by Nigel Green
He turned to me.
‘So do you accept the marriage too, Lovell?’
‘No.’
Catesby’s eyes narrowed.
‘Why not?’
‘Because your argument is flawed. You said that because Ratcliffe and I caused Richard to sin for political purposes, it is entirely logical that you should be able to do the same.’
‘Surely you don’t deny the fairness of that?’
‘Yes, I do, actually. There is one very major difference between what we did for Richard and what you are planning to do.’
‘And what is that?’
‘All our actions, whether right and wrong, were designed to help Richard. In this instance, your marriage plans for him are to benefit yourself. You and the Woodvilles want to control and manipulate the king which, without Anne Neville, Ratcliffe and myself in the way, you would be able to do.’
I glanced down at Catesby.
‘So, for that reason, not only will I not agree to the wedding, I will do everything I can to prevent it.’
He did not respond. I decided I needed to provoke him further.
‘A lot has been said about the sinful nature of the proposed marriage of Richard to his niece,’ I told Ratcliffe. ‘In reality, I’m not so sure that the actual union would have been so terrible. After all, as Catesby pointed out, a greater good would have arisen as a result of it, so perhaps God might have overlooked it. But, do you know, I rather think that all this talk of it being sinful has obscured the far greater sin.’
‘Which is what?’ Ratcliffe asked curiously.
I pointed at Catesby.
‘His motivation in proposing the marriage.’
Catesby rose with surprising speed and strode furiously towards the door. When he reached it, he turned to glare at me.
‘It will be impossible for you to stop the marriage!’ he hissed. We will not let you influence the king or prevent that which is planned.’
He smiled maliciously.
‘There is one further point of which you are unaware – the king himself believes the marriage should proceed.’
With that parting shot, he was gone, followed a moment later by Ratcliffe.
I sat down wearily. Plainly it was my duty to protect Richard from what would be on all counts a wrongful marriage, but how?
I mulled over various alternatives but rejected them one after the other. At last I was left with only one.
The more I thought about it the more I hated it, but I had no choice.
I got up abruptly; I could not be a coward when Richard needed me.
CHAPTER 18
As chamberlain, theoretically at any rate, I controlled access to the king. In practice, Richard saw whom he wanted, when he wanted. But for all that, it was a simple enough matter to arrange for his private chambers to be closed off and suitable guards posted to discourage visitors. I arranged matters carefully before I saw him. I wrote the letters myself, trusting no one else with their content.
It was late when I entered Richard’s chamber. At the sight of me, he jumped up anxiously from his chair by the fire and demanded to know what was amiss.
‘Nothing! I merely wished to talk to you.’
‘I can think of more suitable times.’
I ignored him and returned to the door. I closed it firmly and slid the bolt across.
‘Now we won’t be disturbed,’ I told him. ‘Not that there is much chance of that; I’ve put my own men off guard duty tonight.’
He eyed me coldly.
‘Leave me, Francis!’
‘I want to talk to you about this proposed marriage. You’ve been ignoring me because you don’t want to hear my view. Unfortunately for you, I’ll not be silenced because I believe that, as a friend and servant of yours for many years, what I have to say is important.’
He resumed his seat and shrugged.
‘I take it you object to the proposed marriage?’
‘Of course I do!’
‘I did too,’ he volunteered surprisingly. ‘Like you, I viewed the matter as unnatural. But then it was put to me that my own views were unimportant since, where duty is concerned, how can a king’s own thoughts matter? The marriage of Edward’s daughter denies Tudor the support that she would have given him. If he cannot gain her support, he cannot invade. If he cannot invade, England has peace and security.’
He rose and stood in front of the fire.
‘Given that it’s the duty of the king to provide his country with peace and stability, what do my own feelings matter? The king is always to be the servant of his country. Hence for the sake of my country, I must marry my brother’s daughter.’
‘You could always marry her off to a third person. That way neither Tudor nor you get to wed her.’
‘And their child? Their brat would always be a threat to my heir.’
He pulled off his topaz ring and began to slowly roll it between thumb and forefinger.
‘No, Francis. As it has been explained to me, it is essential that I have an heir or else England slides into anarchy and, for reasons that are obvious, my brother’s daughter is the best person to provide such an heir.’
He eyed me earnestly.
‘Given that you have never known me to shrink away from duty, surely you must recognise that my forthcoming marriage is the correct course of action?’
I felt great sadness as he advanced the corrupt arguments of others.
‘The only thing I recognise, Richard, is incest.’
His mouth tightened.
‘If your king is prepared to make such a sacrifice for his people, who are you to disagree?’
Dear God, how malleable he was without Anne Neville!
‘Listen, you fool, it’s not just going to be me who objects; it’s going to be everyone. Who’s going to support a king who marries his niece? Who’s going to acknowledge his son who is also his great nephew? Can’t you see for a moment that that which you’re planning – or, to be precise, what is being planned for you – is morally wrong by any standard and loathsome to all your countrymen?’
He moved towards the door in anger, but I hauled him back to face me. He struggled furiously in my grip, but for all his strength he lacked both my size and weight. I pushed him firmly back into his seat and stood over him.
