‘You need have no concern,’ he went on. ‘The boys will be safe there. And this may not be the end of the story, Lisa. There have been cases in the past when persons declared illegitimate have been re-legitimised by Act of Parliament. This could happen again. Young Edward may yet rule.’
‘Really?’
It was a wonderful new hope. But my worry about the Tower had not gone.
‘It’s just – I mean – what if someone has the key?’ Dr Alcock looked affronted.
‘What are you suggesting? I can assure you that the people entrusted with care of the boys are scrupulously honourable men. There can be no question of unauthorised access.’
I curtsied and said, ‘Yes, sir. Of course.’
I learned later today that Uncle Richard has asked the City of York to send troops to protect him.
10th June 1483
I’ve found my way to Fleet Lane. My Uncle Bryn is little taller than Papa, a strong, brown-haired man, wearing a green baize apron.
He knows who I am at once, and enfolds me in a hug. ‘Lisa! There’s good to see you. I got your da’s letter.’
Strangely, the Welsh lilt of his voice is stronger than my father’s, despite years spent in London. His wife, Olwen, is Welsh as well. They have four children, about the same ages as my brothers and sisters. I stay to eat with them.
Bryn doesn’t want to be called Uncle. He says, ‘So Richard spread this scandal about Edward’s marriage, did he? And he owned the cartloads of guns at Northampton?’
‘No! You’ve got it all wrong.’
Bryn chuckles and Olwen scolds him. ‘There’s wicked you are.’ She turns to me and adds, ‘Don’t mind him, cariad. He’s only playing devil’s advocate.’
‘It’s best you know what’s being said,’ Bryn says. ‘Richard has a lot of enemies, and they are telling wild tales. But the King had faith in him. That’s why he made him Protector to the boys.’
‘Dr Alcock told me people born out of wedlock can be made legitimate again,’ I tell them. ‘A friend of mine says Henry Tudor’s grandfather was. So Edward might still be crowned.’
‘Go on? Well now, there’s a thing.’ Bryn thinks for a moment. Then he says, ‘If that’s true, your lovely lads are more of a danger to Henry than we thought.’
‘Their mother will be pleased, though,’ Olwen says, not seeing what Bryn means. ‘She’ll be so upset that young Edward won’t be crowned.’
‘Ah, but will she?’ Bryn says. ‘See, Edward is too young to rule on his own. That’s why his da appointed Richard as his guardian. If Edward is crowned, Richard will advise Edward on all decisions. In effect, he will really be the king.’
‘The power behind the throne,’ Olwen says.
‘Exactly. And that’s the last thing Elizabeth wants. She’ll get no favours out of Richard – she has no hold over him like she had over his brother.’
‘So what will she do?’ I ask.
‘My guess is, she’ll cosy up to the Lancasters and their Tudor boyo,’ Bryn says. ‘She won’t mind if her sons are in the Tower. She can take them a toffee apple from time to time, and pat their heads.’
Olwen is shocked.
‘There’s terrible,’ she says. ‘Whatever kind of woman would be like that?
‘The kind who is a ruthless politician,’ says Bryn.
***
A few days after that, Richard is taken to join Edward in the Tower. The servants say his mother clung to him and protested, but only for a while. Then she let him go.
20th June 1483
Everyone is agog with talk.
This morning Uncle Richard, as I still think of him, burst into a room in the Tower with a body of armed men and confronted his enemies, who were closeted in a meeting. Lord Stanley and John Morton, the Bishop of Ely, were arrested, along with others. So was Lord Hastings, and that must have been terrible for Richard, for Hastings is – or was – one of his oldest friends.
Morton is telling everyone that Hastings was dragged down to the courtyard and beheaded at once on a chopping block, but this is a lie. The soldiers took him with the others, to stand trial next week. Richard has issued a proclamation giving details of the plot to assassinate him.
