The result of this was that he promised Elizabeth Woodville that if she would leave sanctuary with her daughters, they should all be perfectly safe and nothing held against them; they should be under his protection; he would see that good marriages were arranged for them and they should each receive property to the value of two hundred marks.
When Richard took a solemn oath before the Lords Temporal and Spiritual, as well as the Lord Mayor of London, and the aldermen, that he would honour this promise, Elizabeth could not doubt his good faith.
From Richard's point of view it was a wise move. Elizabeth Woodville had no loyalties except to her own family and for them she would fight with all her strength. She must be asking herself how long her daughters would have to remain in sanctuary; good marriages were necessary for them before they were too old; and if she could ingratiate herself with the reigning king, why bother to put another in his place?
Not since our son's death had I seen Richard look so amused. I understood the reason why.
"My spies tell me that Elizabeth Woodville has shifted her allegiance. She is breaking off her connections with the Tudor and is urging Dorset to return and try to seek favour here. Do you see what a good move it was to bring them out of sanctuary?"
Attention was focussed on the eldest daughter, Elizabeth. This was naturally so, for she was really at the heart of the matter.
She was invited to come to court an invitation she accepted with alacrity.
Richard said it was an excellent move. I was not sure, for the moment I set eyes on Elizabeth York, my misgivings increased.
She was tall; she had long fair hair, blue eyes and a dazzlingly fair skin; she was very beautiful which was to be expected with such a mother and handsome father. Without doubt she was Edward's daughter. She had charm as well as beauty. She moved with grace and glowed with health and vitality. It was to be expected that she should immediately become a popular figure in the court.
She was very solicitous of me, very deferential. I guessed she had been primed by her mother to be gracious to the king, to charm him, as she would know very well how to do.
The situation had changed. The Woodvilles were back and this time as our friends.
As soon as Elizabeth came to court I seemed to grow more tired, more feeble. I was more conscious of my infirmities and my cough troubled me at awkward moments. But perhaps that was due to the comparison between myself and Elizabeth.
I found I was thinking of her constantly. I would watch her in the courtyard, coming in from a ride flushed and beautiful, surrounded by admirers. In the dance she attracted the attention of all: she dressed with splendour but good taste. She was so clearly delighted to have stepped out of dull seclusion and was determined to enjoy her new surroundings.
People cheered her in the streets. She reminded them of her magnificent father.
When he ruled, said the people, those were merry days. There was no fear of invasion then, no fear of war when we had a good laughing king on the throne and an heir to follow.
Then the whispering started. Was the king thinking of marrying Elizabeth of York? The queen surely had not long to live by the look of her. And what chance was there of an heir from her? But Elizabeth was his niece. Was that allowed? A dispensation from the pope perhaps, but even so. His niece! Popes could be very obliging if approached in the right manner. Think of it. An heir! That was what was wanted. Then we should have a king to follow. Richard was not old. He had many years left. But he must get an heir.
Elizabeth would have fine strong children. Think of her mother and who her father was.
Did I imagine the rumours? Perhaps I exaggerated, but they were there.
My senses had become alert. I fancied I heard scraps of gossip. I saw the watchful eyes. I saw Elizabeth smiling at Richard and I knew he must think her charming. Who could help that? Perhaps she reminded him of Edward whom he had loved so dearly more than anyone, I now believed. And Elizabeth brought out all her charms for him. Was he not the king? And she would have been instructed by her mother.
But would Elizabeth Woodville want her daughter to marry her uncle? I believed she would find anything acceptable for the sake of a crown.
It is strange how an insidious whisper, a hasty glance, a gesture even can plant suspicions in the mind.
Richard was watched. Elizabeth was watched. And so was I. We were the main characters in the drama which was being built up around us. I was the wife who had become a burden the wife who must die before the happy conclusion could be reached.
