“Of course, your Grace. Anne and I already agreed upon that.”
Ned looked conspiratorially at me. “Did you see that little minx who was in here earlier? Amicia. Beautiful willing creature, Dickon. Later on, after our business is done, I could send for her and a friend…
“It is not necessary, your Grace,” I said hastily and firmly.
“But surely you are…lonely…with your little Anne Neville indisposed. Ah well, no matter, it was only an offer if you needed it. My little brother Gloucester is made of sterner stuff than his King when it comes to the pleasures of women. So Richard, before the council gathers and you meet Percy, tell me, what was your private business with me?”
“Anne’s mother, your Grace. The Countess Anne.”
Ned frowned. “What about her?”
“Her condition is not satisfactory. She needs to leave sanctuary. She needs a place to live, and the final division of her lands needs to be sorted for the last time. At the moment George has the lands, as you know.”
“And you want your share.”
“And why wouldn’t I? As with Warwick’s lands, they are Anne’s as much as Isabel’s.”
“Anne Beauchamp was wife to a traitor…the worst kind of traitor, one who was once a friend.” Edward narrowed his eyes; I knew he thought with pain of how Warwick had turned on him, defied him. “She is lucky the monks gave her sanctuary. I would have imprisoned her had I got hold of her.”
Why he was being so stern towards Anne’s mother mystified me; usually Ned was quite lenient towards his fallen foe’s wives. I decided to speak for the Countess, for Anne’s sake. “She is only a woman, no doubt she merely obeyed her husband’s wishes and would have much rather been home in Middleham than selling her youngest daughter to Queen Marguerite in France. Have pity on her, Ned. No matter her supposed crime, she is my wife’s mother.”
Edward folded his arms and sighed. “I see a stubborn look in your eye, Dickon, which I know all too well. You are not going to let this matter rest, are you? Well, then, if you think it right, I will allow her to leave sanctuary freely…on one condition.”
“And what is that, your Grace?”
“That you and your good wife look after her.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“You want her freedom, you have her, Dickon. She cannot be left begging on the streets, can she? She will go north to stay with you, and maybe you can help her establish some small household somewhere…if you don’t want her cluttering up Middleham, that is, and making your life miserable.”
Edward roared for his secretary, who came running with ink and quill.
I stood there slightly flummoxed, but unable to say a word against Ned’s plan. I had asked for the Countess’s freedom and got more than I bargained for. Anne Beauchamp was coming north. To live in my castle, once the home of the Countess and her husband. Influencing her daughter, who was my wife.
I scowled and twisted my rings into my thin fingers. Edward, dictating the terms of the agreement to his secretary, was smirking.
By the time the members of the Council gathered in the Great Hall, I had composed myself. Henry Percy had arrived with his faction; for the first time, I took a close look at the Earl of Northumberland, descendant of the mighty Harry Hotspur (as he frequently reminded everyone he met.)
I had worn a sky-blue doublet shot through with amber cuttings, and my hat with the cross badge, and looked every inch the king’s brother (or so I hoped). Henry Percy on the other hand looked as if he had stepped straight from his esteemed ancestor Hotspur’s time. Although only several years my senior, in his outmoded, dull green surcoat, with some sort of amorphous device stitched on the front, he looked nigh old enough to be my father—a stocky man with a square, immobile face, black eyebrows like slugs, and a ridiculous haircut that came straight from the era of Henry V.
I did my best to be affable, telling him that I would make no demands on him in his ancestral stronghold, although he must be aware that ultimately I would hold authority over him.
He answered me in nigh intelligible grunts, but by the end of the meeting, he seemed at least reasonably tolerant of the situation. I swore I would be a good and just lord to him, and I meant that truly. In amity, we embraced before Edward, who nodded, pleased, before the council moved on to more pressing matters, and Percy swept away again, heading back Northumberland under his lion rampant azure banner.
Later that night, I once again met with Edward. We sat together before a roaring fire, with minstrels playing in the background; outside, the wind rushed past the keep in a fury, and as the flambeaux dipped and swayed, it was easy to imagine ancestral ghosts striding in those low, dark halls and old-fashioned chambers. We talked of trivialities at first, and it was pleasant just to be as two brothers discussing everyday matters.
“I am fond of this castle,” said Edward, as he munched on some quail and washed it down with a draught of Malmsey. “But it is windy and chilly. Look how the tapestry is flapping!” He nodded toward a hanging of a unicorn bucking and dancing as the draught caught its edge. “What do you think, Dickon?”
“I like it very much, your Grace,” I replied, “but …it needs bigger windows. For light. I am adding them to most of my castles in the north.”
“In a few years, I may well think about adding to this pile.” Ned stretched out his long legs before the fire. “A new tower, in the newest fashion. A roof of red tile. The Rose en Soleil painted on the ceilings. Piped water….can you imagine that, Dickon? How about piped hot water up to the highest bed-chamber in the tower?”
I grinned. “That would be a marvel, my lord.”
“And you could visit, with your little Anne Neville. And my little nephew or niece…”
“It will be a nephew, I am certain.”
He raised his glass in a salute. “Well, then, a toast to my little nephew to be.”
