Warwick: The Man Behind The Wars of the Roses

by Tony Riches

  Richard was tired from his long ride and sat in his favourite chair, trying to make sense of the shocking news. Their father had been Lord Chancellor, one of the highest ranking of the Great Officers of State, second only to the Lord High Steward. This was not merely a slight against his brother George. Edward’s action was a slap in the face for the reputation of the entire Neville family.

  ‘Who has he appointed in your place?’

  ‘The Bishop of Bath and Wells.’

  Richard frowned. ‘He was somehow involved in the secrecy surrounding Edward’s marriage to Elizabeth, although I’ve yet to discover in what way.’ He looked at his brother. ‘The important question is why?’

  George seemed uncomfortable. ‘I think I was a little outspoken about the Burgundians and have been working to secure a dispensation from the Pope to allow your daughter to marry the Duke of Clarence. I try to be discreet but Edward has spies everywhere now, even in my own household.’

  ‘Is Earl Rivers behind all this?’

  George shook his head. ‘I understand why you could think that. Rivers has reason enough to bear a grudge against us all, yet he seems to be an honourable man, despite our differences in the past. I suspect William Herbert is plotting to bring us down, Richard.’

  ‘Lord Herbert? What have we done to wrong him?’

  ‘Herbert accompanied Edward when he came to demand my seal of office. He looked rather pleased with himself.’

  Anne had been watching their exchange in silence. ‘I am afraid there is worse news, concerning you, Richard.’

  ‘What now?’

  George answered. ‘Our enemies have been spreading a damaging rumour. They are saying you went to France to meet with Margaret of Anjou.’

  Anne looked worried. ‘They also say you have made a secret pact with her. It’s being repeated everywhere.’

  Richard felt a wave of anger. He looked at them both and saw they were waiting for his reaction. Even his wife and his brother were prepared to believe the rumours were true. His reputation would be ruined unless he could convince everyone of his innocence.

  ‘I can show them who I’ve been meeting with!’ He realised he was raising his voice and took a deep breath in an effort to calm himself. ‘I returned with the senior ambassadors of the King of France.’

  Anne still looked concerned. ‘What are we going to do about it, Richard?’

  He put his arm around her. ‘I will take the French ambassadors to meet the king. Then we will just have to see.’

  The rhythmic stroke of the oarsmen pulled the gilded barge through the murky water of the River Thames with deceptive ease. There was a light breeze coming down the river. Although almost summer, Richard was glad of the fur coat he wore. He leaned across and pointed out Greenwich Palace to his guests, led by the Count Louis de Bourbon, Admiral of France and chief ambassador of King Louis. Fluent in English, the count was an amiable young man who had risen to his important post despite his nickname of the bastard of Bourbon.

  Richard was doing his best to conceal his concern at the reception they would receive from Edward. He had only grudgingly agreed to meet them at all, yet he had also made no mention of the rumours about Margaret of Anjou, for which Richard was grateful. Now as they neared the stone jetty of the Palace of Westminster, he saw there was only Luke Tully, with Richard’s personal guard, waiting to welcome them.

  He had foreseen this possibility and asked George, Duke of Clarence to assist. He had also ordered Tully to have drummers and trumpeters standing by. As their barge drew alongside the old jetty the drums and trumpets struck up on an unseen signal, causing interested passers-by to gather in a small crowd. There was no royal banner or any sign of the king, which in itself was a breach of protocol and contrasted starkly with his own reception at Rouen. George played his part well, however, making a short speech of thanks and explaining that the king was waiting to greet them in Westminster Palace.

  After an embarrassingly long wait in the king’s antechamber they were finally ushered in. The king was dressed informally in riding clothes and instead of the advisors Richard expected to see attending such a meeting, Lord Herbert was at his right side, regarding them suspiciously, with Earl Rivers on his left. Richard wondered if Edward planned to embarrass him further in front of the two men he most suspected of trying to harm his reputation.

