Richard was adamant. Buckingham had betrayed him. There was no friendship left between them.The penalty for treason was death and proud Buckingham who had possessed great wealth, known greater power, who had dreamed wild dreams, lost his head ignobly in the market place.
My thoughts during that time were mostly with Richard. I felt that I should be with my son. My son's health was somewhat improved but not sufficiently for him to undertake a long journey. I did not want him to be submitted to the rigours of court life. While he was at Middleham in the keen fresh air, living a comparatively simple life, I believed his health would improve.
Richard wrote urging me to join him.
I tried to explain to Edward. I told him that I would be back soon and if he. did everything he was told and did not overtire himself, and took the nourishing food which was prepared for him, he would soon be well enough to join his father and me. In any circumstances we should see each other soon.
And so I joined Richard.
My husband was so pleased to see me that I knew I had been right to come. I guessed that the defection of Buckingham was still very much on his mind.
"There is no one I can talk to as I do to you, Anne," he said.
"I know not whom else I can trust."
"I would not have believed this of Buckingham." I replied.
"I should have been more watchful of him. He was never stable. Sometimes I wonder I looked at him questioningly as he paused.
But he went on: "He was the one who was so insistent that I take the throne. He believed Stillington absolutely ... then to turn like that! And to Henry Tudor!"
"I have heard but little of this Henry Tudor."
"An upstart who thinks he has a claim to the throne."
"But how could he?"
"You know these Beauforts. They are so ambitious and strong. They are a bastard branch of the family and should never have been recognised as anything else. Their forebears were born before John of Gaunt married Catherine Swynford. But because they were legitimised ... well, it has given them ideas of their importance. Buckingham had these because his mother was one of them. And now Henry Tudor is another. He thinks he has a claim through Katharine, the French princess who married Henry the Fifth when he conquered so much of France."
"He is in Brittany now?"
"Yes, sheltered and aided by Duke Francis of that place. I have my enemies, Anne."
"And you have those who love you."
"I have you and Edward, that is true. Anne, what of the boy?"
I said: "He is a little better."
"And what thought he when I wanted you to be here with me?"
"He understood. I have promised him that when he grows a little stronger he shall be with us both."
"Ah, if only that could be! The people need to see him. They like to know their future king."
"That is for years and years ahead."
"It is for God to decide. But the people would like to see him."
"I fear his health would not allow him to come this time."
"Then we must pray that it soon will be. How goes Warwick at Sheriff Button?"
"Well, I believe. He rides and exercises well. Learning does not come easily to him." That is a pity."
"He is a pleasant, good-natured boy. It is just that he does not think quickly and is slow at his lessons. He cannot read yet. Edward is so different."
"Oh yes, our son lacks nothing in the head. If he could but combine the physique of young Warwick and his own learning, what a boy we should have!"
"We have the most wonderful boy in the world, and I am going to nurse him back to health. In years to come you and I,are going to laugh at our fears."
"I pray you will be proved right." he said fervently. I forced myself to believe it and gave my attention to Richard. I learned how deeply wounded he had been by Buckingham's disloyalty. The hurt was far greater then I had at first realised.
"Why, Anne?" he said to me on one occasion.
"He has even set in motion evil rumours about me."
"People listen to rumours but do they really believe them?"
"Rumour is pernicious." said Richard.
"People absorb the slanderous words and then in time some of them accept them as truth. Buckingham would have made me out a monster ... a man of no loyalty or principles, with no right to the throne of England."
"But it was he who pressed you to take it!""He could not say that I had arranged for Stillington to betray the truth, though I am sure he would have liked to."
"He would have Stillington to contend with."
"No doubt that was what made him refrain. But he has set about one very unpleasant rumour ... a very disturbing one."
"What is it?"
"I hardly like to mention it. He says I have caused the princes -Edward and Richard to be murdered in the Tower."
"Edward's sons! Your own nephews! People would never believe that."
"There are some who will believe anything, particularly if it is evil."
"But the princes have been seen shooting at the butts on the Tower Green ... so how can they be dead? People only have to see them to know that rumour is false."
"Yes, but I think they should not appear too much in public from now on. When a man such as Buckingham turns traitor, it sets an example for others to do the same."
"An example! To have their heads chopped off in the nearest market place?"
"I mean to revolt. People always think they will succeed where others have failed. Storms could easily blow up about those boys in the present atmosphere. The last thing I wish for is more trouble on that score. There is already enough. Buckingham's insurrection has been a shock to the nation. The country needs to settle to a sense of security. Buckingham must be forgotten along with scandalous rumours. I have planned to go on a progress through the country. I want to see the people, to talk to them. You must come with me, Anne. I cannot express how much it pleases me to have you with me."
I had to quell my anxieties regarding my son, and I gave myself up entirely to Richard's needs.
The winter was over and March had come. It was time for us to set out. Richard wanted to make sure of loyal support from all over the country in case, with the coming of spring, Henry Tudor should attempt another invasion.
