God! Their revenge runs deep, she thought. And then she felt the panic rising within her. Was her son here, too? ‘Please spare me that sight,’ she whispered.
When they had passed, Margaret breathed a sigh of relief; the young knight had told her the truth.
The Black Bear Inn, Tewkesbury
10 May 1471
John Tunstall studied Margaret of Anjou, this queen of poor mad Henry. Some said that the news of her son’s death had broken her spirit, that the great warrior queen had finally been humbled. Looking at her, he knew this was not true, for she stood tall and proud before her captors. He marvelled at her beauty, and could now understand why Simon Langford had given his all for her love.
King Edward sat upright and alert in a huge high-backed chair. He was dressed in chain mail and leather, his metal gauntlets tossed casually on to a table beside him. He looked every inch the warrior king. He studied Margaret; beside her stood Anne, and Lady Vaux.
The royal court had heard about the terrible death of Lady Whittingham. Sir William Stanley had said that it was an unfortunate accident when defending himself from that Bitch of Anjou’s attack. However, Edward had shown his displeasure that one of his knights should kill an innocent woman. He had Sir William exiled from court and sent back to his estates in the north, in disgrace, to await further punishment.
Duke Richard stood to the left of Edward; George, Duke of Clarence, stood on the right. Lord Hastings stood to one side with Earl Rivers.
The room was bare and airless. Sunlight shone through narrow windows high up on the walls. In these thin shafts of golden light, John saw dust motes suspended in mid-air. He felt the sweat run down his back. He looked at Anne and thought about how they had both grown up together at Middleham. He remembered how they had played as children. Just over a year ago, she had been safe and secure at her father’s court, but now the world had changed. Forced to flee to France, she was then ordered to marry the son of her father’s greatest enemy. Now, her father was dead, her husband was dead, and her mother in sanctuary within Beaulieu Abbey. He could see she was no longer that little girl he once knew. She had grown into a woman; her body had filled out into womanly curves. Her fair skin and blue eyes gave her a beauty that turned men’s heads, and she stood like her mother-in-law, straight and proud, with her father’s royal blood flowing through her veins.
Edward stood and walked towards Anne. He took both her hands in his and smiled. ‘Lady Anne, it has been a long time since I saw you last.’
‘It was at Warwick Castle, many years ago,’ she replied, coldly. ‘You went hunting with my father.’
Releasing her hands, Edward said, ‘Sadly, much has changed since then, but I have no quarrel with you for your father’s crimes, so I grant you a royal pardon, which also includes Lady Vaux, for I have no quarrel with her, either.’
Anne looked at him, her face showing no emotion. ‘Thank you, my Lord.’
John noticed that her words lacked warmth.
Edward continued. ‘Now that you have no male relation to look after you, I have decided to make my brother, George, your legal guardian and—’
Richard stepped forward. ‘Forgive me, brother, but I am better placed to fulfil that duty—’
‘I will not hear of it,’ George butted in. ‘She will come with me and be under her sister’s protection within my household.’
John saw an icy calmness descend over Richard; an air of ruthlessness he had seen many times before.
‘She will come with me,’ Richard whispered with venom, at George. ‘She was betrothed to me by Warwick, and she is still betrothed to me now, and by God, I will marry her!’
‘You do not love her,’ sneered George. ‘You want her lands, her wealth. You already have a woman who bears you children – what is the wench’s name?’ He looked at Anne, unable to keep the look of glee from his face. ‘Katherine Haute; that’s her name!’ he cried.
‘Enough!’ cried Anne. ‘I am not some animal to be bartered over. I am not some little orphan in need of protection. My mother still lives, although you seem to have forgotten this, for you are fighting over her lands already.’
Looking icily at Richard, she said, ‘Do not presume that I would marry the man who killed my husband in cold blood.’
Richard stared hard at the floor, and John could see the cold anger building within him.
