On the other side of the bed, Tom Grey raised an eyebrow at his mother, as if to say “too close for comfort,” but Elizabeth was listening to Edward’s request that she leave him to his councilors “for just a little while, my dear. Go, I pray, and fetch Dickon so I may give him a father’s blessing. It pains me that I cannot bless Ned and teach him what he needs to know. I pray you, Bess, give him my love.”
Elizabeth nodded, much moved. Doctor de Serigo and the other physicians had advised her that Edward was near the end. It was pointless to send for the Prince of Wales now; there was no hope that the king would see his heir again.
It seemed half of Westminster was gathered in the stuffy chamber awaiting, like circling carrion crows. Temporal and spiritual lords like Hastings, Stanley, Howard father and son, and Rotherham, Morton, Russell, and Stillington had all served Edward through his twenty-two-year reign and hoped to be rewarded at the last.
All at once the king struggled to sit up, a fanatical light in his eye and grim determination on his face.
“If I am to die, I will see you, my lord Dorset, and you, my lord Hastings, forgive your differences and reconcile in front of these witnesses. Draw near and swear friendship,” he ordered the two astonished subjects. “Now!”
For a brief moment, Will was tempted to refuse, especially as his young popinjay stepson-in-law’s reticence was equally evident. But then he looked back at Edward, who had made such a monumental effort to effect this extraordinary reconciliation, and, despite his pride, Will walked toward the marquess, his hand outstretched.
“With all my heart, I will strive to become your friend,” Will asserted, his eyes never leaving his adversary’s face.
As though his arm were lead, Tom Grey raised it level with Will’s, and they grasped wrists in a reluctant show of camaraderie. Edward nodded. “ ’Tis well done and all I ask before I leave this earth. England cannot afford such dissensions, my lords. It makes us weak and vulnerable.” He gestured to the others clustered by the door. “All of you, take one another’s hands. Swear you will uphold my kingdom and support my son and my brother’s regency when I am gone.”
When the men had complied, Will edged Tom from the bed and bent to kiss Edward’s clammy forehead. “My heart and my sword are yours always, sire. My gratitude for your friendship may never be fully expressed, but all will know it by my loyalty to your sons.” When Will saw his sovereign’s tears, he turned away, stifling his own sadness. “Adieu, sweet king,” he whispered.
“God be with you, too, faithful servant,” Edward replied, unabashed.
Will composed himself and returned to his place next to Jack Howard. “Did I appear sincere with Dorset?”
“Aye, my lord,” Howard replied, but Will noticed the long mustache twitch, as if the mouth were trying hard not to smile.
“Are you for Gloucester as protector?” Will asked, and was cheered to see the vigorous nod from his colleague. “Then I can call on your support if I need it? In case the family”—and he jerked his head in Elizabeth’s direction—“tries to take the reins instead.”
Howard raised his eyebrows. “Do you think they might? Against the king’s express instructions? But aye, you can count on me, Will.”
Satisfied with the reconciliation, Edward fell back onto the pillow, demanding another potion from the hovering physicians. “And then I shall rest. You may leave me, my lords.”
Within a few minutes, the nine-year-old duke of York was led into the room by Thomas Howard. Dickon ran to his beloved father’s bedside and hopped up onto the bed.
“They say you are not well, my lord Father. Does it hurt?”
Edward forced a grin and patted the boy’s golden head. “Certes, it does not,” he assured his son. “We shall have some sport in a very few days.” Then he looked grave. “But if something should happen and I am not here, I want you to promise to look after your mother and your sisters, do you understand?” When Dickon nodded, his blue eyes anxious and wide, Edward took his hand. “And Ned will be king one day, and you must learn to be a loyal brother, just as my brother Richard is loyal to me. We have talked about family loyalty before, remember?”
“Aye, Father,” Dickon answered.
Edward made an effort to sound more cheerful. “You are old enough to know that no one lives forever, are you not? When that day comes for me, I want you to know that you and Ned will be looked after by Uncle Richard. Promise you will obey him. He will be kind to you. He will be in charge until Ned is old enough to govern.”
