White Boar and the Red Dragon, The (52 page)

He must have an heir, and quickly, to ensure the succession—there is no gainsaying that. They will make him marry another as soon as possible anyway—it is his duty. Whether he truly mourns for Anne or not is beside the point. She could never have given him another son anyway, even if she had lived. She was too delicate. He may have been forced to divorce her, even if he did love her. What he needs is a strong woman to be the future mother of his sons. And Elizabeth is certainly that. Her mother produced children like other women shell peas, and with as much ease! And Bess has the same strong constitution. She would be an ideal wife, in theory.

But the Lady Bess has been earmarked for you, my son, and somehow Richard must be put off the idea of marrying her. It will not do—for a multitude of reasons! Will not the people say that she is a bastard? Of course, he could get an act of Parliament to reverse that, but then, what about the two princes? Their bastardy could have been reversed in a like manner—if Richard, as Protector, had really wanted it. But no, he desired to be king himself, and used the fact that they were supposed bastards as an excuse to take the throne!

Could he now reverse all that for his own ends again? Would Parliament do his bidding? I doubt it. No, Henry, I think that even Richard may be checkmated in this one. I feel the marriage will never happen—cannot happen! There are too many inconvenient obstacles ranged against it for even Richard to unravel. And his poor reputation is such already that it can take no more blackening. It would be the straw that broke the camel’s back, as the old proverb goes!

I must admit to you, Henry, that I saw an opportunity to blacken Richard’s reputation even more with the general public and helped spread the story of the possible poisoning, when it began to appear—as if it is not black enough already with the little princes’ disappearance, and possible murder still unexplained—and never even referred to now by the king! I make no apologies for being completely ruthless myself, when it might aid you. If the poisoning accusation becomes generally put about in the north especially, where he has been very popular and where his main power base is still, he will find that the many adherents of the Nevilles will turn against him utterly! They are still faithful to the old House of Warwick! Then what will become of him?

He is hated in many quarters. All the better for you, my son. His supporters leave him daily and come over to you in Brittany! I do not think he knows whom to trust now. My husband is one of his chief councillors—and supposed chief allies—but if I know Thomas, he will take sides where the best advantage may be at the time he is called upon to fight! He gives his allegiance at the very last moment. Saving his own skin is what has directed his lifelong actions. I do not blame him for this extreme caution, especially with a man like Richard as king, who acts first and thinks about the consequences after, witness Hasting’s death!

Buckingham could have trumped up all the charges he made against the man—he was proved to be a traitor himself shortly after!

Well, my son, I hope that you have almost completed your plans for your great invasion? Have you enough ships, horses, arms, and men yet? If you need more money, I can get some to you—but I cannot use my good messenger Reginald Bray again. He has begun to cause comments by his frequent absences from England, and I would not have him thrown in prison on our account, or worse. He has been a very faithful servant.

At present, Christopher Urswick seems to have remained undetected. I shall go on sending you letters through his good offices as long as possible. Soon, though, my son, there will be no more need for letters—you will be in England! You will be king and I will be at your side, at court, to guide and help you—as I have always sought to do!

Your loving mother,

Margaret Beaufort (You will have noticed that I no longer sign myself as Countess of Richmond, as the king—in his great generosity—has withdrawn that title from me for my part in Buckingham’s rebellion. But it will be returned to me, along with my estates and my freedom—by you, my son, when you ascend to the throne—so I am not unduly worried!)

Richard, Nottingham Castle, June 1485

‘Francis, I have gone out of my way to prove to the people that I am determined to work for their good! I have worked non-stop, since taking the throne, at revising the law; bringing in many new laws to ensure proper justice and have instigated many other reforms generally to help different causes. Why is it I now feel on shaky ground, in spite of all my efforts? I certainly do not feel secure, and, except for a few long-time friends, such as you, am uncertain who are my truly loyal supporters. Loyalty has always been of the first importance to me, as you know. How is it I do not trust others to give it to me unstintingly when I give it to them? With war looming at any time with Henry Tudor, I need to know whom I can depend upon to fight with me and for me!’

‘You are unusual, Richard, in that you never waver from your affiliations. I am afraid most men support the side they think will bring about the best result in their interests! Witness the past-master at this game, Lord Thomas Stanley! He always manages to land on the winning side without embroiling himself in trouble! I would not trust him an inch, my friend, or depend on him for anything, but I think you can trust your other main supporters, the Duke of Norfolk, his son, the Earl of Surrey, and probably the Duke of Northumberland, Lord Percy, though he has always been a law unto himself, oftentimes acting as if he were above the law! You have said so yourself. They can all array large armies to fight in a short time, when it is necessary to do so.

Unfortunately, you have unwittingly alienated many lords with your amendments to laws which do not work in their favour any more, as they used to! You did it with the best intentions, for the good of all. But these men do not care about others as you do, only about their own interests—these will always come first in their minds, and resentment has built against you because of it.’

‘Surely a king must care about all his subjects, not just a special few?’

‘Agreed, but these nobles can’t, or won’t, see it the same way. They do not care for the common man, as you do, Sire. They are usually indifferent to his needs and will only help him if forced to and if it does not compromise themselves, or cost too much!

Also, you have brought in Northerners to take charge of whole areas in the south which have lost their overlords to Henry’s cause and who fled to Brittany after Buckingham’s rebellion. That is causing great resentment, I am afraid.’

‘But I know these men. They are good administrators—and loyal to me! They will do what needs doing without fear or favour! Does it matter where a man comes from as long as he can do the job he is appointed to do?’

‘One would think not. But folk prefer someone they know, and—to be frank—one who speaks their language! There are complaints that the northern accents are often incomprehensible to the men of the south and that their vocabulary contains many words foreign to them. You must admit that, Richard! You were brought up with Yorkshire folk, so it presents no problems for you. Try to put yourself in the shoes of many who do find great difficulty in even understanding the orders of their new overlords. People tend to like what they know and know what they like!’

