Treason

by Meredith Whitford

  ‘No,’ I objected, ‘you’re too powerful for that. You are the one person they cannot afford to harm. The Londoners would tear them limb from limb, the country would be up in arms in a flash. Louis of France is rampaging all over Europe, he might have a go at England any minute. The Scots are lying low but that won’t last, and with the sniff of a chance the Welsh would be up in arms. If Louis isn’t hand in glove with the Beauforts and old Lancastrians my name’s not Martin Robsart. And who would England need? You. And anyway, as I say, the Woodvilles simply wouldn’t dare. You are too popular, you’re a by-word for good government and the keeping of the peace.’

  He thought about it and was halfway persuaded. ‘They probably fear exactly those things. I’m too strong. And that is why I am taking no more than my usual riding household; no northern army, no show of power.’ He shivered, tugging his cloak closer. ‘It’s time to go in.’ But as I pushed off reluctantly from the wall he seized my arm. ‘Martin, my mother must not hear of Edward’s death from a stranger. I cannot go – will you?’

  Somehow I wasn’t surprised. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Good. Thank you. And I want you to take John with you.’

  ‘A good idea. He’ll be comfort for your mother.’

  ‘Yes. But also I can’t help fearing… some convenient accident; an ambush... Think how often Margaret of Anjou tried to capture my father. Well, if that happens, it happens, but I won’t risk John. Yet if I leave him behind Anne will know I’m worried and she is already afraid. Sending him to Mother makes a good excuse. And Martin, if anything should happen to me, look after Anne and my children. Do whatever is necessary: go over to the Woodvilles, flee abroad, anything. But protect my family.’

  I couldn’t tell him he was being fanciful or morbid. We were both children of the civil wars, we had seen what could happen. ‘I promise. And you will do the same for me?’

  ‘Of course.’ He released my arm. We exchanged a final, rather desperate hug, then went inside.

  ~~~

  In that fine weather we made good time to Berkhamsted. This was a neat little property with a flourishing home-farm and good stock in the fields. It had handsome orchards, a kitchen garden and a knot-garden laid with brick paths. Although it was a fortified manor and much grander than my home, somehow it always reminded me of that childhood house, but here the memories were pleasant ones. As we rode in I looked over the rose-garden the Duchess had planted nineteen summers ago, and recalled eavesdropping on Margaret and John Neville. Odd that it should be here that we heard of Edward’s foolish marriage, and here that I came with news of the fruit of that action.

  The arrival of a group of men-at-arms caused a flurry in a peaceful nunnery. The sisters working outside carried on, their eyes on their work after the first anxious glance, but one of them, a tall woman, strode towards us, rolling down her sleeves. A nun’s habit is little different from the ordinary dress of a widow, but I was surprised to see that this weather-beaten woman was the Duchess; I suppose I had never pictured her joining in the mundane domestic activities. Her long sight was still excellent, and she had recognised my banners. ‘Martin! My dear boy, how good to see you. And is that John?’ She held out her arms.

  He scrambled down from his horse and ran to meet her. He was as tall as she now, and could have swept her off her feet. ‘Grandmama, good day to you.’

  ‘And to you, darling... But you’re in black... ’ She looked along the line of my horsemen, desperately seeking Richard’s banner. ‘Is Richard... What has happened?’

  She had aged a great deal in the last five years – well, she was nearly seventy – but her back was as straight as ever, and after that first moment her blue eyes showed courage. Ignoring the etiquette of rank I took her in my arms and kissed her. ‘Richard is safe and well, but there is bad news.’

  ‘The King?’

  Since the night we heard of George’s death she had never called her elder son by his name. ‘Yes, dear madam. The King is dead.’

  She took one sharp breath. Her hands began to shake, and with my arms around her I guided her into the house and made her sit down. Some of the nuns had come out, and John sensibly asked them to bring wine. Then, simply, he hugged the Duchess and said, ‘I’m sorry, Grandmama.’

  She laid her head on his shoulder. ‘So am I, John. Sometimes it is very hard to say: “God’s will be done.” When his father died Edward was my only worldly comfort and strength.’ The wine came and gratefully she drank it. ‘How did he die?’ I told her the little I knew, and waited until she had scanned Richard’s letter. ‘Yes, he lived unwisely these last years... But he was only forty-one! And I had not heard, you know; he is dead and buried and no one has thought of telling me, his own mother!’ Again I held the cup for her. ‘I’m glad it was you who came. Richard always was a thoughtful boy. And what happens now? Because don’t tell me there isn’t Woodville trouble.’ I told her what I knew, Hastings’ information. ‘Exactly what I would have expected. That woman and her family were trouble from the start. I daresay Edward thought he could control them, but what boy of twenty-two can manage people like that? And now it all falls on Richard’s shoulders. As usual.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Fiercely she said, ‘Tell him to be careful. I will write to him, but tell him to take care. It was the Woodvilles who pushed Edward into executing George, and I will not lose another son to them. Tell him too to beware of the Beauforts and their cronies. A king’s minority is a dangerous time.’

  ‘I’ll tell him.’

  ‘Where is he? What is he doing?’

  ‘Riding to meet with the King on his way to London. Lord Rivers is escorting the King.’

  ‘Rivers! Oh yes, I’m sure. I always thought well enough of him, but he will be neck-deep in whatever Woodville plotting is going on. May God help us and not see us plunged back into the trouble we thought was over twenty years ago.’

  ‘Yes indeed.’ A silence fell. I watched her tanned, aged hand twining in John’s.

  At last she rose, saying, ‘This is poor hospitality to show you. I must see our priest, to arrange Masses for the King – but you will stop with us? We live plainly, but you shall have a good supper and a night’s rest before you travel on.’

  ‘If you wish it, madam, we would be glad to stay.’

  ‘Well, I do wish it. Here, my life is given to God and I am never alone, but yes, it would comfort me if you stayed with me tonight.’