Dickon leaned forward and confided: “Can I tell you a secret, Father? I am glad Ned is going to be king and not me. I would rather go fishing or play kick-ball.”
For the first time in days, Edward laughed, which caused a bout of congested coughing. Dickon watched full of anxiety until Edward was able to reassure his son. “It sounds worse than it is, my son. Now kneel and receive my blessing.”
Later, when the prince had left the room, Edward asked Elizabeth to draw the bed curtains around them for privacy.
“My dear, I have a boon to ask of you,” he said softly. “Many years ago, I sired a daughter on a woman who lived not far from Grafton.” He felt Elizabeth stiffen. “The lady died and the child was left with the nuns at Delapré. I have supported the convent all these years in payment for my sin, but I would ask that you fetch Grace and let her know her half-sisters. ’Tis much to ask, I know, but will you do that for me, Bess? Maybe God will forgive my sin if I acknowledge the girl. I have seen to my other bastards, and I would not leave this one abandoned. I know I have no right to ask, but will you grant me this one last favor, love of my life?”
His declaration cracked Elizabeth’s hard heart. “I will find her, Ned, never fear. I will care for her as you wish.”
“I thank you,” he said simply. “Now I pray you forgive me my infidelities, and I shall rest more easily. I never stopped loving you, Bessie. Not ever.”
“I forgive you, Edward,” Elizabeth said, deep emotion shaking her voice. Taking his head between her hands, she gently kissed his parched lips. “Oh, my dear husband, how I shall miss you. With all of my heart I shall miss you.”
Edward watched her unaccustomed tears, which caused his own to well. His breathing became shallower when he suddenly clutched Elizabeth’s sleeve. Words were difficult now, but he tried, and mouthed, “Forgive . . . me . . . Nell . . . Nell . . .”
Elizabeth suppressed a sharp retort. Why was he speaking his former harlot’s name? He must be confused, but she was understandably hurt. Instead, as kindly as she could, she asked, “Why should Eleanor forgive you?”
But Edward was too weak to explain what had happened with Eleanor Butler all those years ago. Aye, best left a secret, he decided wearily.
Well into the dark morning hours of Wednesday, Edward confessed his sins, repenting sincerely for them. The sun was halfway to noon when he received the last sacrament from Archbishop Rotherham, while Elizabeth knelt with nine-year-old Dickon and their daughters around the bed. From across the room, Will watched, stricken, as Edward the Fourth’s tumultuous forty-year life came to a premature end.
An hour later the bells in the more than one hundred churches in the city tolled the news to the shocked populace, and a messenger was dispatched to Middleham to take the news to Richard. Knowing how long it would take for the duke to be informed and journey to London, the council saw no reason for urgency in informing him. However, the business of embalming and burying the king must necessarily be done in a timely manner and, thus regrettably, without Richard.
Since leaving the king the week before, Jane had taken to reading Edward’s book of Ovid’s Metamorphoses every day to comfort herself. She knew protocol must keep her away from the palace now. That day, she was reading the tragic story of Orpheus and Eurydice, when she heard the first bell toll the death knell for the king. Knowing at once its significance, she dropped the book and fell to her knees to pray for the swift winging to heaven of her loving protector’s soul.
/> Later that night, the first wave of grief past, Jane could not help wondering what would become of her now. The rosary beads put aside, her mind was a jumble of fleeting thoughts and images of her lover, of how much she would miss him, and of herself, of how she would survive without him. Might her father take her back? Nay, a futile idea. Might she, as a freewoman of London, be able to own a business? She did not know. She knew she could always make a wage in one of the busy silkwomen shops in Soper Lane, but the prospect was unappealing. Tom Grey’s face interrupted her practical thoughts then, and she caught her breath. Might he come to her now and make her his mistress? She hardly dared to hope, but the thought felt unseemly at this solemn moment of the king’s passing, and she suppressed it.
