in ignorance of the true situation!’

‘That my castle and lands have been appropriated by this usurping King Edward and myself attainted as a traitor? I could lose all, even my life! Everyone knows what happens to those judged traitors! If I am caught, I shall die the most horrible of deaths! My nephew must not be told of this, if it should happen, God forbid.’

‘It will not happen, my lord! My men and I will make sure of that!’

‘I know that you will protect me with your lives and are loyal to me unto death, and I am grateful for it. You do not know how I depend upon you!’