White Boar and the Red Dragon, The (11 page)

‘You’re are a misguided fool, George. I promise that you will regret your decision to challenge Edward. He is not perfect, but the people love him in spite of his mistakes, and he is a good king in other ways, whatever you say. Do you not fear the traitor’s death for treason, if all your plans fall through?’

‘The traitor’s death? But Edward and I are brothers—he would not dare to do that to me…’

George’s voice betrayed a slight hesitancy, ‘ . . . would he?’

‘He may not have any choice—a traitor is a traitor after all, brother or not, and would have to suffer a traitor’s death! Think well on what I have said, George, and change your mind before it is too late. Against my inclinations, I shall say nothing of what I know about your plans to Edward, to give you time to reconsider!’

Richard turned sadly to Lord Neville. ‘All my life you have been like the father I never had, and I have always loved and admired you. But what you ask of me now is too much. Surely you can see that? If you carry out your intentions, it is possible we shall never meet again, sadly, for I cannot split my allegiance!’

‘And I, Richard, would find that very sad too. But I have made up my mind, whatever the consequences. I truly believe it will be best for England if Edward is replaced!’

‘Then there is no more to say but goodbye, my lord. I cannot believe it has come to this!’

Richard shook his head and turned his back on his lifelong friend and mentor and the brother he despaired of as a poor, wayward, misguided creature, whom he loved but could never trust again.

Something in the back of his mind was warning him that perhaps he was saying goodbye forever to the possibility of Warwick’s daughter Anne becoming more to him than just a dear friend in the future—but he determinedly pushed it away and resolved not to let it influence his decision to have nothing to do with possible traitors to the brother who was so dear to him.

Westminster Palace, 18 June 1469

The veins in King Edward’s neck swelled into knots and his face turned purple as he clenched his fists convulsively, screwing the message he had just received from France into a tight ball, which he then threw in Richard’s general direction.

‘Read that. How dare he!’

The messenger hastily bowed and withdrew as Edward rose and began to pace around the chamber. He was breathing fast and furiously, his temper about to erupt in full force. Richard quietly retrieved the screwed-up missive by his feet and smoothed it out to read as Edward fumed. He felt he knew what it was in advance. He had been expecting it for days.

‘My lord husband, what has happened?’ cried the queen. ‘Whatever it is, it is surely not worthy of an apoplexy?’

For once, the king ignored her and stopped by Richard, stabbing at the paper in his hand.

‘Warwick! Who does he think he is? I can hardly believe it. He has declared himself in opposition to me and is gathering an army to challenge my right to the throne! The devious, underhand devil!’

Suddenly, his temper seemed to subside and he flopped down like a deflated bladder on the throne. ‘And to think he was my friend…’ he trailed off. ‘What have I done that he is about to take arms against me and mine?’

‘He is a traitor, my lord husband, and must be caught and dealt the harshest punishment. Think of all his estates and money you can then appropriate!’ Elizabeth’s topaz eyes glittered like a reptile’s in anticipation. ‘Hanging, drawing, and quartering will be too good for him!’

The king shook his head. ‘Do not talk of it. I cannot bear it. I should be hating him, and yes, I am angry, but I do not want it to come to that! He must be placated, brought round, persuaded to give up this foolishness—he cannot win. The people love me and will flock to fight for me.’

‘Placated? Arrested quickly and executed, you mean!’ flashed Elizabeth. ‘You could never trust him again if you let him live.’

‘What say you, Dickon? What shall I do? I am not often in a quandary. I would appreciate your wise council.’

‘You have little choice, Ned. If he has gone so far as to start gathering an army against you, then you must gather one too.’

‘But I do not wish to fight him. Surely there must be a way of settling this amicably without going to war and without losing face? And I will not have you to help me, as you are getting ready to go into Wales to settle the Lancastrian risings there.’

‘But this is more important. Wales can surely wait for a while? Warwick’s defection has to be dealt with without delay!’

William Hastings, the Lord Chamberlain and Edward’s closest friend and confidant, came rushing into the room suddenly and threw himself on his knees before the king.

‘My Lord King, there is urgent news!’