He made to rise, so I bent over and pushed his shoulders back; our faces were very close now.
‘Marry the girl and how many of your subjects will follow you?’
He squirmed in my grasp.
‘The people of the North…’
‘They will follow me!’
He ceased struggling and looked up quickly.
‘What do you mean?’
I let go of him and gazed down at the man whom I had promised myself that I would always serve.
‘I’m leaving you, Richard.’
‘You’re leaving me?’
‘To join Henry Tudor.’
‘You traitorous bastard!’
‘And when the invasion comes, Tudor can head south to join his supporters there. I’ll go to the north country. When I get there, I’ll tell men how you planned to marry your own niece, while your wife – the daughter of their great Earl of Warwick – lay dying close by.’ I gazed down at him. ‘Believe me, Richard, men will come flocking to my standard.’
He leapt up reaching quickly for his knife.
‘You, of all people – a traitor!’
I slapped him as hard as I could across the face; he staggered, dropping his knife as he did so.
‘Then ask yourself why. Have the courage to look at yourself and see what you’ve become.’
Apart from a vivid mark on one cheek, his face was very pale and his mouth worked furiously.
‘I’ll have you hunted down and destroyed!’
‘That wouldn’t change a thing! I’ve already arranged to have letters sent to friends in the North telling them exactly what you’ve been planning and how you’ve treated their own Anne Neville. Once they know that you’
ve had me killed for speaking the truth, I imagine that they’ll raise the North against you.’
Richard glared at me.
‘You wouldn’t dare to do all these things!’
I bent down and picked up his dagger; his eyes widened for a moment in fear.
‘I’m not going to kill you,’ I reassured him, ‘although it would probably make life a lot easier for Henry Tudor. But believe me, Richard, I’m completely serious in all that I’ve said. Unless you swear, here and now, to give up this obscene plan to marry your niece, I’m leaving you. What’s more, I’ll use whatever skills I have to defeat you.’
His mouth tightened as we stared at each other; then slowly he moved to his seat by the fire and sat down. Watching his narrowed eyes and slow hand movements as he rotated his ring, it was obvious that he had not considered the possibility that I would desert him and was hastily calculating the threat that such a departure posed.
I guessed his immediate reaction would be to judge that I was bluffing. I was faithful Francis, after all, and had served him loyally all these years – surely I wouldn’t really contemplate leaving? But then to his knowledge I had always completed everything I had set out to achieve.
He had to consider how my defection would cause men to question their current loyalties to him. Possibly he thought he could accommodate my loss to him as a soldier as he thought there would be other men to take my place. But were they up to my standard?
Also the king had to consider the threat from the North. Catesby might have assured Richard that everyone in that part of the country would ultimately accept the marriage to his niece for the sake of peace and stability, but the king knew that I knew the fighting men there better than Catesby. Equally, if it came to a test of honesty, Richard would believe me rather than his other advisors.
‘So what happened to your famous loyalty?’ Richard mocked me bitterly. ‘Faithful Francis, the king’s own dogge!’
‘You should be grateful that I showed you enough loyalty to come here tonight. At least I proved sufficiently faithful to come and tell you that what you’re planning is wrong.’
‘You came here to threaten and blackmail me!’
I was beginning to grow angry.
‘Only because I’m not prepared to just sit by while you let yourself be manipulated and used for the benefit of others!’
‘I’m not being used!’
I bent down and hauled him to his feet.
‘Come on, Richard; all your life you’ve been used by others – sometimes it even suited you! It benefited both King Edward and yourself that you made a success of the North; then it suited both you and Anne Neville to marry. Although I grant you that her manipulation of you in the North was for your own benefit as well as her own.’
He struggled furiously in my grip, but I ignored him.
‘But what happened after the North, Richard? Whose idea was it for you to become king? Your wife’s, I believe. Now why should that be?’
Furiously he tried to move his arms, so I tightened my grip.
‘It was to prevent civil war!’ He gasped.
I bent my face to him.
‘Are you sure?’ I asked cynically. Yes, I agree that is what we all believed at the time, but do you know I have recently come to wonder if that was truly the case.’
I glanced down sadly at his white face.
‘You see, with the benefit of hindsight, I have started to think that perhaps you becoming king owed far more to Anne Neville’s ambition than the true needs of England at the time. Possibly, just possibly, she saw the opportunity when King Edward died and used you, along with the rest of us, to take advantage of the situation.’
He opened his mouth to speak, but I was determined to make him see sense.
‘Then think of all the others who have used you. Buckingham, Northumberland and Norfolk all supported you to become king because they all stood to gain personally, not because they believed in you. They used you as Catesby has.’
‘The princes were killed to prevent civil war.’
‘And more recently the Woodvilles have done the same.’
‘The proposed marriage will make the country secure!’ he protested.
I pushed him back into his chair in disgust.
‘You’re just repeating what you’ve been told!’ I said contemptuously. ‘Try thinking for yourself for a change! Doesn’t common sense tell you that civil wars are avoided and peace and tranquillity gained through good leadership, not infanticide and incest? Can’t you see how the Woodvilles are using Catesby, who’s misleading you for his own advantage?’