Christmas had come. It was eight months since I had heard of my son's death, but the sorrow was still as great as ever. Richard tried to comfort me, but inwardly I shrank from him. He could not hide from me his terrible preoccupation with the succession. I think it was as great a concern for him as the threat from the Tudor.
London was merry because it was Christmas. The shops glittered with their merchandise and people crowded the streets. It was the season of good will.
Richard must hide his anxieties and therefore Christmas should be celebrated with merriment and good cheer. I think he tried to make it as it had been in his brother's day. That was not possible, for all the show of splendour, but I knew the laughter did not go very deep.
On Christmas Day I dressed myself with great care and had a magnificent gown for the occasion. It was made of damask and cloth of gold set with pearls. I was telling myself I must set aside my sense of foreboding. Richard was most tender to me, always so solicitous. I must cast off these terrible suspicions. They had been brought about by the whispering of evil people and had no roots in reality.
I thought I looked a little better. There was a faint colour in my cheeks. This night, I promised myself, I would assume merriment; I would try to believe that I might yet recover and give birth to a beautiful baby boy.
So, in moderately high spirits, I went down to the great hall where Richard was waiting for me. I thought he looked pleased because of my improved appearance.
In fact he said: "You look a little better, Anne."
I smiled and he smiled at me; and together we went into the hall.
There was the usual ceremonious greeting for the king and queen. Richard took my hand and led me to the table on the dais.
And then I saw her. I was startled and then deeply shocked. Elizabeth of York was wearing a dress which was an exact replica of my own. We gazed at each other; she seemed as astonished and embarrassed as I was. I gave her my hand and she kissed it. Then she raised her eyes to mine.
I said: "You are wearing my dress and I yours."
"Your Grace ... I do not know how it happened. I had no idea. May I say how well it becomes your Grace?" I said: "It becomes you, too, my lady Elizabeth."
Then I moved away. In my present state of mind the demons were back to torment me.
It was deliberate. Someone had planned this. It was a cruel joke. There are two queens, it implied. The one who is on the way out and the one who is about to enter.
Later I said to Richard: "Did you notice the dress Elizabeth was wearing?"
He looked blank.
"What of her dress?"
"It was exactly the same as mine."
He did not seemed to think it was of any great moment. But how did I know what was going on his mind?
After that Christmas my health declined further. The winter was a hard time for me. My cough persisted. Richard was showing signs of strain.
Nothing was going right. There was the continual threat of invasion. People remembered the last reign with regret. There were evil rumours in the air. Someone had pinned a paper on the walls of St. Paul's with the inscription:
"The Rat, the Cat, and Lovell our dog Rule all England under a hog."
It was a reference to Catesby, Ratcliffe and Francis Lovell - Lovell being a name much used for dogs; those three were Richard's closest advisers. The Hog was, of course, Richard himself, his emblem being the sign of the Boar.
It was not merely a couplet;
it was an expression of the people's growing dissatisfaction and dislike.
Soon it was being sung in the streets. I was sighing more than ever for the old days of Middleham. There had been little happiness for either of us since Richard had taken the crown. How I wished the Bishop of Bath and Wells had never made his revelation. How I wished that the young Edward the Fifth were king of the realm.
There was a continual watch for ships about the coasts, for now an invasion seemed inevitable. On the continent, Henry Tudor was preparing to take from Richard that which had brought him not a vestige of happiness.
There was a burning need for an heir. I would have given Richard everything I had. How ironical that I could not give him what he wanted most.
I was living too long. If I were not here, I reminded myself, he could marry again. He could beget a son and then there would be new hope in the country.
I was taking too long to die. There was a new rumour now. There was nothing too evil they would not say against Richard.
I knew it, by the glances at my food, much of which I took in my chamber, feeling too weak to eat in public. I could see that was in the minds of my women. Snatches of a sentence spoken in a sibilant whisper would reach my ears.
The king was tired of his sick, infertile wife. She was a burden to him, and he could not afford to carry burdens. His own safety was too precariously balanced. He was having her food laced with poison, the quicker to remove her.
