Passage to Pontefract (40 page)

The Queen had been watching events with some trepidation. Like Richard she was very wary of Gloucester and she knew that until Richard came of age one or other of the uncles would always attempt to overshadow him.

One of her favourite attendants was a Bohemian girl whom she had brought with her when she came to England. The girl was clever and, although not strikingly good looking, her vivacity made her one of the most attractive girls at Court.

Anne certainly enjoyed chatting with her. Some said that she was low born. The trouble with some people at Court was that they thought anyone who was not royal was far beneath their notice. As Anne had said to Richard – and he had agreed with her whole-heartedly in this – it was not birth that made an interesting person but character.

Robert agreed with them. He was very amusing and he enjoyed imitating some of the more pompous of the people who inhabited the Court. They could be riotously gay together. Launcecrona, the Queen’s attractive attendant, was also a marvellous mimic and often Anne made her perform before the King and Robert.

Mimicry was rather a dangerous weapon. Robert said: ‘Do you know the best way to defeat your enemies? It is to ridicule them.’

There was a great deal in that. So they had to be careful, and being careful had resulted in the four of them being together alone which was frowned on; but Richard had taught Anne that some of the most exciting things in life were those of which others did not approve.

Lately Anne had noticed that Robert’s eyes were often on La Lancegrove as he called Launcecrona. She had seen their hands touch now and then; she had watched their lingering glances.

She thought it best to speak to Launcecrona and took the first opportunity.

‘You have not forgotten, my dear,’ she said, ‘that Robert de Vere is married.’

‘No, I had not forgotten it,’ answered Launcecrona.

‘And his wife happens to be a lady from a very noble family.’

‘I know. Robert says that the King was determined to honour him and gave him Philippa de Couci to show his affection for him.’

‘And the match was very beneficial to him. So Robert is irrevocably married.’

‘My lady,’ said Launcecrona, ‘is anything in this life irrevocable?’

‘Marriage with the royal family could well be,’ said Anne, and when she saw Launcecrona’s sly smile she continued to be uneasy.

It was not long after that when Launcecrona confided in the Queen that Robert was determined to put away his wife and marry her.

‘How can he possibly do so?’ asked the Queen.

‘He says there are ways. He thinks that the King will help him.’

‘The King!’

‘Yes, you know how Richard loves him.’

‘But on what grounds …’

‘Robert says that grounds can be found. They are rarely together, are they? He wants Richard to write to the Pope.’

Anne was horrified. She knew that if Richard did any such thing a great many people would be displeased. There was no reason whatsoever why Robert should divorce his wife except that he had fallen in love with another woman and wanted to marry her. She doubted whether that would be considered sufficient reason for divorce.

Richard talked to her about it.

‘Robert is quite determined,’ he said. ‘He talks of little else. La Lancegrove is very amusing. They suit each other very well.’

‘But what of his wife?’

‘He asked me to do what I can with the Pope.’

‘Richard … can you?’

‘I have always told Robert that I will do anything … just anything for him.’

‘I know, but you were not thinking of anything like this.’

‘I shall do what I can for him, Anne.’

She was astounded. She had not realised the extent of Richard’s devotion to his friend. Richard was watching her intently. ‘I want you to do something too, Anne.’

She waited, her heart beating faster.

‘I want you also to write to the Pope. I want you to tell him how important it is that there should be a dispensation, that Robert should marry Launcecrona.’

‘On what grounds?’ asked Anne.

‘We must think of something which makes it very necessary.’

For the first time since she had come to England Anne wanted to disagree with her husband.

Before she had been eager to love him and be loved by him. She had understood how easily his temper was aroused and had determined it never should be against her.

They had been so happy together. But now he was asking her to do something of which she could not approve.

For one thing they could hold nothing against Robert’s wife. It was true she and her husband saw little of each other but then it had been a marriage of convenience and as such had seemed satisfactory. If Robert had not fallen under the spell of the gay Bohemian there would never have been any question of divorce.

And they were drawing her into it. Little had she thought when the four of them had been so merry together that this would be the result.

They were all persuading her – Richard and the two lovers. Launcecrona was her attendant, her
friend
. She must do this for her.

Perhaps she was foolish. Perhaps it was a momentary weakness. Usually she liked to stand up for her own opinions. But they were all persuading her. ‘Come, Anne, what difference does it make to you? Your opinion will mean so much. Urban wants all the support he can get. He will want it from Bohemia as well as England.’

So she gave way.

How merry they were together then. Launcecrona and Robert danced round the apartment. Richard took her hand and they joined in. The four friends. Richard was contented. These were the people he loved best. He was happy with them; and he had so many cares.

It was not as though Philippa had loved her husband, Anne reasoned with herself, and Robert and Lancegrove were so happy together.

When it was known that Robert de Vere was seeking to put his wife away simply because he wanted another woman, the fury and resentment against him burned more fiercely than ever.

Was there nothing the King would not do for this man?

When the news reached Gloucester he grew pale with rage. This was an insult to his niece. How dared this fellow put aside a royal princess for the sake of a low-born Bohemian!

He would not forget this insult; but, hating Robert de Vere as he did, it was Richard whom he blamed.