‘More?’ groaned Edward. ‘We are already trying to deal with Warwick’s defection!’

‘Your brother, the Duke of Clarence, has turned traitor too and joined Warwick in France. They plan to invade and wrest the throne from you by force! And Warwick has already gathered a mighty force in the Midlands before going to France to recruit more—King Louis has promised to help him!’

Edward looked weary. ‘I always knew George was weak and stupid. And what, I wonder, has Warwick been forced to promise Louis in return?’

‘His daughter, my lord. He has agreed to marry his daughter to Queen Marguerite’s son, Edouard.’

‘The fair Isabel?’

‘No, his younger daughter, Anne Neville. His daughters have gone with Warwick to France—and Isabel is to be married in a few days time to George in Calais. She is his reward, it seems, for his joining forces with Warwick against you!’

At these words, Richard’s heart seemed to stop. A leaden stone filled his chest instead. Disbelief, anger, and an almost unbelievable sense of loss filled him. And at that moment, hearing that he had probably lost her, he realised that he loved Anne. He hardly heard the news about Isabel and George, except to register vaguely in his mind that George had got his own way once again, as always.

Edward was on his feet once more. ‘I expressly forbad that marriage! Can I do anything to stop the wedding? Can I make George see reason? Can I get him to forget all this nonsense about being Warwick’s supporter and just come home? I’ll forgive him. I don’t want war. There have been too many battles already, too many good men killed. The people want peace and so do I. Aren’t the Lancastrians enough to deal with without those closest to one turning traitor?’

‘My lord, he is out of your jurisdiction in France, even though we occupy Calais. And the wedding is not important now anyway. You have greater things to deal with!’ Hastings asserted, leading Edward back to the throne, where he sat down heavily, dejection showing in every part of him.

‘Dickon, dear brother, it seems that you are right, and we shall have to fight. I do not have the heart for it, I must admit, but there seems no other way.’

Richard shook himself from his dark thoughts. Action, urgent action was needed now. Perhaps it would make him forget?

‘I fear there is not. I will to horse at once and rally the troops. Do not fear, Edward. Warwick will not prevail!’

Richard bowed to the king and was gone.

Edward looked down at himself and laughed. ‘Maybe the forced riding ahead of me will help get rid of some of this excess weight of mine. It is at times like this, I must admit, that I wish I did not enjoy drinking—and eating—so much!’

‘My love, do you have to go yourself?’ Elizabeth complained. ‘You are the king. Can you not deputise? You know you have not been too well of late.’

‘It is my duty to lead my men—where they go, I must go. And all that is wrong with me is too much high living—and loving, my dear!’ He patted her on the chin. ‘Maybe a rest from both will do me good, huh?’

Laughing, he put his arm round Hastings and they went together to get out some maps from an alcove.

‘We must plan strategies, my good Hastings! There is no time to lose!’

Warwick Castle, 30-31 July 1469

‘You cannot keep me here as a prisoner—I am your anointed king! You are going against God’s laws and making your own. You always did have delusions of grandeur and an ambition to become ruler—I knew that, although you made me actual king. What has happened to you, Warwick? We used to be such good friends.’

‘It is more what has happened to you, Edward. Since you made this unwise marriage, you have changed and are no longer fit to be king.’

‘In whose opinion? Just yours?’

‘In the opinion of many who used to be your loyal supporters. That is the reason you could get so few to support your cause at the Battle of Edgecote, why so many deserted, and why your soldiers were hopelessly outnumbered by my men!’

‘The people will not stand for it. They love me. You will have to release me. It is not to be borne!’

‘For the moment, you stay here as my guest, while we decide what should be done.’

‘Your guest? Guests should be treated honourably—not kept against their will! When Richard hears of this, he will bring a force to release me, I know it. I can trust Richard with my life. He is utterly loyal. And the queen’s father, Earl Rivers, will raise another army to rescue me when he is informed of this!’

‘Do not be too sure of that, Edward. Lord Rivers is dead.’

‘Dead? But he was not even injured in the battle. What happened?’

‘He was executed, along with the queen’s brother, John, and the Earls of Devon and Pembroke, after the battle.’

