Maximilian of Burgundy wrote in the friendliest of terms, greeting the new King. But the French fleet was prowling the Channel raiding our shipping, and what old Louis might get up to was anyone’s guess. Brittany and Scotland, likewise. However, for the moment there was no sign of international trouble, we could get on with domestic affairs.
Fourteen
June–July 1483
Crosby’s Place had a cat. A lost and starving kitten, the animal had wandered in a year or two ago and decided this was home. The steward tolerated him because he was a good mouser, and somehow he had acquired the name Tiddles. Now a plump, sleek patriarch, he took a great interest in Richard’s Council meetings, sauntering up and down the table sniffing the ink and sitting with feline skill on precisely the one document that was needed. From time to time he turned kittenish and chased the ends of our quills, causing many a blot and spoiled paper. Kendal hated him and wouldn’t allow him in the clerks’ room. At night he shared his favours around – Tiddles, I mean, not Kendal – and tonight he was lying on my stomach, paws tucked under, purring loudly. Innogen was almost asleep, her head on my shoulder, and absently I stroked both wife and cat, pondering the day’s incidents.
Late in May things had seemed so settled that Richard had sent for Anne. She and the other Middleham ladies had arrived two days ago, on June the fifth, and today Anne had paid a ceremonial call on the King. Richard being busy, I had escorted her, taking John and my son Martin for the King’s sake, and Innogen, Katherine and our two oldest children for theirs.
Recently moved from the Bishop’s Palace to the pleasanter surroundings of the Tower, the King had been pleased to see us. He was lonely, poor lad, and bored with business. Charmed by Anne, whom he had met only once, but a good deal more interested in Katherine and Cecily, he gave us wine and sweetmeats then suggested we look at the Tower menagerie. To be frank, this wasn’t all that exciting – some exotic birds, several of whom talked; a dromedary remarkably like Doctor Morton; hunting cats; turtles; monkeys and apes of different kinds.
‘I wish the elephant were still here,’ the King said, ‘and it would be interesting to have a camelopard – I saw a picture of one once in a Bestiary. But perhaps they are not real.’
‘What’s a camelopard?’
The King turned eagerly to Katherine. ‘In the book it had a body a bit like a horse but much longer legs, and a neck at least ten feet long, and a little head rather like a cow’s but with little stubby horns. And its body was covered with great spots.’
‘A neck that long? Wouldn’t it fall over? Surely they can’t be real?’
‘I believe they are,’ Innogen said. ‘My father owned several ships and he traded all over the Mediterranean Sea. He said he had seen a camelopard. Twenty feet high, he said, and they run very fast and gracefully.’
‘I would like to see one,’ the King said wistfully. ‘I wonder if they are easily found? And I’ve heard of all sorts of other beasts in Africa and the Indies.’
‘You can fund explorers and send ships to all sorts of places,’ Anne suggested. ‘They could bring back beasts for your menagerie.’
‘I could.’ His eyes lit up. ‘There must be all kinds of marvels. Of course I’ve read Pliny and Herodotus, and although many of the tales cannot be true, one still wonders. Alexander the Great used to send back plants and strange beasts to Aristotle. And I once heard a tale that the Vikings sailed westward, oh, about a thousand years ago, and found a new land! And they say that in Africa people are black all over and go about naked, and some have their heads sunk beneath their shoulders. I wonder if any of it is true.’ Boyish, he cried, ‘I’d like to go to sea!’ The last word echoed as he spun about, his arms out-stretched.
‘Become one of the Merchant Adventurers, Sire, and send out explorers. There are even stories of a great land in the south below the Indies – but sailors’ tales grow taller with every voyage. Ask Lord Howard to take you out in one of his ships.’
I suppose it is still the same, but in my day several hundred people lived in the Tower, the keepers and soldiers, the gardeners and animal keepers, the men in charge of the various Crown departments. In the warm June weather Tower Green was as busy as any country town. Women were hanging washing in the sun, others were enjoying a gossip while their children played. Looking at these simple occupations the King said suddenly, ‘I would like my brother for company, even though we don’t know each other well. And my sisters; I like Bess. But...’ We were on delicate ground here. The Queen-Dowager still refused to leave Sanctuary, and nor would she permit any of her children to leave. It had caused ill-feeling between Richard and the King.
