Will then revealed the queen’s plan to overturn the late king’s decree that Gloucester be sole protector and become regent herself. He assured the duke of his own loyalty to his dead brother’s wishes and to the new boy king.
As well, Dorset persuaded the council to make his uncle, Sir Edward, commander of the fleet and sent it to sea, taking a portion of the royal treasury with him “to pay the troops.” Should Woodville influence on the council and the young king be so great as to exclude you and me from it, I fear for our safety, my lord, and for the good of the realm.
Who could he send to carry the urgent message? Once again, his eye fell on his one-time squire turned lawyer, William Catesby, whom he had mentored. “Say nothing of your mission, William, but go you with all haste to find the duke of Gloucester at York and put this into no one’s hands but his.”
Catesby forced an unctuous smile as he tucked the heavily sealed missive into his pleated doublet and bowed. In truth, he resented being treated like a common messenger when he preferred to remain at the council meetings, to ascertain to whom he should afix his star. The last place he wanted to be at this most dramatic time was in the cold and wild of the Yorkshire hills.
Will’s letter was the second of two warnings Richard had received at York during his mourning for his brother. The duke of Buckingham, the only royal cousin Richard had left, had sent a similar missive not two days before from his castle in Wales assuring Richard of his support and requesting to join his cousin on the road to London. Buckingham had been informed of Rivers’s imminent departure with the new king from nearby Ludlow, and the duke, too, worried that the royal cousins would be ousted from the new king’s circle by the Woodvilles if they did not take possession of the boy before he arrived in London.
“Master Catesby, I thank you heartily,” Richard said affably when he had read Will’s letter. “Come, take some refreshment and tell me what you know of the situation in London. You are Hastings’s lawyer, are you not?”
“Aye, my lord, and I have been privileged to be noticed by the archbishop of Canterbury as well,” Catesby answered, hand-washing and bowing low again in his ingratiating manner as he took the proffered cup of ale. He could see the grief for Edward plainly on the duke’s face.
Richard sat down and studied the man, who was probably the same age as he. Catesby appeared humble. His face was leanly handsome and his demeanor intelligent though watchful, but the word fox came to Richard’s mind. “I assume you have attended the council meetings. Can you give me a fair account?”
As soon as he saw the chance to be useful to the most important man in England, Catesby’s interest in his mission grew, and he wished he could have broken the seal on Hastings’s letter and learned the contents. He now observed Richard of Gloucester with interest as he prepared to speak. He was impressed by the splendid mourning garb, the man’s calm dignity, and his plain speaking. Loyalty Binds Me was the duke’s motto, Catesby remembered, and he could well imagine, from all he had heard, that loyalty truly defined this man’s character.
“I can indeed relate any information you might wish to know, your grace,” Catesby began. “I have an uncanny knack for remembering even the most insignificant details, down to the color of gown a councilor was wearing.” Seeing Richard’s wry smile, he made bold to add, “But I usually reserve those sartorial tidbits for the ladies.” He was rewarded with a hint of a chortle, and his confidence rose, though he could not tell whether Richard was really amused.
Soon Richard learned all he needed to know to reinforce the truth of Will’s and Harry’s messages, and he invited Catesby to ride with him to Sheriff Hutton castle, where he was lodged for the city of York’s own obsequies for Edward. He then sent word back to Will, promising to arrive in the south at the end of April with only a modest number of men. He had no intention of frightening his young nephew with a show of force. He wanted the boy to know his uncle had come to protect him and the Crown, and that he had sworn an oath to do so in front of the good people of York and written the same to the queen and the council. He wondered if the boy had been told his uncle would be protector, and assumed Rivers might choose to withhold that vital piece of information. What were those Woodvilles planning? he wondered again, especially after he was not informed at Edward’s death that he was supposed to be named protector. He must think and act carefully.
“I shall have need of someone with your legal mind in my protectorate, Master Catesby. Attend me when I am settled at Westminster,” he said, ending the audience.
