White Boar and the Red Dragon, The (47 page)

Prepare for his execution on the morrow. I will brook no delay. He has done so much other evil too that none knows of, save you and I. I can never say a word of that other dreadful deed of his, which he confessed to me at Gloucester—rue the day! I would have found a way to punish him for that before long anyway! Now he will die for it all! I am sick to my soul by the very thought of him!’

Henry Tudor, At Sea, off Brittany, 4 November 1483

My Dear Mother,

As you may already have heard—bad news travels fast—the recent great storm completely dashed any hopes I may have had of succeeding in my endeavour!

Having set out rather later than planned from Paimpol on 31 October, with fifteen ships, five thousand Bretons, arms and horses, prepared to land on English soil and coordinate my invasion with the Duke of Buckingham’s great rebellion, this tempest blew away, God knows where, thirteen ships of my fleet on the very first night! I hope they are not dashed to pieces on the rocks of Lands End, but have reached safe haven somewhere by now in Normandy harbours or Breton ports. But I fear there must have been casualties. It is inevitable. And when I think how much they all cost and how I have had to beg, borrow, and steal every piece of gold to pay for them—just to see them blown away out of sight before we had even reached British shores!

But we have not encountered any floating wreckage either, so maybe they are safe.

There is no way of knowing what may have happened to them at the moment. There is certainly no sign of them. We too are limping back to Vannes with half our sails blown away and several men lost overboard. I am not a good sailor, I discovered, and never want to experience such a storm at sea again. They are bad enough on land, but at least one can find shelter there. At sea, it is as if all the elements have been let loose in determination to destroy one!

We found ourselves the next morning off the coast of Dorset. I could see that the shores around Poole were lined with troops, but we were too far off to ascertain their identity. I sent out a small boat with one or two men to inquire who they were. The soldiers shouted that the rebellion had succeeded and that they were sent there by the Duke of Buckingham himself to conduct us to his camp.

But I was not fooled by all this. My life has taught me to be cautious and suspicious and to put my trust in very few. The fact that there were no banners and no colours visible first put me on my guard. Something was just not right. And I acted accordingly. We withdrew well out into the Channel, away from the obvious danger.

We sailed on to Plymouth and learnt that the king had already reached Exeter in unopposed triumph, so I decided to abandon my enterprise and sail back to Brittany. There was no way we could achieve anything now, with the situation as it was.

I heard also that the Duke of Buckingham had been caught like a rat in a trap, taken to Salisbury, where the king was then, and summarily executed. It does not do to get on the wrong side of this king—he does not wait for trials but makes his own judgement then and there! Remember Lord Hastings? So Buckingham achieved no more than I and has lost his head for his pains. At least I have escaped the king’s clutches!

I just pray that your part in all this will not be discovered, or you could face terrible punishment too. Just because Richard has never had a woman executed, there is no guaranteeing he will not if made angry enough! My stepfather, Lord Stanley, has been with the king the whole time, I believe, so maybe this fact will guard you? He could hardly be shown to have helped with the plot, as he kept such a low profile—though he did, of course.

Bishop Morton, whom I know was the real brains behind it all, got away safely to Flanders, I expect? That one knows how to look after himself!

I plan now to travel to Nantes, when we reach Brittany, and find out what happened to my ships and men. There I will petition Duke Francis for a further 10,000 crowns, by means of which I may maintain myself and my exiled supporters while we begin to plan another venture as soon as may be. This time, I am determined it will be in late spring or summer, when the weather will not ruin our chances before we have even begun!

As soon as I reach a Breton safe haven, I will have this letter conveyed to you quickly, as you must be worried about my fate since news of the great storm must have reached you by now.

It was simply not the right time! God made it abundantly clear by sending that terrible weather—on land as well as at sea—at just that very moment. It also ruined the uprising I believe?

I must be patient now I suppose, again. I have spent my entire life waiting and being patient!

Please let me know as soon as possible that you are safe from the king’s fury?

Buckingham was his right-hand man and chief supporter until the rebellion, but that did nothing to save him from the headman.