  He stepped forward and formally introduced Count Louis and the other French ambassadors. Edward regarded them with poorly disguised disinterest. His welcome was cold, as if he would rather not have met with them at all. He did not invite them to be seated, although there were empty chairs at his table.

  ‘Good day to you, ambassadors. You will understand that this meeting is a short one.’ He looked at Lord Herbert, who nodded in confirmation. ‘There are rumours of plague in the city. My court is moving to Windsor right away.’

  Richard was disappointed. ‘There are significant matters regarding the details of this treaty that cannot be rushed, Your Grace.’

  Edward looked up at him, unsmiling. ‘In that case, Earl Warwick, I shall appoint representatives to study these matters in detail.’

  Richard knew he was about to dismiss them, before any of the ambassadors had even spoken. ‘King Louis of France has signed the treaty, which now needs to be ratified by Your Grace.’ He looked directly at Edward. ‘I recommend you to invite the French ambassadors to attend your court in Windsor.’ Richard knew he was making a bold suggestion and risking a stern rebuttal. He hoped he knew Edward well enough to be confident he would avoid confrontation where he could.

  Edward agreed. ‘If we must.’ He turned to the Count of Bourbon. ‘We will continue this discussion at a later date, Count Louis.’

  Richard thought he saw a gleam of triumph in William Herbert’s eyes as they thanked the king and returned to the waiting barge. As they made their way back down river the count spoke to him quietly, so the others would not overhear.

  ‘It seems, Earl Warwick, that Charles of Burgundy has been here ahead of us?’

  Richard disagreed. ‘The people don’t trust Burgundy. They never have and I doubt they ever will.’ He lowered his voice, concerned that even on his private river barge his words could be overheard and repeated. ‘The problem I have to address is that the king is surrounded by those who put their own interests before those of their king.’ He looked at the young count, one of the few people he now felt he could trust to keep his words confidential. ‘They are traitors to our cause, Count Louis, and I will deal with them.’

  Chapter 23 - Autumn 1468

  The grand banqueting hall of Middleham Castle was turned into Richard’s headquarters in the north, with messengers at all hours, lords and knights rallying to confirm their support. Although the leaves had barely begun to fall from the trees, the chill of winter was already making itself felt. Richard had a log fire blazing in the grate, filling the air with the familiar warmth of wood smoke. He sat in his father’s heavy wooden chair at the head of the table, reflecting on the change in his fortunes.

  King Edward and his Woodville court at Windsor had paid scant attention to the French ambassadors, despite his best efforts. In the end the ambassadors had to leave with only the gift of a pair of mastiffs and a hunting horn for their troubles. It contrasted starkly with the gold chalice and other gifts he had been given in France. Richard knew this was a poor outcome and one which could permanently damage his standing with the King of France.

  There had been extravagant banquets to celebrate the formal announcement of Charles of Burgundy’s engagement to Edward’s sister Margaret of York. After that the affronts to the Neville family name had come thick and fast. At the urging of his brother George, Richard made one last effort to put his own feelings to one side and agreed to escort young Margaret to Dover for the start of her new life.

  Duke Charles was waiting to greet them in all his Burgundian finery. Swaggering and overbearing, he had clearly not forgotten how their last meeting had ended and treated Richard with
thinly veiled contempt. Aware his every word could be reported back to the king, Richard ignored the duke’s posturing and wished him every happiness with his new bride.

  In truth, Richard’s heart was heavy with pity for Margaret of York, a beautiful princess and a Plantagenet daughter of York. Trained to expect her fate from childhood, she was now forced to spend the rest of her life with a man they both detested. There was sadness in her eyes when she bid him goodbye, but as her ship sailed he realised that as the Duchess of Burgundy, young Margaret could be a useful friend to him in the future.

  On his return to Westminster he learned disturbing news. Edward was planning a truce with Brittany and successfully petitioned parliament for money to make war on France. He was planning an invasion by sea with an armada of warships. They were to be commanded by the queen’s brother, Lord Scales. There was no role for Richard, despite the fact he was still Captain of Calais and the most experienced admiral in the country.