How did he know about it, I wonder? Somebody must have told him. Bryn thinks it was Stanley and Morton. That would explain why they were released at once. They were only arrested so nobody would suspect them. But what they did today may not be what they will do tomorrow.
There is something strange about Richard. He never seems to know who is trustworthy and who is not. For such a clever man, it is odd that he doesn’t see what a glance or the flick of an eyebrow may mean. Maybe that is why he gets on so well with children, who are direct and don’t use those unspoken messages. Or perhaps Warwick’s betrayal when he was still no more than a boy left him constantly hoping that someone, somewhere, will be bound by loyalty, as his own motto proclaims.
‘Poor Uncle Richard,’ I say. ‘Will nobody help him?
Olwen says, ‘There’s plenty would like to, cariad. But they don’t dare.’
A different coronation
The reason Edward and Richard cannot inherit the throne has been explained clearly to the public. Notices have been put up everywhere, and a clergyman with the odd name of Ralph Shaa, whose half-brother is the Mayor of London, preached a sermon outside Old St Paul’s Church, telling a great crowd of people about Edward IV’s previous marriage.
The Parliament is drawing up a document detailing exactly why Richard must accept the throne. It is called Titulus Regius, which is Latin for Royal Title. Several copies of it are to be lodged in different places of safety so that even in the future, people can read it and know the truth.
Richard delayed for weeks about accepting the crown, but there was a public petition in favour of his coronation, and thousands of people signed. It was presented to him on the 26th of last month, and when he saw those countless pages of names, he at last gave in.
6th July 1483
Today was the coronation of Richard III of England.
I work as a chambermaid now and was busy making up beds and cleaning, so I saw nothing of it, but Bryn and Olwen said you could not get anywhere near the Abbey for the crowds. Richard obviously wanted to show he hoped for peace between York and Lancaster, because people from both families were invited. Margaret Beaufort, Henry Tudor’s mother, carried the Queen’s train, and that is a tremendous honour. But since she is now married to Lord Stanley, she may be laughing up her embroidered sleeve about Richard’s hopes.
She has not had a very happy life, though. She was only twelve years old when Edmund Tudor took her as his wife, and he died a few months later, so she was alone when she gave birth to her baby son, and barely thirteen. The labour nearly killed her. She never had any more children, and people say it is because she was so badly injured.
***
The Duke of Buckingham, who arrested Rivers and the other Woodville traitors in Northampton, has betrayed Richard, as I feared. He and Stanley have been conspiring to overthrow the King – but, strangely, not on Henry Tudor’s behalf. They are pushing for young Edward to be declared legitimate by Act of Parliament. I don’t understand this. They must know that if Edward is crowned, Richard as his guardian will go on holding the power.
There may be a far more terrible explanation. For some time, nobody has seen the boys in the Tower playing outside in the courtyard on fine days as they used to, and it is rumoured that they may be dead. My mind runs in frantic circles. Is that why Buckingham and Stanley said they want them re-legitimised, to show people they are sure the boys are alive? Why would they bother to do this unless – I cannot bear to think of it – unless it is to disguise the fact that they know the boys are dead?
Elizabeth Woodville, still in sanctuary with her daughters, says nothing. Perhaps, being shut away from society, she knows nothing. I try to tell myself there is no need to be frightened by her silence. A worse thing worries me. After Buckingham’s help at Northam
pton, Richard rewarded him with high office, and he appointed Stanley, who was on his side at the time, to the position of Constable of England.
As the Constable, Stanley is the official keeper of the Tower of London. He holds the keys.
2nd November 1483
Buckingham’s idea of re-legitimising the boys did not last long. He raised an army and went to support Henry Tudor, who had set out from France with a fleet of ships to invade England. God be thanked, there was a storm and Henry’s armada had to turn back to the French coast. Buckingham had already landed in Wales and he went into hiding, but Richard offered a bounty for information on where he was. Somebody told, so Buckingham was arrested. Today he was beheaded for treason. I cannot be sorry.
