The man fell to his knees, his bony fingers clutched around his hat. “I swear on my father’s grave I tell the truth, Your Grace. King Louis has promised to help the two of them, if they will support France against Burgundy and Brittany. Th…they agreed.” He suddenly smirked and added: “Queen Margaret made my lord of Warwick kneel to her for a full fifteen minutes before she would speak to him.”
Richard thought he saw Edward’s mouth twitch, but the king was too worried and angry to appreciate the image of Warwick’s humiliation at that moment. Richard’s own mind was trying to process this extraordinary news and what it meant for England and the Yorkists, when the envoy stammered: “Th…that is not all, if it p…please you, my lords.”
Will Hastings growled: “Out with it, man. What else, pray?”
“The earl agreed to and has betrothed his younger daughter to Henry’s heir, Edouard of Lancaster.”
It was Richard’s turn to leap up. “Anne to wed Margaret’s whelp?” he cried, horrified. “Over my dead body! He is a degenerate—caring only for his weapons and harness who talks of nothing but cutting off heads or making war. Why, ’tis monstrous!” He began pacing in front of the window, chewing on his lip and picturing Anne being pawed by the brutish Edouard. He was surprised at the emotion evoked in him at thinking about his little Middleham friend’s helplessness. But if he were honest, Richard had another reason for abhorring Anne’s marriage to Edouard: Lately he had begun thinking about his own need for a consort, and Anne Neville’s pedigree and wealth had reluctantly stolen into his consciousness. If the Pope had given George and Isabel dispensation, why not him and Anne? Now Louis, Warwick, and Margaret of Anjou had thwarted his plan. Damn them.
“Louis of France is a cunning bastard,” Will broke into Richard’s musing. Taking off his bonnet and scratching his thinning scalp, Edward’s chamberlain commented: “He is shoring up Margaret’s support by offering her Warwick’s in case Henry should again sit on the throne. He thinks Warwick will not forsake the Lancastrians now and betray his son-in-law. He’s clever—even for a two-faced Frenchie.”
“Devilishly,” Edward agreed. “Is there any other tidbit you have left out, Master Pomfrey?” he demanded, drumming his fingers on the table.
“I know not if you were told the news, Your Grace, but when Warwick was denied entry to Calais in April and was forced to put back to sea in a storm, the duchess of Clarence was in childbirth. So great was her discomfort and labor, the babe did not survive.”
“Poor lady,” Richard sympathized, crossing himself, “what she has suffered at her husband’s and her father’s hands is pitiful.” He could not bring himself to feel sympathy for George, who he believed had put Isabel in mortal danger. He does not deserve to be a father, Richard adjudged. He conveniently chose to ignore his own shortcomings in that regard. His and Kate’s son, John, had duly been born in March, and Richard had not yet set eyes on the child.
“So Master Pomfrey, it stands to reason we should expect an invading army sometime soon, if Louis holds his two pawns’ feet to the fire. Am I right?” Once again, Edward’s temper had died as quickly as it has risen, and he sat down, steepling his fingers and training his watchful blue eyes on the man.
Master Pomfrey nodded vigorously, happy to see his king calm again and back on his chair. “The fleet is victualing at La Hogue, I believe. I returned here through Calais as soon as I could. But if I may be bold enough to say, my lord, an invasion would be nigh impossible because, as you have commanded, our own fleet, together with Burgundy’s, is keeping the French pinned in their harbors all along the coast.”
“Ah, I knew I could count on Jack Howard,” Edward said to Will. “He does like riding the waves, in truth.”
“’Tis good to know our brother-in-law Charles is also keeping his end of the bargain, Lancastrian lover though he is,” Richard commented.
“With Meg at his side, he could hardly not help us, could he?” Edward allowed himself a pat on the back. “I was right to forge that marriage alliance. Well, Master Pomfrey, you may retire and know your task is well done.”
“Christ’s nails! But this is a holy mess,” Richard cried as soon as the door closed. “Just when we thought all had settled. What will you do, Ned?”
Edward made a shushing noise and smiled at his brother, who was wound up like a spring. “Calm down. You heard the man, Richard, Warwick cannot sail from France because of our naval advantage. Refitting the ships will take weeks and then the winter storms will prevent them crossing. But if it makes you happy, I will set up lookouts along the south coast and you, as chief constable, will assign more guards at the Tower to keep Henry well and truly safe from any attempts to reunite him with the She-wolf. Then we will go north to show we are serious about putting down rebellions. Will that satisfy you, little brother?”