  While he was still trying to come to terms with this, Edward ordered him to send four hundred of his best archers to support Brittany in the new war against France. The final insult. There had been a great argument which only served to remind him how little power he now had. Richard left for the north on bad terms to consider his future.

  Now he sent for his brother George to help decide how to proceed. He was approaching forty and his black beard was starting to turn grey. There was now no prospect of a son and heir, yet for the first time in ages he felt a sense of excitement at being back in control of his own destiny. He had tried his best to retain some influence at court, yet Edward crossed him every time.

  At great personal risk he exchanged secret messages with King Louis in France. His messages were frank about the people’s unease with the relentless rise of the queen’s family. He also confirmed what he knew Louis wanted to hear about the unpopular relationship with Burgundy, yet he had so far stopped short of warning of the planned invasion. Richard knew the king could read between the lines.

  George arrived in the early evening and Richard greeted him warmly. ‘You look more like a soldier than a man of the cloth.’ He looked at his brother. Without his bishop’s robes he looked a true Neville, although he had his mother’s insightful temperance and none of his father’s bluff manner. He also lacked Richard’s bitterness at the way they had been so badly treated by Edward, yet they shared the same determination to defend their family name.

  ‘Such are the times we live in now, Richard. Even the Archbishop of York cannot visit his own brother without tongues wagging.’ George pulled off the heavy black cloak he was wearing and threw it on a chair. ‘These riding clothes allow me to travel as I please without drawing attention.’

  They sat in the comfortable chairs on each side of the massive stone hearth, booted feet on the wrought iron firedogs, enjoying the heat from the blazing logs. A servant brought a bottle of wine, with a supper of thick slices of roast beef and freshly baked bread for George. He poured them each a goblet of the good French wine, then Richard gestured for the man to leave and closed the door behind him.

  ‘I am troubled by the knowledge that Edward’s spies are almost certainly watching our movements.’ He scowled. ‘We must take care not to be overheard, even in our own castle!’

  George shook his head. ‘When the papal legate came to visit he told me he was followed as soon as he reached our shores.’

  Richard looked across at his brother. ‘I need your help, George. Will you secure the dispensation for Isabel to marry the Duke of Clarence?’

  George was enjoying his roast beef. Richard waited patiently for his brother to answer, knowing that more than just his daughter’s future depended on his reply. Papal dispensations were difficult to obtain at the best of times and almost impossible now, unless George felt able to convince the Pope.

  ‘I must advise you it will not be easy while King Edward opposes the match. He has even threatened the Pope that to grant a dispensation will incur the displeasure of England.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve never heard the like.’

  ‘Every man has his price, George, even the Pope of Rome. You can negotiate on my behalf as you see fit.’

  George took a sip of wine and nodded in approval. ‘It might not even be necessary to travel to Rome. I am still Archbishop of York. It will give me great satisfaction to personally preside over Isabel’s wedding.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Richard watched as his brother ate hungrily, tearing at the bread and wiping his plate with the crust just the way he had in this same room when they were boys. He remembered his surprise when their father first announced his wish for his youngest son to study for the priesthood. Only now did he see what a clever move his father had made to secure the power of the church, although he never envied his brother’s apparent life of chastity.

  George finished eating and set the now empty plate on the table, refilling his goblet with wine. ‘And I would ask something of you in return, Richard, if I can.’

  ‘Of course. All you need do is ask.’ Richard was curious.

  ‘I am probably right in thinking you had a hand in the ransacking of Earl Rivers’ mansion by the men of Kent?’

  Richard didn’t reply, although he knew his silence would tell his brother all he needed to know.

  George continued. ‘At least you had the decency to make sure neither he or his family were at home this time.’

  Richard knew he was referring to the way his men had dragged Richard Woodville and his wife Jacquetta from their bed in the raid on Sandwich and paraded them through the streets of Calais. It had seemed a good idea at the time. He wasn’t to know that Rivers would one day be the king’s right hand man, or that Edward would marry his daughter.