‘Ask your mother,’ Anne suggested. The King looked at her in surprise. ‘Why not, Your Grace? Visit her or write to her and say you want your brother and sisters for company; her too, of course.’ Though I doubted Elizabeth Woodville had seen her elder son more than four times since he was sent to Ludlow at the age of three.
‘But – she fears – ’ The King was too well mannered to say to Richard’s wife that the Woodvilles feared her husband. Anne walked on for a moment in silence.
‘Let’s be blunt,’ she said at last. ‘Your mother acted unwisely. Indiscreetly. Of course she was distraught at your father’s death, and it is hard to think clearly at such times. And, to be even blunter, after wielding great power for twenty years your mother had no mind to step back to the lesser role of Queen Mother. That’s very natural. But she and Lord Dorset let themselves be persuaded into rash and even illegal actions. In short, they thought of you not as King and their master, but as a little boy who couldn’t think for himself and whose government they could control.’
Clever Anne – that brought the King’s head up, and a mulish look very reminiscent of his father to his face.
Pretending not to notice she went on, ‘My husband was your father’s choice for Protector, not your mother or Lord Dorset or even your uncle Rivers. You have made it plain you are content to trust your father’s judgement, and I believe Richard’s actions since April prove that judgement was not misplaced. He is prepared to let bygones be bygones. Your mother knows she has nothing to fear, but no doubt she feels rather foolish. Let them only come to your Court as your family should, and no one will refer to the past.’
‘But – would my uncle – ’
‘He would welcome them in your name,’ Anne said smoothly, ‘and make it plain they were to be treated with honour.’
‘I see. I’ll think about it.’
We were back at the State apartments and making the phrases of farewell when the King blushed again and asked if John and Martin – and Katherine and Cecily too if they’d like – could stay on for a little.
‘Of course, Your Grace.’ So the King was old enough to take an interest in pretty girls. ‘And why not make up a party one day to go on the river, or ride out in the country? – By the way, isn’t that Lord Stanley over there with Rotherham and Doctor Morton?’ I had first noticed them when the King had spun happily about as he talked of going to sea.
‘Oh yes,’ the King said indifferently, ‘they often meet here.’ The Council had split into different groups that met here, at Westminster, at Crosby’s Place, each group managing a different branch of the royal business. ‘Lord Hastings is usually with them. Lord Stanley’s wife Lady Margaret Beaufort came to see me the other day.’ His tone suggested it had been no meeting of minds.
‘I see. Well, good day to Your Grace. Children, don’t be late for supper.’
A pleasant little occasion, and the children had come home chattering of the fun they had had feeding the Tower ravens and exploring some of the buildings; to them, being King was a fine thing because it meant being able to command any game you wanted. But what stuck in my mind, and kept me awake, was that brief sighting of Morton and Stanley. Something about it had been wrong.
The problem nagged at me. Asleep, Innogen turned over with her back to me. I did the same, making the cat growl crossly. He settled down besid
e me, however, purring away. Purring. Yes, that was it. Stanley and Morton had been too much at ease, too casual. They had looked less like colleagues than conspirators. Colleagues parting after a routine meeting have no need to stand so studiedly in public view to say goodbye.
And the King had said Hastings was often with them. There should have been nothing in that to make me uneasy – except that Hastings had never liked Morton or Stanley, he tried to avoid them. But Hastings had changed these last few weeks. I believe he had expected Richard and Buckingham to act for him and take the King, and then hand over to the older man. Hastings had been the late King’s closest friend; he had stood firm and averted trouble in the first days. Yet once Richard arrived Hastings found himself only one among many. And perhaps it had always rankled that Edward had not named him Protector. So yes, he had changed lately.
Perhaps he was jealous of Buckingham. Hastings had known Richard since he was a child, he had twenty years’ experience at the late King’s side, yet suddenly there was this new man claiming Richard’s friendship and confidence. Claiming great rewards.
