The King's Dogge

by Nigel Green

  ‘Richard, can you not see that you’re being used? Even if you feel it is your duty to be king, it will be too much for you.’

  ‘But I will have helpers and advisors!’ he protested quickly. ‘I’ll have honest men like you to tell me when I go wrong, faithful friends who will curb my faults. As well as my wife, I’ll surround myself with straight-talking councillors. But Francis, I will not let your ill-founded concerns come between me and my duty!’

  We stared at each other for a moment silently, then Richard smiled thinly again.

  ‘You said that I was not the lawful heir to the throne, didn’t you?’

  ‘I did; you’re not.’

  ‘Tell me, Francis, was my brother Edward the lawful heir to the throne? Was he the eldest son of King Henry V or was he, in fact, the man who overthrew the Lancastrian King Henry VI and set himself up to rule in his place?’

  ‘You know that he overthrew King Henry. But you know that he did so because the only way that the wars between the Houses of York and Lancaster would cease was if a strong man took over. He succeeded and your brother brought peace and stability to England.’

  ‘So my brother was not the lawful heir to the throne?’

  ‘No, but I suppose Edward felt it to be his duty to become king.’

  ‘As it is mine!’

  Richard was on his feet now and striding about.

  ‘Francis, if my brother’s son were to become king, there’ll be civil war. England faces a disaster. This is no time to quibble on legalities – we need peace not war.’

  He paced up and down quickly.

  ‘Tell me, Francis; who is best equipped to take charge of the realm? There are but two candidates.’

  He stopped and put his right hand out.

  ‘The first is a mature man with an heir. He’s a proven soldier, leader and administrator.’

  He put out his left hand.

  ‘The other is a twelve-year-old boy.’

  He was right, but I hesitated. What he was doing was wrong.

  ‘Do you imagine that my brother would wish to see all his achievements degenerate into the anarchy of civil war?’ Richard demanded. ‘Point to the candidate you think best able to preserve my brother’s good works?’

  I thought hard.

  ‘Will you not help me to fulfil my destiny?’ Richard asked sadly a moment later. ‘The task that I face would frighten any man, let alone one as ill-equipped as me. You know that I have a no more faithful friend than you and that I need your help not just now, but at all times.

  ‘Please, Francis.’

  Whether Richard’s proposed action was lawful, I did not know, but what I was certain of was that it was best for England. Besides, I was Richard’s friend and he needed my help.

  ‘The problem is, of course, that even if you and I agreed that Richard needs to be king for the good of the nation, it is going to be virtually impossible to persuade anyone else,’ said Ratcliffe. ‘King Edward was well loved, particularly here in London, and everyone would have expected his son to inherit the throne.’

  I looked round the gloomy chamber in Crosby Place. The early June sunlight should have brightened it, but instead all it did was cast shadows.

  ‘We could just have told everyone the truth,’ I suggested.

  ‘No one would have believed us. As soon as word got out that Richard was planning to become king, everyone would have said that he was exaggerating the situation to suit his own purposes. The Woodvilles are hated, Francis, but – as his father’s son – the young prince is popular.’

  ‘But Richard said that the nobles would support him?’

  ‘Some would have – Northumberland, Buckingham and Norfolk, for example. He can probably rely on his brother-in-law, the Duke of Suffolk, but many of the others will stay neutral. Others, Stanley and Hastings included, would oppose him. No, to make Richard’s ascent to the throne credible we need a convincing story as to why the young prince should not rule – a story that everyone will believe.’

  He got up and paced round the room impatiently.

  ‘How do you think Catesby is getting on with that damned cleric? Do you think the pair of them can come up with something convincing?’

  ‘Possibly.’

  We relaxed into companionable silence. It was curious how quickly Catesby had risen in Ratcliffe’s service, I reflected. Mind you he had proved valuable in passing on information. Come to think of it, he was also harming Lords Hastings and Stanley by totally misleading them as to Richard of Gloucester’s true intentions. But then it was not only his role as a spy which made Catesby so useful. It was his level of intelligence, which, Ratcliffe admitted sourly, easily exceeded his own and his sense of humour did tend to enliven weighty discussions.