He must go, he vowed secretly. He
shall
go.

The matrimonial affairs of Robert de Vere were like a spark which set off the conflagration. Since de Vere had become Duke of Ireland, it was asked, why did he not take action in that troublesome country? What was he doing lounging at Court, sporting with his concubine and the King and the Queen? There was work to be done.

‘Gloucester is the enemy,’ said Richard. ‘I seem to be plagued by uncles. Gloucester is worse than Lancaster. Listen. You will have to make a feint of going to Ireland, Robert. We will leave London together for I shall come to see you off. But you will not go to Ireland. We will march back to London surrounded by an army and there we shall denounce Gloucester as the traitor he is.’

It was a wild plan, as all Richard’s plans were.

They left London and made their way to Wales where they were joined by Suffolk, Sir Robert Tresilian, the harsh judge of those peasants who had been brought to trial after the great revolt, and Alexander Neville who was the Archbishop of York and had always shown allegiance to the King in his conflict with his uncles.

They were to march on London and having made sure of the Londoners’ support, summon the King’s adversaries to face a charge of treason.

Richard was welcomed in London but when it was known that Gloucester, Warwick and Arundel, realising what was happening, had gathered together a rival force and were waiting near Highgate, the Londoners changed their minds.

They were not, they declared, going to risk having their heads broken for the sake of the Duke of Ireland.

The result was that the three lords, Gloucester, Warwick and Arundel came to see the King.

Gloucester cried out that he had intended no treason against the King. It was his advisers who were making the trouble and he should rid himself of them.

Richard and his uncle faced each other, each trying to curb his anger, each wondering how far he could go.

Gloucester cried: ‘We are asking for the trial of your advisers. Nothing else will satisfy the lords.’

Richard was silent. They meant Robert de Vere, de la Pole who was the Earl of Suffolk, Alexander Neville, Archbishop of York, and Robert Tresilian, the Lord Chief Justice.

There was silence in the chamber. Richard felt fear suddenly grip him. He could not get out of his mind those nightmares which had haunted him of his great-grandfather, Edward the Second. He knew his history. It had begun with him rather like this.

When those fears came on him he felt a compulsion to give way … or appear to give way.

He relented suddenly. Gloucester and his friends must have their way. He would agree to the parliamentary impeachment of his friends.

As soon as they had gone he despatched messengers to them all.

Escape, was his command. Get away while there is time.

The wrath of Gloucester was great when he realised that the King’s favourites had escaped.

He went to Huntingdon and there was met by Henry of Bolingbroke. It was the first time the son of John of Gaunt had stepped into prominence, and none at that time – least of all Richard – was aware of the significance of this.

‘By God’s eyes,’ cried Gloucester to Henry of Bolingbroke, ‘Richard is heading for disaster. Can you see that he is setting out on the path taken by our ancestor? This man de Vere is another Gaveston. If he continues in this way he could lose him his crown.’

And if he lost his crown who then would take it?

There were lights in Gloucester’s eyes, and they were reflected in those of Henry of Bolingbroke.

Richard was desolate. There was nothing but disaster everywhere he looked. The forces against him were too strong.

He wept with Anne. ‘I am a King who has never been allowed to rule,’ he said. ‘If I had been older when I came to the throne how different everything would have been!’

She comforted him, but she knew there was little comfort to offer.

Even the people did not love them as they once had. They were fond of Richard in a way but they were not prepared to fight to keep him on the throne. As for her, she had been their mild and meek little Queen but they now blamed her for Robert de Vere’s divorce for they knew that she had written to the Pope and asked him to grant it, and they would never feel the same towards her again.

There was trouble everywhere, terrible trouble. It had been foolish really to become involved in Robert’s divorce and remarriage. For what had happened since? He and Launcecrona were parted.

Robert was now raising an army to fight the King’s enemies.

She knew it was hopeless to pit his strength against men like Gloucester, Warwick and Arundel, the hero who had driven the French off the seas. Robert had never been noted for his military skill.

Launcecrona and she sat together talking quietly of the disasters. All the merriment was over now. They were both deadly serious.

And as they sat there the door was flung open and a groom came in.

They stared at him. The Queen rose in horror thinking the man had come to kill them. For what other reason would a groom break into the royal chamber?

Then Launcecrona gave a little cry.

‘Robert!’

Robert it was, scarcely recognisable as the dandy of the past except when he spoke.

‘I am in great haste,’ he said. ‘I have come to see the King.’

‘I will get him myself,’ said Anne, and left the husband and wife together for a few moments.

Richard came hurrying in. ‘Robert!’ he cried and they embraced. It was almost as though they were the lovers for their reunion was more poignantly loving than that of Robert and Launcecrona.

‘Robert, my dear, dear friend, what brings you here?’

‘Rout. Disaster! I am a fugitive, Richard.’

‘And in danger!’

‘Acute danger. Let me tell you quickly what happened. My men were routed by Arundel’s at Radcot. My men deserted me, Richard. They had no heart to fight Arundel’s men. Arundel persuaded them to desert me. There was nothing for it but flight. I only escaped by plunging into the river with my charger. I lost my baggage, my money … even letters of yours which I had always cherished.’