Later, Catesby rode from the well-appointed castle and congratulated himself on his good fortune. Perhaps he would no longer have to take orders from Lord Hastings, he told himself, by whom the younger man had always felt overshadowed.
“It was magnificent, my dear,” Hastings said from his pillowed position on Jane’s settle, her little dog curled in the crook of his arm. “Edward would have approved. We kept vigil at St. George’s all night, and on that last morning Bishops York, Lincoln, and Durham said prayers for his soul. I was one of those who placed his shield, helmet, and sword in the tomb, and then my offering of cloth of gold.” His face clouded for a moment as he remembered Edward’s leaden coffin being lowered into the vault. “Many there wept when we, the officers of the household, made the final gesture to mark the passing of the old reign by the casting of our staves upon the coffin. ’Tis a sound I shall not soon forget, the echo of it so startling in the quiet of that beautiful chapel Edward had so lovingly created.”
Jane listened enthralled, imagining then the heralds throwing in their coats of arms after the staves, donning new ones, and crying, “Long live the king!” She swallowed the lump in her throat and stared at the Galatea tapestry, still not believing she would never see Edward again.
Sensing they were slipping into moroseness, she rose and fetched more wine. “What now, my lord?” she asked. “Do we simply wait for Richard of Gloucester and then crown young Edward?”
Hastings eased himself into a sitting position as he took the delicate glass from her. “I have written to Gloucester urging him to come at once. If Edward is crowned before Richard gets here, which is what the Woodvilles appear to be planning, then I fear he and I will be in danger.”
“Danger, my lord?” she echoed fearfully. “What kind of danger? I do not understand? Why would they crown the boy without Gloucester? Did Edward not name him protector?”
“It will come down to a battle for power over who governs as regent,” Will explained. “ ’Tis my belief the queen and her adherents will stop at nothing to retain power as blood relations of the young king. Many on the council are wavering in their loyalties. Do they support the queen if she is able to secure the power and thus keep their positions, or if Gloucester’s protectorate is upheld by the rest of us, will those councilors follow us or be ousted? I believe Gloucester will never allow Elizabeth to share the regency. He views her as an upstart with no royal blood, and she knows it.” Will shifted his weight. “The truth of the matter is that Gloucester is less well known here in the south, and he could be in mortal danger if Elizabeth decides to take possession of the king and oust his uncle. She cannot afford to let him live to fight back.” He patted the seat beside him. “I will support Richard if it should come to a fight, and thus I must tread warily now. If Gloucester goes, so do I. Do you understand?”
Jane shivered, and Will pulled her closer; her nearness and his desire to protect her were almost overwhelming.
“What will become of me?” she asked with trepidation. “I know I must look to the future, even though it frightens me. I have even thought of reverting to my former trade as a silkwoman”—she looked up at him hesitatingly—“or asking you for a loan to set up a business. I am a freewoman of the city and have rights, and I all but ran my husband’s shop, you remember.”
Will thought quietly for a few moments before turning to her and taking her hands.
“It happens that your concern matches mine, my dear, and now is a good
time to discuss it. Has it occurred to you that you are free to be with me now, Jane, and that I could extend to you my full protection?” Before Jane could shake her head at this extraordinary generosity, Will took her face between his hands and kissed her gently. “You must know I have loved you since the first time I saw you, and that love still burns within me. Dare I hope you could love me a little, Jane?”
“Oh, my good lord, you honor me,” Jane stammered, dazed. She pulled his hands to her lap and studied them while she thought. She ought not to lie, she told herself; it was not so much of a shock, although she prayed she had done nothing to encourage him once she had become Edward’s concubine. She thought quickly; his offer would be the solution to the problem that had tormented her night after night since Edward’s death. Hastings was wealthy enough to keep her in the house she had come to love, and although her heart was given elsewhere, Tom Grey had not attempted to even see her since Edward’s death, she had to admit with chagrin.