But then our talk turned, not unexpectedly, to George. He was still stirring trouble, passing on his venomous lies. “I am concerned,” I said, “about what you told me when I was last in London…that George has spread rumours that my marriage to Anne is invalid. He’s doing this to try to consolidate his position over the Beauchamp lands, while angling to gain all Warwick’s back too, I’ll wager.”
“I do not blame you for your concern. An invalid marriage could bring terrible consequences for both you and Anne Neville. Terrible.” A strange look passed over his face for a moment…then he shook his head as if clearing it.
“What am I to do? If our marriage was declared null and void, we could lose everything we have…and George gain it all. Even you, my lord King, could be of little aid if both church and law said we were not truly wed.”
Edward crooked a finger, beckoning me closer. “Do not despair. When I had a moment to spare, I did indeed mull upon the problem of your marriage’s validity, and consulted many religious men and lawyers versed in both canon law and other. There may be a solution. You have a legal mind on you too, Dickon…tell me what you think. My solution is unorthodox but I believe it will work, and sometimes one must dare to be different in order to protect one’s own interests.”
I leaned in close, and the King spoke quickly and earnestly into my ear.
My eyes widened. Possibly, his plan would work but it sounded so strange, so outlandish, and it would be so difficult to tell Anne, for what Edward had suggested could be misconstrued by so many, even my own dear wife….
Anne was waiting for me when I returned from Nottingham, full of health and good cheer. Her belly looked even fuller now. “I am sure I felt the baby kicking,” she whispered as we sat together in our private chamber after we had dined.
I took her hand, pressed into it a tiny gold locket I had brought her from the goldsmiths in Nottingham. “Good. He will be a strong and active boy then.”
“Or girl.”
“Or girl.”
“How was the King?”
“Fine! In good spirits as always. Lusty as always.”
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“Any news on George? Has he ceased his dangerous behaviour? My poor sister, pregnant in that far off castle, while he is acting the idiot and risking both of their livelihoods.”
I sighed. “No, he is still stirring trouble. Anne, there is something I must tell you.”
She sat up straight, became suddenly attentive.
With heavy heart, I finally told her about the rumours George had spread, that our marriage was null because I had abducted her from his ‘care’.
She put her hand to her mouth; her other arm went protectively over her belly. “This is madness! He knows I was willing and that the choice was mine to make. Oh Richard, what if men should listen…”
“I have thought hard on this, so has Edward. There may be a way to legally protect your inheritance. You will not like what I must say, but listen before you respond… If we should ever divorce or our marriage be ruled null and void…”
Anne turned bone-white, her fingers gripping the arms of her chair. “Divorced? Why do you speak of divorce, Richard?”
“You silly woman, don’t look at me that way—I am not going to divorce you! I told you to listen to my words before you grew upset! Lawyers will write up an agreement that in the event of our marriage being proclaimed irregular, your lands will stay safely in my possession…”
Anne looked confused. “But…we would no longer be married; I’d be neither wife nor widow! I would have lost everything… How could this help me? I cannot say this ‘plan’ sounds like anything more than an attempt to steal my inheritance!”
“Hush! It means George cannot touch your lands or anything else belonging to you! And there would be another clause added as well, one that affects me.”
“And what would that be?” It hurt me to hear suspicion in her voice and to see her eyes shadowed and wary, but men had betrayed her so many times before.
“I could only hold your lands so long as I did not remarry. If I married someone other than you, all the lands would immediately be forfeit to you. I am not going to marry anyone else. Once any problem regarding the legality of our marriage was dealt with, we could remarry, and continue with our lives.”
“Is there no other way?” she said quietly, moving to the window. Here in private, she had removed her headdress and her hair flowed down her back past her hips. Honey-coloured, palest brown and deep gold, it glowed in the light. The curve of her stomach beneath the brocade of her gown was obvious. How could she think I would willingly desert her?
“I do not think so, Anne. You will have to trust me. Oh, and I have another gift for you, my love….better, I hope, that a mere necklace. Not here at Middleham yet but coming soon. I pray you will be pleased.”
She glanced at me quizzically, her mood lightening, which relieved me. I did not want to upset her overmuch in her condition. “Won’t you tell me what it is?”
“No,” I teased. I rose and cupped her face in my hands. “No, you’ll have to wait and see.”
Sir James Tyrell was my chosen man. I had a mission for him—a mission of great import: to collect Anne’s mother from sanctuary and bring her north to Middleham. In secret, he took to the road, and I bade him inform me in advance of the time of his return from Beaulieu Abbey.
His journey seemed to take forever; Hampshire is in the far south, and Beaulieu Abbey lay within a great forest. Finally, a rider came thundering up on horseback bearing the message, “Sir James is on the way, your Grace. He should be at Middleham within the next few hours.”
Dropping the paperwork I was working on, I sought out Anne and took her up onto the battlements to view the Sir James’ small party as it trundled down the road toward the gatehouse.
“Your surprise is on the way, Anne,” I said. “Coming towards us now.”
She peered into the distance; her eyes were not as keen as mine. “I…I can’t see anything clearly. I can see some horses. It’s not a new horse, is it? Although that would be lovely, I shan’t be riding for a long time now.”
