The Reluctant Queen

by Виктория Холт

  I was sorry for that young boy when I heard this. He must have been bewildered to have kingship thrust upon his young shoulders. What had he thought, expecting to see his genial uncle, to find the Duke of Gloucester in his place? He would have been dismayed, I knew.

  Richard acted promptly. Richard Grey and Thomas Vaughan were arrested, and Richard took charge of the king. The next move was for Edward to enter his capital in the company of the man whom his father had appointed Lord Protector of England and the guardian of his son.

  It was others who told me of that ride into London. The king won the hearts of the people, as children do. He must have looked charming, dressed in blue velvet, riding between Richard and Buckingham, both clad in sombre black. It was a colourful occasion for the City fathers were present in their scarlet trimmed robes, with several hundred leading citizens in purple gowns all come to greet the new king. There were cheers for the king and the Protector and murmurings against the hated Woodvilles. The queen had already fled to sanctuary with her younger children. The new reign had begun.

  A message came from Richard. I was to prepare to leave for London without delay. The coronation of the little king was to take place on the twenty-second of June, and naturally I must be present with our son. Richard was living in Crosby's Place and was occasionally at his mother's residence of Baynard's Castle. When I was approaching London I should send a message to him and he would meet me.

  It was news I had been longing to hear. The first thing I did was go to my son's apartments to tell him we were going to join his father. I heard him coughing as I approached. He smiled at me, almost apologetically, as he did when I found him coughing. My love would overwhelm me at such moments. I was deeply affected that he should have thought he must feel ashamed of his weakness.

  I embraced him and said: "How are you today, my son?"

  He said, gasping a little, but brightly: "I am very well, my lady."

  I knew this was not the case.

  I asked John how his brother was when they were together.

  "Oh, he gets tired quickly, my lady," he said.

  "He only has to do a little and he must rest."

  I sent for one of the physicians and asked him to tell me truthfully what he thought of Edward's condition.

  "He is not strong, my lady," was the answer.

  "He needs great care."

  "I know that. I am proposing to take him to London to join the duke."

  The physician looked grave.

  "In my opinion, my lady," he said, "that journey might tax his strength too far." Too far ..." I echoed in dismay.

  "It is just that he needs much rest and when his cough is bad it is not good for him to be sleeping in strange places and facing all kinds of weather which he might encounter on the roads."

  I was in a quandary. I must join Richard but I dared not risk my son's health by taking him with me.

  Edward wanted to come and I did not know what to say. If his health suffered through the journey I should never forgive myself for putting him at risk. Richard would be bitterly disappointed. As I did, he tried to convince himself that Edward would grow out of his weakness. Richard himself had done so. He had been delicate as a child, yet he had grown healthy, even though he lacked the strong looks of his brothers. And what had happened to them? Excesses had killed one, folly the other. Richard, happily, was given to neither of these weaknesses.

  I knew in my heart that I must not submit my son to the rigours of the journey, and when the time came, I set out, leaving injunctions that Edward was not to tire himself and that I must be sent news of him regularly. So I rode south to join Richard.

  He met me on the outskirts of London. I thought immediately that the last months had aged him. He looked drawn and there was a new wariness about him. He was bitterly disappointed, as I had known he would be, that Edward was not with me, but he thought I had been right not to bring him.

  We rode together through the city to Crosby's Place. Much as I missed my son, I was glad to be with my husband, though I was not sure at that time who had the greater need of me.

  When we were alone together Richard told me how glad he was that I was with him.

  We did not speak a great deal of Edward. I think we were both afraid to face our fears and were trying to convince ourselves that he was merely suffering from an illness common to many children.

  Richard then told me about the manner in which he had brought the king to London and added that the relationship between them was not a comfortable one.

  "I see nothing of my brother in him," he said.

  "He is all Woodville. I fancy he resents me. He blames me for the fact that his mother is in sanctuary and Rivers, Vaughan and Grey are imprisoned. It was necessary, Anne. There would have been war. They will have to lose their heads ... and soon, I think. I wish the king would trust me."

  "Poor child, this is too much for him. He ought to be spending his time in childish pastimes, rather than finding himself the centre of intrigue."

  "I would Edward were here. None of this would have happened if he had lived."

  "How I wish that too!"

  "Anne, what am I to do? It is my duty to my late brother who suspected something of this might happen. He has left me a sacred duty. It is England which is important. There must not be a civil war again."

  "I am sure you will prevent it, Richard. You are wise and calm. You do not seek revenge on these enemies ... only that what is done to them shall be to the benefit of the country."

  "That is so. But I do not know whom I can trust, Anne. What joy it is to have you with me! To you I can open my heart and speak as though I were communing with myself. Every man about me could be a potential traitor."

  "You have good friends. Buckingham, Hastings ... and what of Francis Lovell, who was with us in the old days at Middleham?"

  "Francis is a good friend, yes. Oh, there are a few, but I think of those powerful men in high places who could do me much harm. I never trusted Lord Stanley. He is shifty. This side one day ... the other the next. You know he was connected with our family at one time?"

  "He married my father's sister."