Since then, Richard has issued a proclamation saying that anyone with a grievance will be heard and the matter dealt with. Its words are warming, declaring that the King is ‘utterly determined all his true subjects shall live in rest and quiet and peaceably enjoy their lands, livelihoods and goods according to the laws of this his land.’
How can Richard’s enemies hate such a reasonable man? Perhaps it is his virtue that annoys them. Two-faced John Morton, the Bishop of Ely, walks about with an air of saintliness, followed by his admiring little page, Thomas More, but I cannot think of him as a good man. He is writing a history of King Richard’s life in Latin and young More, aged seven, boasts that he will translate it into English when he is older. I can imagine only too well what version of the truth it will contain.
***
Jane Shore is much talked about just now. She was one of King Edward’s mistresses, and he adored her. She was at his deathbed. Elizabeth Woodville could not object, because Jane had carried messages from her to Lord Hastings and to Elizabeth’s son, Thomas Grey, both of whom were also Jane’s lovers and fellow-conspirators. This came to light after Richard found Hastings closeted with his enemies. So she is another traitor.
Richard could have had Jane executed, but he was merciful. He made her do public penance by walking through London clad only in a thin shift, with a taper in her hand. But he misjudged how people would see it. They turned out by the hundred, as he rightly expected – but instead of deriding Jane, they cheered her on.
What did he expect? I went with some of the other servants to see her pass, and she looked saintly and aloof – and immensely alluring, as the thin fabric of her shift showed the form of her slim body very clearly. All the boys were whistling and shouting invitations.
Jane is in Ludgate prison now, but the lawyer sent by King Richard to judge the case has fallen madly in love with her and wants to marry her. Richard sent him a disapproving letter, but nobody imagines he will change his mind.
1st March 1484
Elizabeth Woodville came out of sanctuary today, after ten months of being shut away from the world. King Richard went to see her, and they spoke for a long time. They say he has given her a generous pension. Elizabeth and her daughters will live in Richard’s court, though she made him swear that her girls will not be harmed. He gave her his assurance that they will be safe and well cared for.
I am glad she has accepted his help and friendship. Perhaps she has at last understood that he is more honest and generous than most of her own family, who have so greedily accepted every favour she could secure for them. She has written to her surviving son in France, too, asking him to come back and make his peace with Richard.
But there is so much we don’t know. Has she gone to see her sons in the Tower? If she has, then she will know they are safe and still living, so why does she not make this public? Perhaps, after her months of seclusion, she is not aware of the rumours.
If she has not visited them, the questions are even more pressing. Why not? Has she been fobbed off? Told that nobody can take her? The Queen Mother of England can hardly walk through the streets there alone. The most awful possibility is that she knows they are dead and keeps silent because their death makes it certain that they cannot be re-legitimised and spoil her plan to get into the favour of the Lancasters. No – surely even she would not go that far.
Why does not Richard make a public statement that he knows the boys to be alive? With his indifference to public opinion and his lack of perception about people’s hidden fears and suspicions, he is playing into the hands of the Lancaster supporters. They, of course, are putting it about that Richard killed the boys because he wanted to be king.
I cannot believe such a thing. He has loved the boys throughout their lives, and was happy to be planning Edward’s coronation – but I think he does not fit easily into the competitive hugger-mugger of London. Perhaps he belongs more naturally in the North, where people respect and admire him. Londoners think the North is savage and uncivilised, though, so this, too, goes against him.
9th April 1484
A tragedy. King Richard’s son has died. It happened when Richard and Anne were away in the east of England on the royal ‘progress’ expected of a new king and queen. He is overwhelmed with grief, and Anne is white-faced, exhausted with weeping. She herself is not well, and seems hardly strong enough to bear such a blow. Always thin, there is nothing to her now but skin and bone, and she has a constant cough. The woman who does her laundry says the kerchiefs she presses to her lips are bloodstained. Anne’s sister died of the same illness.
