White Boar and the Red Dragon, The (40 page)

I enquired today where Lord Rivers, my dear guardian, Lord Richard Grey, and Thomas Vaughan, my old retainer, were. I feared the worst, but have been assured they have been sent away to places of safety in Yorkshire, to different castles owned by Uncle Richard, I believe. They are not together, that was made clear. It was not spelt out, but I know that imprisonment was implied.

I am trying to come to terms with all that has happened to me so quickly. After all, as soon as I am crowned, I will be king indeed, even though my uncle will be my Protector until I am sixteen, and, in effect, the real ruler of the realm until then.

But I will have some powers, surely?

Today, we travelled from St Albans at dawn, where we had spent the night, to London and entered my capital city with crowds cheering and waving banners to welcome me. All the church bells seemed to be pealing at once. The noise was overwhelming. But somehow, none of it touched me. It all passed over me. I did not feel happy inside. I have not felt happy at all since leaving Ludlow.

And I cannot forget that this should have been my coronation day.

They dressed me very grandly in blue velvet for my entrance on horseback, with my new Protector riding on my right and Harry Buckingham on my left, both attired in black. Perhaps this was deliberate to make me stand out? I do not know.

I was feted and applauded all the way from the city gates to the palace of the Bishop of London, where I am now lodged. I am assured that these are only temporary lodgings, until my coronation, which will be soon, Uncle Gloucester says, but no actual date has been conveyed to me yet.

From my effusive greeting at the city gates by the Lord Mayor of London and his aldermen and a train of leading citizens to my arrival here, where all the great lords of the realm waited to greet me, to kneel and pay homage to their new king, it has been a dazzling feast of colour and sound. Everyone has been in high spirits and in their most splendid clothes, and the streets have been lined with elaborate welcome banners, while multicoloured streamers have rained down from the upper windows of all the buildings we passed.

But strangely, none of it touched me. I felt nothing, just numb inside. It was like a dream, unreal somehow.

I have lost all those I loved and depended on. And I am not even going to be allowed to see my mother or sisters and brothers, who are shut up in the sanctuary at Westminster. True, I hardly know any of them, but they are my family and I would like to be able to visit them at least.

But it is not to be at present, apparently. Why? Could my family hear all the bells clanging and the people cheering as I passed by earlier? They must have been able to and know it was all for me. Do they wish they could be reunited with me, as I do with them?

I just do not understand what is going on really. Why is my mother in sanctuary with my brother and sisters? What is she afraid of? Is she afraid of Uncle Richard? She must be, or she would surely have come out to greet me, with everyone else. But why is she afraid? Should I be also? Am I safe or really in great danger? I can only hope it is the former and that God will protect me as the new king by divine right, soon to be anointed.

Surely no one means to do me harm? It is treason to even speak against a king, let alone do violence against his person, with the most appalling punishments.

I must pray most earnestly that God will keep me safe from any enemies—if they exist—and I somehow feel that they do. Somewhere among the cheering crowds, or even closer to me, an assassin may be waiting. I feel vulnerable and exposed. But I must not dwell on that, but on more cheerful things and trust all will be well. God help me!

Crosby Place, Richard of Gloucester’s Town House, 5 June 1483

‘My dearest Anne! Right glad I am to see you and to have you with me once more! Affairs of state weigh heavily on my mind, and I have been closeted all morning with my chief councillors. Knowing you would be here soon, I managed to extricate myself a short while ago with Francis here, and we have been attempting to relax over lunch with a few beakers of best Yorkshire ale. I had some barrels brought down to me from Middleham last week. The London ale is not a patch on it, is it Francis?’

‘Nay, my lord, you are right there. Lady Anne, your coming is like a breath of fresh moorland air from Richard’s beloved county!’

‘How is the boy? You did not bring him? I was so looking forward to having you both here with me. Is he unwell again?’

‘A nasty spring cold, Richard, which hung on for weeks and left him with a persistent cough, which will not shift, however he is physicked. And with his usual shortness of breath, I did not wish to risk his health more travelling all this way, especially as the London air is so bad. You know how delicate the child is.’