‘And, what of you?’ Anne shouted at George, as tears formed in her eyes. ‘You fled to France with my father; you married my sister, and plotted to steal your brother’s throne. First, you betrayed him, and then you betrayed us. I would rather go to Hell than live in your house!’ she cried. ‘No man will ever trust you again. Wherever you go, they will whisper about you. They will watch you out of the corners of their eyes and distrust your every word.’
‘Enough of this!’ cried Edward, in exasperation. ‘Anne, you must have a guardian to protect you.’
‘My Lord, I am now a widow, and as such, under the laws of the land, require no one to hold authority over me. I am free to make my own way in the world without hindrance from any man. You would agree that this is so?’
Edward nodded, in reluctant agreement.
‘So I will stay at the abbey and bury my husband with honour. I shall supervise the internment of Lady Whittingham and her husband, and then I will mourn and say prayers for my father who was slain by you three sons of York.’
‘It was in open battle that your father died,’ said Edward, irritated. ‘It was he who caused that battle in a bid to steal my crown.’
‘It was her lover that killed your father,’ said George, pointing his finger at Margaret, his voice triumphant. ‘Sir Simon Langford, a man who shared your mother-in-law’s bed, delivered the fatal blow.’
There was a brief, shocked silence, broken by a simple question from Richard.
‘Are you with child?’ he asked, his voice cold and hard.
The question caught Anne off guard. She turned and stared at Richard, the revelation about Margaret’s lover killing her father had clouded her mind. Her hand went instinctively to her stomach. The three sons of York were staring intently at her, and a threatening silence filled the room. She suddenly felt afraid.
‘The marriage was never consummated,’ said Margaret, her voice strong and firm. ‘I would never allow it. Warwick was my hated enemy. Do you believe I would allow our Lancastrian blood to be tainted by this girl?’ she said, pointing at Anne with disdain. ‘This spawn of the Devil?’
‘So, she is still a virgin?’ questioned Richard, as he stared unblinking at Anne.
John saw his eyes taking in her beauty, a glimmer of desire growing in them.
‘Yes, the Yorkist bitch is still a virgin.’ Margaret spat the words out, with contempt.
Anne silently thanked Margaret for saving her with her harsh, calculated words. It had allowed her time to compose herself, and she too had seen the look of desire in Richard’s eyes. ‘May I take my leave for the abbey?’ she asked, looking at him from beneath her long eyelashes, her voice soft and girlish.
Richard stepped towards her. ‘I will accompany you, if my brother agrees.’
‘I would ask that Sir John accompany me, instead,’ said Anne. ‘Much has happened between you and I, and it would be best that we do not see each other until my heart is healed.’
Richard stepped back. ‘You are right, my Lady. Time is needed, but do you give me hope?’
Anne half smiled at him. It was a seductive smile. She saw the desire grow within him; she had him hooked like a fish. ‘Yes, my Lord,’ she whispered, although the thought of him naked in bed with her, with his crooked back, turned her stomach.
John, leading Anne by the hand, walked her slowly from the room. Lady Vaux followed.
Anne’s heart pounded as she entered Tewkesbury Abbey. She had eluded Richard and his brothers’ questioning, and now, she was safe – safe within its sanctuary. A feeling of relief swept over her, her great secret would be secure here, at least, for now.
Looking up at the great stone pillars and the beautiful stained-glass windows, she let the peace of this holy place calm her soul.
She looked at John. It had been many years since she had last seen him – how he had changed. She remembered the laughing young boy of their childhood. Memories of their time together at Middleham Castle flooded back to her and she felt a pang of sadness that those carefree days were now gone, forever. Young John was now Sir John, and with his change from boy to man, he had become even more handsome with his black hair and crystal-blue eyes. She could see why Rose loved him so.
‘It is so good to see you,’ Anne cried, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tight. ‘Oh, John, you remind me of happier times, of long hot summers playing in the woods, and crisp white winters full of snowballs and mulled wine.’