It was three months since that Christmas when Elizabeth of York had appeared in a dress exactly like the one I was wearing, showing how different we were dressed alike, to make the contrast more remarkable. She so sparkling, nubile, gleaming with health beside this poor sad creature, thin, pale and ailing.
Someone had prophesied my death and the people in the streets were saying I was already dead.
I discovered this when one of the serving women came upon me suddenly and almost swooned. She cried out: "I have seen the ghost of the queen! Poor lady, she has come back to haunt us. Small wonder ..."
It was disconcerting. I felt I had been buried before I was dead. Killed ... by the poison administered at my husband's command!
I sat in my chair, my hair unbound, a loose robe about me, shocked and bewildered. Richard found me thus.
I said to him: "Why am I so weak? Do you know why, Richard? What have I done to deserve death?"
He took my face in his hands and kissed me.
"Why do you talk thus?" he asked.
"Anne ... my Anne ... you deserve to live and you shall." I shook my head.
"No," is said.
"My time is near. I feel it close. I am sorry I have been so weak."
"Do not talk so, dear Anne," he said.
"You have been so dear to me. You have brought me such comfort in all my adversities. Remember how you pitied me when we were at Middleham? I was so tired ... and you kept my secret." That is long ago, Richard."
"Be of good cheer, Anne. You have no cause to be other." For a moment I believed him and I was ashamed that, even for a short while, I had allowed myself to harbour thoughts against him.
But in the night those doubts came back. He was so kind, so gentle with me. Then why did I have those dark thoughts? Why did I let myself doubt him? He could never marry his niece. He wanted me to stay with him, to comfort him, as I always had.
It was March and with March comes the promise of spring.-But I shall not see that spring.
They say it is an eclipse of the sun. It is significant. Darkness descends on the earth but the earth will be bright again. But there will be no brightness for me. There is darkness all about me. There is so much I shall never see, so much I shall never know.
Bibliography
Ashdown, Dulcie M." Princess of Wales
Aubrey, William Hickman Smith, National & Domestic History of England
Bagley, J.J." Margaret of Anjou
Clive, Mary, This Sun of York, Biography of Edward IV
Costain, Thomas, The Last Plantagenets: Pageant of England 1337-1485
Gardner, James, History of Richard III
Halstead, Caroline, Richard III as Duke of Gloucester and King of England
Jacobs, E.F." The Fifteenth Century 1399-1485
Kendall, Paul Murray, Richard III
Kendall, Paul Murray, Warwick, the Kingmaker
Lamb, V.B." The Betrayal of Richard III
MacGibbon, David, Elizabeth Woodville
Oman, Charles, Warwick the Kingmaker
Ramsay, J.H." Lancaster and York
Ross, Charles, Edward IV
Rowse, A.L." Bosworth Field and the Wars of the Roses
Scofield, Coral L." The Life and Reign of Edward IV
Stephen, Sir Leslie & Lee, Sir Sydney, The Dictionary of National Biography
Stratford, Laurence, Edward IV
Strickland, Agnes, The Lives of the Queens of England
Wade, John, British History Williams, C.H." The Yorkist Kings
FB2 document info
Document ID: eec5e9d8-21df-407a-a166-3cb3bf3bb1da
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 3.6.2013
Created using: calibre 0.9.22, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6 software
Document authors :
ETNiES
About
This file was generated by Lord KiRon's FB2EPUB converter version 1.1.5.0.
(This book might contain copyrighted material, author of the converter bears no responsibility for it's usage)
Этот файл создан при помощи конвертера FB2EPUB версии 1.1.5.0 написанного Lord KiRon.
(Эта книга может содержать материал который защищен авторским правом, автор конвертера не несет ответственности за его использование)
http://www.fb2epub.net
https://code.google.com/p/fb2epub/
The Reluctant Queen Page 33
