No one spoke when they left. Awkwardly we drank wine, stood about. Waiting. Richard said suddenly, ‘Doctor Stillington, did my brother George know of this pre-contract business?’ Willing him to say no, to leave him something of Edward to respect.
But the Bishop bowed his head and said, ‘Yes. Clarence knew.’
I saw understanding work like yeast in the other faces. Buckingham said, ‘So, Bishop, do I recall correctly – you were imprisoned at the same time as Clarence?’
‘Yes.’
‘For the same reason? I mean, for this reason? Because you knew this secret?’
Again the Bishop’s head bent in a nod. ‘Yes, Your Grace. I should have spoken out then – ’
‘Before then!’
‘Yes. I was weak. I’ve done penance... I was weak and venal. Prison and a crippling fine frightened me... I could bear no more. I would not risk the king’s wrath. I am not the stuff of martyrs.’
O shut up, shut up, I silently begged him. Again it was Buckingham who said the unsayable. ‘Why didn’t Clarence speak out in ’78? Think – he was tried before Parliament, no one ever believed much in those treason charges – why did he not tell this story then?’
‘He loved his children.’
Silences can have their own character, and I’d not live through that moment again. No wonder Edward had refused to let Richard see George. No wonder he had refused to listen even to his mother’s pleas. I remembered that weird secret audience I had had with him – this had been in his mind. He had nearly weakened, but the Queen had persuaded him. He had put his brother to death to protect this old secret. He had threatened his brother’s children.
~~~
It was nearly two hours before Howard and Russell returned. We had sat in silence so profound that a sigh, or the cat scratching, had the power to make us jump and feel instinctively for weapons. For the last hour Richard had stood at the window, hands stretched high on the embrasure, staring out sightlessly into the courtyard. I think he was praying.
We knew at once from Howard’s expression. Still no one spoke. Richard turned very slowly, and his nephew Lincoln went to his side. ‘No second marriage,’ Howard said. ‘She knew at once why we had come. She tried to lie, then broke down and admitted the truth. It is as Bishop Stillington says. The late King told her the truth in ’77.’
‘Poor woman,’ Richard said. Buckingham smothered a grin, but I knew Richard meant it. He had never liked Elizabeth Woodville, but he could feel for her. To marry in good faith, to bear a string of children, to glory in your power as Queen: then to find your husband had made a whore of you and bastards of your children... Poor woman indeed.
‘Yes,’ said Howard, for he too had imagination and compassion. ‘There was no way for the King and Queen of England to re-marry in secret; the story would have got out. They would have needed witnesses, it would not have been enough to have, say, Stillington, perform the marriage in secret. And there were the children. They preferred to gamble on the Butler pre-contract never coming out, they thought Stillington had been sufficiently frightened to keep silence.’
‘People always did say the Woodville woman bewitched Edward into that marriage,’ said Buckingham. ‘It’s the only explanation.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Richard. ‘No wonder they were in such a hurry to crown the new King. They would have made a bastard King of England. And blamed their rush on me, saying they feared me. I w-wondered why th-they sh-should fear me, all I’ve ever w-wanted is to live in the n-north and s-serve the king as I’ve always d-done, I’ve h-hated everything that’s happened since Edward died, since G-George died – ’
‘Easy, lad,’ said Howard, and under his breath to Francis and me, ‘For God’s sake get him out.’
‘But we have to settle this!’ cried Buckingham. ‘Don’t you understand what this means?’
‘It means nothing until we decide it does.’ A burly man, Howard crossed the room and took Richard’s arm, half-lifting him. ‘You go along now, lad, you’ve had enough for the night. Leave this to us.’ Unceremoniously he bundled Richard to the door. Francis and I took over, hustling him along the corridor to his room.
We dismissed his servants and sat him on his bed, took off his boots and outer clothing. He let us do it, moving when we told him, stiff as a child’s wooden doll. Rob had stayed to obtain wine. ‘Drink it,’ he said sternly. Richard obeyed. Rob turned the bed down and we swung our unresponsive lord about and tucked him in. His favourite wolfhound Ludlow leapt up onto the bed beside him, licked his face, then curled up. Richard patted him, and in a moment they were both asleep.