In the end, Jane determined to ask Will Hastings to help her, and, after asking God to welcome Edward to His side, she turned into the pillow and gave way to mourning the loss of the man who had given her all but his name for eight wonderful years.
THIRTEEN
LONDON, APRIL AND MAY 1483
The queen had barely donned her mourning gown and seen her husband laid out in state at St. Stephen’s chapel when she acted.
Calling her brothers Lionel and Edward and her two adult sons to her apartments, Elizabeth began by dictating a letter to her oldest sibling, Anthony, Earl Rivers, at Ludlow, commanding him to bring the new king, twelve-year-old Edward, swiftly to London. Rivers had been supervising the late king’s heir on the Welsh Marches for several years, it being a tradition that the Prince of Wales be brought up in his own household from an early age. The journey from Ludlow would take several days after the messenger arrived, so young Edward would be too late for the funeral, Elizabeth knew. Those arrangements were already in place, and as was the custom after a few days of lying in state, the king’s body would be buried without delay. Elizabeth began dictating.
“Right well, beloved brother and guardian of my son, his grace, the new king of England, we greet you well from Westminster. As you may imagine, grief for my husband and lord’s passing is still lying heavy upon me. And yet, I am determined to secure the right to protect my son, the king, and be named regent by the council alongside you who has best known and loved your nephew these ten years as his governor. However, it has come to our attention that there are those who would name Richard of Gloucester as protector—”
“ ‘Those who would name’?” Tom interjected. “We were all there when the late king demanded it. Have a care, Mother.”
“What are you asking of Anthony?” Sir Edward Woodville asked, stroking his long aquiline nose between his finger and thumb. “I agree with Tom here, be cautious.”
“God’s bones, let me finish!” Elizabeth snapped. She waved an arm at her secretary. “Continue writing, Master Gunthorpe. Now where was I?”
The queen urged Rivers to come to London with young Edward without delay and to bring a large force to deter any possible opposition to her regency.
“Should we not ask the council’s advice on this?” Sir Edward tried again, awed by his sister’s ability to put aside her grief and begin strategizing. “Whatever you are planning, Sister, will be of no use if you do not have support from the council.”
“Ned is correct,” Lionel chimed in. “You must consult the council.”
Elizabeth grimaced as she looked from handsome Sir Edward to dour Lionel, the latter raised to the bishopric of Salisbury only last year thanks to her efforts. There were times when she wished she had been born a man. “Very well then, which one of you will speak for me?” she said. Seeing Lionel nod, she added, “We must convince the council that Gloucester is dangerous, and that I should be regent. Without a leader, we have the chance to bend the councilors to our bidding. Whatever the outcome of your meeting, I will send this letter to Anthony with or without their permission. We must get Ned to London as quickly as possible or we shall lose control of him.” She lowered her voice so her ladies across the room could not overhear. “I have no doubt Richard of Gloucester will take charge of the council and push us away. If we lose Ned, we Woodvilles are finished.”
Tom stepped forward, determination on his face. “I am constable of the Tower and thus have armaments and a garrison at my command. Not to mention guardianship of the treasury. Let me go with Lionel to the council and remind them of that. ’Twill strengthen our case to set up a regency before Gloucester arrives.”
Elizabeth nodded, pleased to see Tom take the initiative. “Who else will support our case, my lords? Gloucester’s friends are all up north; surely we have those who will also want to see my son crowned as soon as the coronation can be arranged. We could have counted on Bourchier, but the man decided to die three days before the king, damn him.”
Elizabeth’s brothers were taken aback by the callous remark, seeing a new side in their sister. “I rather liked the old earl,” Sir Edward told them. “Who will take the treasurer title now, I wonder?”
“ ’Tis of no importance,” Tom interrupted. He turned back to Elizabeth. “You cannot count on Jack Howard, Mother, he is not our ally. But remember, there is such antipathy toward the clergy nowadays, the bishops will be glad to side with whomever controls the new regime. Rotherham, Morton, and Russell, not to mention Canterbury. All were loyal to my stepfather.”
“And Hastings?” Lionel asked. “Where does he stand?”