‘Sadly, I do. It is something we just have to accept. Little seems possible to make him stronger. As a boy, you know that I was delicate too, but somehow grew out of it. Perhaps it will be the same for little Edward?’

‘Maybe, but I often despair of his ever becoming strong like other boys his age. John is such a picture of health and strength and I know Edward envies him.’

‘But yourself, my dear. Are you well?’

‘Well enough. And I was determined to come to you, heat or not! You have lines of worry on your brow, Husband, which you did not have before. Francis, what has been worrying him so much lately? I thought that all was well here now in the capital and all you had to worry about was preparing for the Coronation, a joyful occasion!’

‘Lady Anne, much has happened. But I think it would be better if Richard tells you in his own way and in his own time.’

‘Yes, all I will say now is that there are seething undercurrents of unrest which I can feel and do not like.’

‘Where, my dear lord?’

‘As yet, I cannot quite place my finger on what exactly is wrong, but I fear there is disaffection and plotting afoot against my Protectorship!’

‘By whom? Is it the Woodvilles again?’

‘They are probably at the bottom of it! There are still many in high places loyal to the queen, unfortunately.’

‘What can you do?’

‘Watch and wait for one of them to put a foot wrong. I have my watchers, listeners, and spies. So has Harry Buckingham, and he tells me everything he finds out!’

‘You have a good council to help you govern? Do they not take some of the weight off your shoulders?’

‘I welcomed the same men to my council board who had served as advisers and ministers to my brother. It seemed best. And they ratified my position as Protector at once when I arrived with the young king. There were no problems then. My power depends on their goodwill.’

‘So the problems have appeared lately, then?’

‘It would seem so. But I will flush out any who go against me behind my back, never fear!’

‘How is the little king? Has he accepted you yet?’

‘He is a withdrawn child, very studious and learned for his age. I am afraid he still regards me with obvious suspicion. I know he does not trust me. I have tried my best to be kind and understanding to him, but he does not respond. He is malleable enough though, I suppose, in spite of his quiet arrogance, which he must inherit from the Woodvilles and does as he is bid. We moved him to the chambers of state in the Tower, the most fitting place for him to stay until he is crowned.’

‘When is that to be? Have you decided yet?’

‘The coronation date is tentatively set for 24 June, with Parliament convening the day after, but it may be moved forward a bit, depending on whether all arrangements have been made. There is so much to do in preparation for it, you have no idea! For example, there are many tailors fashioning satin, velvet, and cloth of silver and gold into ceremonial costumes for the young king, his household, and the many lords who will attend. It takes a long time if it is done properly. And Master Peter Curteys, keeper of the king’s wardrobe, likes things done exactly so!’

‘And Edward’s mother, the Dowager Queen?’

‘Steadfastly refusing to come out of sanctuary, though I have given her many promises that no harm will come to her or her children. All I am met with is tears, scorn, and indignation. She is her own worst enemy! It would be better for her—certainly for the children—to come out. Then she could take her place as Dowager Queen and live quietly somewhere. I would provide her with adequate means to live comfortably. This I have also promised, but she just sneers at my suggestions, calls me thief for removing the treasure she purloined from the sanctuary to a place of safety where the Woodvilles cannot get their hands on it! She seems to think she has a right to it, because Edward amassed it. I have told her categorically it actually belongs to the state now, not to her.’

‘It must be most unpleasant, cooped up in those small airless chambers in the bishop’s palace in this very hot and humid June weather!’

‘It is her choice to be uncomfortable. She is not a prisoner. She can come out any time she likes. Princess Elizabeth has told me she begs her mother every day to reconsider, for the children’s sake and relent, but that woman thinks only of herself. She cares naught for the health of her little ones. She is inordinately proud and obviously sees giving in to everyone’s pleading as a slur on that pride! It is more important to her than anything else. How Edward stood her, let alone loved her, I do not know. And the princess is desperate to be free. She longs for fresh air and new companions. But her mother has a will of steel and prefers to let her children suffer, and herself, rather than capitulate to me and accept the present situation.’

