White Boar and the Red Dragon, The (42 page)

As Buckingham had most eloquently asserted to the council, if the queen herself still could not be persuaded to leave the sanctuary, the little prince must be secured anyway. No more refusals were to be allowed.

The arguments he gave were persuasive: the young King Edward needed his brother with him as a companion; the child could not be absent from the coronation ceremony, and he neither needed or wanted sanctuary. Surely he could be removed in these circumstances without violating the sacred law of sanctuary?

The duke eventually won them all round, even the Archbishop of Canterbury, who had held out to the end of the discussion, but gave in uneasily at last. Frankly, he had to be coerced into it, I know, but occasionally political necessity overrides even the rules of the Church.

And so we entered the abbot’s lodgings in Westminster, where the queen and her children had taken sanctuary, determined to do what must be done. Buckingham and myself waited in The Star Chamber at first, knowing the queen would never respond to us. She had made that patently clear on numerous occasions already that she scorned and despised us and would never come out herself at our request. So why would she release her son to us?

Instead, Lord Howard, accompanied by the old Archbishop of Canterbury, went in to plead with her to release little Richard. I think the kindly archbishop’s sincere, quiet assurances that her son would be treated kindly, gently, and respectfully brought her round, or maybe it was the sight of Lord Howard’s grim and determined face and the fact that he was well-armed; also the sight of his large group of armed men outside the doors. Who knows?

But a short while later, the lad was brought to me in The Star Chamber, led out hand in hand with the archbishop, with Buckingham on his other side, who had gone forward to meet them in Westminster Hall. I talked reassuringly to little Richard, who was only nine years old, for a short while. Then the archbishop took him to his brother in the Tower, where they could get to know each other after so long apart. I am sure they will both be the happier for this meeting.

I pray that all will be well with them and that Edward will be less miserable and withdrawn, now that he has been joined by his younger brother. They will be good for each other, surely?

Richard, Baynard’s Castle, London, 21 June 1483

After much prayer to try and calm my troubled mind, I decided to call a council meeting again and tell my chief councillors, Buckingham, Francis Lovell, and Northumberland, also my chief supporters, about Bishop Stillington’s revelations and the quandary I feel this has put me in.

I still await my mother’s reply to my urgent letter. It is a pity that she is so far away at Fotheringhay. She had not planned to attend the coronation for health reasons anyway; otherwise, she would be here, as this is her London house that I have removed to, leaving Anne at Crosby Place for the moment. It is more suitable for urgent meetings without disturbing her peace. I would have appreciated my mother’s advice now, but I had to make my decision today, alone.

I truly did not know how my councillors and supporters would react to this earth-shattering news, but had put the outcome in the hands of God. What will be, will be…

To my astonishment, they have responded to me quickly, advising me that I should reveal all to the Lord Mayor and chief citizens of London at once and see their reaction too. If, like the councillors, they are then against the coronation tomorrow, in these unprecedented circumstances, would I consider, as the next in bloodline living to my brother Edward, taking the throne myself?

Most men, it seems, would support me or agree to my taking power, now that it can be justified.

I am amazed and overcome at their suggestion! I can see that it would make sense, though. George would have been next in line, had he lived. But he is dead. And there is no one else! And my father had a good claim to the throne years ago.

I am not at all sure that I want this advancement. I had not looked for it. But what is the alternative? If the boy king were crowned tomorrow and Bishop Stillington’s confession should come to light generally to the Commons and the country as a whole at a future time, all hell would be let loose!

It seems I have little choice. If it is for the commonweal of the realm, then I should step in and accept.

But the burdens of kingship are heavy. Edward knew that only too well, and I often tried to share them with him when he felt overwhelmed. Who would help me? Francis certainly. Buckingham? He has lately become a most enthusiastic supporter. Stanley? He is a dark horse and difficult to trust entirely. Lord Howard never wavers. He is a rock. It is so difficult to decide. I must think, and quickly!

