White Boar and the Red Dragon, The (49 page)

Anne blames herself for Edward’s death. I know she does, for not being there with him. She does not seem to understand that it would surely have made little difference to his condition. He would have died anyway. I know that. There is no cure for the consumption—especially not the fast kind my little son was afflicted with, which is also so infectious. I pray to God that Anne was not infected when she was with him recently. She has a hollow, dry cough. She has had it for some time. I know she has tried to suppress it when I am near and pretend it is nothing. But I know better. It is not her fault. Of course it is not. It is mine, if it is anybody’s. Mea culpa.

You are right, and I should pray, not only for comfort, but for forgiveness!

I am being exhorted by my ministers to carry on with my public duties; to leave Anne in the hands of the good doctors. There is much to do, and they say I cannot help her recovery, but would be better out and about, dealing with the problems a king should deal with. They say I would be better in myself too, that I should try to get my mind off Edward now with other pressing matters. Maybe they are right. The world goes on, though we feel at such times it should not. And I have to deal with the living.

But I am so loath to leave Anne. She is the heart of my heart. I am lost without her, and before this, she was lost without me. Supposing she should come out of this terrible lethargy and depression of spirit and call for me? And I would not be here. I now call this place ‘The Castle of Care’, and in truth would be glad to leave it and get out into the fresh air again—if it were not for my wife’s state.

I have poured out all to you, my dear mother. I have admitted to you things I would not speak of even to Francis Lovell, my dearest and closest friend, not even to Anne.

My son died on the exact anniversary of Edward’s death last year. Does that not prove something? That God is speaking to me in a very strange way? That he is telling me my little boy’s sudden death is a direct retribution for my many sins, the worst being when I usurped the throne? I have never been one for superstition. But this fact alone makes me very uneasy and half inclined to believe there is something in it.

I hope that when I write to you again, I can tell you that things are better, especially for Anne. Until then, I am always,

Your loving son,

Richard

Margaret Beaufort, Woking Old Hall, Surrey, Late April 1484

My Dear Henry,

You have no doubt heard already of the sudden death of Edward, Prince of Wales, in Yorkshire on 9 April? The king and queen are utterly devastated by it, as one would expect. He was their sole son, their only child, and Anne is a delicate flower and unlikely to produce another heir for them. So the succession lies wide open! No doubt Richard will name Edward of Warwick, the great Kingmaker’s son, as his successor soon, though he is somewhat tardy about it. One wonders why? The boy is known to be mentally backward. Maybe the king is uncertain that he is the right one to name? A king should be intelligent, surely?

Although one cannot help being sorry for the king’s son—he suffered all his life with such poor health—his passing means another obstruction removed from your path to the throne! It is surely fate? Certainly, I feel, some Higher Force is clearing the way for you. Events have moved in such mysterious ways to your advantage over the past year, have they not?

Firstly, Edward IV died young. Then his two sons died. Now, the usurping king’s only son, the Prince of Wales, has died.

Richard is trying his best to make himself popular with the people. He is going all out to get their loyalty and support by promising them justice for everyone, rich and poor, without fear or favour. But unfortunately, he favours the people of the north openly, and this does not bode well for him, especially as he has replaced the local jurisdiction of the many nobles and lords of the south who have joined you in exile after the rebellion, with Northerners, whose speech cannot be understood by Southerners, and who are regarded as interlopers. I suppose it is because he knows and trusts these men well, but has he thought that the ordinary people of the south might feel exactly the opposite way?

He is trying hard to become a well-regarded king, but I do not think it is really working. And even the great Yorkist nobles resent his tampering with the laws as they stand and making new ones in his recent Parliament which do not favour them at all! He will need their support to supply men and arms if he has to fight more battles, but they may not be so happy to help him, as he has depleted their personal powers.

All in all, he is not doing as well as he would hope, in spite of his efforts! This means that the general atmosphere is fraught with distrust and resentment.