Buckingham had already been made Chief Justice and Chamberlain of Wales, and given powers of supervision and array in five counties, in which he was also Constable of all royal castles and steward of all royal lands. Doesn’t sound very great? But these were the sort of powers Edward had given Richard himself, and they made Buckingham overlord, ruler in fact, of Wales and the West Country. And Richard had earned his honours. Oh yes, Buckingham was the great man now, and put beside the grants to him, those made to other men of longer loyalty seemed modest. It was as if Buckingham had such a hold on Richard that he had only to ask and he received. And Buckingham’s more flamboyant personality made it seem that he, not Richard, was ruling the roost.
But that was another matter. My mind still ran on that oddly furtive little meeting in the Tower. Morton had detested Richard since the business of the French treaty back in 1475. Rotherham’s stupid games with the Great Seal had made it plain where his loyalties lay. No one could count the times Stanley had turned his coat in the past twenty years, and he was married to the arch-Lancastrian Lady Margaret Beaufort, who in turn was thick as thieves with Morton. No, I didn’t like it. Little to go on except a pricking in my thumbs, but I didn’t like it. ‘I had better tell Richard, hadn’t I?’ I asked Tiddles, but the cat only flicked his ears irritably.
Richard did much the same when I told him. He questioned me in the sternly gentle way he used with witnesses in law cases, until I ended up shuffling my feet and admitting that all I had seen was three councillors going about their rightful business. ‘And what is there in that, Martin?’
‘Nothing. Except it didn’t feel right.’
‘Duly noted.’ He looked impatient. I felt a fool.
‘But if Hastings is often with them?’
‘So?’
‘So nothing.’
‘Very well. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to play tennis with Harry.’
‘Enjoy yourself,’ I said, but I doubt if it really stung.
~~~
To my fury, the next day Richard solemnly told me that Buckingham was uneasy about things he was hearing about Morton, Rotherham and Stanley.
‘That’s what I said.’
Richard had the grace to laugh and apologise. ‘But Harry has a little more to go on than merely seeing them leaving the Tower. Hastings is more and more often with them, and Lady Margaret Beaufort has been visiting the Queen – and so has Jane Shore. Interesting?’
‘I imagine any conversation she has with the Queen would be interesting, yes. Jane Shore. Visiting the Queen. And she is still with Hastings.’
‘Oh yes. So it does begin to look as if there’s a rat in the wainscoting.’ He glanced up, amusement warming his eyes. ‘I didn’t entirely disregard what you said then listen panting to Buckingham. But he’s better than you at picking up gossip.’
‘Perhaps,’ I couldn’t resist, ‘he’s hearing things from the Woodville end?’
‘Possibly,’ Richard said thoughtfully.
‘I’d have a word with William Catesby if I were you,’ I suggested.
‘Why?’
‘A bit of gossip. He’s always been Hastings’ man, but now he’s uneasy. Find the time to have a quiet word.’
~~~
For there was definitely something afoot, no mere figment of my imagination – or Buckingham’s. Once alerted, we heard more and more hints, until it became clear it was some Lancastrian-Woodville plot to overthrow the Protector. Dick Ratcliffe, who was married to Catesby’s wife’s stepsister, took Catesby aside, but if Hastings was involved, Catesby was no longer in his confidence – a fact suspicious in itself. For once thoroughly in accord, Buckingham and I – and Richard’s other friends – guarded him more closely, and sent out our own spies.
~~~
Only the last item on the agenda paper remained: the list of gentlemen to be knighted after the coronation. Kendal put a neat tick, and we pushed back our chairs, stretching with relief. It was a stuffy, hot night. Even with every window open we were sweating.
‘Bishop Stillington is waiting to see you, Richard. He says it is urgent and important.’
Shuffling his papers together, Richard made a little grimace. He and I had planned to go on the river tonight, taking our wives and making merry. In our minds we were already out in the cooler air, trailing our hands in the water and listening to the minstrels while we drank cold wine. Stillington was a decent old boy, but long-winded. ‘Has he waited long?’