With this disaster added to my constant, cold fear about the boys, I long to be back in Ludlow with Tom. A letter from Papa yesterday spoke of trees coming into bud and seeds sown, lambs and a good heifer calf born. Tom never had any schooling so he cannot write and neither can Annie, but I think about them almost all the time, and find myself crying.
Bryn said, ‘You need to go home, cariad.’
‘But how? It’s a long way, and I have no money.’
‘There must be riders going down to Ludlow with messages. Wouldn’t one of them take you?’
Olwen tutted. ‘There’s stupid you are, Bryn Jones. Those men ride fast and hard, same as they do everything else. She’d never be safe with them.’
‘Ah,’ said Bryn. ‘I forgot about human nature. I need to think of something else, then.’
***
In the kitchen today, one of the maids said, ‘Someone at the door for you.’
Oh, what magic! There stood Tom.
I couldn’t believe it. With one gasp, I was in his arms.
‘Your Uncle Bryn sent me some money,’ he said. ‘So I hired a horse. He’s not fast, but he’s big and strong. He’ll take the two of us, no bother.’
We are at Bryn’s tonight. I’ve brought my things, tied in a small bundle. We start out in the morning.
And, yes, Tom, yes – I will marry you.
***
On the broad back of the horse, my arms round Tom and my head leaning against his strong shoulder, my thoughts turn constantly to the boys. I feel disloyal, although in London I could do nothing for them and never even knew if they were alive. In that teeming city, I was as insignificant as a sparrow, or the breadcrumb it picks from the gutter.
Olwen tried to console me. She said, ‘The princes were not free like ordinary children, cariad. They were little circus performers, waiting for the day when they’d be ringmaster.’
Perhaps she is right. But I look back to the early days and the fun Edward and I had, and the new pleasure when his little brother came to join us.
I loved them both, and I always will.
Homecoming, war and tragedy
Tom and I were married on May Day. My little sisters had flowers in their hair and the boys wore clean shirts, and everything looked beautiful. We’d baked and cooked for days and spread a great feast on trestle tables under the trees because we’d never have all got into the house. The birds sang. The sun shone.
In the months while I was away, Tom built a cottage. It’s nearly done. He is thatching its roof now. He still works at the Castle, and I am back there as a kitchen hand.
Annie looked up from beating eggs when I came into the kitchen and said, �
��Lisa!’ She gave me a great hug – then of course she wanted to know the latest news from London.
‘When will Henry Tudor’s wedding be? Any time soon?’
‘Christmas Day.’
‘Huh. Trust him to make a big splash. I hate that man.’ Then her face turned serious. ‘But what’s this about the princes, Lisa? People are saying Richard murdered them. You and I know he’d never do that – he adored them. They’re trying to make him out a monster.’
‘Yes, they are. Annie – I’m so worried.’
‘We can only pray for them.’
She was right. A constant prayer was in my mind and it still repeats itself again and again.
Dear Lord, if it be Thy Will, watch over my lovely boys and keep them safe. Amen. Dear Lord...
Dear Lord...
19th March 1485
King Richard’s wife died three days ago. The malicious gossip gets worse and worse. They are saying Richard poisoned Anne so that he can marry Elizabeth Woodville’s daughter, to prevent her from marrying Henry Tudor.
This final unkindness broke Richard’s reserve. He was so furious that he called the mayor and aldermen of London to the Great Hall of the Mercers’ Company, and berated them for their cruel slander. Their records preserve the occasion, and the wording has been circulated among his supporters. Bryn sent them to me in a letter. Richard said it ‘never came into his thought or mind to marry in such a manner’. He had adored Anne ever since they were children, and to have it said that he killed her added an unbearable anguish.
He is now utterly alone. I wish I had some way to tell him that I trust him and believe in him. But I am nobody, and in the life of kings, everyone has to be somebody. King Edward broke that rule when he married Elizabeth Woodville, and we have paid for it to this day.
The Lost King Page 4