The Sun in Splendour (The Plantagenets Book 6)

by Juliet Dymoke

  Lord Howard let out a deep breath and belched satisfactorily, the last scrap on his plate gone. 'An excellent dinner, my lord.’ He fumbled in his pouch, found a coin and beckoned to an usher. ‘Pray give that to the cook with my compliments.’

  Lord Hastings smiled. ‘He is the best cook in London. My lord, Sir Thomas, I think we have much to say to each other. I suggest we retire to my private chamber and leave the ladies to their own talk.’

  Catherine took Bess upstairs and they sat for a while eating sweetmeats and sipping a delicate wine.

  ‘I went to the Palace,’ Bess said, ‘but the Queen would not see me.’

  ‘She has not forgotten how you stood with Richard over the affair of Clarence, and other things – nor your friendship with Anne Neville. Oh, my dear, I am afraid. I fear trouble for us all.’

  ‘What sort of trouble?’

  ‘I don't know, I wish I did. But William and Dorset are at each other's throats once more. Indeed we took a viper to our bosom in that son-in-law, and even Edward could not heal that breach on his death bed. Everyone looks to William now to keep affairs in order until the new King comes, but Dorset won't heed him, nor will the Queen.’

  ‘Richard will make them heed him,’ Bess said confidently, but Catherine answered, ‘If the Queen has her way her son will be crowned and all power in her hands before Gloucester ever sets foot in London – unless William can stop her.’

  ‘Surely he can. He and Richard are not at enmity, are they?’ But certain doubts lingered and Catherine gave voice to them.

  ‘I trust not,’ she said, ‘yet I think the Duke always thought William and the King too profligate together. He is very sober, is my lord of Gloucester.’

  ‘He has no turn for frivolity,’ Bess agreed, and remembered Richard's impassioned speech when he turned from the court after Clarence's death. He hated wantonness and drunken parties and all the glittering facade that hid vice and lewdness. A small fear, caught from her friend, was born in her own mind.

  ‘We have sons who will be involved in the future,’ Catherine said. ‘My Edward is seventeen, and Richard the same age as your John. What sort of world will it be for them, I wonder?’

  Bess forced a smile. ‘Much the same when the tumult has died down.’

  ‘I doubt it. My father used to tell me how much hatred there was among the nobles when Henry VI was a child and they all struggled to control him.’

  ‘And Duke Humfrey died of their hatred,’ Bess said involuntarily and when Catherine looked puzzled she added, ‘I wish we were back at Ashwellthorpe.’

  ‘Lord Howard and Sir Thomas are not the men to run away from responsibility.’

  ‘No,’ Bess agreed, ‘but I do not know if Thomas would involve himself too deeply if his father did not. We have been content these last years.’

  That night she asked Thomas what he planned to do. ‘Why, await the funeral,’ he said in surprise. ‘My father bears a part in that and so do I. Then we shall have a coronation, and my father should have a post about the young King. The court will, please God and with Richard as the King's Protector, be a fit place for decent men to live in.’

  ‘The Queen –’

  ‘– must do as she is directed. We all remember the havoc Queen Margaret wrought. Government is for men.’

  The small fear grew. A week later with great pomp Edward was laid to rest in his chapel at Windsor and then for two weeks London waited. Thomas brought Bess the news that Richard had written directly to the late King's Council saying that he was on his way south and that nothing was to be done contrary to his brother's will

  ‘I wish he would make haste,’ Bess said.

  John went back to Oxford, Bess and Annette set about choosing gowns for the coming crowning, and Elysia gave birth to a daughter. This event kept Bess busy and yet she was aware that beyond the door of the house London buzzed with rumour and speculation. The news that the Marquess of Dorset had been to the Tower and not only laid his hands on the King's treasure but had also taken his place in Mistress Shore's bed had the gossips busy on every street corner. Lord Hastings was constantly in conference with Lord Howard, Lord Stanley and Dr. Morton, the Bishop of Ely, while the Queen and Dorset and the Bishop of Salisbury formed another council and London wags began to lay bets on who would prove the stronger.

  On the last day of April the weather turned milder and some time after midnight Bess woke, conscious that she was too hot, almost at once hearing a loud banging somewhere below.