The councillors have assured me that I am the right man for the job. They say my experience as my brother’s right-hand man in council and war ideally suit me for it. But it is a huge step to take, one I fear, and yet which excites me greatly with its endless possibilities at the same time!

Several thousands of my stalwart men of the north will arrive in London shortly, also many of Buckingham’s sturdy Welsh soldiers. They will support me if there is an outcry from the Woodville supporters, which I anticipate, even if I do not become king.

It is best to stop the doubts, speculations, and rumours which I know grip London, as soon as possible. People naturally wonder what is going on in high places and hate uncertainty. It affects their futures. To be decisive has always been my best defence. I think the people will be glad to know that the safety of the realm is assured and that good order will be maintained, whether I remain Protector or become king.

Perhaps the revelation of the pre-contract is establishing a rightful opportunity for me? For I would not take such a step unless I felt it was the right, the only thing to do in the circumstances!

Child kings have always guaranteed endless trouble and warring factions. The people want—they need—an experienced man as king! If I can do some good and realise my lifelong dreams of equal justice for all men and women, which I have always wanted, then maybe I should accept their proposal?

God help me! I pray for his guidance in making this second, most sacred decision, the most important of my life. On it rests so much!

Cecily, Dowager Duchess of York, Fotheringhay Castle,
20 June 1483

My Dear Richard,

This news is most disturbing, but not surprising. Knowing how Edward always lusted after practically every attractive woman he ever met and how he was used to getting his own way with them, the fact that he made a plight-troth to a young high-born girl who had kept her chastity up to then in order to get her into bed does not amaze me in the least. Nor the fact that he then let her down and abandoned her later. She probably intrigued him with her purity. It was something he did not often come across, as most women fell willingly at his feet! That Woodville woman must have had great strength of will to persuade him to marry her before giving in to him. One has to admire her determination to get what she wanted—marriage—before giving in to his charm—if nothing else about her!

If he had known the terrible consequences his shameful act would cause all these years later, would it have made him think again? I doubt it. Edward was always one for instant gratification in all things, whatever the cost. I deplored his lack of morals in life, as I do now. One should not speak ill of the dead, I know, yet I only speak the plain truth, after all.

But the other side of the coin—it has opened the window of opportunity for you. I always knew your time would come; your chance to take power and the throne! You used to ask me how I knew this, but I just felt it would come to pass. I felt it deep within me, that my most able and upright son would one day get his chance. It was always your destiny! And you have!

The situation clears the way for you to take the throne now as you deserve. Take your opportunity at once. Do not think of refusing the offer made to you. You will be a great and good king. All you needed was the chance!

My dear husband should have been king, but lost his chance and his life. Now the son most like him in appearance, character, and achievements, will ascend to his proper place! I urge you to decide at once. Agree to the councillors’ proposition!

You are the man of the moment and the right man for this high office! I will be the proudest mother in all Christendom on the day you are crowned. And somehow, in spite of my poor health, I will journey to London to be at your coronation!

Your loving mother,

Cecily,

Dowager Duchess of York

Prince Edward, The Tower of London, Evening, 22 June 1483

Today has been the worst day of my life. It should have been the happiest—my coronation day! I awoke this morning at dawn, excited and full of anticipation. I felt lighter in spirits than for weeks. I had just become more settled in my new circumstances and was actually looking forward to my great day. I expected my servants to come early to robe me for the great event, but to my puzzlement and mystification, I was told that my Uncle of Gloucester had come to see me and wished for an audience at once. With him was the Duke of Buckingham.

Thinking it was some last-minute details of the coronation they had to discuss with me, I received them pleasantly enough. But they brought terrible news. Unbelievable news. My joy and anticipation were turned to dust. Uncle Gloucester’s visit put paid to all that!

I had heard rumours, of course, was aware of my servants whispering in corners who immediately became silent when I approached. That in itself was strange enough. But now the reality hit me. Surely my uncle would not—could not—do this? Surely he could not take my throne, inherited from the king, my father, for himself?

