He Who Plays The King

by MARY HOCKING

  ‘While this went on,’ he concluded, ‘there was much whispering and exclaiming and shaking of sage heads; but the Protector sat still as a statue, looking stern and grave. People around me seemed much impressed by him, as though to sit a horse quietly for half- an-hour were a mark of exceptional virtue.’

  Henry, Earl of Richmond, did not receive the letter for some weeks, and all he said when he read it was, ‘Bastards those children may be; but no man will sit easy on the throne while they live to attract any who have a grievance.’

  4

  London was alive as an enormous cheese with maggots crawling all over it. From all sides, people converged and headed towards the river. Excitement leapt like flames from one person to another; it licked high into the sky where the masts of foreign ships were swarming with sailors eager to see this new pageant the people of London were staging. To the right rose the wall of Baynard’s Castle and here the people stopped and looked about them. Many exalted personages were gathered here, noblemen and priests and dignitaries of the city. Small boys were lifted onto shoulders so that they could have a sight of them. A cripple with a withered leg tried to thrust his way through the crowd, shouting, ‘Let me through to Him, let me through!’ thinking Christ had come again and he might be cured; he did this at every great event, remembering what had happened to Bartimaeus as a result of his persistence. Even the gulls were excited, sweeping low over the heads of commoners and nobles alike and spattering more than one brilliant cloak. Boys climbed trees and walls, and a young girl sent a big, scarlet ball soaring into the sky.

  A murmur at the front of the crowd sent ripples of sound back so that everyone exclaimed ‘Aaah!’ though many did not know why. Then, beneath the battlements there appeared a gloriously apparelled figure, variously described as the Duke of Buckingham, Lord Howard, the Marquis of Dorset and, by a very old man who could not possibly see anything, the Kingmaker returned to earth. This man, although his voice could not be heard by many, contrived nevertheless to suggest most eloquently by the movement of head, shoulders and wonderfully generous hands, that he had great treasure to bestow on the people. The people became impatient and began to shout, demanding to receive at once the riches he promised them. The man held his arms aloft and then let them drop and with them all his glory, which fell like a mantle beneath the feet of the man who now came forward from the shadow of a doorway high in the wall.

  There was no doubt as to who this figure was, for all around people began to cry, ‘Dickon! Dickon!’ This, however, was no strutting peacock eager to display his exotic plumage for the crowd’s approval. He stood before them quietly, a small, gaunt man in a dark robe. Yet, by his very stillness, he held the attention of the great crowd spread out below him. They cheered and waved and shouted, but he did not move, only stood contemplating their strenuous activity as though measuring its worth. He was the guardian of the treasure: was it possible he would deny it to the people? They shouted louder and louder. At last, he relented and raised an arm; he turned his head slowly from one side to the other so that they should all see his face and he theirs. A moment later, he had withdrawn. There was only the stone of the battlement, rosy in the morning sunlight.

  All around people began to shout, ‘King Richard! King Richard! King Richard!’

  In the White Tower, Edward sat on the edge of his bed and talked with his younger brother.

  ‘What will happen to us?’ the young boy asked.

  ‘The people will rise and put me on the throne.’ Edward spoke firmly, but not loudly for it was as well to be discreet until rescue came.

  ‘How will they rise?’ his brother asked.

  ‘I don’t know. But our mother will see to it.’

  The younger boy pushed his fist against his mouth; even so, tears gushed over his knuckles.

  Edward looked at the table which was heaped with fruit and delicacies which their uncle, who was now King Richard the Third, had sent to them. He would like to have swept the tray to the floor in a grand gesture of defiance, but lacked the courage. Also, he badly needed comfort and since none other was offered he went to the table and ate greedily, stuffing food in his mouth in a way which was quite alien to him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  1

  ‘Richard, by the grace of God, King of England and of France and lord of Ireland, straitly chargeth and commandeth, under pain of death, that no manner of person, of what estate, degree of condition soever he be, for old or new quarrel, rancour or malice, make any challenge or affray, nor rob or despoil any person, nor break any sanctuary, whereby his peace shall be broken, or any sedition or disturbance of his said peace shall happen, within this his city of London . . .