  I smiled as I recalled the occasion when Ratcliffe and I had discreetly advised him as to the reasons why the throne should pass to Gloucester rather than his nephew, the young Prince Edward. Catesby had listened to us with a face totally devoid of emotion and had pursed his lips.

  ‘In acknowledging the undoubted truth of all that you have just told me, Sir Richard, there is perhaps only one tiny observation I can make,’ he said primly.

  ‘What’s that?’ snapped Ratcliffe.

  ‘It would naturally be necessary to think of a more – shall we say – convincing reason for our high-flying duke to be elevated still further,’ Catesby explained. While undoubtedly his motives and those of all who serve him would be applauded by the very angels themselves, mere mortals might perhaps struggle to comprehend them.’

  ‘They would?’

  ‘Certainly, my lord. And in their natural stupidity and brute stubbornness, it is conceivable that men might believe that he was taking the crown to serve his own purposes.’

  ‘I agree with you.’ Ratcliffe sounded grim. ‘I worked it out a few hours after I was sounded out.’

  ‘It took you so long, Sir Richard? Surely not?’

  Catesby’s amazement was plain to see, but then he smiled knowingly.

  ‘Ah, but I see it now. You are exaggerating the time it took you, in order to make the rest of us feel less stupid.’

  Timidly, he plucked at my sleeve.

  ‘Is not Master Ratcliffe good to us, my lord?’

  I bit my lip, but made no reply, so Catesby turned back to Ratcliffe.

  ‘Will you not favour us by narrating the feasible fable which indubitably you will have fabricated by now, Sir Richard? The story of why Gloucester should become king.’

  Ratcliffe scowled and rubbed his hands together angrily.

  ‘Come, come, Sir Richard,’ Catesby pleaded. ‘There is no need to be shy.’

  He glanced at me, his green eyes glinting with excitement.

  ‘This will be a tale of the highest creative order, my lord.’

  ‘It will?’

  ‘Of course, my lord! It is widely known that our clever Sir Richard has a unique talent for conceiving complete untruths and conveying them so clearly and concisely that they come across with compelling conviction. A simple task such as this will have been meat and drink to…’

  Ratcliffe slammed his hand on the table.

  ‘You think of something!’ he snarled. ‘I haven’t been able to.’

  Catesby’s green eyes twinkled with amusement.

  ‘As you command, Sir Richard.’

  But despite the seeming difficulty of the task, it was only the next day that Catesby sent word that he might have a solution. A time was agreed and he re-entered the chamber – a vision in white and blue – an excited smile lighting up his chubby features.

  He explained that he had reflected on the matter and had instantly discovered one obvious problem. However credible the story, no one would possibly believe any tale put out by Richard of Gloucester or anyone close to him. Any such story would be perceived as an invention to allow Gloucester to secure the throne for his own selfish ends.

  ‘Then we’ll just tell the real reason why Richard of Gloucester should be king.’
<
br />   ‘Such decisiveness, my lord,’ beamed Catesby. ‘But while I totally deplore the cynicism of this modern age, I regret that to the sceptical listener the truth might well be considered not wholly credible.’

  ‘So what do we do?’ demanded Ratcliffe in frustration.

  Catesby regarded him with mock surprise.

  ‘I fear you are teasing me, my dear Sir Richard. Surely, to a man of your intelligence, the answer is simple. Why a child could guess at it.’

  A dangerous pause followed; with a bright laugh Catesby hurried on.

  ‘The correct course of action would be to find a natural figure of authority – a man who believed that he had been cruelly used by the late King Edward and would be prepared to narrate a convincing story as to why his sons should not be able to inherit the throne.’

  ‘You know of someone?’

  ‘Certainly, my lord. There are any number of worthy men who would be prepared to fulfil such a patriotic duty. But the one I would favour would be Robert Stillington.’

  ‘Who’s he?’

  ‘The Bishop of Bath and Wells, my lord, and a former chancellor of the late King Edward.’