I shook my head, “No, not a horse. Look closer.”
The party drew nigh, riding within the shadow of the walls. Anne let out a little gasp and clutched the crenellations with her hands. I placed a steadying hand on her shoulder.
She then burst into tears.
I hastily retreated; like most men, much afraid of women’s tears and not knowing if they boded good or ill for me.
Anne’s mother came before me in the Great Hall after she had taken refreshments and rested after her journey. Her face had aged from what I remembered, and whereas she had always gazed on me with—maybe pity?—when I was a young boy first come to Middleham, she now wore a stern, hard expression with no love in it. I could not entirely blame her; she had been mistress here for years and now one of the victors in the battle that killed her husband had displaced her. But so Fortune’s wheel turned…
“My Lady Anne…” I bowed my head in her direction.
“Your Grace.” She curtseyed stiffly.
“I trust your journey was uneventful.”
“It was, my Lord. And unexpected. But I am tired. It is a long way to travel for a woman of my age, especially when I do not know my fate.”
“Your fate? You will live here with your daughter and me, or at one of our other manors in the north, where you can be looked after. You will have your own small household and be well tended.”
“A prisoner then,” she said grumpily.
I was surprised. “No, of course not.”
She made a face. “Not in a dungeon, no…but my homes are gone, my lands are in dispute, squabbled over by you, my lord, and that odious Clarence, and I have to wait for whatever kindnesses you can throw me, as a dog waits to be thrown a bone.”
I nearly laughed at her reference to George as odious, but suppressed my grin. She was very bold, a traitor’s wife, to speak thus to me, the brother of the King. “Madame, I assure you, you will not have to beg, but will be treated with the courtesy due to your station. If you do not make life hard for yourself, I am sure you will eventually find some semblance of happiness again. Anne…Anne is longing to see you.”
Her visage suddenly softened, her green-grey eyes growing tearful. “I beg you, your Grace…let me see my daughter.”
Anne met her mother in the solar. She turned as Countess Anne entered the room and they approached each other not as mother and daughter but as equals, both ladies of rank. “Mother…it is good to see you come from sanctuary. I feared you might take the veil and that we might never meet again.”
“Do you truly think I have the temperament of a nun?” said the Countess wryly, and she strode forward to give her daughter a short, hard embrace.
And then she looked her up and down with knowing, woman’s eyes. “Anne, if my vision does not deceive me…you are with child!”
“That often happens when one is married,” said Anne with a shy little smile.
“And are you well? Eating properly? Your appetite was always poor! Are you…you well looked after?” The Countess clasped Anne’s hands in her own, all concern now. “I cannot believe it. Both my girls with child. At least one comfort is that I shall see one of my grandchildren here at Middleham; God knows when I shall ever see Isabel’s with that awful George about.”
I thought this might be the best moment for me to take my leave and let Anne and the Countess converse. In silence, I exited the solar. The two women hardly noticed.
Hours later, I was on the way to my bedchamber when I walked past the solar. The torches were blazing; Anne and her mother were still there. In the dark in the passageway outside, I paused for a moment, hearing my name spoken; I not intended to eavesdrop, for what use, truly, did a royal Duke, have for women’s chatter, but…
Countess Anne was bemoaning the fate of her husband at Barnet. “I have not even been to his grave at Bisham.” She sounded tearful. “I cannot bear to think of him lying in St Paul’s, naked to the eyes of the world, dead.”
“Do not, mother.” Anne’s own voice caught i
n a sob. “It is best not to think of it.”
“And here you are, married to one those who brought him low, destroyed him and ruined our family. Richard….who owed your father so much. To think! Your father had him schooled in the arts of war here in Middleham…and he used those arts to contribute to your father’s death!”
“No! Anne’s voice suddenly became sharp. “It was father’s own folly that brought him down. He should have never turned against the King! Never consorted with Clarence and with Marguerite of Anjou!”
“But the King shamed him, married that dreadful common woman, Elizabeth Woodville! He was making an alliance between Edward and Bona of Savoy. Do you realise how foolish the King made him look?”
“Better foolish than dead!”
“You did not understand your father.”
“I understood him too well.” Anne’s voice was a hiss; I had never heard her speak in such a tone…well, never in my hearing save that one night only, when she had spoken of her hatred for her first husband, Edward of Westminster. Mostly she was soft-spoken, amiable.
“He always did the best for you, Anne.”
“What? Marrying me to Westminster when I was barely fourteen? To the son of our old enemy, who despised us even as she agreed to the alliance? Who made father kneel before her for ages in order to humiliate him?”
“It was a good match, Anne. The best. You would have been Queen one day had fate not dictated otherwise. You might have come to find affection with the Prince of Wales; he was very handsome—remember that your father and I met only on our wedding day and our union was very harmonious indeed.”
“It would never be so. Never. Edward felt only scorn for me; he was cruel, in words and in…actions. I hated him as much as he loathed me. Had he not died at Tewkesbury, I am sure he would have set me aside as soon as he could find a reason.”
I, Richard Plantagenet: Book One: Tante le Desiree Page 17