  "And now he is married to Margaret Beaufort. She is a strong-minded woman and Stanley is easily swayed. Moreover, she is the mother of that young man now skulking in Brittany, but methinks with an eye on the throne."

  "Not Henry Tudor!"

  Richard nodded.

  "I suppose he considers himself the Lancastrian heir now."

  "How could he? He is of such dubious birth." Then such as he is brush aside such matters. King Henry allowed Margaret Beaufort's marriage to Edmund Tudor, whom he called his half-brother, and Edmund Tudor may or may not -have been the legitimate son of Queen Katharine, Henry's father's widow, by Owen Tudor."

  "But it is very dubious indeed. Oh, Richard, I should not concern yourself with such a man."

  "You are right. My enemies are closer at hand. There is another who gives me cause for uneasiness, and that is John Morton."

  "You mean the bishop?"

  "Of Ely, yes."

  "Did he not work with your brother?"

  "Yes, but only when the Lancastrian cause was lost. He is ambitious, as so many of these churchmen are. They disguise their lust for power under a cloak of piety. They are the ones I do not trust, the ones to fear most."

  "Dear Richard, you are overwrought. The death of your brother has affected you more deeply than you realise. I know how you cared for him, how he was always in your thoughts." That is so."

  "Once the little king is crowned and on the throne you will have about you a council whom you can trust and your cares will be lifted."

  "You may be right. How pleased I am that you are here!"

  I was greatly cheered, but I wished I could dismiss any anxieties about my son.

  Trouble came from an unexpected quarter. Richard said to me: "Jane Shore is now Hastings' mistress."

  "I have heard that she is very beautiful," I replied.


  "And I remember her having been wooed by Hastings in the first place.

  Then your brother saw her and forced Hastings to give up the pursuit."

  That may be true. Hastings and my brother revelled together. They had similar tastes for women and fast living. I think that was at the root of the friendship between them."

  "So now Jane has gone to her original wooer."

  "She will no doubt pass from one to another. She is that sort of woman."

  "I have heard that she is kindly and that her lovers are men whom she esteems. She was obviously devoted to the king and completely faithful while he was her lover."

  "She would not have dared be anything else."

  "I think we should not judge her too harshly, Richard, if we are going to exonerate your brother for his part in the liaison. Rumour says she was faithful to him and he was hardly that to her, even at the height of his passion." That was his way. It was different."

  "Different laws for the sexes. Well, that seems to be an accepted idea. In any case, why worry about Jane Shore and Hastings? Your brother is past caring."

  "It seems ... disrespectful... in some way."

  "Oh Richard!" I laughed at him and he laughed with me. But the affair of Jane Shore and Hastings did not rest there. Jane Shore was the sort of woman whose actions would be widely noticed and talked of. Her close relationship with the king had made of her a prominent figure. It was such women who often received confidences sometimes indiscreet from their lovers and through them could become involved in intrigue.

  I had thought, from what I had heard of Jane, that she would be the last to be caught up in such a situation, but it seemed I was wrong. After the king's death it was revealed that she had briefly become the mistress of the Marquis of Dorset the queen's son by her first marriage to Sir John Grey. Dorset had received the promotion meted out to all the Woodville family. He had become a great friend of the king which was not surprising. He was extremely good-looking, like most of the Woodvilles, adventures, profligate, amusing, the sort of man Edward liked to have about him. It was well known that they indulged in adventures together and, knowing the two men, it was easy to guess the nature of these adventures.

  Dorset had apparently admired Jane for a long time and, if it had been left to him, he would have tried to wean her from Edward, but Jane was too faithful, and perhaps wise, to let that happen. But on the king's death, there was no reason why she should not go to Dorset.

  Richard shrugged his shoulders when he heard of that liaison. He found such gossip tasteless: he did not want to be reminded of I that flaw in the character of his dead brother. I But this relationship between Dorset and Jane could not be lightly dismissed when it was learned that he had vessels in the Channel which he was equipping. This could only be for one purpose: war.

  Lord Rivers and Lord Richard Grey were prisoners. Elizabeth and her family with the exception of the king were in sanctuary. Dorset would have his reasons. He knew he was in danger and escaped to the continent. It was just before this that Jane Shore became Hastings' mistress.

  With a woman like Jane this seemed natural enough, but what was surprising was that she was found to be visiting Elizabeth Woodville in sanctuary, and these visits had begun before Dorset left the country. And now she was living with Hastings.

  "The wife and the mistress, what can that mean?" said Richard.

  "The queen never interfered with the king's mistresses," I said.

  "No. We all know that. She is a wise woman. We must be watchful of this. We must find out why Jane Shore is visiting the queen."

  At the time I thought it was perhaps not so strange that Jane should go to see the queen. Jane was a refined woman. She had been the wife of a goldsmith a rich man and she had been well brought up by her own family. She had not been accustomed, of course, to living in royal circles until she met the king, but she had been with him for a long time and would have become conversant with the manners of the court. She could well become on friendly terms with the queen.

  The matter flared into significance one day when William Catesby came to see Richard.