Richard did not appreciate being patronized. “If you want my advice, you will strengthen the garrisons on the south coast and send me to muster the troops again in Wales. What say you, Will?”
Will chuckled. “I agree with my king, my lord, from whence cometh my next meal. Seriously, it does seem unlikely that Warwick and Margaret will really fight on the same side, and I think there will be so many arguments between them, they will never organize an invasion.”
Richard shrugged. He thought differently, but he was not the king. “And what of George?” he asked. “Master Pomfrey never mentioned George. It cannot sit well with him that Warwick is pledging to put Henry back on the throne when it was promised to him. What will become of him?”
Will harrumphed. “He should have thought of that earlier. I doubt his vanity will allow him to be passive.”
“If only we could win him back to us,” Richard remarked, “but would you forgive him now, Ned. It would seem he is well and truly hoisted with his own petard.”
“I’d forgive him,” Edward said, rising and walking to the door. “He is family.” He turned to Will. “This news has given me a thirst, and, with Elizabeth pregnant and unwilling, another urge that needs to be satisfied. Shall we ride into London tonight?”
Richard was indignant. “Is that all you can think of at such a time? England is in danger!”
“Rubbish!” Edward retorted. “You are far too serious for your own good. Come with us!”
Richard’s response was a curt bow and silent exit.
Edward should have listened to his “serious” brother. Wending his way slowly north to show himself to his subjects and punish the rebels, he was still in Yorkshire in September when he received news that Warwick had landed in Devon with a force and was on his way to London, winning people to his new cause: the return of King Henry VI to the throne.
“How could this have happened?” Edward demanded of his council.
Richard resisted the temptation to snap back: “I told you so.” Instead he said: “We must reach London before the earl, or all will be lost.”
Chapter Seventeen
1470–71
For the second time in his eighteen years, Richard found himself an exile, staring glumly over a carrack’s gunwale at England’s receding shoreline on his way to Burgundy. How did it come to this? Over and over again, he had asked himself the same question during the three weeks between Warwick’s landing and the king’s inglorious flight. At the outset, Edward seemed to have been well received on his journey north, notably for his merciful treatment of the rebels (excepting the very worst offenders), and relative calm had returned to the northern regions of his kingdom.
However, Richard rued now, his brother had more than once ignored the intelligence from his brother-in-law, Charles the Bold, that Warwick was on the brink of invading. And he invaded. Moreover, despite hearing that Warwick and Clarence were on the march for London and had been joined by Oxford, Jasper Tudor, Shrewsbury, and Lord Stanley, Edward had still not moved—until it was too late. And then, when he did march south, he hesitated near Nottingham, looking for John Neville, Lord Montagu, to bring his force to join him. How cou
ld Edward not guess that his bad judgment regarding Montagu would provide this final ignominy, Richard wondered. For Montagu, still smarting from the loss of the Northumberland earldom, had turned his coat and become Edward’s enemy. It could have been another “I told you so” moment for Richard, but watching his brother visibly crumple in his saddle as the messenger breathlessly relayed the news, Richard had instead urged his horse beside Edward’s and laid a brotherly hand on the king’s shoulder.
“It was bound to happen, Ned,” Richard had said, “but for now, we need a plan.”
“Aye, we do,” said Will Hastings, who had ridden up on Edward’s other side. He was joined by the remaining lords in Edward’s party, and with their encouragement the king had made the only sensible decision. Just as his father had done at Ludlow ten years earlier, he had been forced to choose flight. “We must go if we are to gather our strength again and defeat Warwick and Margaret. We must sail to Flanders,” the king told the group. “Where is the nearest port from here?”
Anthony Woodville had spoken up then: “Bishop’s Lynn is close to my wife’s lands, and I am well known there.”
“What is that noise?” Richard recalled saying. His sharp young ears had heard something more ominous to the west of them. “Good Christ, can that be Montagu already? We must go.”
Always best in a crisis, Edward, made a quick decision. He shouted thanks to his soldiers and told them to return to their respective homes. He also dispatched a messenger to his queen at Westminster to tell her to take sanctuary in the abbey. He appeared composed, but his eyes had been alive with adventure when he wheeled his horse around to face east and led his party of nobles and squires in a gallop across the flat countryside of Lincolnshire to the North Sea. All they had to do was cross the treacherous body of water known as The Wash, which had swamped many a vessel and drowned many a sailor in its unusual tides over the centuries, and reach Lynn.