  And to the intent that peace and tranquillity among his people may be rather kept . . . our said sovereign lord straitly chargeth and commandeth that every man be in his lodgings by ten of the clock in the night, and that no person other than such that his highness hath licensed or shall license within the franchise of the said city or in places thereunto nigh adjoining, bear any manner of weapon . . . under pain of forfeiture and losing of the same and imprisonment of him or them that so offendeth, to endure at the King’s pleasure.’

  It was after ten now and few seemed inclined to risk the King’s displeasure. Had he not given them as fine a display as could ever be provided in the whole wide world? What could rival the splendour of the English court arrayed in velvet, cloth of gold, and satin, in brilliant hues of purple, scarlet, blue and gold? Even those greybeards who tended always to remember life being so much more extreme in the past—the winters colder, the summers hotter, wars more bloody and men more godly, and spectacles the like of which would never be seen again—even these old people were staggered by the brilliance of King Richard and his Queen.

  Now, safely in their lodgings by ten o’clock of the night, the King’s obedient subjects basked in the afterglow of these golden coronation days. There were few, in this merchant city, who disapproved of such a display of riches: a coronation is a time for a country to show its resources to the world. From one open window voices floated into the street and were heard by two men who were walking by.

  A man’s voice said, ‘On the showing of his coronation King Richard means to be a right royal king, and that is how it should be! A strong king is what we need.’

  ‘I’ll give him six months.’ An old man’s voice this, querulous. ‘Six months to prove how strong he is!’

  ‘And if he doesn’t satisfy you after six months, will you change him for the lad in the Tower? You think he’d be a strong king, do you?’

  ‘How splendid the Duke of Buckingham looked!’ A woman’s voice intervened. ‘There was no one to compare with him, save the King, of course.’

  ‘And his Duchess not with him! I heard from one of his clerks that she has to ask her lord’s permission before she dares venture out of her chamber these days, let alone attend a coronation.’

  The two men, who had paused to listen, walked on. They walked with assurance because they were abroad lawfully; but Robin Prithie bent his head and kept the collar of his cloak up about his face because he did not want to be recognized. There were few in London who knew him, but life could play mean tricks on a man and he was not taking any chances. In spite of his precautions, or perhaps because fear adds a certain spice to life, he was enjoying himself. It was no part of the job which had been assigned to him to keep the Duke of Buckingham informed of his master’s intentions; yet, here he was on the way to see the Duke himself, and mightily excited by this double game he was playing. He, too, had been impressed by the splendour of the Duke at the coronation, although he had heard men mutter that such splendour would be Buckingham’s undoing. ‘Would he rival the King?’ Robin thought the Duke might well rival the King, but saw no reason why it should be his undoing.

  Buckingham received Robin alone. Such privacy was exceptional, and Robin preened himself, imagining that the Duke was showing consideration for him since he risked much by serving two
masters. He looked at the handsome face. It was the first time he had been close to the Duke so he was not aware that over the past weeks the face had changed as though a sculptor had put the final touches to his work, slightly flattening the nose so that the nostrils splayed, and fleshing the upper lip. These two small touches had set the seal of character on the whole face. Robin, who thought neither greed nor sensuality out of place, was nevertheless surprised that such a man should be sensitive to the danger in which Robin had placed himself; it was always Robin’s weakness to see himself in the centre of the picture. Buckingham had reasons of his own for seeing Robin alone and had made sure that no servant was within sight or sound of them. Treachery must have a beginning; although Buckingham served but one master, there was something tainted in the curiosity he now displayed.

  ‘This Henry Tydder, or Tudor, has proclaimed himself the Earl of Richmond. What new honour will he seek to confer upon himself?’