‘But, now we are no longer children,’ John replied, his arms returning her hug. ‘We are in the real world of men, politics, and war.’
‘Yes,’ Anne sighed, sadly. ‘Our innocence is gone, and I know that the games we play now are for real, but don’t you just sometimes long for the old days when all was well in the world?’
John threw his head back and laughed. ‘We did have some wonderful times!’
Do you remember,’ Anne asked, ‘when you came from secretly meeting Rose, to my mother’s chambers with your guilt exposed by the stable straw clinging to your backside?’
John smiled at the memory. ‘I remember that night; it was the night I think you and Richard grew fond of each other.’
Anne drew away from him and pursed her lips, thinly. ‘That was long ago,’ she said, coldly. ‘He now has a wench who shares his bed and bears his bastards. All know she is wife to him but for a ring of gold.’
‘And all know he can never marry her. Only someone of your rank can he wed. He thinks very fondly of you, Anne, and wishes you no harm.’
‘He thinks very fondly of my estates!’ she cried ‘Also, his back has grown pitifully crooked since I saw him last. If he were the last man on earth, I would never marry him.’
‘Do not antagonise him. If he thinks all is lost between you both, he will be cold and ruthless to get what he wants.’
Without thinking, Anne’s hands went instinctively to her stomach. She could feel its slightly swollen tightness – the first signs of her precious baby. She noticed John’s eyes following her hands and quickly moved them away. His eyes returned to hers, a look of comprehension in them. A small gasp of fear left her mouth and tears formed in her eyes.
‘You are not the virgin widow that Margaret says you are,’ John whispered. Anne’s silence confirmed his suspicions. He stared at her for what seemed hours, his mind stunned by the revelation that she was pregnant. He saw her on the scaffold, her head on the block, the axe raised and glinting in the early morning sunlight, Richard’s raised hand, and then the axe falling…
Lady Vaux, who had been quiet, spoke up. ‘No one knows of this,’ she whispered, trying to stem the tremor in her voice.
‘They will kill you if they find you are with child,’ John blurted out, in shock. ‘Richard has already convinced his brothers that old King Henry must die on their return to London. Edward and George do not have the stomach to kill an anointed king, but Richard has no such qualms. If he knows you are carrying Henry’s grandchild, well…’ his words trailed off, as he suddenly realised the predicament.
‘Will you tell him?’ asked Anne, her eyes never leaving John’s face.
He looked at Anne, and then at Lady Vaux. ‘He…he is my Lord. I have sworn loyalty to him, and you know we have been companions since childhood.’
‘And so have we,’ said Anne, softly. ‘You have been the brother I never had.’ As Anne watched John, she could see his mind groping for the answer to his dilemma: to whom should he show his loyalty?
‘I could see you were quite taken with the Lady Anne,’ laughed Edward, ‘and it is easy to see why. She is now a woman of real beauty, not the skinny young girl you last saw.’
‘It is not often that one can see the cold Duke of Gloucester melting under the spell of a woman,’ said George, as he joined in with his brother’s laughter.
Richard allowed himself a smile. ‘As you know, it is not the woman I marry, but her estates. That she is beautiful is a bonus, however, I still say the doctor should check her virginity. We cannot believe what Margaret of Anjou says. If she is not a virgin, then she may be pregnant with the heir to the Lancastrian throne.’
‘And what then?’ said Edward. ‘Do we chop her head off, too?’
‘I will marry her, so I would have control of her lands, and then execute her,’ said Richard.
The hardness in his voice made his brothers shudder.
‘No more of this talk,’ said Edward. ‘There has been enough bloodshed over the last few months. We have already killed her father, and uncle, plus her husband. You will know when you see her again if she is with child.’
‘Talking of that arrogant bitch from Anjou; what’s to be done with her?’ asked George.
‘We will take her back to London with us,’ replied Edward. ‘Let’s see if a dungeon in the Tower can drain the arrogance out of her.’