‘Sir, all day. He says he will wait until you see him.’
‘Oh, very well.’ Richard tugged at the laces of his shirt, vaguely trying to make himself tidy. ‘Bring us something cool to drink, but drop a hint that I would be glad to be finished soon.’
Age had shrunken and stooped the Bishop. His rings hung loose on his knotty fingers, and he gazed short-sightedly about as he made his way to the table. Kendal held a chair for him, and he sank down, peering at Richard.
‘Your Grace, I have some information for you. It is of the first importance. I have sinned in keeping secret what I have to tell you.’
‘Sinned, my lord? Surely not.’
‘Oh yes,’ the old fellow said sadly. ‘Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. Your Grace, the late King Edward’s son cannot be crowned. He cannot inherit the throne. He is illegitimate. When he married Elizabeth Woodville, King Edward was already married.’
Fifteen
The words meant nothing at first. People were hardly listening. Then one by one every head turned towards the Bishop.
Frowning, Richard said, ‘Bishop, there was always gossip about my brother the King. Perhaps you have merely heard – ’
‘Oh no, Your Grace. You see, I married them.’
The silence held and held. Suddenly Richard slammed his hand hard down on the table and said, ‘Speak plainly, man. Married whom? And when?’
‘In 1461 I married your brother the late King Edward to Lady Eleanor Butler.’
Now you could have cut the tension with a knife. We had all expected some nonsense story about Elizabeth Lucy or another of Edward’s known mistresses. The name of one of the highest-born ladies in the land stopped us flat. Lady Eleanor Butler...
Lord Howard said incredulously, ‘Can you be serious, man? Lady Eleanor? Eleanor Talbot? The Earl of Shrewsbury’s daughter?’
‘Yes. Edward was eighteen. She was a widow and nearly ten years older.’
His face the colour of parchment Richard said, ‘You cannot expect us to believe this.’
‘I have proofs, Your Grace. It was a binding troth-plight – ’
Richard let out a breath, relaxing. ‘You said marriage, before!’
‘It comes to the same thing, sir. A formal troth-plight, a pre-contact of marriage, before witnesses, is as binding as marriage.’ Several men around the table nodded. Such a promise was binding, test cases in courts of law had established that; not even witnesses were necessary if a
promise was solemnly made. ‘And,’ the Bishop added, his voice twisting, ‘it was consummated.’
Of course. Knowing Edward, that was the object of the exercise.
‘Are you saying,’ Richard asked, ‘that the late king was contracted in what the church and civil law consider the equivalent of binding marriage, to Lady Eleanor Butler, three years before he married Elizabeth Woodville? That the later marriage was invalid? Bigamous, in fact?’
‘Yes, Your Grace.’
I thought Richard would faint. I snapped my fingers at the pageboy for wine, and had to hold Richard’s hand around the cup, he was shaking so much.
‘But that means,’ Buckingham said shrilly, ‘that the new King is a bastard!’
‘Yes.’
‘Now steady on.’ Howard’s calm East Anglian voice was a breath of sanity. ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Lady Eleanor went into a convent, didn’t she, and she died when? ’68, if I remember rightly?’ After a moment’s thought, Richard and the Bishop both nodded. Lady Eleanor had been some sort of cousin to Richard; she was certainly Anne’s cousin through her mother. ‘Well then, we’ll find the late King went through another and a legal marriage with Elizabeth Woodville after Lady Eleanor’s death. That would mean all but the two eldest girls are legitimate.’
‘Yes.’ Colour was returning to Richard’s face; too much colour. His eyes shone like a fever victim’s. ‘Yes of course he must have done that. The Queen would have insisted.’
‘If she knew,’ said Buckingham.
‘Oh, she knew. There must have been a second marriage and she will have proof of it. Doctor Russell, you and Lord Howard and the Archbishop go at once to Westminster Sanctuary and see the Queen. Tell her what Bishop Stillington has revealed. Assure her on the Cross that if she produces proofs of her second and valid marriage to my brother, and her sons are legitimate, the tale will not be made public. Go now. Gentlemen, none of you may leave until they return.’
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