White Boar and the Red Dragon, The (30 page)

‘Well, I am not. I don’t believe any of it! And you choose to believe it, for it is convenient for you to do so! If you send me from here to England, I think you will be sending me to my death! Do you want that on your conscience? As soon as he has me in his clutches, he will either imprison me in the Tower or some awful castle hidden away where I can be forgotten—or, more likely, he will have me quietly killed, just like poor Henry VI! No one believes that he died of melancholy, as they say. He was murdered! And by Edward! Who else could have ordered it?’

‘I believe you are right there, mon fils! But kings often do dreadful things for the good of their countries. It is in the nature of the job. He has accepted Louis’s gold, so Louis is now his ally and Edward is no longer mine, so I must do as he says. It is a chain of circumstance, like a game of dominoes!’

‘This is no game! My life is at stake. I know it. I do not care what you say. Please, I beg you, keep me here. Defy him once more! Otherwise, you will shortly hear of my death in England. I will be the sacrifice!’

‘Nonsense! You are letting your imagination run away with you now! Put on a brave face, go to England, and hope for the best—that is all you can do!’

Westminster Palace, London. Early Autumn, 1476

‘Yes! Success at last! Duke Francis of Brittany has now agreed to release Henry Tudor from his protection. He will let the ambassadors I am sending bring the boy back to England, via St Malo. But then, of course, there is the problem of what exactly I am to do with him?!’

‘Did you not promise Francis that you would marry Tudor to one of your daughters—though of course none of them are old enough yet for a marriage in more than name?’

‘That was what I said, Will, but of course we have to think of a way to make sure that he cannot cause any trouble here! To remove him from his many Lancastrian followers and supporters now congregated in Brittany is my main purpose, so they cannot use him in any way as a figurehead to foment plots around.

‘But while he lives, there is no real guarantee of my safety. His wretched Uncle Jasper will be allowed to accompany him, no doubt. He has been the boy’s protector from birth and is the real threat! I will have to make sure he is kept from the boy here. He will be imprisoned somewhere far away. His influence on Tudor has always been substantial, whether actually with him or not. What would you advise me to do with the boy?’

‘While you decide his fate—if you really have not decided it already—the only secure place for him is the Tower of London. You know that, Sire!’

‘Husband, while he lives, he will always be a threat. You must do away with him as soon as you have him in your hands!’

‘Yes, Elizabeth, my dear, I know that would be the easiest way out of this dilemma, but I did make a promise.’

‘An expediency, my lord, that is all. You had tried every other way of getting Francis to release Tudor. He seemed utterly impervious to bribes! Is he so rich he does not care for gold? They say he is obsessed with beautiful jewels. Why did you not offer him diamonds instead of gold?’

‘Would you have had me send your most precious jewels to him then, Bess? They are even better than those in the Royal Treasury!’

‘No, Edward, of course not. Those I treasure most—as gifts from you!’

‘Well then, hold your peace! We know that that way has not worked, so let us forget it. We have persuaded Francis—that is all that matters. The problem now is how to deal with Henry when he gets here.

What say you, Richard? I always value your judgement and clear thinking. Should I carry out my promise or have him got rid of privily?’

‘A promise is a promise, Brother! And a king’s promise is surely more sacred than most? I have told you many times that the boy is no threat on his own. Surely he will no longer be a loose cannon if you do marry him off to one of the princesses? And some good could come out of it all in the end—the Houses of York and Lancaster would be united, and that could only be a good thing for the country. The people would applaud the marriage wholeheartedly—they are sick unto death of fighting and wars. In one fell swoop, you could bring a continual peace for a long time to come!’

‘You are right there, Richard! People would no doubt admire my judgement? Eh? But is peace at any price always a good thing? I still feel he would be better out of the way for good and all. Then we could forget about him!’

‘But if you have him killed, it will only stir up even more trouble among his supporters, Sire. I agree with Hastings in this matter. If you need more time to make up your mind what to do with him, then the only place for him when he arrives is the Tower!’