‘I would have thought that is a problem easily overcome, with some give and take on both sides? I do understand what you mean about putting complete strangers into positions of authority though. But it is done now. I had no choice. I do not plan to spend ages reappointing new men to these posts. There are too many other pressing needs for me to deal with! The Southerners will just have to learn to accept their new masters with a good grace!’

‘I know you mean well, my lord—and I hope all will come to realise that. Those who know you realise your heart is in the right place! But there is another thing you have done which has caused a lot of bitterness, if you don’t mind me being frank with you.’

‘Francis, I know that whatever you say is said with the best intentions! So go on.’

‘Well, this business of raising war loans. I know it has been absolutely necessary to gather money in a short space of time to pay for the looming war, but people say these are nothing more than the hated benevolences, or forced loans to the Crown, in another guise! Of course, Edward was so fond of getting money quickly in this way—with him, they were always a necessary evil! But they were generally loathed. And you abolished them categorically in your great Parliament last year, saying you would never resort to them again!’

‘I know. I hated them myself and wanted them abolished permanently—truly I did. What I was forced to do to raise money quickly does prey on my conscience, I must admit. But what am I to do to acquire enough money for the defence of the realm otherwise? Edward’s treasure, or the remains of it, after Dorset had filched a great portion of it and sent it to Tudor, who had no right to any of it, is now gone. There is no money in the Exchequer to pay for anything, let alone this costly war—which is now inevitable and imminent. Tudor could invade any time! And he has plenty of French money to aid him too!’

‘It is a tricky business, agreed. You want to do the right thing, but the consequences are often unforeseen. Unfortunately, the people do not understand your reasons. They just feel it is nothing more than theft! They are sick to death of fighting anyway and do not see why they should be made to pay for more!’

‘A great pity, Francis. But it is done now. Am I to give it all back? How will the war be paid for then? Soldiers have to be paid. Horses, arms, and equipment have to be bought.’

‘No, of course not, but perhaps some kind of proclamation may help, concerning the money—an explanation of your dire need for it in the circumstances!’

‘I will think about that, though I doubt it will help unless I actually make a promise to reimburse those who paid out! And when would I be able to do that? It may cause even more unrest and resentment if I made another promise I could not keep. They would think me a liar as well as an extortioner then! And anyway, an amount way below what we had hoped for—£30,000—has actually been raised. They have shown their objections to my request for money by just not responding adequately.’

‘In some situations, one cannot win, Sire, I agree! I do not envy many hard decisions you have to make.’

‘But apart from the reasons we have discussed, which may partly be to blame for the general distrust in me which I feel most strongly, except in the north, where they know me and trust my motives, I am very aware that I am murmured against and that vile accusations about me continue to circulate! It seems people would rather believe in rumour, speculation, and hearsay and ignore my explanations and honest efforts to do right by them! Look at that business recently with Bess Woodville. I am sure my proclamation fell on deaf ears. They believe I slept with her because they want to believe it! They enjoy bandying around scurrilous rumours about those in high places. They believe these more readily than the real truth! And those wicked lies about poor Anne. They still believe I poisoned her, I am sure! Even though the doctors must have let it be known that she had been ill for months with consumption. They would twist even evidence of the symptoms of her suffering in her last months into evidence of slow poisoning—instigated by me!’

‘All those who know you well, my lord, would never have countenanced such an accusation for a moment! But then, there is the continuing mystery of the disappearance of Edward’s sons from the Tower, I am afraid. Speculation about that will not go away until some real information about them is forthcoming, you know.’

‘I realise that—too late. Ever since that appalling deed of Buckingham’s, I see the questioning looks thrown at me in public; I feel the general distrust, even sheer dislike. I hope there is not general hatred there too, though I fear in some quarters—certainly among the Woodville supporters—it definitely exists. Especially in London. The hatred there is palpable! That is one reason I am here at this time, while we await news of Tudor’s movements, though the main reason is, of course, that we can move easily to anywhere necessary very quickly from here, as it is the virtual centre of the realm. What can I do about it all? I sometimes feel I am hitting my head against a brick wall when I try to communicate my honest intentions; my sincerity.

Everything I do seems to backfire or work in the opposite way to that which I intended! The people mutter more and more about me under their breaths, and every day, dozens more slip away to Brittany and Tudor.

And all I ever wanted was their good opinion and their commonweal and have tried to work for it in every way I can!’

‘Is it not possible for you to announce something about the princes? Let it be supposed that they have been removed to a place of safety—up north, for instance? You need to mollify the general suspicions against you. It may be a lie, but it is better than this continued silence and will keep them quiet for a while at least. Be honest—you have not uttered one word either to confirm or deny the fact that all believe them dead!’

‘How can I? I hoped that all the speculations would just die down. What could I say about their disappearance now? The general public believe me guilty of murder anyway. What good to deny it—without revealing the truth about Buckingham?’

‘Why not do it? He is dead and cannot deny his actions!’

‘But I would need proof or the country would just think it all a tissue of lies to vindicate myself. I think the public prefer to believe me guilty. After all, they need a scapegoat to pin their suspicions on, and I am the obvious choice. They would not believe me if I swore on the Bible to my innocence in Westminster Abbey! It is too late to do anything about it, Francis. Maybe if I had told the truth at once… ?’

‘If only you had not peremptorily destroyed that letter he sent you on the morning of his execution without opening it! Mayhap it did contain the names of his fellow conspirators? Apparently, he swore that it did! And they may still be at liberty—plotting against you again! You would not be in this situation now, with no proof to back you up.’