  ‘And he was ill-treated by the late king?’

  ‘Shamefully so, my lord. It would appear that the unfairness of his treatment still rankles deeply with him. He was dismissed as chancellor for financial ineptitude. How ludicrous a decision when it is well known that our saintly bishop is so highly skilled in financial affairs that he has amassed a vast personal fortune.’

  ‘Scandalous treatment!’ agreed Ratcliffe with a twinkle in his eye. ‘But was there not some story of him being an ally of Edward’s brother Clarence at the time when Clarence was plotting against his brother and talking wildly against him?’

  ‘His role was ill-defined and doubtless exaggerated, yet incredibly it brought him still further punishment. He was even accused of breaking his oath of allegiance to King Edward.’ Catesby shook his head sadly. ‘As if the poor man hadn’t suffered enough and then, of course, he had his poor children to care for.’

  ‘His children!’

  A worried look came over Catesby’s face.

  ‘Both the Pope and the king had already reproved him about his six or seven illegitimate children, my lord. It would cause our celibate cleric considerable distress were you to allude to the matter.’

  ‘Six or seven!’

  ‘I think I have that right,’ Catesby said anxiously. ‘Let me see now, there’s Juliana, John…’

  ‘All right, all right. Are there any other negative points about Stillington?’

  ‘Well apparently he studied law, like Catesby here,’ Ratcliffe snorted. ‘But maybe he can help us.’

  ‘Do you want me to go and talk to him?’ Catesby, seemingly unruffled, enquired politely. ‘He lives in the Parish of St Clements.’

  ‘What’s the price for our dubious bishop?’ Ratcliffe asked.

  ‘For himself, I imagine a chance to obtain a position in government but I believe that he may well ask for something for his… um… nephew.’

  ‘His nephew?’

  ‘I understand our hard-done-to bishop learned the phrase while he was suffering during his visit to the Vatican, my lord. Apparently it is widely used there. Be that as it may, I do know that our family-minded bishop is particularly keen to advance John Nesfeld, his nephew.’

  I hesitated. Stillingon hardly sounded the most appealing of men, but neither Ratcliffe nor I had an alternative so I gestured for Catesby to leave.

  Catesby’s scarlet satin robe introduced a welcome splash of colour to the gloomy chamber where Ratcliffe and I waited.

  ‘So what did Stillington say?’ Ratcliffe demanded. ‘How did he react?’

  Without being invited, Catesby seated himself and reached for the wine.

  ‘Very well, I believe, Richard.’ He turned to me. Would you like to hear what he said, Francis?’

  We both stared at the chubby Catesby who gazed back at us with an expression of complete innocence. The challenge, though unspoken, was obvious. Catesby regarded himself as our equal now. Out of sheer habit, Ratcliffe and I glanced at each other. Catesby’s lips twitched when he saw the conspiratorial look but he maintained his silence. We needed him and he knew it.

  ‘Go on,’ I told him. ‘What did you and Stillington come up with?’

  ‘Sweet Christ!’ exclaimed Anne Neville. ‘With all the resources that the Duke of Gloucester has placed at your disposal, all you can come up with is this unconvincing nonsense. The ravings of a madman, Master Ratcliffe, would be more plausible than your tale.’

  ‘How so?’ her husband asked. ‘The way it was explained to me by Francis seems reasonably convincing.’

  ‘I find that incredible!’ Anne Neville interjected icily.

  ‘It seems that I may take the throne because the two sons of King Edward are bastards. Why are they bastards? Because prior to marrying Elizabeth Woodville, my brother Edward undertook a plight-trothing ceremony21 with one Lady Eleanor Butler. Now Lady Eleanor was still alive at the time of Edward’s wedding, so it follows that Edward’s marriage was illegal.’

  ‘Bishop Stillington is prepared to swear that he officiated at the plight-trothing ceremony,’ Ratcliffe added hurriedly.

  Anne Neville’s sharp intake of breath was clearly audible.

  ‘And where is the elusive Lady Eleanor now?’

  ‘She died about fifteen years ago, my lady.’