‘That’s done it,’ Rob said in satisfaction. ‘Valerian in the wine. Else he’d’ve been awake all night. I’ll stay with him, you two get rid of everyone. And better tell the women.’
All but Howard had gone. He sat with Kendal at the table, tickling the cat under the chin. ‘Threw ’em all out,’ he said simply. ‘Even that chatterbox Buckingham. Told them if one word of this gets out they’re for it, duke or commoner I’ll fix them personally. Put the fear of God up them. I’ve sent to double the guard on Sanctuary and the – the King.’
‘Good.’ I felt as tired as after a battle. ‘Richard’s asleep. Lord Howard, what will happen now?’
‘God alone knows. It’s a matter for the full Council, for Parliament.’ He rose wearily. ‘I’m for my bed. Guard Richard. We’ll meet tomorrow. Goodnight.’
~~~
We told the women, and again I’d not go through that twice. At first Elizabeth Suffolk flatly refused to believe it, then, convinced, she said, ‘So my brother Edward was nothing but a... a conscienceless... No wonder he went to pieces after he put George to death. But why didn’t he marry Elizabeth properly once Lady Eleanor died?’
We repeated what Howard had said: impossible to keep it secret; any doubt would cloud their children’s rights.
‘And they had two more children after George died. Even then.’
White to the lips Anne said, ‘Does the pre-contract necessarily invalidate the Woodville marriage? Is there no way out?’
‘Stillington says it was a binding pre-contract of marriage, verba de praesenti, witnessed, consummated. It is the same as a marriage. And Edward married Elizabeth Woodville in secret, remember all the talk at the time? We wondered then if a clandestine marriage was legal.’
‘No wonder it was clandestine,’ Innogen snapped. ‘But how could Edward? And why didn’t Lady Eleanor speak out when he married Elizabeth Woodville? She was a high-born woman with a powerful and influential family, she had proofs of the pre-contract – why didn’t she speak out?’
Wearily, my head throbbing, I said, ‘She had gone into a convent. She told Stillington she believed she had sinned in yielding to Edward. Same pattern as with Elizabeth – older woman who wouldn’t lie with him without marriage. Stillington thinks Edward convinced her the pre-contract wasn’t binding. And many people feared the Woodvilles.’
A long silence fell. At last Anne said, ‘They will try to make Richard king now, won’t they?’
‘It hasn’t come to that, not – ’
‘They will, won’t they?’
‘Probably.’
She swung around to stare at us. ‘Probably – certainly! Who else is there?’
‘George’s son,’ Suffolk said. ‘Little Lord Warwick.’
‘God help us, we’d be no better off! He’s, what, eight? And – George’s son! Even if the country accepted him – which it won’t – George died under attainder, a traitor.’
‘Well then,’ said Anne in a voice I’d never heard her use before, ‘it must be you, Lincoln. The late King’s nephew, son of his eldest sister; of age; no taint of any kind on your birth or background. It must be you.’
‘No,’ Lincoln whispered in horror. ‘I don’t want it. I won’t.’
‘No, he will not,’ said his mother, standing and looking down at Anne. ‘Not my son.’
Anne looked right back at her. ‘Not my husband.’
‘It must be Richard,’ said Elizabeth in the implacable voice of truth, ‘because the protection of the Crown is all that can save him and all of us from the Woodvilles and the Lancastrians. Be queen, Anne, or be a widow in a week.’
~~~
She was right. Elizabeth Woodville told her cronies of Howard’s night visit, and either she told the truth of its reason, or made it seem Richard was making some bid for the throne. Suddenly Hastings’ men were everywhere, armed and wearing brigandines. The Stanley-Morton-Rotherham group was always together. Lady Margaret Beaufort and Jane Shore were in and out of the Woodville rooms in Sanctuary like mice. And finally Catesby came to Richard’s council and spilled the beans. Hastings had trusted him with the whole story. Hastings was deep in conspiracy with the Woodvilles, the Stanleys and Morton. They planned to overthrow Richard, crown young Edward, make Hastings Protector. Not two months before Hastings had used Richard to overthrow the Woodvilles; now he would use the Woodvilles to overthrow Richard. Warwick had once deserted all his old loyalties to make a compact with Margaret of Anjou; now Hastings would do the same and join the Woodvilles.