‘On your orders?’

‘Yes, on my orders! Rivers was the head of this troublesome Woodville family—all scroungers—and had been dealing unscrupulously with some of his retainers. He was best removed. Now he can cause no more trouble. John and the two earls looked to get in the way of my plans too—so they had to go.’

‘He was my good friend—and John, her brother—Bess will be devastated—she loved him dearly.’ Edward fell silent, but only for a moment. ‘And these plans of yours? I suppose they are to make yourself king? “Kingmaker” was once an honourable title you bore. You were held in awe and admired for your ability, not just your status. But not any more. Not by me and certainly not by the people when they hear of your actions. Shame on you, Richard Neville! You cannot hope to get away with this!’

‘See that this gets to my brother, Duke Richard of Gloucester, and you will be most handsomely rewarded! As soon as he arrives here with an army to rescue me, you will have the entire contents of this pouch. On that you have my word as your king! And to show you that I can honour that promise, here are five gold nobles at once to speed you on your way!’

Edward opened up the pouch, which swung on a belt at his side and extracted five gold coins, putting them in the groom’s hoary hand. Then he let the man peer into the still almost-full purse.

‘You will be a poor man no longer. Look here—there are fifty more where those in your hand came from!’

With eyes glinting avariciously after gazing upon more gold than he had ever dreamt could be his and not believing his luck, the groom hastened to bow and assure Edward of his good faith.

‘My Lord King, your bidding shall be done—and fast! I will leave shortly, when all are asleep, and go on Lord Warwick’s swiftest horse! It will not take me long to get to York, where your brother the duke lies. Then I shall be back for my reward!’

‘Which you will have nobly earned by serving your king, who is in dire straits! Now make haste to the stables and ready your horse for its long journey. The Duke must get my message as soon as humanly possible!’

‘Ah, my lord, we have decided that you will be more secure at Middleham Castle in Yorkshire, and you will be conveyed thence later this day.’

Warwick had come into the king’s bedchamber with this news early that morning. Edward had been deprived of the freedom of the castle for the last few days, ever since he had sent the groom on his mission. He began to think now that perhaps they had been overheard, because of the delay, but doubted it, as their conversation had taken place in the open air with no possible places of concealment for Warwick’s spies.

Edward anxiously scanned the rolling approaches to the mighty castle from the windows of his prison room and wondered whether the groom taking the urgent message to Richard had arrived? Richard would surely set out the moment he heard of his predicament. And what of the messenger? Edward had made a promise to him and had every intention of keeping it—after all, the groom might be very useful to him again if he could be so easily bribed to work against his own master—Edward had seen the greed in the man’s eyes and knew he would keep his side of the bargain just to obtain the gold.

It was now late in the afternoon, nearly four of the clock, and Edward had grown ever more anxious as the hours went by and nothing happened. Nobody had come to his room since a servant had brought him bread, meat, and wine about midday.

Then he saw a cloud of dust in the distance, mixing with the haze of heat. Neville’s men coming to escort him to Middleham? No, it was a lone rider!

A half-dead-looking horse bearing a dusty, sweat-soaked rider was trotting up the castle drive—Edward leant as far forward as he could into the deep window embrasure, willing the man to, look up and see him waving frantically. But the man was too far gone in exhaustion to notice anything, his head hung down like his mount’s and he turned the horse to the right, towards the stable area.

Five o’clock came and went, and the king was in a fever of frustration. Why was nothing happening? Where was Richard? Had the groom brought him any message back from Richard? How would he get it to him? Didn’t he want his reward? Why the delay?

Just then, there was a rattling of keys outside, and the chamber door swung open. Two of Neville’s burly henchmen strode in, caught Edward by the arms, and propelled him out of the room and down the stairs. ‘Time to go, Your Majesty! You’re leaving for Middleham at once. Come along now. Don’t give us any trouble then!’ one of them snarled as Edward tried to shake off his restraining hands.

‘Take your hands off me! I will not attempt to escape, and remember, I am your anointed king, so show some respect! Or when I am restored—which I am sure will be in a short while—you will find I recall well those who are my friends and those who are not!’