Your loving son,

Henry Tudor

Margaret Beaufort, Countess of Richmond,
Woking Old Hall, Late November 1483

My Dear Henry,

At last, I have a chance to write an answer to your letter, written to me at sea off Brittany, at the beginning of November. I expect you wonder why it has taken me so long to answer you. Well, the king has forbidden all communication between us from now on. But of course, I shall completely ignore his command! I have ways and means of sending and receiving letters, in spite of being spied on constantly, I know, by the king’s men. I have loyal servants who can travel incognito, quietly and unobtrusively, often in disguise. They are paid very well, so they make sure they do not get caught! They risk their lives willingly in my service. I do not flatter myself that it is through love for me that they do this. I am a wealthy woman, and they do it for what they can squeeze out of my purse. It does not matter to me, as long as the job gets done. You have a cynic for a mother! But life has taught me to be one.

The king discovered my part in planning the rebellion, of course, and your involvement at what seemed the opportune time for an invasion. He also found out about my collusion with Bishop Morton, that sly and clever old fox, who has now fled to the Low Countries and keeps his head down, out of harm’s way!

What the king does not know is the fact that that arrogant fool, the Duke of Buckingham, was guided and directed by Morton and I, and my husband, Lord Stanley, was in the know too, though he remained always by the king’s side and was ostensibly one of his most loyal supporters. If only Richard knew the whole truth.

But we must make sure he never finds out! We were very lucky that the king refused outright to see Buckingham one last time when the duke beseeched him to, before his summary execution in Salisbury. He sent word that he had important news about the other conspirators which he must tell Richard. He even sent a letter by one of his gaolers to the king, I heard, which probably contained my name and that of my husband and Bishop Morton. But the king tore it up without reading it in a great rage. Thank goodness! Luck has certainly been on our side. If Lord Stanley had been named, he would most certainly have lost his head. As it is, his secret collusion has remained hidden!

I have escaped very lightly really. The king could easily have had me executed. If I were a man, there is no doubt I would have received the death penalty. But this king is of a squeamish nature, it seems, with regard to hurting women. Lucky for me!

But he has stripped me of all my estates and put me under the care of my husband, in semi-imprisonment. Lord Stanley must guarantee my good behaviour. And he is to administer my estates from now on. I am to have no hand in it. Well, we will see about that! I am not worried. Stanley has little influence over me. I have three times his intelligence and can circumvent any ideas he may have about controlling my actions! He is my husband in name only. There is no love lost between us. It was a marriage of convenience, after all. A woman must have a husband, society says. But I have always been of a most independent nature, and no man will control me and decide what I should do or not do!

It is lucky for me the king is disposed to be lenient, I suppose. But I do not respect him for it. A king must be strong—and seen to be strong! Any action like this can only be interpreted as weakness. When you are king, I will teach you that you must be ruthless whenever your enemies step out of line. It is the only way. Perhaps Richard will learn that yet—to his cost!

Your patience will be rewarded—and soon, Henry. I know it! Go on waiting and planning. Gather as many men as you can to your cause. Many of the highest nobility have fled from England after the failed rebellion to join you in Brittany!

I have been to see the erstwhile Queen Elizabeth several times. She is still in sanctuary with her daughters. She is very fearful about the fate of her two sons in the Tower, as rumours have been flying around for months that they are dead, as they have not been seen since the summer. I did not enlighten her, nor did I reveal to her that I know a great deal more about that matter than it is politic to reveal! I need her on our side. If she also knew that her doctor—who is also my doctor—had a lot to do with administering the overdose to her precious sons, she would have him killed, no doubt. She is known to have a most vicious nature. If she knew of my involvement, God knows what would happen. I think that King Richard would soon forget his aversion to hurting women and I would be for the executioner’s block!

I have persuaded her to agree to her Woodville family supporting you wholeheartedly in another uprising, when the time is ripe, in return for your promise to marry her daughter Bess and make her your queen when you become King of England. Elizabeth Grey is extremely ambitious; always has been. Any chance to raise her family is irresistible to her! If Bess becomes your queen, her mother will then hold another most important position as Dowager Queen. The Marquess of Dorset has already joined you, I believe—her beloved eldest son by her first marriage?