  I had heard of Catesby. He was well versed in the law and was a protege" of Lord Hastings, through whom he had acquired a high position in Nottingham and Leicester.

  I knew that Richard thought highly of his abilities.

  Richard spent a long time with him, and after he had left remained shut in his apartments, seeing no one for about an hour.

  I was getting anxious about him. I guessed that Catesby had brought bad news. So I went to Richard's private chamber and scratched lightly on the door. There was no answer so I opened it and went in.

  Richard was sitting staring before him.

  "Richard!" I cried.

  "What ails you?"

  He looked at me blankly and said: "I cannot believe this, Anne. And yet..."

  Tell me,"I begged.

  Then it came out. That arch plotter, Dorset, with whom it seemed Jane had become obsessed, had prevailed on her to win Hastings to the side of the Woodvilles. It had not, apparently, been a difficult task, as Hastings was already wavering. Dorset had insisted that Jane become Hastings' mistress, so that she could discover whether it might be possible to break his allegiance to Richard and get young Edward crowned and rule through him with the Woodvilles.

  I said: "I cannot believe this."

  There is evidence," Richard told me.

  "Undeniable evidence. Catesby was aware of the plot. Hastings has betrayed me, Anne. Dorset has escaped to France and Hastings is plotting with Elizabeth Woodville. Jane Shore has been carrying messages from Dorset first and then Hastings ... to the queen."

  "But Hastings is your friend, Richard. He was the one who came to tell you of the king's death and warned you against the Woodvilles. He was one of Edward's best friends."

  "In depravity." said Richard bitterly.

  "It was more than that. They trusted each other. Hastings knows that you are the king's choice. You are the one he chose to look after the young king and the state."

  "Anne, I have evidence that he is a traitor. I know he is plotting to thrust me aside ... to crown the king and then he, I presume, with his dear friends the Woodvilles, will set about ruling the country."

  "Are you sure?"

  "I have proof. Catesby has shown me a letter which Hastings would have sent to the queen. There can be no mistake. Hastings sought to embroil Catesby in the conspiracy, but he would have none of it."

  "What are you going to do, Richard?"

  "Act promptly."

  So many people have heard of that dramatic meeting in the Tower. The date was the thirteenth of June and two meetings of the councillors had been called for that day. It was announced that arrangements were to be made for the coronation of the king and this was to be dealt with. There was one other matter which the Protector was eager to settle without delay.

  At the meeting, over which Richard presided, were Hastings, Stanley, Morton, Chancellor Rotherham, Buckingham and a few others.

  They assembled as arranged in the White Tower. Richard sat at the head of the table and the meeting began.

  Later Richard told me about it in detail how they had come unsuspecting to the table. Hastings was as affable as ever; Morton talked about the strawberries in the garden of his palace in Ely Place and begged Richard to allow him to send some to Crosby's Place because he was sure they would please me.

  Richard said: "I accepted his offer graciously and wondered how long I should allow this meaningless chatter to continue. I stood confronting them all ... Hastings, Morton, Stanley ... there was not one I trusted. I asked them if they were aware that before my brother died he had named me as guardian of his son and Protector of the Realm? They all looked astonished. Indeed, what I had said was true, they declared. All were aware of it.

  "Then I said, "You know it well, but there are those among you who would seek to deprive me of these rights given to me by my brother." They all continued to look astounded. I lo
oked straight at Hastings and said, "And you, my lord Hastings, what think you of these plots of treason?" Even then he did not realise what was behind this. He looked bland enough, sleek and contented, plotting with the Woodvilles by day and indulging in night sports with Jane Shore, I thought.

  "What say you?" I insisted; and he had the temerity to reply, "But if they had done this that your lordship suggests, they should be punished."

  "With death, my lord Hastings?" I asked.

  "With death," he repeated."

  "He must have realised then that you knew of his perfidy."

  "I am not sure that he had till then, but in the next moment he must have, for I cried: "There are some among us who stand against me. Jane Shore, who was my brother's mistress, is involved. She visits the sanctuary and is in league with the queen ... and there are others." I was looking straight at Hastings and he knew then that I had uncovered the plot and that I was aware that Jane Shore was his messenger and the nature of her mission. I said, "Lord Hastings, tell us again what the fate of those who scheme against the government should be."

  "If they have done such things," said Hastings slowly, "and if such things can be proved against them..." I could contain my anger no longer. Smooth-voiced traitor that he was, he enraged me, the more so because he had feigned to be my loyal friend.

  "I shouted at him, "Enough of your ifs and ands, Hastings. You are the traitor. You have done these things and you are guilty of treason." He was stricken. I saw the shame on his face. I thought of the worthlessness of his assumed friendship, and I wanted revenge. I said to him, "I swear I will not dine while your head is on your shoulders." Then I rapped on the table and shouted: "Treason!" The guards, warned what to expect, came in.

  "I pointed to Rotherham and Morton, for they were involved in the plotting, though not as deeply as Hastings. I said, "Arrest these men and take them to the Tower." I was not sure of Stanley. When could one ever be sure of Stanley? I did not want to be unjust. Nothing had actually been proved against him. Yet I suspected him.