  ‘What are you asking me to do?’ He sat up in his chair, trying not to become annoyed at his brother. ‘Is it my fault the Woodvilles are making themselves unpopular?’

  George looked exasperated. ‘Richard. I am asking you to try harder to make your peace with the father of the queen. He is a decent man. Edward and Elizabeth both listen to him, so you could have no greater ally to protect your interests at court.’

  ‘You are right. If we have the dispensation, he might be able to moderate Edward’s feelings about Isabel marrying his brother.’

  ‘Then it is your plan to look at how Edward can be deposed?’ There was a casual note to George’s voice, as if he wasn’t talking of treason against the king.

  Richard hesitated before answering. It had saddened him when he realised he could no longer be entirely sure of his brother John, who was still fiercely loyal to Edward. Richard had never been close to George, who had followed such a different path, so still wondered how open he could be.

  ‘George, Duke of Clarence, has reached his majority. My daughter Isabel is now seventeen.’ He took a large log and threw it on the fire, which crackled and spat then burst into new orange flames. ‘All I want is for them to be married while it’s still possible.’

  If George sensed Richard’s unwillingness to share his plans, he gave no sign of it. ‘What will we do if I cannot convince the Pope?’

  Richard looked at his brother and decided to be more open with him. He had few enough allies now. ‘You know our brother John recently quelled an insurrection aimed at restoring the Percy family to power?’

  ‘Yes. York is full of it.’ George reached for the wine bottle and refilled his goblet. ‘This man who called himself Robin of Holderness was an agent of the Percy family.’ He stared into the flames. ‘He was inciting people to protest at the new taxes, when they were really campaigning for Henry Percy to be restored to the Earldom of Northumberland.’

  ‘John hanged the ring-leaders, so I think we’ll hear no more of it, although it has given me an idea.’

  George looked interested. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Sir John Conyers visited me to express his support. He has a sizeable band of retainers.’ Richard looked at his brother, watching his reaction. ‘I’ve suggested he c
ould help me by reminding our neighbours in the north of how little Edward has done for them. He is calling himself Robin of Redesdale.'

  ‘And in the meantime you continue to act as a loyal Yorkist?’

  ‘We are loyal Yorkists, George. I don’t forget how our father and brother both died for the cause.’ He took a sip of his wine and stared into the fire. ‘In the meantime I don’t see any harm in building support from those who are disaffected with the Woodvilles. If it ever comes to a fight, I need to be sure that people will rally to our banner.’

  The silver bells on the hooded falcon’s leather traces tinkled musically as Richard and his hunting party rode towards the woods in the early autumn sunshine. George, Duke of Clarence, had arrived at Warwick Castle in style the previous day, wearing a shining silver breastplate adorned with a heavy gold medallion. Richard had invited him to come hunting with falcons, a good opportunity to get to know his future son-in-law better. He also needed to hear the latest news from London from someone inside the royal circle.

  As well as the falconers, his squire Luke Tully and half a dozen men of his personal guard rode behind them, armed and ready if needed. Warwick Castle was a true fortress now. Lookouts stood guard on the battlements and patrols marched around the perimeter night and day, with guard commanders ready to sound the alarm at the first sign of trouble.

  The threat of an attack was even felt inside the castle, where only the most trusted servants now remained in the household. A generous supply of provisions had been stored so they could withstand a siege if necessary, although Richard hoped it would never come to that. He had seen too many sieges in the north where those defending castles were simply trapped inside, their castles becoming their prisons.

  He glanced at the young duke riding alongside him. If he didn’t know he would never have guessed this was Edward’s brother or Duke Richard’s, for that matter, the three of them were so different in every respect. For all his faults, Edward looked and acted like a king, while Richard was serious and controlled. George was lighthearted and easily bored by politics or government. Fortunately he was excited about the prospect of hunting with the hawks.