She looked up at Will’s anxious face, a face she had grown to love as a true friend’s or even, she had admitted to herself once, the loving father she had never known. But he was offering her more than friendship, she knew. He wanted her in his bed, and it was not something she had even contemplated in her musings. She had thought his initial physical attraction to her had waned long ago and that he was comfortable with their friendship.
“I pray you, my lord, allow me more time for grieving. I would hold Edward’s memory close for a little while longer. Besides, you must look to yourself in the next days and keep yourself safe. It will allow me a little more time to mourn and to think, my dear friend.”
Will sighed. “Friend. That is the only way you think of me, is it not? I had hoped after all these years, I might have found a different place in a corner of your heart.” He patted her knee and rose. “Certes, you may have a few days, Jane. If you say yes, I promise I will make you happy, if only because you will make me the happiest of men.”
He flung his mantle about his shoulders and pulled the cord through the jeweled tasseau. With some urgency, he told her, “I will not force you, but I would have you think carefully about your future. I can protect you. The queen will want you gone from court, and Gloucester will turn you out of Edward’s house as soon as look at you. His loyalty to Edward does not extend to you. God’s bones, but he is such a sanctimonious bore!” Will’s pun on Gloucester’s White Boar badge was not lost on Jane, her mind delighting in such wordplay, but she put a more serious finger to her lips.
“Caution, Will, you know not who may be listening.”
But Will had not finished. “In case you were worried about my wife—Katherine and I have not shared a bed these two years, and she cares not what I do now. Think favorably on my proposal, Jane, I beg of you.”
Jane allowed Will to fold her in an embrace, but she could not bring herself to let him kiss her again and turned her face so his lips found her cheek. She begged his pardon: “ ’Tis too soon. I will give you an answer anon, I promise.”
She heard the front door shut behind him and sought the sanctuary of the settle, her knees weak and unsteady. How could he still be in love with her after all these years? Strange, Will had never given her an inkling he still lusted for her. That he felt affection and friendship for her, she well knew; it matched her own feelings for him, but to take her to his bed and expect her to accept him now as a lover after she had loved the king, she could not understand. How could she have been so blind all these years to his true feelings?
Far more important, however, was that without him she might be in danger of being evicted from Thames Street and end up in a brothel—or worse, in that wretched Ludgate gaol. Will’s offer looked rosier by the minute, although she fretted that her motive was self-serving. She had to admit, however guilty it made her feel, that she was disappointed, for God only knew he was not the new protector that she yearned for. Where was Tom? Why had he not come to console her or even contact her? If he still loved her, he would have to have given her a thought now. But Jane refused to listen to the imp inside her. “Selfish coward,” it said, but Jane believed Tom must have a good reason.
Events at the end of April overshadowed Will’s resolve to have Jane for his own. The next time he visited her, he was bursting with news and optimism.
“Elizabeth—the queen—has gone into sanctuary along with her children, including the whey-faced Dorset,” Will told Jane, taking long strides about the room in his eagerness to tell his tale. “It seems Gloucester heeded my warning and has taken control of the king’s person.”
“My lord, you are making no sense. Why would the queen need sanctuary? Why do you not sit down and calmly tell me what has happened. You forget I am merely a forgotten mistress of the former king; no one brings me information anymore.”
Will calmed himself and took up his customary seat with Jane’s dog upon the settle, unlacing his tight, padded jacket and exhaling with relief. “How I detest this new fashion and long for my loose gown,” he admitted. He grinned at Jane as he removed his bonnet and gave his scalp a scratch. “Much better. So, let me see, where shall I start?”
“The queen is in sanctuary,” Jane helped him.
“Ah. My lord of Gloucester is a canny one, I will give him that,” he began again. “After seeing that the city officers swore fealty to young Edward, he left York and proceeded south as far as Nottingham. In the meantime, Rivers with the king came south from Ludlow and agreed to meet with Gloucester at Northampton. When Gloucester arrived, Rivers had gone on to Stony Stratford farther south. This seemed in direct defiance of the protector’s orders, and one can understand Gloucester’s consternation. What were the Woodvilles planning? And how large was their force? The king was now more than a dozen miles closer to London and his Woodville kin, and Gloucester feared for his own safety.