Henry Tudor, Brittany, Late Autumn, 1476

‘My lord, we must make haste! The ship will have been waiting at St Malo for days now. King Edward is not a patient man. We must reach the coast and embark before another day is out!’

‘I tell you I must rest! I have had a fever for days and I can struggle no more against it. I must rest to recover. Do you want to take me back to the king in a coffin?’

I am swaying in the saddle—I can hardly keep upright. But they think I am shamming. They know I was terrified of going back to England—and they know why—I feel so ill with this fever and cough that I fear I will die if I cannot lay down on a bed for a while. The sweat is pouring off me, and yet the weather is very cold. Perhaps I have the sweating sickness? Then that will be the end of me and all my troubles.

They would not even let my Uncle Jasper accompany me. Why? What can he do? I am a prisoner—a very sick prisoner. They must want me back in England very badly to rush me like this when they can see I am so ill. I have not one friend here. Even their doctor was very peremptory with me and more or less told me to pull myself together.

Everything is going black and I am falling—falling. If someone does not help me, I will fall from my horse any moment.’

‘My lord, you are safe! Duke Francis has relented and has sent me to get you back to safety. He has been persuaded by his favourite councillor, John Chenlet, that you are indeed in mortal danger from King Edward and that his wily promises are not to be trusted. As soon as you have recovered a little, my men and I will secrete you away to a place of safe sanctuary in St Malo, where you can have the best doctors and recover fully before making the journey back to Duke Francis’s Court. There, he will guard you even better than before, after this suspicious episode! Do not fear—you will not be going to England and the king just yet—and not at all if the duke and I can help it. I will make some excuse to the English ambassadors who placed you here when you collapsed several days ago!’

‘Who—are you?’

‘I am the duke’s treasurer, Peter Landois, and I was sent post-haste by Duke Francis to rescue you, when he was made to see your danger! Your Uncle Jasper accompanied me and will be caring for you soon. My mission is to distract the English ambassadors while my men and Jasper spirit you away!’

‘How did you get in here? Were there not guards at my door?’ I gasp out, still breathless and racked by a relentless cough.

‘They have already been surprised, set upon, and removed. There were only two of them. I expect the English ambassadors thought that, as you were so sick, two would be enough if you did find the strength to attempt to get away. But they did not think that help would come for you!’

‘I thank you, Monsieur Landois, it is more than I hoped for. My spirits are raised—a little. But I fear this sickness will keep me laid up for a while yet.’

‘Then you will be transported in a litter, if needs be. You can then have the best of care back at the court to recover. Duke Francis feels very remorseful that he ever believed the lies told him and let you go, believe me. He does not want your death on his conscience!’

‘I will put myself in your safe hands, and thank God and the duke, of course, for my safe delivery!’

Henry Tudor, Vannes Castle, Brittany, Late November 1476

My Dear Mother,

As you can see, I am back in the custody of Duke Francis again. But at least I am not dead!

And the duke is disposed to be kinder to me now. I am allowed more freedom and I can meet with Uncle Jasper. Though he is held elsewhere at the moment, Duke Francis has promised me he can join me here in November. If King Edward had got his way, I would be in my grave by now or forgotten in the fearsome Tower, perhaps in some ghastly oubliette! My life so far has taught me to be fearful of men. Caution will now be my watchword! I am now become so suspicious by nature that, however safe I may be now or in the future, I will never be able to feel truly secure. Had it not been for your warnings, I am sure that my life would have been forfeit!

I do not think now that Francis will ever give way to King Edward’s pleas, even threats. If he were going to, he would have done so by now. I must just bide my time, I suppose, until Edward dies and it is safe to return. But he is a young man. He may live another forty years. I may live—and die—an exile here. It does not bear thinking about!

I know that you will continue to work for my safety and well-being and for my future—if I have one—in England. Surely you have given up your previous idea of me becoming king there one day? It is ludicrous! I am convinced of it. I never did give it much credence, anyway!

