The Lost King (3 page)

The Duke of Clarence, Uncle Richard's older brother, has been imprisoned in the Tower. Tom never told anyone about the conversation he overheard, but the King found out somehow. Although Clarence has been so treacherous, I can't help feeling sorry for him. His wife, Isabel, died three days before Christmas after giving birth to a baby son and today the baby died as well. The two older children are going to live with Uncle Richard and his wife, Anne. She is their
aunt, and she only has the one son. People say she is not well, but I expect their servants will take good care of the children.

We have been to London again. It was Edward's seventh birthday last week, so there was a state banquet to celebrate it. He had to play the host. He did it beautifully, dressed in silk and velvet, with a coronet on his curly head. The King and Queen were there, and countless notabilities, including Uncle Richard and Anne with their own son and Clarence's son and daughter. Rivers was there, and Dr Alcock, and Elizabeth Woodville's grown-up sons from her first marriage, and countless other Woodville relatives.

Rivers has translated a book from French into English. It is called
The Dictes and Sayings of the Philosophers
. William Caxton, who was at the banquet as well, is going to print it. Caxton has been abroad in Bruges, learning about wonderful new machines that that can make copies of a book in great numbers. He came home to set up a printing press of his own, and the book translated by Rivers will be
the first ever to be printed in England. So that was another cause for celebration.

We have been to London yet again. This time I saw more of Edward's little brother, Richard. He has the same fair, curling hair and angelic face as Edward. It is planned that he will come to join us at Ludlow later this month, for he is almost the same age as Edward was when I first saw him. Far too young, I thought, for the ceremony we had to attend. At barely four years old, he was being married to Anne Mowbray, daughter of the Duke of Norfolk. She is just six, a slender little girl with a pale, serious face and a mass of red hair escaping from a coronet that looked too big and heavy for her.

These royal children are like puppies traded between dog breeders for their future potential. I don't like to see them pushed into such use when they are hardly more than babies, but that is how the strange world of these privileged people works.

***

Little Prince Richard is with us now. He is a gentle boy, less serious than his older brother, perhaps because he is not burdened by knowing he will one day be the king. I am doing my best to ensure that we settle down together comfortably as three instead of two. I take care that Edward shall have no cause for jealousy, or that Richard shall feel left out, and they seem to get on very well together. Edward enjoys his superiority, knowing the Castle and everyone in it, but he is very sweet to his little brother.

Neither of the boys has the solid build of their massive father. With their slim build and fair hair inherited from Elizabeth, they look like those paintings of angels on cathedral walls. When I see their two golden heads together, talking or engrossed by something they are playing with, it fills me with delight.

Edward is taking great pride in helping his younger brother to improve his reading – and it is not difficult, for Richard is a clever child and learns very quickly. They have occasional arguments, but they are great friends. For me, it is fascinating to watch them grow and learn. The days spent with them are a constant joy and they are going to be such fine young men.

The King and Queen are here, visiting their sons. I should not say this, but I wish they had not come. Wherever she goes, Elizabeth Woodville brings constant demands and unrest. This morning's episode was typical. We heard her shouting at Edward in their royal bedchamber, which is close enough to our room for the boys to hear every word.

‘George is a traitor, Edward. You know he is. Everyone knows. How much longer are you going to wait?'

The King said coldly, ‘The Duke of Clarence is no concern of yours.'

But she ranted on.

‘He is
everyone's
concern. It is outrageous that – '

I began to talk loudly about something trivial, trying to drown her words, but Edward held up his hand to hush me. He is nearly nine now, and has a natural authority that cannot be ignored. So I fell silent, and Elizabeth's furious voice was terribly clear.

‘Your brother has been guilty of treason a hundred times over. If he were a common man you'd have sent him to the block years ago and thought nothing of it. Why should he be favoured and escape execution? People are saying you have lost your courage.'

‘That is not true. You know perfectly well – '

But she cut through his words.

‘Are you admitting that you love your treacherous brother more than you love justice?'

The King's voice was quiet and angry. ‘Elizabeth. You know the reason.'

‘That old tale? Pah! Of course I know – who better? Why are you worried? We can deal with any troublemakers – you have the power. But you must
use
your power, Edward. I am sick of your cowardice and dithering. Whose side are you on – George's or
mine? Make up your mind, before he makes it up for you.'

The door slammed, and we heard the clacking of her high-heeled shoes as she ran down the stairs.

Richard's face was white and his lips were trembling. I tried to take him on my lap, but he pulled away. Edward had more sense. He spoke to his little brother cheerfully.

‘Grown-ups have arguments sometimes. Don't worry about it.'

He reached for a knitted stocking and slipped his hand into it, then wriggled it towards Richard.

‘A big snake coming to get you,' he said. ‘Ssssssssssss!'

Richard began to fend the woolly snake off and laughed, unwillingly at first.

Edward looked at me over the top of his head as he went on gently buffeting his brother.

‘My mother is right, Lisa,' he said. ‘The King has to show his hand.'

He never calls his father Papa, just
the King
. I did not know what to say. All I know is, I am full of fear.

***

The boys are outside, doing their sporting activities. I am in the kitchen, helping Annie to pluck chickens and telling her about the Queen's tirade this morning – but the door bursts open and men from the royal guard come clattering in. They are red-faced and excited, laughing yet somehow shocked.

Annie's brother is one of them. She asks, ‘Jack, what's happened?'

‘The King's brother,' he says. ‘The Duke of Clarence. Arrested, tried, condemned to death. We've just escorted him back to the Tower.'

‘He's been asking for it for years,' Annie says. ‘Sit down, you lot, you're making the place untidy.'

She goes over to the barrel of ale in the corner and starts filling mugs.

‘Lisa, hand these out.'