He sat in silence studying the flickering fire. He made no movement, nor for once did he play with his rings. He simply sat and gazed into the flames. In the half light, he looked a solitary figure and, for all his jewels and rich apparel, a strangely vulnerable one. For a moment, I thought to cushion the harshness of my words with a comforting phrase; in my frankness, I must have hurt him. But then I hardened my heart as matters were too far advanced now. Either Richard faced up to the truth or I could no longer serve him.
‘I believe that the king has privately decided against marrying his niece,’ a smiling Ratcliffe advised me a few days later. ‘Poor Catesby is quite chastened, it would appear!’
He glanced at me inquisitively.
‘His decision appears to have coincided with your discussion with him?’
‘He had already made up his mind. He simply told me that there would be no marriage.’
He looked at me with disbelief but wisely kept silent. The Woodvilles weren’t able to hold their tongues though. Informed of the king’s decision and devoid of Catesby’s support, they petitioned a number of nobles to intercede on behalf of the Princess Elizabeth but to no avail. Eventually, to suppress the whole business, at my suggestion, the king publicly denied that he had ever intended to marry his niece.
On my advice, Richard made Ratcliffe his chief advisor with a subdued Catesby supporting him and myself watching the both of them. Despite my dislike of Catesby’s conspicuous lack of morality, he had been cut down to size and had unparalleled intellect. Equally Ratcliffe’s undoubted skills in propaganda should not be wasted.
I tried to be with Richard as often as I could; while neither of us ever talked of that fateful night, I knew that what I had said had shocked him and, in a curious way, I felt both guilty and responsible for him. Moreover, the death of Anne Neville left him morbidly dejected. I believe he saw his own mortality in hers and increasingly turned to God for consolation. I think it helped him to have someone to listen to him as he talked of his faith and I heard him out as he spoke of his plan to come to grace.
As far as I could see, his confession was total. He made no attempt to conceal anything; he even blamed himself for his brother Clarence’s death.
‘But you can’t be responsible for that!’ I protested. ‘It had nothing to do with you.’
‘The sins of omission are as great as those we commit,’ he corrected me gently. ‘I could have saved him from being killed; Edward would have listened to me.’
‘You’re being too hard on yourself.’
He smiled at me with childlike innocence.
‘Perhaps, but at least I can make restitution to his son. I’ve decided that Clarence’s boy, the young Earl of Warwick, should be my heir.’
I thought for a moment; Clarence had married the older daughter of my first master, the Earl of Warwick, while Richard had married the younger. This made Clarence’s son the grandson of the old Earl of Warwick. The thought pleased me and I smiled. Richard noticed it and shrugged.
‘To be honest, the boy has a better right to the crown than I do,’ he said awkwardly, ‘so it seems only fair that he should at least reign after me.’
He glanced at me.
‘Will you do something for me, Francis?’
‘Of course.’
‘Swear that you will make sure that Clarence’s son reigns after me in case… well, that is…’
‘You’ll rule for a long time yet, Richard. But if it makes you feel better, of course I’ll swear to it.’
He smiled at me shyly and tugged at his England ring, which he had worn since his coronation. A moment later he passed it to me and I looked in awe at the lions engraved upon it. I made to pass it back, but he shook his head.
‘Keep it to remind you of your promise.’ He looked at my hands. ‘You’ll probably need to wear it on a chain.’
He laughed.
I grinned at him and we relapsed into companionable silence with the troubles of the past behind us. We were not to feel secure in the present though; all the while rumours of Henry Tudor’s invasion were growing, and I had no doubt that soon we would be at war, a war that would decide for once and for all whether Richard had a right to the throne. I tightened my mouth as I looked at the small figure beside me. One way or another, I vowed I would protect him by defeating Tudor.
CHAPTER 19
‘If you expect me to defend Southampton against Henry Tudor, I’ll need more cannon.’ The broad northern tones of John Hoton cut through my thoughts. ‘There’s not enough time to patch up the land walls or to make repairs to the castle, but give me more cannon and I can hold Tudor at bay.’
I smiled at the enthusiasm of the newly appointed Constable of Southampton Castle but made no reply. Below us the babble and bustle on Westgate Quay evidenced the growing prosperity of the port, but neither the sounds nor the sights on the dockside afforded me pleasure. It was at the horizon that I gazed; for the fifth day running there was no sight of a fleet.
Where in hell’s name was Tudor? It was already approaching mid-August, so he was long overdue. Catesby’s spies had been specific. They knew Tudor’s numbers, the likely date of landing and even the location near Southampton. According to them, Tudor should have been here by now.
There was no danger that he could have come ashore secretly, I reassured myself. We had paid agents a fortune to watch all the hidden bays and concealed coves along this part of the coast. Even if our agents had played us false, there would have been others to tell us of the landing of Tudor’s French troops and the 500 renegade English serving under him. Dear God, for a bounty the size we were offering, a man would have betrayed his own father. But if Tudor was not here, where was he?