  ~~~

  In London, the moment I had seen John safe at Crosby Place – and forbidden him to leave the house – I went around to Hastings’ house.

  He was in his fifties, and it showed, but unlike the King he’d kept himself in trim, although the deep drinking of the last few years had riddled his face with broken veins. He was glad to see me, but at the same time oddly on edge in some personal way. ‘Fact is,’ he said sheepishly after we had stumbled through a few of the preliminaries, ‘you caught me asleep. It’s been a busy time.’

  Murmuring an apology I thought: in bed, yes; asleep, no. But his private life was no concern of mine.

  ‘Tell me just how things lie here in London.’

  ‘Richard isn’t with you?’

  ‘No.’ I had already explained. Yawning, he apologised and gathered his wits.

  ‘Can hardly think straight. God’s teeth, Martin, it has been a business here and no mistake! I’m Captain of Calaid and Lord Chamberlain, and I’ve had to act like Julius Caesar and Solomon all in one! You should have seen me up on my hind legs before the Council and that mincing fool Dorset and the Queen, yelling that if they didn’t see sense I would take myself off to Calais and all my men with me.’ He chuckled at the memory. ‘Wouldn’t have gone, of course – Edward Woodville would have had the fleet at sea and kept me stranded in Calais. But the threat frightened the idiots who were for the Woodvilles, and the moderates nearly had kittens, they knew they needed me here. Howard and Stanley supported me, of course.’

  ‘Howard – yes, it is “of course�
� with him, but do you trust Lord Stanley?’

  Hastings gave me a sidelong, cynical look. ‘Not usually, but he is no friend of the Woodvilles. The Bishops are mostly sound, of course – though there is so much feeling against clerics at present that the Crown’s their only hope. I fear they would go with whoever has the power – which so far means the Woodvilles. That blithering old idiot Rotherham gave the Queen the Great Seal.’

  ‘Never!’ I cried, appalled. With the Great Seal, signet of the royal authority, any order could be enacted. No one had any business touching the Seal except the King or his Lord Chancellor. Archbishop Rotherham was elderly and none too clever, but this action was close to treason.

  ‘He did,’ said Hastings. ‘The Queen seems to think that if she acts as Regent, people will either believe she actually is, in law I mean, or overturn the King’s will and make her so. For instance, she and Dorset have re-appointed all the judges and they’re collecting taxes.’

  Now, this might sound innocuous, even sensible, but the point is that they had no right to do it. Groping to remember the law thrashed into me as a boy I said, ‘I think the Council isn’t even a legal body yet, is it? Only the King can call it. Edward’s Council so to speak died with him, it is up to the new King to re-convene it. Until he does, it has no power, there is no Council.’