‘That is a great pity. And King Edward, does he go to visit his family in sanctuary?’

‘He has been only once, as far as I know. He now realises it is his mother’s choice to remain there and not of my doing, thank goodness!’

‘My lord.’

‘Yes, Francis?’

‘Is there any other news? I confess that Woodville woman and her ways weary me!’

‘And I! I dread going to the sanctuary, though I have to. But as little as I can. I do have more to tell you, Francis, but first, I really must insist that my dear Anne here rests and refreshes herself after her long journey. Then I will acquaint you with other matters. Anne, please do not think that I am trying to bar you from knowing about what is going on, but you look so tired, fit to drop, and I can tell you later on. You should not be concerned with these burdening matters at the moment, which, after all, only I can deal with. Go now then, my dear one, and later on when Francis has gone, we will rediscover each other after so many weeks apart!’

‘Very well. I suppose I should be grateful that you acquaint me at all with affairs of state. Many men tell their wives nothing of their work, thinking it is none of their business and beyond their understanding!’

‘Well, I am not one of those, am I? We have always trusted each other with every confidence. You are more than a wife to me. You are my dearest companion and friend, as Francis here has been my close companion since boyhood. I trust you two more than anyone else in this world.’

‘Thank you, my lord. I have always been proud to be your friend and confidant. Now, what were these other matters you would tell me?’

‘Well, I have dealt with the Navy, which was disloyal under Sir Edward Woodville. It was simple enough. I made it known that a free pardon was offered to all soldiers and sailors who deserted their ships and declared for the Protectorate! There were a few hardliners, but most came over straightaway. But Edward Woodville managed to get one of the ships away to Brittany with a large portion of the stolen treasure from Edward’s treasury in the Tower! Apparently, the Marquess of Dorset had it put on board at once when he purloined it, at the time Elizabeth, the Dowager Queen took the rest of it into sanctuary. After that, he disappeared and cannot be found anywhere. It has probably gone to promote the cause of that Henry Tudor, calling himself the Earl of Richmond!’

‘Could Tudor stir up any real trouble for you? He must be twenty-five years old now, and his supporters have been growing there in Brittany over the years, especially since Tewkesbury!’

‘Edward did his best to get hold of him, without success, as you know. But Duke Francis of Brittany was obdurate and devious. Perhaps I should try, when my present worries here have been solved. But I have more pressing matters to deal with here at home. And I remain unconvinced that he poses any real threat to the Crown. Splits are appearing in the council I appointed. After the coronation, any competing interests could become a bitter struggle to gain the young king’s ear, as he will soon be powerful in his own right, when he comes of age at sixteen. It is essential that the Protectorship is continued until that time!’

‘Splits? You mean it has divided into opposing factions?’

‘Not exactly opposing, but there is rivalry, certainly. One cannot help but be aware of it. Buckingham’s swift rise to power as my stalwart supporter since Stoney Stratford and his continued pre-eminence in the council is resented by many, particularly by Hastings, Stanley, Morton, and the Earl of Northumberland. Their noses have been pushed out of joint somewhat, I suppose! Some private meetings have taken place with this group, which I was not invited to. I only found out about them by chance, from Harry Buckingham. That does not bode well.’

‘You mean you think they are plotting against you?’

‘I do not know. I hope not. But be assured, I will find out, by fair means or foul, Francis!’

‘Hastings? Surely not? I can hardly believe he would be implicated in plotting against you. Look how he has supported you ever since Edward’s death!’

‘One would hardly think so, especially as it was he who was so anxious to get word to me at Northampton of the Woodvilles’ attempt to secure the young king quickly, before I could do anything about it! But Hastings and his group have also met several times already with the boy privily in his Tower apartments, according to Buckingham’s spies. What has been said and done there I have yet to find out, but I will.’

‘Maybe they just visited him in a kindly fashion, taking pity on the lonely, sad boy? Could that not be a more innocent explanation? After all, you visit him, so do many others, I believe. And these men were at the heart of the late king’s government, and hope, no doubt, to be at the heart of the new king’s. Perhaps they just want to get to know him, and he them?’