My spirits are higher than they were, in spite of what happened recently and my bad bout of ill health. I feel somewhat safer, but, as I said earlier in this letter, I will never be able to feel totally secure, even if the rest of my life is happy and full of good things and people I can trust!

I look forward to your next letter. Your letters are always so forward-looking and optimistic whatever is happening.

Your dutiful and loving son,

Henry Tudor

Westminster Palace, London. Autumn, 1476

‘God’s bones, Hastings, the young whelp has escaped! I do not believe it! That wretched turncoat Duke Francis was persuaded to change his mind and sent rescuers to pluck Tudor from the inn in St Malo, where he was lying sick—so it is said—under guard. Methinks they did not guard him very well, sick or no! My ambassadors were duped—I shall have something strong to say to them about their stupidity!’

‘You have tried everything, Sire, to get this Henry Tudor back. This time, it seemed to have worked. But Francis is really too wily and very aware of the bargaining power the boy gives him. I am sure he did not arrange his rescue out of kindness. Short of storming the Court of Brittany and wresting him away by force, which would cause another war, I think you have done everything you can humanly do over the years to get hold of him! And his so-called importance is surely outweighed now by other, more serious matters? You should put him from your mind, at least for the time being, I feel.’

‘Maybe you are right, my good friend. There is my dear but troublesome brother, George of Clarence, to consider—again. He is a constant worry! One wonders what he will do next. His wife Isabel has given birth once more—and to a boy. Surely getting another son will focus his mind away from trouble-making for a time? If he is safe at home, he cannot get up to so much mischief!’

‘True, my liege! And I hear the fair Isabel is grievous sick since the birth in October. Worry about her will surely keep him at home. He loves her well, that is certain.’

‘That is sad to hear. My Bess has never had trouble producing healthy children or remaining healthy herself after the births. She is just as strong and beautiful now as before her first. She still has the figure of a girl!’

‘The Neville family, for all their wealth and prestige, are obviously not so strong physically as the Woodvilles. Lady Anne is a delicate flower too. I do not think your brother Richard will get many sons on her!’

‘And yet his bastard, John, grows and thrives lustily! Ah well, God’s ways are mysterious, so they say.’

‘Indeed, Sire, they are. But the queen and yourself have done your duty for the succession. Two healthy boys and daughters too. You need not worry overmuch now about producing more!’

‘It is a good thing. I have many other worries and problems to deal with. But the main one is George. We keep on coming back to him!’

‘Because he continues to be a cause for concern!’

‘Even when he seems quiet at home, as now, one wonders what he is plotting? No one could have a more easy-going and forgiving brother than I. And I could not have been more lenient with him. But because I am king, I will have to put a stop to him finally, soon, I feel, as his actions threaten the whole nation, not just me. What do you think I should do about him, Will? I am at my wits’ end!’

‘Soon, he will finally overstep the mark completely, go just that little bit too far! In his arrogance, he is convinced he can continue to do just what he likes and you will always forgive and overlook his behaviour!’

‘Then I must finally harden my heart towards him and put a stop to him once and for all. I hate the thought of it, because I believe he does not realise what he is doing or saying half the time. I have even considered he may be mentally unbalanced! He is certainly like a naughty child that cannot see the error of its ways however many times it is told, or even punished! But George has never been punished—up to now.’

‘Perhaps that is the answer then, Sire. The very next unacceptable thing he does, have him arrested and put in the Tower of London for a few months. That will cool his heels and give him plenty of time to think on his many sins!’

‘Will, you have hit the nail on the head, as always. That is what I shall do!’

Richard, Middleham, Late Spring, 1477

At Christmas, I pitied George greatly, in spite of our many past differences, as he lost his poor wife Isobel three days before the Holy Feast with complications from childbirth in October. Everyone knew it was the dreaded childbed fever. She had been ill for weeks, slowly fading away. And then, of course, the baby died too, just twenty-six days after birth. Poor George, we all thought. He was going around like a ghost, with wild eyes and nothing to say to anyone. I believe he truly loved Isabel; swore he was faithful to her always.