  ‘Right, but try telling them that.’ Hastings yawned again, stretching irritably. ‘Let’s have some wine, I should have offered before.’ He shouted for a page, and when the wine came he snapped at the boy to leave, and banged the door clumsily shut. A huge swig of wine seemed to pull him together, for he went on, ‘I had Richard’s letter proclaimed at Paul’s Cross, I made sure the whole city heard it. That calmed things down. People trust him, they’re anxious to have him here. God’s teeth, I told you, didn’t I, that Dorset wanted Rivers to bring the King down from Ludlow with an army of five thousand? If you stared in one of Dorset’s ears you’d see daylight coming the other way – there is so much goodwill for the new little King, but if he marched down on London at the head of an army... ’

  ‘It was to be the complete armed take-over.’

  ‘Yes. That’s why Richard must get here. The people want him. Let Richard only arrive, with all the Protector’s authority, and the thing’s done. Did I tell you the Woodvilles wanted the King crowned at once? Fourth of May, they decided; they were getting everything ready.’

  ‘But,’ I objected, ‘the Protector’s power doesn’t end when the King is crowned.’

  ‘No, but then no one would look too closely at what the Woodvilles have been up to.’

  Agreeing, I glumly drank my wine. Hastings sat turning his jewelled gold cup between his fingers. In the silence I identified the sound that had been at the edge of my mind. Upstairs, a woman was singing. Light feet pattered down the stairs, and the door opened. Hastings jerked upright, blood suffusing his face.

  ‘Will, has he gone? Come back to – oh.’

  It was Jane Shore.

  Her hair was loose – and a different shade of gold from when I’d last seen her – and her face was heavily painted. The wrapper clutched about her was so diaphanous it emphasised rather than concealed; damned erotic it was, too.

  She and Hastings both stared at me, then Hastings sank his head in his hands.

  ‘Good day, Lord Robsart,’ said Jane, curtseying in a way that made the most of her bosom. ‘I am sorry to intrude; I heard the door bang and thought you had gone. Forgive me.’

  ‘Of course, madam,’ said I with all the worldly grace at my command, and she grinned at me. I couldn’t help smiling back, and in that moment I knew I could have had her for the asking. Then she retired demurely upstairs.

  ‘I know how it looks,’ Hastings mumbled. ‘She and Edward loved each other, they really did, and he was my friend, yet not a month after his death she’s in my bed.’

  ‘It’s not my business, Will.’

  His bleary eyes blinked painfully at me. ‘I love her, you see. Always did. Jealous of the King. And of Dorset, he’s had her too. He’s young, and handsome and I think she wants him... she won’t stay with me. But I love her! I can’t help it that I love her!’

  The lover’s cry down through the ages. ‘Of course not,’ I said, more embarrassed by the confession than by the sight of the near-naked Jane. ‘And it is none of my concern.’

  ‘She’ll go to Dorset sooner or later. But I think she’s a little bit fond of me.’

  ‘I’m sure she is. Will, it’s not my business. I don’t care. Now tell me what else I need to know about the situation here. The Woodvilles.’

  ‘Yes ...’ His mind was upstairs with Jane, but he said, ‘I dislike and resent Dorset, but everything I have told you is true. People are getting nervous, the Woodvilles are being altogether too blatant about grabbing power. When I had Richard’s letter proclaimed, people started swinging back away from the Queen’s party. Richard is Protector, he has the rightful authority. But Dorset said, first, that that would end with the King’s coronation, then, second, that it only made Richard another member of the Council – primus inter pares. That of course was going much too far for even the Dorset party. But Richard has to get here, Martin! He has to seize the King and bring him here – and soon! Where is he?’

  ‘He should be about at Northampton now, meeting up with the King and Rivers.’

  ‘And only three hundred men with him? Not enough.’

  ‘But he cannot be seen to sweep down with an army, Will.’

  ‘No, s’pose not. Well, as long as he secures the King and gets here fast.’

  Seeing me to the door Hastings muttered, shamefaced, ‘About Jane – don’t tell Richard. He’d never understand.’