  ‘He says he has no ambition,’ Robin replied. ‘To any who would be ambitious on his behalf, I am to say that he is most anxious to live in peace and sees no profit for him in a return to England. To any who may try to persuade him, he begs that they should not endanger their lives on his behalf since he cannot hope to reward their misplaced loyalty. He is on the most excellent terms with Duke Francis and has become so much attached to the country in which he now lives that it would grieve him ever to leave it.’ As Buckingham’s eyes grew wider, so Robin continued ever more gravely; it was a performance which both men enjoyed. ‘He is, moreover, of a religious disposition and thinks little of the affairs of this world. In fact, he is resolved to devote the rest of his life to the service of God.’

  ‘And if God were to call him to His service in England? What then?’

  ‘He is very pious. I doubt he would resist such a call.’

  ‘I have heard he is a coward; that he has never been tried in battle and will never willingly put himself to the test.’

  ‘Most certainly he is a coward,’ Robin assented. ‘When he thought Duke Francis intended to hand him over to King Edward the Fourth, he went quite out of his mind.’

  ‘Yet there are those who praise his patience and forbearance, who speak of him as a wise man, and a good judge of men and affairs.’

  ‘It’s of little use being a good judge of men if you don’t reward them well for their service to you.’ Robin allowed his personal feelings to show, and Buckingham, who had been wondering how much this man could be trusted, was reassured. In a conspiracy, a man with a grievance is likely to be more reliable than a man of honour whom conscience may render unpredictable.

  ‘I have heard he is generous,’ Buckingham said.

  ‘Generous! He is exceeding mean. A mean, harsh man.’

  ‘But patient and forbearing withal, so I am told.’ Buckingham was amused.

  ‘Yes, perhaps.’

  ‘And pious?’

  ‘Most certainly.’

  ‘And a coward, and no doubt a fool on horseback? Come! You must know him rather better than this. I warrant any servant of mine could give a better rendering of my character.’ In this Buckingham was entirely right, although it would be some time before he discovered how ill he was liked by his servants. ‘Tell me what you know of the Earl of Richmond,’ he pressed Robin.

  Henry was a boy when Robin met him, and then he became a lad, and now he was a man of twenty-six. But this was hardly what Buckingham expected to hear. What then? Robin thought of the boy whom he had met one misty afternoon to whom he had recounted exaggerated stories of his own exploits and who had seemed to believe all that he was told. Lately, Robin had come to realize that the child was not as naive as he had seemed, and had grown into a man who had behaved with remarkable duplicity to his servant, Robin. But these were not the things which Buckingham wanted to her.

  ‘My Lord,’ he said, ‘your servants see in you what it is right that they should see. They see that you dazzle those around you; when you sit at table you feed better than anyone else in the land (he was shrewd enough to recall that this had been said of that other Kingmaker, Warwick); and when you go hunting, there is none to surpass you. In war, you are terrible.’ Buckingham made a movement of impatience with his hand, but his eyes were not displeased. ‘It is not so with my master. He does few of the things which men have a right to expect of him, and so it is difficult for me to answer you. He is more concerned with the cost of his clothes than their quality. He likes music above all things and I have seen him close to tears, especially when he listens to the flute, while the call of the hunting horn leaves him unmoved. The French ambassador has said it is better to go well-fed to his table because he cares more for disputation than food. Once, when he was a boy, I told him the story of a famous battle, and all he said was, “It seems a very chancy way of getting rid of enemies.” ’

  Buckingham paused by the window to ponder this remark which evidenced shrewd practicality rather than unworldly piety. Perhaps Henry had grown more ethereal as he put on years, but this is not usually the way of a man.

  ‘When you have more to tell me, send word,’ he said.