I played her like a fish on a line! It was like taking comfits from a baby!

Now Christmas approaches, I am going to give you another piece of advice. I hear you groan and think, what now? I know that I urge you to many things, but it is only your ultimate good that inspires me. If I give advice, it is that I know, with experience, that it will surely benefit you!

I suggest that you make a proclamation to all your supporters in a public place soon, regarding your willingness to make Elizabeth of York your queen when you ascend the throne of England. Stress that this will unite the Houses of Lancaster and York forever, and that will mean no more strife, no more wars. What everyone wants is peace now, after all! Your promise will be welcomed with great joy, not only in Brittany, but here, by your many secret supporters, in fact, by the country as a whole, which is sick unto death of the killing and bloodletting of civil war!

And now I must send for my most trusted messenger to convey this missive to you. I suggest that you destroy it as soon as you have read it—it is too incriminating for too many people to get into the wrong hands.

Remember, my son, I work constantly in your interest. It is my mission in life—and obsession, if you like. What other mission should a mother have than the good of her son? I neglected you in the past, as a small child—not deliberately, you know that. Now I try to make up for that by dedicating myself to your future!

Your loving mother,

Margaret Beaufort,

Countess of Richmond

Elizabeth Grey, to the Marquess of Dorset, London,
8 March 1484

My Dear Son,

I have news of great import to convey to you.

I have at last been persuaded to leave the wearisome confines of Westminster Sanctuary with my five daughters, by none other than Richard, the king!

I can imagine you gasping in surprise now as you read this, for you know how determined I have been not to give in to his many persuasive approaches. I let poor little Richard out with many assurances that he would be treated kindly and well in the Tower and that he would be a playmate and companion for Prince Edward, who was too much on his own there—and look what has happened to them! They have not been seen for months, and a heartbroken mother now knows for sure that they are dead, as everyone says. The Archbishop of Canterbury himself took Richard from me by the hand into his own charge. I had little choice but to trust this high churchman. If one could not trust an archbishop, I thought, who could one trust? I have learnt not to trust anyone now though, except myself.

But things have changed greatly, and the king made me an offer which I felt I could not refuse. He also made it clear that it was the last time he would ever attempt to change my mind on the subject. I think that, as far as he was concerned, we could all rot in there for the rest of our lives, if I ignored this last request.

His terms were not exactly generous, but I felt I could not turn them down. My life in sanctuary had become utterly intolerable, and the poor girls’ lives were not lives at all, but an endless succession of dull days in which nothing ever happened and they never met any new people. I could not continue to impose it on them. They need fresh air and other young people, balls and parties, the chance to spread their wings!

Those few musty rooms could offer them nothing. Elizabeth, the eldest, was getting positively ill with the perpetual confinement of our self-imposed imprisonment and had learnt to hate me for keeping her a prisoner, I know, even though she had been informed about the proposed marriage with Henry Tudor when he becomes king, which I had agreed with her mother, Lady Margaret Beaufort, who sometimes visited me there. We became quite friendly, though she is a deep and devious person, I feel, and I certainly would never put any real trust in her. But she seemed honest and sincere in her wish for her son and Bess to be united for the good of the country, and I had no reason to distrust her motives, at least over that. Her husband, Lord Stanley, is one of the king’s most stalwart supporters—supposedly. But I think he is one of those who give their allegiance to whoever it is politic to at the time. Lady Margaret has assured me that he supports her completely in this proposed marriage—so what does that tell one about his shifting loyalties? Her son, Henry Tudor, made a solemn vow in Rennes Cathedral on Christmas Day to marry Bess, as you know (I expect you were there?) and unite The Houses of Lancaster and York. As he did this in front of a great congregation of all his noble supporters, surely he is in earnest? You know him. What do you believe? I have never met the man. Do you think Bess will like him as a proposed husband? She was to have married the Dauphin of France until 1483, when Louis reneged on the agreement with my husband. It upset her greatly. I do not want her upset again.