The men are unbuckling belts, undoing tunics, dumping their swords and scabbards on the floor, pulling out chairs, sitting down. Laughing, clinking mugs together, shoving the chickens out of the way so feathers fly around. It's going to be a party.

‘What are they going to do with him?' Annie asks after a bit. ‘They can't hang the King's brother like some common criminal.'

‘Special treat,' Jack says, grinning. ‘Big privilege. They've said he can choose how he wants to die. Got to make up his mind by tomorrow morning. Cheers. Here's to justice.'

‘Here's to justice!' they chorus, clinking mugs again. Ale slops over. The serious drinking begins.

***

We know now how Clarence chose to die, although Annie reckons it was someone else's choice, not his. They found his body in a huge barrel of red wine. So Annie is probably right. He was helped, as she put it.

There are a lot of people in the kitchen again, not soldiers, just the servants who work here. This is our natural meeting place when something has happened.

‘Clarence always liked a drink,' a man says, and everyone laughs.

Annie says, ‘I hope they don't chuck it away just because he's been in it. Malmsey's a lovely marinade for venison.'

I find it hard to join in the merriment. Perhaps because my father has compassion for those who die, I'm appalled by what has happened. The luxurious life of this castle has shown a nasty underside, like
turning over a dead bird and finding it full of maggots. For the first time in all these years, I almost wish I had gone home with my father and stayed there, that day when Edward fell from his pony.

Too late now. Conflict and betrayal and killing are part of the way these privileged people live. As well as caring for the boys and keeping them happy, I may need to protect them, though I do not know from what or whom.

Anne Mowbray, the little girl who was married with such ceremony to Richard two years ago, died last week. So the dog-breeders will have to pick a new bride to mate with their pedigree prince. I think of her white, serious face and wild red hair, and grieve for her. Increasingly often these days, I wish I could take my lovely boys away from this mad place and let them grow up as I did, in a simple house where we worked hard and did nothing to harm anyone.

I cannot believe it. King Edward died five days ago. The messenger who came would not speak to any of us until he had given the letter to Earl Rivers, who came when summoned, looking a little irritable at the interruption to his writing.

He read the letter, and his expression changed. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then made the sign of the cross. All of us did likewise, though we did not know what he was going to tell us.

His voice was quiet and dry.

‘The King is dead.'

In the gasps and moans that followed, he looked at the letter again, as if hardly believing it. Then he turned to me and said, ‘Tell Edward to come to my room at once. Do not mention the reason.'

Edward was alone with Dr Alcock, as Richard is in London with his mother. He took one look at my face and got to his feet.

‘Lisa, what is it?'

‘Your uncle asks you to go to him.'

‘Now? At once?'

‘Yes.'

We walked up the stairs in silence, though there was so much I wanted to say. Edward stopped and turned to me, frowning.

‘Something has happened, hasn't it?'

I nodded. There was an ache in my throat and I longed to give him what comfort I could, but orders had to be obeyed.

‘Earl Rivers has to tell you,' I said.

I think he knew then. He said nothing, but for the first time since he was small, he took my hand. He is twelve now, and taller than I am. When we reached his uncle's room, he tapped on the door.

‘Come in,' Rivers said.

***

Since then, we have been in turmoil. Messengers keep arriving from London. They dismount from sweating horses and run up the stairs with letters for Rivers.

Uncle Richard was with King Edward when he died. He is the only one left of the royal brothers now, and Edward appointed him to be the official protector of his young nephews. I am glad of that.

It seems sad that a great king who survived countless battles should die of what started as a common cold – though I must admit, Edward had grown fat and red-faced in the last year or two, and drank far too much. The servants often had to carry him to bed because he was too drunk to stand or walk.

Young Edward is now Edward the Fifth, King of England. He is going to London for his coronation very soon, with an armed guard. I am to go as well, to take care of Edward's possessions and make sure he has whatever he needs.

My father rode here after he heard the news. He seemed worried. ‘Lisa, this visit to London may last a long time,' he said. ‘Edward may never come back to Ludlow. What is to happen to you?'

‘I don't know. But I have to go.'

‘Yes. I can see that. Look – keep this carefully.' He gave me a name and address written on a piece of paper. ‘This is your Uncle Bryn, my younger brother. You were still a baby the one time he came to see us, so you won't remember him. He is a cabinet-maker, makes fine furniture for the gentry. His wife's name is Olwen. They live in Fleet Lane, near the river. I've sent them a letter. It should be there by now – the postal service Richard set up is a blessing. Promise me you'll visit them, Lisa. I want to be sure you have somewhere to go if you need help.'

The idea that I may need help makes me newly afraid. Ludlow Castle is a world of its own, but it has become my home. Maybe we will take some of that world to London. I wish Annie could come, but she has to stay here.

***

Tom and I have come to the forest glade we think of as our own. We stand with our arms round each other. My face is buried in the warmth of his jacket.

He says, ‘I wish you weren't going to London.'

‘So do I.'

And it is true. I love Tom, though I tried hard not to. I want so much to stay with him – but I cannot desert the boys. Their Uncle Richard's motto is ‘Loyauté Me Lie', which Dr Alcock said means ‘Loyalty Binds Me'. I, too, feel bound.

‘Things are so uncertain. And the boys are still young. It would be an unkind time to leave them.'

‘Lisa, their world is not our world,' Tom says. ‘Their wars and deaths and riches are nothing to do with us. I want you to marry me. Let the boys go. Please. We can have children of our own.'

I feel torn in half.

‘I love you, Tom, I really do. I want to marry you. But can we wait just a little longer?'

‘Anyone who waits for things to be safe and certain is a fool,' he says. ‘And I hope I am not a fool.' He sighs. ‘But yes, I will wait for you.'