  ‘Thomas!’ She shook him by the shoulder. ‘There is someone come. Who can it be at this hour?’

  He stirred, rolled over and sat up. ‘God knows. I'll go and see, but the servants will admit no one without my leave.’ He threw a long robe about him and went out. The knocking ceased and Bess lay listening. She could hear voices and in less than ten minutes Thomas came back.

  ‘It was a message from the Queen,’ he said and his face was grim. ‘It seems that Gloucester and Buckingham, though how they got into company I don't know, came upon Earl Rivers and Lord Richard Grey escorting the King to London – at Northampton or Stony Stratford, I think. She says Gloucester has seized the King and she commands all the chief lords to go to her at once with all the men and arms they can muster.’

  ‘Jesu!’ Bess sprang up. ‘You'll not go, Thomas? How could Richard abduct his own nephew when he is named the boy's protector?’

  ‘Quite,’ Thomas said in his careful way. We sent the man away, saying we would do nothing until Gloucester comes, and I swear all good men will answer so. I'm going out to learn what I can.’

  ‘Now? But it's past midnight.’

  He was throwing his clothes on hastily. ‘Great things can happen while a slugabed snores. I'll not be longer than I can help.’

  He was back in two hours to wake her out of a fitful sleep. ‘I'd not have believed it,’ he said. ‘I have witnessed such a scene as I'd not have thought possible.’

  ‘Oh, tell me.’ She was wide awake again.

  ‘The Queen and Dorset are fled into sanctuary.’

  ‘Again?’ Bess had a swift memory of panic, of flight, when Warwick threatened London in '69.

  ‘But why?’

  ‘She betrays herself,’ Thomas answered. ‘Very few answered her call, most did as we did, and she found herself alone but for her kin. My God, how she must fear the Duke! And Dorset has always been a fool and a coward. At Westminster everything that can be moved is being taken into sanctuary and all by torchlight – furnishings and plate, silver and gold and linen and tapestries and heaven knows what else. And in the midst of all, the Queen was sitting on a box and bidding them hurry. They've even broken down some of the wall to get her goods in.’

  ‘Jesu!’ Bess tried to picture the sight so vividly conjured up. ‘Did the Queen speak to you?’

  ‘She did not see me and I did not want to cause worse trouble. But I heard something else, from a man watching as I was. It seems Lord Rivers and Lord Richard Grey are both arrested and despatched to Pontefract. Maybe that is what sent Dorset hurrying his mother and the younger children into the Abbey.’

  ‘Surely Richard means Anthony no harm?’ Bess exclaimed. ‘He is not like the rest.’

  ‘He has charge of the King and would surely have delivered him to his sister the Queen and not to Richard,’ Thomas answered.

  Four days later from their own windows they watched Edward V ride into London. The boy looked white and afraid. Robbed of his uncle Anthony whom he loved, refused access to his mother, his brother Richard and his sisters, he rode beside his stern paternal uncle and it seemed as if he was struggling with tears. He kept his dignity, however, and waved his hand to the crowds who cheered the small figure in crimson velvet and black velvet cap. The Londoners loved a festival and the desperate anxiety behind the event worried them very little today. The young King rode past to the traditional pre-coronation lodging in the Tower and Bess felt suddenly sorry for him, young and seeming so alone among so many.

 
Old Lord Dudley was past his duties as Constable of the Tower and the honour reverted to Lord Howard who joined the long line of riders to conduct the King to his quarters. Bess turned away from the window and wished she did not feel so uneasy.

  Some days later Robert Bellasis brought a note from Lady Hastings begging Bess to come to her, and when she arrived she found Catherine as she had never seen her before, stiff and cold with anger and yet broken. ‘Catherine! Oh, my dear, you have had some bad news?’

  Lady Hastings gave an odd mirthless laugh. ‘I suppose it is, though some might think it not worth noticing. All my life with William I have known he had mistresses – what man has not? But I have not cared, knowing I was his wife and thinking I had his love at heart. Only this – this is more than I can bear.’

  ‘What is? What has he done?’