  ‘How convenient! But doubtless there were children to console the king for his loss?’

  ‘There were none, my lady.’

  Anne Neville regarded Ratcliffe coolly.

  ‘My brother-in-law was not generally renowned for being an advocate of purely platonic love, so permit me to say that I find the lack of issue both surprising and highly convenient. But tell me, Sir Richard, a ceremony involving the king would need to be witnessed, would it not?’

  ‘Well Bishop Stillington officiated…’

  ‘Who else was present, you idiot?’

  ‘Well, we could pay a few people to swear they were there.’

  Richard, Ratcliffe and I sat silently as Anne Neville digested this.

  ‘Hitherto I have frequently wondered which of your blunders was the greatest, but now I know for certain! What you and Lovell are proposing is nothing short of total insanity.’

  ‘It can’t be disproved!’

  In his anger, Ratcliffe forgot to use Lady Anne’s title.

  ‘Disproved! You’re expecting people to believe that a dubiously witnessed, secretive commitment to marriage that happened twenty years ago and has never been mentioned before will be sufficient grounds to bar the sons of King Edward from the throne?’ Anne Neville’s voice was shrill with incredulity now. ‘Do you honestly believe that all men are at your level of stupidity?’

  A phrase used by Catesby sprung to mind.

  ‘But King Edward’s marriage to Elizabeth Woodville was bigamous, my lady. Therefore their children must be bastards.’

  ‘If the plight-trothing actually took place, then you are correct about the marriage.’

  ‘Thank you, my lady.’

  Reassured, I smiled at Ratcliffe.

  ‘But it doesn’t follow that the children are bastards. After all, what was to stop King Edward and Elizabeth Woodville marrying again immediately after Lady Eleanor died? That would have made the, as yet unborn princes, legitimate.’

  ‘But you still can’t disprove this story about the princes’ bastardry,’ Richard turned to his wife.

  ‘Of course I can, my lord!’ Anne snapped. ‘Not only can I, but so too can Lord Hastings. If there had been this ridiculous plight-trothing ceremony, do you not think that Edward’s best friend and fellow lecher would have known about it? Think about it, my lord. If Hastings knew that Queen Elizabeth’s children were bastards, he would have used that information against the Woodvilles when they were striving against each other after the death of King Edward.’

  Anne Neville pa
used for a moment.

  ‘That said, we can deal with Hastings.’

  ‘But how do you know the tale to be false?’ her husband persisted.

  Anne shook her head irritably.

  ‘Eleanor Butler was my mother’s niece. When my father, the Earl of Warwick, rose in rightful rebellion against King Edward in 1469, he was rebelling against the king and the Woodvilles, whom he loathed.

  ‘Do you not think that if he had known that King Edward’s marriage was unlawful, he would not have used the information at that time?’

  Ratcliffe glanced at her in desperation.

  ‘Is it possible that your father was too chivalrous to do so, my lady?’ he asked hopefully. ‘I have heard much of his natural courtesy and sensitivity…’

  ‘He was in rebellion at the time!’ Anne Neville replied crushingly. ‘Sweet Christ, he went on to kill two of the Woodvilles.’

  She glared at Ratcliffe.

  ‘Cannot you understand, you imbecile, that the simple reason my father failed to use what would have been a devastating piece of information is that it never happened.’

  ‘But not everyone has your insight!’ her husband objected. And it is possible that Eleanor Butler forgot to mention the matter to her uncle…’

  ‘Forgot!’ Anne Neville whirled round to face Richard. Are you seriously suggesting, my lord, that even if the apparently empty-headed Lady Eleanor had not mentioned the matter, other members of her family would not have seen fit to draw the issue to my father’s attention?’

  Richard made no reply so I tried to rescue him.

  ‘My lord made an excellent point when he observed that not everyone would have your depth of knowledge on the matter.’

  ‘Go on, Francis.’

  Anne Neville’s tone was slightly less frosty now.

  ‘And it is unfortunate that, apparently, King Edward instructed Bishop Stillington not to discuss the subject during his lifetime.’