Every day more proofs came in. People talked. Secret papers were secret no longer. Things were moving quickly. Richard wrote desperately to York for men. And on Friday the thirteenth of June, ill-omened day, he called a full Council meeting at the Tower.
Everyone assembled, pretending fellowship and ease, Morton talking of the fine strawberries he grew at his Holborn house. The doors were locked. Richard rose and addressed us.
There were those, he said, who cared nothing for good government and the old royal blood, those who for their own ends would overthrow his rightful authority as Protector and return the country to the days of civil war and bloodshed. ‘These people,’ he said, ‘are guilty of treason.’
The word was a signal. Armed guards entered. The doors were locked again. ‘I name these conspirators guilty of treason,’ Richard said. His voice was cool and very clear. ‘I name the Dame Grey, late Dowager Queen Elizabeth. I name her brother Lionel Woodville, Bishop of Salisbury. I name her son the Marquis of Dorset.’ He took a breath. He could not, I noticed, bear to look at Hastings. Bleakly he continued, ‘I name you, Doctor Rotherham. You, Doctor Morton. You, Thomas, Lord Stanley. I name Mistress Jane Shore. And I name you, William, Lord Hastings.’
‘No!’ cried Hastings and leaping to his feet he drew his sword. At once the guards seized him and disarmed him.
‘Yes,’ said Richard very quietly. ‘Yes, Lord Hastings. I name you.’
‘Richard... ’
‘Catesby told us everything. We have the proof, there on the table.’
Hastings slumped against the men holding him. He began to cry. None of the other conspirators had spoken since Richard named them.
‘Richard,’ Hastings whispered, ‘we were friends once.’
‘Yes. We were. Once. And you betrayed me. You betrayed my brother. You betrayed the House of York. You would have brought this country to murder and civil war... ’ He looked at the guards. ‘Take him out. Get a priest. Have him shriven. Then execute him.’
Hastings broke. Weeping, shouting, struggling, he begged, he repented. He thrust his fellow conspirators deeper into the mire of blame. He screamed as they took him away.
It was over in five minutes. I daresay it was only in our imaginations that from that distance we heard the blow that beheaded Hastings down on Tower Green.
‘Bury him at Windsor,’ said Richard, ‘beside my brother Edward. It was the wish of both of them.’
‘And the rest of us?’ Doctor Morton asked coolly; no blubbering or pleas from him. ‘Are we to die also?’
‘No. Prison. For all of you. For now.’
They had hardly been taken away before a guard burst in to say that the news had got out. The city was in uproar. Treason – executions in the Tower – Hastings dead – plots and conspiracies – many-tongued Rumour was loose in London. Men were putting on their armour.
Richard sent for Mayor Shaa, and soon a royal herald was proclaiming the news in the streets that a plot to destroy the Lord Protector and the Duke of Buckingham and overthrow the King’s rightful government had been detected, and dealt with. The conspirators had been taken, there was nothing to fear.
And, with juicy gossip to enliven the evenings, the city settled down again.
~~~
There was a full Council meeting that night. There was some censure of Richard’s peremptory execution of Hastings; surely, men said, he had been entitled to a trial? But when the proofs of the conspiracy were tabled there was no more than quiet censure. Richard’s action had prevented an uprising; no one wanted armed bands fighting in the London streets. Nor did anyone argue when Richard called for Rivers and Grey to be executed for treason.
We had almost finished for the night when Buckingham said, ‘I think the time has come to get the little Duke of York out of Sanctuary.’
The Archbishop of Canterbury looked aghast at Buckingham. ‘Get him out? Violate Sanctuary?’
‘No one is talking of violating Sanctuary rights. But anyway, has a child, who is sinless, such a right?’
It was a fine point of ecclesiastical law. The Archbishop pursed his lips.