But it is true. His visit confirmed this.

I am no longer to be king!

He began to explain the complicated reasons to me. They both did, but I was so full of resentment, misery, and anger that I hardly listened. Something to do with my father not being properly married to my mother, making me a bastard, making all King Edward’s children bastards. And bastards cannot inherit thrones!

My blood is not pure enough, it seems. And his is. And he is next in line. So he has decided to be king in my place!

I can hardly understand how this could be lawful. I am at a complete loss. It is not to be borne! I was right not to trust him. I am sure he planned this all along. That is why he stopped Uncle Rivers taking me to London for my coronation, which my family had planned for 4 May. That is why he abducted me—yes, abducted me—for his own ends!

I see it all now. My Protector? He is nothing but a vile, ambitious, and devious usurper! I hate him! I shall always hate him—as my mother does! I see now that she has had good reason. He has deprived me of my birthright—my rightful place as king! I am sure he must have achieved this through clever lies and political manipulation. I shall never forgive him, never!

And when he had gone, there was more dreadful news. Unbelievable news! A messenger from Pontefract Castle came to the Tower. My dear uncle Rivers, Lord Richard Grey, and Thomas Vaughan, my old retainer, my devoted friends all my childhood are no more. They were executed out of hand, by orders of that devil, Gloucester! Perhaps he knew of it this morning but did not mention it to me. Is it something so trivial to him then? Does he have good men killed without compunction, as one would tread on an ant or swat a fly?

To me it is an outrage; a terrible blow! These good men loved me, protected me; were devoted to my care, particularly Lord Rivers, my guardian and mentor. And I loved them.

Why did he do it? What did he think they would do, could do, imprisoned in three separate Yorkshire castles? Plot against him? How could they make plots, let alone carry them out? He is just clearing the way for himself, getting rid of anyone in high position who may object to him taking the throne in my place!

Will it be my mother next? Gloucester knows she hates him; is his implacable enemy. And he has always hated her—she told me so. That is why she fears what he may do if she leaves sanctuary! She was forced to let Richard out, to be with me; Buckingham said. It was because they felt I needed a companion, and who better than my brother? But we hardly know each other. I suspect another reason, though I do not know what.

I must write to my mother or go and visit her—if they will allow it. I am not sure what my position is at present—maybe my brother and I are both prisoners now? I asked to go to her this afternoon but was refused. Why? They let me go before, when I was the king.

I need to ask her about Gloucester’s allegations concerning her marriage to my father. Ask her to her face. Surely she can tell me the truth? I am her son, now deprived of his rightful inheritance. It is my right to know the truth! Surely she must know all about it? She was married to my father for many years and she bore him many children. Surely he must have eventually told her if he had once made a plight-troth promise to another woman? It is a mystery which I want, I need, to get to the bottom of. If true, the consequences have ruined my chances.

But I still think it is all lies and hearsay, brought up so that Uncle Gloucester can benefit from it! Will I be deprived of my life too soon because I get in Gloucester’s way? Will he find reasons to have my whole family killed? It seems he has the power to do anything he likes. Power which should be mine! I would not put it past him. He has got the throne. Now he must want us dead!

Anne, Crosby Place, London, 26 June 1483

I am completely bewildered and utterly appalled by what has happened. I could not believe it. What has Richard done? My good, upright husband has surely committed a terrible deed? An unlawful deed?

He insists that the council persuaded him to take the throne. But surely he has usurped it? He told them about Bishop Stillington’s revelations and at first they wanted proof. There was none forthcoming, except the sworn word of the bishop that he himself had carried out the plight-troth ceremony with Edward and Lady Eleanor Butler, and that there had originally been a dated deed signed by all three parties, which Edward, as king, had insisted on taking possession of at the time. Where it is now, even if Edward did not destroy it when he married Elizabeth Grey and made her his queen, is anybody’s guess.