  2

  Henry, Earl of Richmond, intoned, ‘I come to right the wrongs which Richard has committed.’ He stood up straight and made a noble gesture; he had always enjoyed a little playacting. His audience was not much amused. Henry shrugged his shoulders, letting fall the mantle of kingship. ‘And these children? How am I supposed to right this particular wrong? Am I to restore young Edward to the throne? Don’t shake your head so impatiently, my good uncle. It bears some thought. If this wrong is not righted, am I not in danger of finding Richard’s action justified?’

  ‘The young King is ailing, so it is reported.’ Jasper Tudor was always ready to credit reports of the illness of those who stood in his way.

  Henry said, ‘Well, well, well, well! How events do join themselves to my cause!’ He was sceptical and intended to remain so until he had better reason for rejoicing. This was an uncertain time for him. He had felt a chill of fear when he heard of Edward’s death. He had got used to Edward’s tactics, but he had no idea of the methods Richard the Third might employ to rid himself of Margaret of Beaufort’s imp. He was older now and tired of being a pawn. Nevertheless, he would let them all think they could play with him until he was ready to play his own game. It would take patience and courage, but where would he be now without these qualities? They were the necessities of his life. He was sure that in the end he would win. God, who had brought him safely so far, undoubtedly intended him to be king. But it would be foolish not to take precautions: God, Henry was sure, had very little time for fools.

  He stopped striding about the room and held his arms out wide to his uncle. ‘We will assume young Edward dead. What of his brother? Am I to serve him?’ He regarded his uncle earnestly as though waiting instructions. ‘And there are daughters, too, are there not?’

  ‘The daughters are a different matter.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Elizabeth is seventeen and not yet married.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Why, we will graft the red rose to the white rose.’

  ‘God knows what that would produce,’ Henry said sombrely.

  ‘Peace.’

  ‘Mmmh, peace or a bed of thorns!’ Henry turned away, his face glum. After a moment, he said querulously, ‘You have not answered me. Am I to serve young Edward or his brother?’

  ‘Of course not. The people call on you to take the throne.’

  ‘Because Richard has usurped it? I am to be usurper in his place, is that what the people want?’

  They assured him that the problem of the young Princes would be solved.

  ‘I am glad to hear it,’ he replied. ‘For I shall make no move until it is solved.’

  He was well aware, if his uncle was not, that at this moment the people, far from calling on him, were scarce aware of his existence. A lot of work needed to be done before he would be advised to declare himself. It was this, as much as t
he problem of the Princes, which concerned him. It was, however, his comments regarding the Princes which were best remembered by one or two of his listeners.

  3

  The crown had left a weal on Richard’s forehead, it was still visible today, a faint red mark like a burn. He was the thirteenth Plantagenet (he did not count young Edward) to wear the crown and regarded it as his inalienable right as had those other kings who had ruled by right of heredity or by right of conquest; all linked by Plantagenet blood and sharing the same passionate belief in their right to wear the crown. He felt both humble and proud and was determined to be the greatest of all the Plantagenet kings. He who tries for less has no right to rule.

  Ideas great and small tumbled into his mind in bewildering disarray: he would bring order and justice to the realm; he would take strong measures to suppress local tyranny and abuse; he would improve the system of empanelling jurors; he would reform the laws concerning the conveying of land; and he would abolish the King’s own right to exact money from his subjects by means of benevolences; above all, he would create a Council of the North which would bring lasting peace to that troubled land he loved so well. His heart was filled with a passionate desire to serve England and its people. He prayed earnestly for God’s help and guidance, and while he prayed he rubbed his forefinger along the weal on his forehead where the crown had marked him. It was one of his weaknesses that he concerned himself too much with detail so that it was not enough to vow to improve the jury system by ensuring that only persons of good name and fame should be empanelled, but he must go on to think about what freehold land a man of good name and fame might be expected to hold. He felt his head would burst with the pressure of ideas before ever he could bring them to fruition. The trouble with being a king is that one has less, and not more, time for ruling. First, the king must show himself to the people throughout the country. His royal progress, which would begin next week, would take many months; it was important and he looked forward to it, yet he begrudged the time.