“It would seem Henry of Buckingham has been in communication with his cousin Gloucester since Edward’s death,” Will continued. Jane looked blankly at him. “Henry Stafford, duke of Buckingham, is the only cousin of royal blood left to Richard.” He chuckled. “Ned never had much time for Harry. He thought him a buffoon—a popinjay without a brain. Perhaps the duke hopes to ingratiate himself with Richard by lending his support, I know not.
“But I digress. Where was I? Ah yes, at Northampton. While the two royal cousins contemplated hurrying after Rivers, Rivers himself doubled back into Northampton. Perhaps he felt guilty for not waiting for Richard as planned. He left the king at Stony Stratford with Richard Grey and the others.”
Tom’s brother, Jane thought with a jolt. She nodded politely, only mildly interested in this story so far. Will, on the other hand, consumed with the tale, ran on. “Apologizing with the feeble excuse of ‘no room at the inn’ for both retinues in Northampton, Rivers explained how they had moved on. ‘But here I am, my lord protector, and there is no plot afoot to race you to London,’ he boldly stated, or some such falsehood. Then it seems Gloucester and Buckingham entertained the self-satisfied earl in style that evening, but on the morrow arrested him on suspicion of treason.”
By now Jane was agog to hear more. “Treason, Will? Is not treason only against the Crown?”
“You have the measure of it, well done,” Will agreed. “Richard of Gloucester, assuming he was already protector despite lack of official sanction by the council, acted as though he represented the Crown. I am doubtful the council will agree; they think he acted too boldly and certainly prematurely, as they had not yet bestowed the title on him. But in fairness to Richard, he was also dismayed by the army that Rivers had traveled with, and suspecting his own life might have been in danger, he felt justified in arresting Rivers and later Grey, although”—and Will frowned, scratching his head again—“why Richard needed to arrest Sir Thomas Vaughan as well is a mystery. No doubt he had his reasons.”
“The old man who is chamberlain to the Prince of Wales . . . I mean the young king?” Jane asked, shocked.
Will nodded. “Doubtle
ss, he, Grey, and Rivers are now languishing in a cell up north as far from the other members of the Woodville faction as possible. In the end, the protector sent the rest of the army back to their homes, confiscating their arms, and now has the young king safely with him.”
Jane thought of handsome Anthony Woodville, Lord Rivers, shackled and thrown in a cell at a gloomy castle in the desolation she imagined the north to be, and shivered. “Poor Rivers, he must have been surprised,” she remarked. “Is that why the queen sought sanctuary, to avoid a similar arrest? Do they suspect her of treason, too?”
“I doubt Richard would have a case against her, but Elizabeth was taking no chances, especially while she has her youngest son, the heir to the throne, in her charge.”
Jane thought for a second as she pinched a flea off her dog’s fluffy coat and crushed it between her thumb and finger. How ironic that both Edward’s women were, in their own way, forced to seek sanctuary after his death: Elizabeth with God; Jane perhaps with Will.
“Aye, certes, young Dickon of York is the heir now,” she replied. “I keep forgetting.”
“Dorset is with her, the lily-livered weakling. He is past thirty and still hides behind his mother’s skirts. Still, happily, he cannot do much from Westminster Abbey,” Will said, ignorant that Jane was resisting a retort in her favorite’s defense.
“And Gloucester? He is on his way here from Northampton with the king?”
“They arrive tomorrow. I am to meet the cavalcade in Hornsey Meadow and escort the king into the city with Gloucester and Buckingham. London must see that it is Gloucester and not the queen who will govern the young king. ’Twas Edward’s dying wish.”
“Then I should not delay you, my lord,” Jane said, rising. “You must have a deal to do to prepare for the king’s entry.”
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