Buckingham continued, ‘And the little boy has no need of Sanctuary, it is purely his mother’s doing, she took Sanctuary for fear of retribution for her scheming against us. That does not affect her children. The – the King wants his brother’s company; Prince Richard must be at the coronation. While I respect your arguments, my lord Archbishop, I would argue in return that it is the Queen who, in holding her children needlessly there, makes a mockery of the holy right of Sanctuary.’
The argument went on for some time. Richard took no part in it, I think he hardly knew what was being discussed. In the end the bishops and temporal lords overcame the Archbishop’s objections: little Prince Richard should be brought out of Sanctuary.
On the Monday, June the sixteenth, the Archbishop went himself, with Lord Howard and others of the Council. Howard told me later that Elizabeth Woodville enacted a fine old scene, clutching her son to her breast and screeching that he was going to his death. ‘She even managed a few tears,’ Howard said in disgust. ‘But she could hardly argue that the Archbishop was going to encompass a child’s death, and the boy himself couldn’t wait to get out of the place. In the end she gave in quite quickly. I felt sorry for the girls, though – poor Lady Bess begged me to get them out too.’
~~~
Did, we his friends, urge Richard to take the Crown? Of course we did.
Much as we all liked John Lincoln, he genuinely did not want it, sensible man, and there would always be those who would argue that although England has no Salic law, his descent through the female line made his right inferior to Richard’s. Also, he was barely twenty-one. Richard had the experience, the skill, the trust of the people; he had a growing son as his heir.
Also we thought Richard had no real choice. Probably when his brother’s children came of age the rebellions and uprisings would begin again – well, let ’em, we thought; let the Woodvilles try to put a bastard on the throne. By then Richard would have reigned for several years, his sensible rule would have shown the people they were well off, his son, too, would be almost of age.
And we, his friends, would rise or fall with him. No one could turn time back. The late king had left this situation; his children were bastards. Richard had never schemed for the crown, but now it was his for the asking. Let him take it.
But O, for the gift of foresight! Had we known, we would have put Lincoln or little Warwick on the throne, even concealed the truth that Edward the Fifth – never, in fact, to be Edward the Fifth – was a bastard, and let him rule, and gone quietly back to the north. But I daresay things would have fallen out as they did whoever was king.
So the pre-contract story was revealed to the full Council, Stillington gave witness on oath and produced his proofs. Now there was no more doubt. No ch
ild of Edward IV’s could rule. It must be Richard.
On Sunday the twenty-second of June, Friar Ralph Shaa, brother of the Lord Mayor, proclaimed the truth from Paul’s Cross. He preached the Biblical text: Bastard slips shall take no root, then revealed the story of the Butler pre-contract. The late King’s marriage to Dame Elizabeth Grey, née Woodville, had been bigamous, no true marriage, and all their children were therefore illegitimate. The Duke of Clarence’s son, the Earl of Warwick, was debarred the throne by his father’s attainder. Therefore, Richard of Gloucester ...
I doubt it surprised anyone. The story had got about by then. To those cynics who thought Richard had trumped up the tale as a cover for his own ambitions, the name of Lady Eleanor Butler came as a shock. Her family was too powerful for her name to be so used unless the tale was true. And Edward had always been lecherous, and no one had ever liked the Woodville marriage. Pity about the children, but there you are. And here is Richard of Gloucester, the late King’s trusted and loyal brother, the hero of the civil wars and the saviour of England in the Border wars... Let it be Richard.
Buckingham had a wonderful time in those few days. He was ubiquitous. Speaking to the session of the Lords, addressing the chief citizens in the Guildhall, addressing Parliament again when Richard’s claim was formally put and accepted; leading the Lords and Prelates when Richard appeared before the citizens of London at Baynard’s Castle…
And when Buckingham finished his silver-tongued oratory and formally called upon Richard to accept the petition of Parliament and assume the throne, a great cheer went up from the people. They were in no doubt. They wanted Richard.
~~~
My childhood friend, my kinsman, the man I loved most in my life, that day rode to Westminster Hall and seated himself upon the marble chair of King’s Bench. By that simple action he became King.
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