You did well to take my advice and make that proclamation at Christmas in Rennes Cathedral in which you vowed to marry Elizabeth of York if you became King of England, to unite the Houses of Lancaster and York for the lasting good of England! English people would definitely welcome that. Everyone is heartily sick of war, after these endless years of dissension!

How are your preparations going for your next invasion? The good weather will be here soon, which will surely aid you greatly, if you decide it will be this summer! Watch out that your plans are kept secret, as King Richard, for certain, will have his spies in your camp, though they may be hard to discern!

I live quietly now, in my semi-imprisonment here imposed by the king. But it has not restricted my ability to communicate with those with whom I need to keep in contact, such as you, my son. He expressly forbad me to contact you in any way. It is a good thing I have my secret ways and means, which even my husband knows nothing of! For example, my good confessor, Christopher Urswick, undertakes many secret missions for me, as well as his official duties. The king could hardly take away my personal priest, could he? Little does he know how resourceful a priest this one is!

Even my husband has not the slightest suspicion what I am up to. Even if he did, I think he may turn a blind eye to my doings. As long as he is not involved in any way, I do not think he really cares! He never questions me. I do not think he really wants to know. What he knows nothing of he cannot be blamed for by the king!

I will write again as soon as it is possible. It cannot be as often as before—for obvious reasons! Let me have your news as soon as you can.

Your loving mother,

Margaret Beaufort,

Countess of Richmond

Henry Tudor, Vannes Castle, Brittany, June 1484

My Dear Mother,

I am sending this letter to you through the good offices of your faithful servant and confessor, Christopher Urswick. He brought me an urgent warning letter two days ago from your friend John Morton, the Bishop of Ely, who has been taking refuge in Flanders since the Duke of Buckingham’s uprising, to escape the wrath of King Richard for his part in organising it.

He warns me that I am no longer safe here at the Court of Brittany, as Richard has made an agreement with Pierre Landois, the Duke of Brittany’s treasurer and chief officer, to have all my freedom here taken from me forthwith. Duke Francis has been ailing for some time now, and his frequent bouts of insanity are getting worse. It is very sad and disturbing to witness. When he is in one of these strange states, he speaks to no one, and spends all day examining and admiring his many jewels. He keeps these in a huge coffer, which goes everywhere with him. He is obsessed by their beauty and radiance, particularly the diamonds and the rubies. He is always spending huge sums acquiring more. One would think this would be a woman’s obsession, but they seem to comfort him when his mind is disturbed. Many say that he is in no fit state to rule any more! Landois has taken over all state business from him, without his knowledge, I am sure.

I must say Francis has been more of a friend to me over the years than a gaoler, but I now fear for my life here, without his support. I have been advised by Bishop Morton to slip unobtrusively away from Brittany, into France, as soon as possible, and to present myself at the court, where I am sure to be given support and sanctuary from now on, until my invasion plans are complete. I am sorry for Francis. I know that when he is well, he would never authorise this, but his power is being taken out of his hands by the cunning and devious Landois, and I must distance myself from this dangerous man as soon as I can.

It is a great shock to me to hear that Landois plans to give me up to King Richard soon. I have been safe enough here at the Court of Brittany for years, but of course, the king now regards me as a real threat after my attempted invasion last autumn and is obviously trying to put a stop to any future invasion plans I may have, by getting his hands on me as soon as possible. He has apparently made a treaty with Landois for there to be a truce with no more war until at least 25 April next, after the recent sea battles between the Bretons and the English, which Richard is anxious to bring to an end. There was a secret codicil to this treaty however—regarding me! In return for a thousand archers to help Brittany fight against the French—who now see another good chance of overwhelming Brittany and annexing it, as they have long wanted to do, because of Duke Francis’s indisposition—Landois apparently promised Richard to have me put into the same close custody as when I first came to Brittany all those years ago, so that I can no longer organise any invasions against England! Then King Richard could have me taken to England as a prisoner whenever he wishes! Morton also thinks that he was bribed by Richard with promises of estates and possessions which belonged to the attainted noble rebels, who have now joined me in Brittany after the Great Uprising of last October.