We travelled through towns and villages and finally came to Cambridge where we intended to stay for a few days.
Richard was very interested in the university and for some time had been bestowing grants on it, with various gifts. We were received with great warmth. Richard was happier in such an atmosphere and so was I. For those few days I found peace in the cloisters, and I enjoyed listening to the discourse between the king and and the ecclesiastics.
I was really sad when we left and made our way to Nottingham.
I shall never forget Nottingham Castle. Little did I guess, as we approached it, that I should encounter such tragedy within its walls. Set in an almost perpendicular rock, it looked impregnable. I studied the intricate stone work on the north side with particular interest because it had been started by King Edward and finished by Richard, for Edward had died before its completion.
There were a great many ghosts in Nottingham Castle, for so many people in the past had suffered there. Edward the Second's queen had come here with her paramour Mortimer; I had heard that she slept with the keys of the locked fortress under her pillow every night so she must have been in a perpetual state of apprehension. King Henry the Second, King Richard the First... they had all been here.
It was the middle of April a bright sunny day with a promise of spring in the air. There was no spring for us. It was the end of hope.
It was late morning when the messenger arrived from Middleham. Eagerly Richard and I received him, but when we saw his face, a terrible fear took hold of us.
I heard Richard's whisper: "It is ... the Prince of Wales ..."
The man did not speak for a moment; he was afraid as all messengers are when they carry ill ridings.
&
nbsp; "Tell me." said Richard harshly.
Why would not the man speak? Why did he hold us in suspense? Half of me was urging him to speak, the other half begging him not to. I knew what he had to tell us before he spoke. It was what I had been dreading for months.
The prince is dead, your Grace."
I heard the cry of anguish which Richard could not suppress. I went to him and took his hand.
We just stood there, stunned by the news which we had feared so long.
Richard waved his hand to dismiss the messenger. He could not bear the sight of him. Later we would hear how our son had died. We did not need to know now. We could see it clearly, as though we had been present. We had feared so much ... lived with the fear so long; we had waited with such great anxiety for messengers, terrified of what news they would bring. And now it had come.
Few children can have been mourned so deeply as our little son. It was more than the death of a child; it was the death of hope; it was the end of a way of life; for me it was the beginning of those fears which came to mock me in the night.
Richard and I were very close to each other during the days that followed.
His continual cry was: "Why should this happen to me? Edward had many children and what sort of life did he live? He was never faithful to his wife; he had countless mistresses; he pandered to the flesh ... and yet, he left two sons and many daughters. Is this a punishment from heaven?" He turned to me in horror.
"Was Stillington's story true? Am I robbed of my son because I robbed Edward's of his crown?"
I tried to comfort him. He had never done aught than what he considered to be right, I reminded him. Edward's sons were illegitimate. They had no right to the throne.
"I cannot rid myself of this fearful guilt," said Richard.
"Edward was our son. He was more than our son ... he was our pledge to the people that there would be a ruler to follow me. I should have taught him wisdom, Anne. He was a good boy. He would have been a good man. He was bright. Think of young Warwick. There he is ... healthy ... sporting at Sheriff Button, while our Edward ... What does it mean, Anne? You and I are cursed?"
I said: "Perhaps there will be another."
I did not believe it. If I could not conceive when I was younger, and in a better state of health, why should I now?
The sound of his bitter laugh hurt me and the memory of it stayed with me.
No, there would be no more. The only son I had been able to give him was a puny boy who, with a struggle, had lived for eleven years.
I was no use as a king's wife. I was thirty years of age and barren ... and kings needed sons.
We mourned together, but something had happened. Perhaps it was in my mind. But I could not but be aware of Richard's disappointment.
"Let us leave Nottingham," he said.
"I never want to see the place again. Every time I see it I shall remember that messenger who came here on the most dismal of all days, with the most tragic news which could befall us. I hate Nottingham. This I shall call the castle of my care." Richard seemed withdrawn and I felt we were no longer as close as we had been before.
He was busy all the time. Summer was coming and affairs of state demanded attention. They did not stand still because the king and queen had suffered the greatest tragedy of their lives.
Richard knew he had put the country into a state of defence. The perpetual bickering with the Scots usually began in the summer but the English lords of the north who had their property to protect would doubtless keep them in order.
The great concern was Henry Tudor. What was he planning in Brittany? He had made one attempt, but by the Grace of God had been prevented from landing by a storm. Could the same good luck be expected if he were to attempt another landing?
There was a great deal to occupy Richard. I did not suggest returning to Middleham. That could only be a place of mourning for me now.
All peace had gone from my life. I could not believe in anything now not even in Richard's love. A canker had entered my mind and all I looked upon seemed tainted.
I saw myself, no longer young, weak, useless a barren queen. I fancied Richard had changed towards me. If he had loved me once he now looked at me through different eyes. I was no longer the woman at his side to help him, to comfort him. I was a burden.