  ‘That woman! That whore! Now Dorset has gone do you know what she has done? Offered her body to William and he –’

  ‘Oh no,’ Bess exclaimed. ‘Not after Edward and Dorset! How could she – he –’

  ‘Well, he has,’ Catherine said flatly. ‘He has been with her each night for a week and when I taxed him with it he laughed and said she might be useful to him.’

  So she was a strumpet after all, Bess thought – pretty cheerful Jane Shore who had said she wanted to be free to wed again and have children.

  ‘And that's not all,’ Catherine went on. ‘William is caught up in something, I don't know what, but I think he has turned against my lord of Gloucester. He can't stand Buckingham, who is so conceited and never stops talking and thinks he is always to be at Richard's right hand. William says he will lose all now if Richard has no thought for the late King's friends. Westminster is full of rumours and whispers and I cannot sleep for worrying.’

  ‘You are upsetting yourself for no real cause,’ Bess tried to reassure her, though she had never seen Catherine so disturbed out of her usual sanguine manner.

  The Duchess Anne arrived at the beginning of June and when she met Bess held out both hands in welcome. ‘My dearest, I am so glad to see you. I came as fast as I could when Richard summoned me, though I've had to leave our Edward behind.’

  ‘He has been unwell?’

  ‘Yes, in the winter. He coughs so much, but he will grow better as the warmer weather comes.’

  They were at Crosby's Place, Richard's London home in Bishopsgate, and Bess thought Anne herself looked none too well though her eyes were sparkling with happiness. She clearly had no idea of the undercurrents that were so depressing Bess and Lady Hastings, and when the Duke joined them talked animatedly of how good it was to see old friends again.

  Richard had come from the Tower where he had been carrying on the business of government and he was tired, his shoulders a little rounded ‘Bess,’ he kissed her hand, ‘I rejoice that Lord Howard and your husband are so staunchly my friends. I wish I could say all will go smoothly now, but I fear it will not. The Marquess of Dorset has escaped from sanctuary and fled the country by now, I doubt not, and his brother Sir Edward has taken ship for France.’

  ‘I'm glad they are gone,’ Anne said. ‘I wish every Woodville gone.’

  ‘Yes, gone,’ he echoed, ‘but Dorset has taken most of Edward's treasure with him, traitor and thief as well.’ He began to pace the room, his small figure taut, a crease of anxiety between his brows. ‘I knew, years ago, what the Queen and her kin had done to Edward and now I have been proved right in my judgement of their selfishness. They care nothing for his wishes, naught for anything but themselves.’

  Bess was silent, watching him, understanding only too well. After a moment he burst out, ‘And I know that if they are allowed one inch, one small chance, it will be the end of the House of York. And God forbid the House of Woodville should dominate England.’ He paused, staring sombrely at the two women. ‘It is a struggle to the death and God knows who may fall in it. And remember that Lady Stanley is still Margaret Beaufort and will not have forgotten her son, away in Brittany.’

  ‘Henry Tudor?’ Anne queried. ‘He is an exile. Surely he is no danger? Who would follow him?’

  Richard gave a shrug. ‘There are still Lancastrians, it seems, who must be watched.’

  Anne came to him and laid her hand on his arm. ‘Sit down and rest now, my love. You look so weary.’

  ‘I think,’ he said, ‘I shall not again look for rest in this world.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It seemed to Bess afterwards that the events of the next few weeks passed so rapidly that she could never remember clearly how it had all happened. It began a week after Anne's arrival when Thomas rose earlier than usual and said he had an errand for the Lord Protector.

  ‘What must you do?’ Bess asked sleepily.

  ‘Fetch William Hastings to a meeting,’ he answered briefly and was gone. It seemed odd to Bess that he should go and not a squire or an usher if Lord Hastings was to be needed so early, but she thought no more of it and slept another hour. Then she dressed and went downstairs, wishing the younger children were with her. She missed them, their noise and chatter and the hundred and one tasks that filled her days at home. Last night Thomas had taken her to supper at the Tower with the young King, but it had not been a very pleasant evening. The boy was unhappy and therefore not disposed to conversation. He answered politely but briefly and ventured no remark of his own. He seemed to be in some pain for he put a hand often to his jaw and she wondered if he had the toothache. He wanted to see his mother and they would not let him. She thought of Elizabeth, fallen from the highest place in the land and sitting alone in sanctuary – no wonder the boy looked wretched. Perhaps after his crowning the vigilance might be relaxed.

