The Kingmaker's Daughter (50 page)

On my own at Middleham Castle, I spend every afternoon with the children as if only by constantly watching can I prevent a hot plague wind blowing towards them from London, stop
the flight of a mistimed arrow, ensure that the new horse is well-trained and that Edward can manage it. If I could hold my son in my arms like the baby he once was, I would never let him go. There
is no doubt in my mind that the queen’s grey eyes are turned towards us, that her mind is set against my husband, that she will be plotting and conjuring our deaths, that it is finally,
clearly, us against her.

MIDDLEHAM CASTLE, YORKSHIRE, JUNE 1483

Every morning after chapel I go and stand on the top of the south tower, looking south down the road to London. And then I see the plume of dust that blows from the rough road
after the passage of half a dozen horsemen. I call to my maid: ‘Fetch the children to my room, and turn out the guard. Someone is coming.’

Her look of alarm and her sudden scurry down the steps tells me that I am not the only person to know that my husband, far from securing a safe succession for his nephew, is in danger, and that
danger could come even to us, in this, our safest home.

I hear the portcullis rattle down and the drawbridge creak up, and the running footsteps of men dashing to man the walls of the castle. When I go to the great hall the children are waiting for
me. Margaret has tight hold of her brother’s hand; Edward is wearing his short sword and his pale face is determined. They all three kneel for my blessing and when I put my hand on their warm
heads I could weep for fear for the three of them.

‘There are horsemen coming to the castle,’ I say as calmly as I can. ‘Perhaps they are messengers from your father, but with the country so unsettled I dare take no risks. That
is why I sent for you.’

Edward rises to his feet. ‘I did not know the country was unsettled?’

I shake my head. ‘I spoke wrongly. The country is at peace, waiting for your father’s righteous rule as regent,’ I say. ‘It is the court which is unsettled for I think
the queen will try to rule in the place of her son. She may try to make herself regent. I am anxious for your father, who is bound by his promise to the king to take Prince Edward into his keeping
and teach him how to rule, and bring him to his throne. If the prince’s mother is an enemy then your father will have to judge and to act swiftly and powerfully.’

‘But what would the queen do?’ little Margaret asks me. ‘What could she do against us, against my lord uncle?’

‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘That is why we are prepared for an attack in case one were to come. But we are safe here, the soldiers are strong and well-trained and the castle
is loyal to us. The whole of the North of England would support your father as if he were king himself.’ I try to smile at them. ‘I am probably being anxious. But my own father was
always ready in his own defence. My father always raised the drawbridge if he did not know the visitor.’

We wait, listening. Then I hear the shouted challenge from the captain of the guard and the indistinct reply. I hear the drawbridge rattle on its chains as they let it down and the thud as it
hits the far side of the moat. The portcullis screeches as they haul it up.

‘We are safe,’ I say to the children. ‘They will be friends bringing a message.’

I hear feet on the stone stairs that lead up to the hall, and then my guard opens the door and Sir Robert Brackenbury, Richard’s childhood friend, comes in with a smile. ‘I am sorry
if I alarmed you, my lady,’ he says, kneeling and proffering a letter. ‘We came quickly. I should perhaps have sent someone ahead to tell you that it was my troop.’

‘I thought it right to be careful,’ I say. I take the letter, and gesture to my lady in waiting that she shall pour a glass of small ale for Sir Robert. ‘You can go,’ I
say to the children and to my ladies. ‘I will talk with Sir Robert.’

Edward hesitates. ‘May I ask Sir Robert if my father is safe and well?’

Sir Robert turns to him and bends down so that the ten-year-old boy and he are at the same height. He speaks gently to all three children. ‘When I left London your father was well and
doing the very best he could,’ he says. ‘He has Prince Edward in his safe-keeping and he will make sure that he comes to his throne when the time is right.’

The children bow to me and leave the room. I wait until the door is closed behind them and I open the letter. Richard is brief as usual.

I fold the letter carefully and tuck it inside my gown. Sir Robert is standing, waiting for me to speak to him.

‘Tell me what is happening,’ I command.

‘The queen was mustering a troop and planning to put her son on the throne. She would have excluded our lord from the protectorate and there would have been no regency. She was going to
put her son on the throne and she and her brother Anthony Woodville would have ruled England through the boy.’

I nod, hardly daring to breathe.

‘Our lord captured Prince Edward, while he was being taken to London from Ludlow by the queen’s kinsmen. Our lord arrested the queen’s brother Anthony Woodville, and her son by
her first marriage Richard Grey, and took the boy into his own keeping. When we got to London we found the queen had fled into sanctuary.’

I gasp. ‘She has gone into sanctuary?’