So, as you can imagine, I am in a fever of quiet activity, trying to work out a way to get out of Brittany unobserved before Landois carries out his intention! However I go about this, it must be done quickly, before anyone even has an inkling of what I plan to do. I think Uncle Jasper has actually thought of a good way of escape for me already—one which should work!

Briefly, Uncle Jasper and my chief supporters will set out from Vannes, ostensibly on a consultation visit to Duke Francis, who happens to be staying, while he is sick, in one of his castles, which is very close to the French border and Anjou. As they approach the frontier, they will suddenly turn south and gallop into Anjou! I shall go out two days after with a very small group of bodyguards and one or two servants, saying that I am just going hunting and also visiting Duke Francis with the present of a fine boar—if we can find and kill one. He is known to prefer this meat above all others, and I will say that it is a gift to cheer him up. All know that we have more or less become friends over the years—so it should not cause any comment. What could be more natural than to visit a sick friend?

Soon after we enter the forest, I will change clothes with one of my servants. Then I will ride hard for the border with just two bodyguards, frequently altering our route in order to throw off any possible pursuers. We will only halt when really necessary to feed and rest the horses. We will make for Anjou. As soon as we have crossed the frontier, we will meet up with Uncle Jasper and the rest of the embassy and continue on in safety to the Court of France! There is no reason why it should not all go according to plan, I feel, unless we are betrayed by anyone. When the main body of my men find themselves deserted by me, I hope that none will feel so bitter as to betray me, if any knowledge of my actions has somehow leaked out. Hunting trips can often take two or three days, so we should be well away and safe in France before anyone could guess what I have done! Later, when they join me in France, I am sure they will understand, when informed of the very real danger I was in from Landois! I hope so.

I beg you not to worry over me, as I have learnt how to look after myself! I am always very careful and cautious as, in truth, I trust only Uncle Jasper. I will not do anything headstrong or foolhardy, I assure you. My actions will be well-planned and thought out before I make any move!

As soon as I reach France safely, I will let you know.

I sent Urswick on into France at once, to the court of the boy king Charles and his elder sister, the Lady of Beaulieu, who is really in charge there in an official regency, until he comes of age. I informed them that I am coming and requested permission for my chief noble English exiles, who will accompany me, to take refuge in France also. I stressed the need for a speedy reply. As soon as it comes, in a day or so—and I do not anticipate a refusal, as it will be a political advantage for the French to have me there, after all—I shall leave, with a picked group only. The rest, I hope, will follow soon after and will also be welcomed.

I feel bad about the necessity of sneaking off and leaving the main body of my men behind to take their chances. But I am sure Landois will be only too glad to let them all go when he finds out what I have done—feeding and housing them costs a lot of money, after all! They have all been so loyal to a man, except that rogue, the Marqess of Dorset. As you probably heard, his mother Elizabeth influenced him to desert me and go back to England to make his peace with King Richard! Luckily, some of my soldiers were soon on his tail before he reached the coast and took ship. They easily managed to ‘persuade’ him to return to us! I was grateful to him initially for bringing over that large portion of King Edward’s treasure he appropriated to help my cause, but this action shows him to be a vacillating fool! His mother obviously exerts a strong power over him. Surely he is safer with me?

But then, of course, for some strange reason which none can fathom, the woman has come out of sanctuary with her daughters at last and put her trust in the king—surely her sworn enemy and the instigator of so much of her personal tragedy? It is very strange, this. How can she trust him now after he has caused her so much heartache? I will never understand women!

Pray for my safety, my dear mother!

I remain your devoted son,

Henry Tudor

Anne, Westminster Palace, Autumn, 1484