  ‘Wouldn’t he?’

  ~~~

  I gathered news on my own account. I did this by putting on nondescript clothes and leaving off my jewels, and hanging around the markets and the inns at the busiest times. I took John, and taught him the art of eking out a drink and looking gormless; it’s amazing what you can pick up, besides fleas.

  It was as Hastings had said. People mourned Edward and feared the reign of a child-king. No one trusted the Woodvilles or wanted them in power. Hastings’ proclaiming Richard’s letter had had good effect; some people said, What do we want with a fellow who’s spent all his life up with the barbarians? but most said, He’s the late King’s brother, the hero of the Scottish war, and if King Edward wanted him to look after things that’s good enough for us. In one inn a tall fellow was holding forth, saying he had heard Gloucester was bringing down an army of twenty thousand men to kill all the Queen’s family and take power for himself – ‘And the Queen should be Regent, she’s got the right.’

  Never! – was the general reaction, but the fellow went on, ‘She were Regent when the King went to France back in 1475.’ He wasn’t quite right, but it was a sophisticated argument for a grubby nobody. I took another look at him, and knew I was in luck.

  Putting on the almost forgotten rustic accent of my youth I said, ‘Hey, you was with Dorset when he visited the siege at Berwick.’

  ‘I were not!’

  ‘You was. I were with Lord Howard an’ I see you there. Not that your master ’ung around too long. Didn’t like war. No wonder you’re all for ’im and ’is sister.’

  Mocking cries came from the other drinkers. ‘And I ’eard,’ I went on, ‘that your master and the Queen didn’t even tell the old Duchess of York the King was dead, nor the King’s sisters neither. I’ve got a cousin over that way and ’e told me.’

  Cries of Shame! or ruder equivalents.

  ‘Well, if Gloucester comes,’ argued this Demosthenes of Deptford, ‘it’ll be King Dick before you know it. Mad for power, Gloucester is.’

  ‘Better than King Tom,’ I quipped, ‘with the poor little King shut away in his schoolroom while his mother’s family ruins the country like old Margaret of Anjou did with poor King Henry. Gloucester is Protector by the King’s will, and what’s good enough for King Edw
ard’s good enough for me.’

  On the principle of quitting while you’re ahead, I finished my drink and took John away.

  ~~~

  Next day I received Richard’s letter. It was a triumph. He had peacefully secured the King and was on his way to London.

  After he had left Middleham a letter had come from the Duke of Buckingham saying, roughly, that this was a time for the men of the old royal blood to stick together and he was Richard’s man in everything – where and when could they meet? Richard had replied saying, Meet me at Northampton where Rivers has agreed I’ll meet up with the King’s retinue, and bring no more than three hundred men.

  Richard arrived at Northampton at the agreed time, but there was no sign of the King. He and his party had ridden on to Stony Stratford – fourteen miles nearer London, giving Richard the slip. However, back came Earl Rivers with a mouthful of excuses about there not being enough room in Northampton for the two parties. (This would have surprised the proprietors of Northampton’s excellent inns.) However, Richard put a good face on it, and invited Rivers to dine with him, and while they were at dinner Buckingham arrived.

  ‘I had forgotten what good company Harry is,’ Richard wrote, ‘and he is well-read and witty, and the three of us found much in common. It was a lively and cordial evening, odd though this may sound in the circumstances. However, there was clearly fishy business afoot, and when Rivers agreed we would leave for Stony Stratford at dawn to meet the King, we were up earlier and surrounded Rivers’ inn and kept him under guard. He acted bewildered, wondering that we could think anything wrong, but of course could do nothing but accept it. Harry and I then rode on to Stony Stratford, where it was no surprise to find the King’s party already on the road and apparently believing that I had been ‘dealt with’. I did not enjoy explaining to the young King what I had done – of course he can think no wrong of his uncle Rivers. Nor did he know the late King had appointed me Protector; this had of course been carefully kept from him. And nor could he understand for a long time that his mother and Dorset have been acting improperly. However, he accepted my authority and we returned to Northampton. I had to place Sir Richard Grey, the King’s half-brother, and old Vaughan under guard also, for they were evidently deep in the plot to hurry the King to London and overthrow my authority. But in the end all passed off peacefully, without the trouble or bloodshed I feared. The young King neither likes nor trusts me, but this was to be expected in the circumstances and I hope we will soon be on better terms. We expect to be in London on the fourth day of May.’