‘Holy Harry must be dealt with,’ said Richard. ‘We have news that the Bastard of Fauconberg, Warwick’s cousin, is sailing up the Thames with his fleet to attack the Tower and free him. Harry will always be a rallying point for the Lancastrian cause.’
‘Fauconberg is the Neville’s last throw of the dice,’ replied Edward. ‘He will not succeed. London has closed her gates to him, and he has no support from the people.’
‘Richard is right,’ joined in George. ‘Fauconberg, in trying to free Henry, has signed his death warrant and although he will fail, others will try. Your crown will not sit easy on your head while Henry lives.’
‘But he is an anointed king,’ said Edward, irritation creeping into his voice. ‘It would be a crime against God to kill him.’ He looked around the room for support. ‘Hastings,’ he barked, ‘you are being very quiet on this matter; it not like you to lose your tongue.’
Lord Hastings pushed himself away from the wall he had been leaning against and walked slowly into the centre of the room. ‘Edward, you are my King and friend,’ he said. ‘As my King, I would say to you that England cannot have two anointed kings. One must die for peace to reign, and as my friend, I say, if you wish to be king then you must make decisions that are made for the good of the realm, but maybe not for your soul.’
‘Friar Drynk – what would the voice of God say?’ asked Edward.
‘He would say that it is better for one to die than thousands. Did he not sacrifice his own son for the good of mankind? You must sacrifice Henry for the good of the realm.’
‘The people will never know the truth,’ whispered Richard. ‘We will say he died of shock on hearing the news of his son’s death. The people will mourn him, for they held him with affection in their hearts, but will love you for bringing peace to the realm.’
Edward nodded. ‘You have all argued well for Henry’s death.’ He looked around at them all. ‘So, this terrible deed will rest with every one of you.’ He paused, his eyes resting on Richard. ‘As you are the Constable of England, it is your duty to carry it out.’
Richard half smiled, a look of triumph fleeting on his features. ‘The kingdom needs a king, not a monk,’ he said, flatly. ‘The deed will be done.’
The early morning sun was lightly brushing the fields with golden hues as it broke the chill of the air.
John and Richard brought their horses to a stop on a hill that overlooked the royal army.
‘How was Anne when you left her?’ asked Richard.
They watched the army break camp and prepare for the march back to London.
‘She is weary, sad, and confused. Her life has been turned upside down many times over this last year. She needs time to rest and come to terms with all that has happened.’
‘Did she mention me?’ asked
Richard.
‘Yes, we talked about the happy times we all shared at Middleham.’
‘I mean, now. How does she talk of me now?’ He studied John’s face as he awaited the answer.
John stared back at his companion and friend. He knew Richard could be cold and ruthless when events dictated, but to John he was always loyal and true. He took a deep breath. His stomach lurched, for he had never lied to him in all the time they had been together, but he could not condemn Anne to death. This great matter was between Richard and his brothers; it was not for him to judge who should die within their royal world. ‘She is still fond of you,’ he lied. ‘You must give her time. I believe if you are patient, you could win her again.’
Richard smiled, broadly. ‘It would be good to have a willing bride, rather than one who has to be dragged to the altar. I will give her plenty of time to come round to the idea of our marriage, but at the end of the day, she will be my wife, be it willing, or not.’
There was a silence between them as the question of Anne filled both their thoughts.
‘What of your plans?’ Richard asked. ‘Do you not have someone you wish to see? Somebody called…what was it now…? Dandelion…? Buttercup…?’
‘Rose,’ replied John, with a look of bemusement. He saw a sly smile appearing on Richard’s face.
Grinning broadly, John said, ‘With your permission, I will leave today.’
‘Go!’ laughed Richard, slapping John on the back. ‘Find her, and don’t come back until you have married her. Take the Hallet twins with you for company and protection. I will join you later at Middleham Castle, for we have business on the Scottish border this summer.’
The Dreams of Kings Page 43