  She went into Lord Howard's library and sat down to write a letter to her father, but she had got no further than the first few lines when the outer door opened, there were confused voices and suddenly someone cried out, a sound at the edge of terror and despair. She sprang up, but even as she did so the library door burst open and Catherine Hastings came in, her hair blowing wild, without gloves or veil, her clothes thrown on any way. She was hysterical and collapsed on the floor, the tears raining down her face.

  Bess ran to her. ‘Catherine, my love, oh come, let me help you. Are you hurt? Or William? What is it?’

  She managed to get her to a chair but Catherine could not answer, only sobbed and rocked herself to and fro. In desperation Bess held her and repeated her questions until at last the words came out in uneven jerks.

  ‘William – he is dead – they’ve killed him. Oh God! Oh God!’

  Bess knelt by her, holding her. ‘William dead? I don't understand. Thomas went this morning to fetch him to a meeting.’

  ‘I know – I know.’ Catherine went into fresh paroxysms. ‘He must have known why. Did he? Did he?’

  ‘If he did he told me nothing. Catherine, try to explain what happened.’ Bess rang a handbell and when a servant came sent him for hot wine and a powder she used when the children were fractious or anyone in the house in distress. Shudders were still shaking Lady Hastings's frame but she managed to say, ‘It was at the Council. They – the Duke – accused him of treason. Treason! They said he was in league with the Queen, that he used Jane Shore to take her messages. And then – then – Gloucester ordered him to be taken out and executed.’

  Bess sat back on her heels, stunned. ‘Richard did that? Are you sure?’

  ‘Jesu, how could I not be sure of such a thing? A knight of Lord Stanley's came to me and told me. There was barely time allowed to find a priest to confess him before they slew him, there on the green by the chapel – with no trial – nothing –’

  Elysia herself brought the wine and the potion and Bess made Catherine drink it, scarcely able to take in what she was hearing. Could it be true? William Hastings despatched in such haste and by Richard's order? She exchanged a glance of complete bewilderment with Elysia and then Elysia slipped out of the room.

  Catherine had pushed the cup away. ‘Your husband was i
n league with them,’ she cried out with sudden venom. ‘Lord Howard too, Mother of God, what has happened to friendship? It was wicked – wicked. To give him no time to defend himself, to prepare – nor even a message sent to me.’

  Somehow Bess calmed the distraught woman and sent Robert Bellasis for young Edward Hastings to come and take his mother home. Catherine was led away, the accusations still on her lips, and Bess sank into a chair, her own legs trembling. She felt shocked, numbed, and when Thomas came home begged for the truth from him.

  ‘It is as you have heard,’ he said gruffly. ‘Lord Stanley and the Bishop of Ely are arrested and Jane Shore has been sent to prison. They were all plotting to get rid of my lord of Gloucester and that would have turned this realm once more into the bloody battlefield it was in Warwick's day.’

  ‘But how could Richard do it?’ Bess cried out. ‘And you, Thomas, you aided him! Lord Hastings was Edward's friend and ours, and he was never a traitor, never!’

  ‘You have not understood what I've been saying. Richard knows it was the Woodvilles and Dorset who destroyed what Edward was with their looseness and their greed. That Hastings, now, should ally himself with them against him, against Edward's dying wishes, is more than he could tolerate.’

  ‘Can you be sure? What proof is there that William has done what you say he has?’

  ‘Enough: witnesses, a letter. Tomorrow I am to go to the Queen and persuade her to yield up Prince Richard. His brother the King is asking for his company and it is better for all that they should be watched over together.’

  ‘The Queen won't give him up.’

  ‘She must. Cardinal Bourchier comes with me to assure her the boy will be carefully tended. And,’ he added, ‘I shall take a few boatloads of soldiers with me to make no doubt of the matter.’

  Bess stared at him. ‘I cannot realize all this is happening. Only a few weeks ago we were peacefully at home with the children and now Edward is dead and William too. Anthony and so many others are shut in prison and the Queen in sanctuary.’