He had chosen unwisely. I had been Warwick's daughter and, with my sister Isabel, the richest heiress in the kingdom. We had been fond of each other in childhood, it was true, and our marriage had been acceptable to him for what it brought. I had dreamed of a great love. But did true love drift away when disaster struck? There were times when I knew I was being foolish. The death of our son could not have changed Richard's feelings towards me. Was I responsible for it? Could I be blamed because I could not get a healthy child?
I tried to reason with myself. Richard is a king. He needs heirs. He has to think ahead. Above all things he needs a son to train, to lead, to teach how to take over the government by the time he, Richard, grows old or meets his death. Richard desperately needs a son.
I could not talk to him of the fears in my heart. There were many times when I did not believe in them myself. Richard had never been a man to show his emotions. I used to tell myself it was because they went so deep. They were not superficial as his brothers Edward's and George's had been. Both of them had known how to find the words which pleased, but they lacked sincerity.
So there was I, torn by doubts, entertaining all kinds of pernicious suspicions because I had considered myself and found myself wanting.
Richard was making a show of throwing off his grief but I, who knew him so well, could detect the abject misery in his eyes.
He said to me one day: "Katharine is of an age to be married."
Katharine, with her brother John, was still at Middleham, and Katharine must be about sixteen years old.
"I should like to see her settled," went on Richard.
"John, too, though perhaps he is a little young yet."
"Whom have you in mind for Katharine?" I asked.
"William Herbert, the Earl of Huntingdon."
"That seems very suitable."
"As for John, I should like Calais for him."
"Captain of Calais! That would be a very important post."
"He is my son," he said, I fancied, coolly.
And I thought, your son indeed a strong, healthy boy. My state of mind was such that I imagined what he must be thinking. I can get a healthy son by another woman, but not by my queen.
I heard myself say: "He is young for Calais."
"I thought perhaps next year. I need those I can rely on, and I can do that with my own son. But to begin with ... Katharine's marriage. I think the time is ripe for that."
Katharine joined us. She was a bright and pretty girl, very excited at the prospect of marriage and, of course, the Herberts were delighted by a union with the king even though there was illegitimacy, it was still a royal marriage; and the king would look after his own daughter.
So Richard's daughter was married and I noticed that when his eyes rested on her they were filled with pride ... and something else, I wondered? Was it resentment? Why should he be able to get healthy children by another woman when his queen failed him? It was becoming an obsession with me. I looked for it on every occasion. One day he said to me: "I have been thinking of naming Warwick as heir to the throne."
"Warwick... but...?"
"We must face the truth, Anne. You and I will never have a child now. It is too late and I would fear for you. But there must be an heir."
"Richard, you are young yet. Pray do not talk of such need for an heir."
"A king's life is often a short one."
"As all our lives may be." I was thinking of Hastings and Buckingham, and I believe he was too.
"Warwick's father was tainted with treason. Would that not exclude him?"
"It could be dealt with. He is the next in line."
"Richard, Warwick is not fit to rule. He is weak-minded.
It would be like Henry the Sixth all over again."
Richard was thoughtful.
"There is my sister Elizabeth's son, the Earl of Lincoln I looked at him with sorrow and he went on gently: "These matters have to be considered. Sometimes they can be painful. One thinks of what might have been He turned away and soon after that he left me.
I went to my chamber and shut myself in.
If only I could bear a son! If only I could be strong! Would Richard love me then? There were too many ifs and if love must depend on such things, is it love?
Had he ever truly loved me?
I tried to pray. I tried to ask God and the Holy Virgin to help England and me. But how can one pray for something which, in one's heart, one knows one can never have?
There was a certain amount of talk at this time about the possibility of Henry Tudor's making an attempt to depose Richard and to set himself up as king in his place. His supporters had put forth a proposition which could be attractive to the people.
The Wars of the Roses had appeared to come to an end when Henry died murdered, most likely and when Margaret of Anjou had been driven out of the country and Edward had come so triumphantly back to the throne. But there could be a recurrence of the troubles, and the idea of uniting the House of York with that of Lancaster seemed a good one, since it could mean that the rivalry between the houses could be ended forever. If Henry Tudor, a Lancastrian, were married to Elizabeth of York, this could be achieved.
At this time Elizabeth Woodville, with her daughters, was still living in sanctuary, which must have been very different from the grandeur which she had maintained about her in the past.
This suggestion of a marriage for her daughter had changed people's attitudes towards her. Richard was worried. Elizabeth Woodville was notoriously ambitious, and if she thought there was a possibility of her daughter marrying a king, she would soon be scheming.
"She may be helpless at this time," said Richard, "but a woman who could force a king to marry her and holds her position through so many years must be watched."
He discussed the matter with the men whom he trusted. Ratcliffe, Catesby and Francis Lovell were deep in his confidence. He regarded them as his true friends and he took counsel with them often.
The Reluctant Queen Page 32