‘A clear admission of her guilt. She took her children with her. Our lord has the prince in the royal apartment in the Tower, preparing him for his coronation, and the council has declared
our lord as Lord Protector – according to the wishes of his brother the king. The queen refuses to attend the coronation or release the royal prince and princesses out of sanctuary so that
they can attend their brother.’

‘What is she doing in there?’

Sir Robert grimaces. ‘Without a doubt she is plotting to overthrow the protectorate under the shield of sanctuary. Her brother has commanded the fleet to sail and they are on the high
seas; we are preparing for an attack from the river.’ He glances at me. ‘It is my lord’s belief that she is practising witchcraft – hidden in sanctuary.’

I cross myself and feel in my pocket for the amulet that George gave me against her enchantments.

‘He says his sword arm is giving him pain, tingling and aching. He thinks she is trying to weaken him.’

I find I am clenching my hands together. ‘What can he do to defend himself?’

‘I don’t know,’ Sir Robert says unhappily. ‘I don’t know what he can do. And the young prince constantly asks for his mother and for his governor, Anthony
Woodville. Clearly, as soon as he is crowned he will command their presence, and they will rule England through him. My own view is that my lord will have to hold the prince as his ward, without a
coronation, until he can make an agreement with the family. His own safety demands it. If the queen’s son is on the throne then she takes power again. She is certain to act against our lord
– and against you and your son. Once she seizes power through her son, my lord is as good as executed.’

At the thought of her secret silent malice against Richard and against me and the children my knees weaken and I lean against the stone of the chimney breast.

‘Be of good cheer,’ Sir Robert says encouragingly. ‘We know the danger, we are armed against her. Our lord is going to muster his faithful men from the North. He will summon
them to London. He has the prince in his hands, and he is ready for anything she might do. He need not crown him until he has an agreement. He can hold him until she will make an
agreement.’

‘He says I am to go to him.’

‘I am ordered to escort you,’ Sir Robert says. ‘Shall we leave tomorrow morning?’

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘At first light.’

The children come down to the stable yard to see me leave. I kiss each of them and they kneel for my blessing. Leaving them is the hardest thing to do, but to take them to
London would be to lead them into unknown dangers. My son Edward stands straight and says to me: ‘I will take care of my cousins, Lady Mother. You needn’t fear for us. I will hold
Middleham Castle for Father, come what may.’

I smile so that they can see I am proud of them but it is hard to turn away from them and get onto my horse. I brush the tears away with the back of my glove. ‘I shall send for you as soon
as I can,’ I say. ‘I shall think of you all every day, and pray for you every night.’ Then Sir Robert gives the signal and our little company goes under the portcullis arch, over
the drawbridge, and south down the road to London.

At every stop on the way we hear fresh confused rumours. At Pontefract the people are saying that the coronation has been delayed because the councillors were in a treasonous conspiracy with the
queen. In Nottingham, when we spend the night at the castle, people say she was going to put her brother Anthony Woodville on the throne, and many more say that she was going to make him Lord
Protector. Outside Northampton I hear someone swear that the queen has sent all her children overseas to our sister-in-law Margaret in Flanders, because she is afraid that Henry Tudor will come and
seize the throne.

Outside St Albans a pedlar rides beside me for a few miles and tells me that he heard from one of his most respectable customers that the queen is no queen at all but a witch who enchanted the
king, and their children are not true heirs but were got by magic. He has a new ballad in his pack: the story of Melusina, the water-witch who pretended to be mortal to get children from her lord
and then was revealed as a nixie, a water-sprite. It is pointless to listen to him lustily singing the ballad, and foolish to listen to rumours which merely fuel my fear of the queen’s
malice, but I cannot stop myself. What is worse is that everyone in the country is doing the same – we are all listening to rumours and wondering what the queen will do. We are all praying
that Richard will be able to prevent her putting her son on the throne, allowing her brother to command him, taking the country into war again.

As we ride through Barnet, where my father is still remembered fighting against this queen and her family, I turn aside to the little chapel that they have built at the battlefield and light a
candle for him. Somewhere out there, under the ripening corn, are the bodies of his men who were buried where they lay, and somewhere out there is Midnight, the horse that gave his life in our
service. Now I know that we are facing another battle, and this time my father’s son-in-law is – must be – the kingmaker.

BAYNARD’S CASTLE, LONDON, JUNE 1483

I am off my horse and up the stairs and into our apartments at a run and in a moment Richard’s arms are tight around me and we are clinging to each other as if we have
survived a shipwreck. We hold each other as we did when we were little more than children and had run away together to be married. Once again I remember him as the only man who could keep me safe,
as he holds me as if I am the only woman he has ever wanted.