“I am not sure of Will Hastings,” Elizabeth mused. “He pledged to uphold Gloucester’s protectorship. He knows I dislike him and you despise him. Thus he is more likely to cleave to Gloucester than support me. They respect each other, I think.”
Tom disagreed. “ ’Tis my belief Gloucester blames Hastings for the king’s profligacy. I would not wager on those two as allies.”
Elizabeth rose, statuesque in her purple mourning gown, and clicked her fingers at her dog. “Come, Ficelle, we shall have to take the air, as I am excluded from the hallowed council chamber. Tom, Lionel, go now and make our case. And do not fail me.”
Elizabeth was right that the councilors were lacking leadership during those first days following Edward’s death. They perceived the queen’s power as an extension of her son’s, and readily agreed to send for the young king on the queen’s orders. However, they were wary enough to refuse her request that Earl Rivers bring a veritable army with him to guard the boy. “Who does the queen fear will attack them en route?” Howard asked his son later when the council allowed Rivers two thousand men, against Howard’s better judgment. “Certes, not Richard of Gloucester. He has already sworn fealty to young Edward, so we are told.”
Word was sent to Richard as soon as the king had died, but there was no mention that he was to be named protector. The duke had spent many an hour closeted with his wife and chaplain, grieving. Knowing he would be too late for the funeral, Richard chose to go to nearby York to organize masses for his brother’s soul, gather the northern lords to him and swear fealty to the new king. Without a sense of urgency, he made his plans for the long journey south, certain that men such as Hastings and Howard, with the rest of Edward’s loyal council, would take the reins until young Ned and he could get to London. He wrote to Anthony Rivers, in charge of the young king at Ludlow, and suggested they meet on their way south so Richard could accompany his nephew into the capital. He assumed he would be named to some sort of regency, but he was unaware of Edward’s deathbed wish that he be sole protector.
He had not, however, bargained on the queen’s duplicity.
Much to Elizabeth’s delight, the councilors, made up of many notable lords and prelates in London for Edward’s obsequies, not only agreed to set up a regency council in which she and Dorset would take a part, but also, fearing that Gloucester would seize power for himself, ignored Edward’s wish that his brother be sole protector. Instead they made him one of the regents. Will had voiced his opposition to the shared regency, reminding the councilors of the king’s dying wish, but he had been overruled. It was clear the Woodville power remained strong.
Will addressed
the queen’s obvious haste. “Why not wait for Gloucester? What has she to fear from him? They both want to see young Edward crowned, and no one could be more trustworthy than Gloucester to carry out the late king’s wishes. The duke will not deny her access to her son. In all my years of close confidence with the late king, I have never seen rancor between Gloucester and the queen. Is this something new?” The unspoken answer had to be that Elizabeth wanted sole power, but no one dared to denounce the queen in public, even when she was absent.
It was later, when this council acquiesced to sending the fleet to sea, with Sir Edward Woodville in charge, to defend England’s ships from French piracy and to hastening a coronation for the young Edward, that Will Hastings’s suspicions intensified about the Woodville motives.
Will became incensed when Dorset boasted to him and a few others, “We Woodvilles are so powerful that even without the king’s uncle, we are able to make and enforce these decisions.”
“Christ’s bones, you are not above the rule of the council, my lord,” Will snapped.
“Young Edward is the king, Lord Hastings, and, in case you have forgotten, we are his closest blood relatives. Have a care, my lord,” Dorset threatened before stalking from the room.
Hastings hid his disquiet as best he could, but as soon as the councilors disbanded for the day, he lost no time in writing a private letter to Richard of Gloucester at York. Christ’s nails, why had he not anticipated the queen’s intent and written to Gloucester before the king died.
Most dear and gracious duke, we greet thee well. As your brother’s loyal friend, I write to urge you to come to London with all haste and bring as many as you can muster with you. I fear our new sovereign’s mother and kin are looking to control him. By now you will know that the king named you as protector until your nephew is of age, and you must assume your role as soon as possible.
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