Richard frowned as he remembered watching helplessly when one of the small boats had indeed capsized as the Wash claimed yet more victims, dragged down by their mail. Bedraggled and exhausted, the small royal party had clambered aboard the two merchant ships turned over to the king at Lynn and almost immediately set sail with nothing but the clothes on their backs.
Richard turned to look at Edward now, standing alone in the bow of the larger of the two vessels and staring disconsolately at the unending sparkling waves that stretched on and on to meet the sky. How low he must feel, Richard mused. All that was missing was an attack by pirates!
The ships that appeared from nowhere were not pirates, but almost as dangerous.
“Easterlings!” the boy in the crow’s nest cried to his captain. “Off the starboard bow!”
“Hard to port!” the captain shouted. “We shall make for Holland and not Flanders.”
Edward walked unsteadily along the rolling deck to Richard. “God is not on my side this time,” he groused. “My trade policy towards the greedy Hansards has made them enemies of a sort. They have been attacking our ships to spite us. ’Twill be ironic if I am carried off as their prisoner to some godforsaken German hellhole after all this.”
Richard grinned. “In some perverse way, I hope they do catch us just to see the look of surprise when they realize who is on board. But, it seems our ships are lighter and faster. See the gap widens between us, praise God.”
“The optimist for once,” Edward said, putting his arm about his brother’s shoulder. “Sweet Jesu, but this has been a trial. Let us hope Duke Charles can give us all shelter in Bruges.”
The trial was not over, however, because upon reaching the flat sandy shore of Holland, the English ships’ entry into Alkmaar harbor was prevented by the low tide. Thwarted, it looked as though the pursuing Hansards would indeed capture them. But at last God smiled on the English king and gave them a rescuer. Louis de Gruthuyse, Duke Charles’s governor in Holland, happened to be visiting Alkmaar and upon hearing the English king was trapped off his shore, sent small boats to deliver him safely to dry land. It helped that the seigneur was the same man who had generously housed the young York princes, George and Richard, in Bruges ten years before. Richard was delighted to greet the elder statesman again, albeit with a measure of embarrassment that once more members of the York family needed a refuge, and further, they were penniless. Edward had only his fur-lined cloak with which to pay the ship’s captain. The wealthy Gruthuyse, however, gladly provided for his royal guests and offered to escort them to The Hague.
“Your sister, our beloved duchess Margaret, will repay me, I have no doubt,” he told the king, chuckling. “She and I have books in common, and I am sure there are one or two she would relinquish in exchange for my hospitality to you.”
Thus, forced to accept Gruthuyse’s kind offer, Edward, Richard and others of the king’s closest adherents, spent the winter in The Hague in relative luxury, all the while plotting their return. The bad news from England those first weeks under the new Warwick-Henry regime told of riots in the cities and a much-angered merchant body in London. King Henry reigned, but Warwick ruled.
The exiles then learned of their attainders. Warwick now deemed that Edward was King Henry’s “greatest rebel and enemy, usurper, oppressor and destroyer of our said sovereign lord.”
“Such a hypocrite,” Edward had scoffed when he heard, and Richard had to agree; how had it all come to this?
Then, in November, came good news. After three daughters, Elizabeth Woodville had borne Edward’s son and heir in Westminster sanctuary. “At last,” Edward rejoiced and promptly spent the evening carousing with Hastings in the taverns of The Hague. This time, Richard happily joined in the celebrations.
As the tavern wench refilled their tankards, Richard tapped the side of it with his heavy signet ring, claiming Edward’s attention from the serving girl. “I have been saving something of my own to share at the right moment,” he said, “and this is as good a time as any. I have two children. A daughter, Katherine, and my son, John, was born last March.”
Had Richard been in possession of an apple at that moment, he could have easily stopped Edward’s open mouth with it. “You had not guessed? I know you suspected I had a paramour, Ned. You even asked me about Kate the night she sang at Margaret’s farewell banquet. You were right, she is my love.”
Edward closed his mouth and shook his head, his long locks swinging freely. “You sly fox, and, I might add, hypocrite; my lord of Warwick has nothing on you, brother. All those homilies about my wanton ways, and you sit here calmly telling me you have sired two bastards already at eighteen?” He chuckled and then he laughed. “And there I was thinking you were a sanctimonious prick. Why have you not sought my permission to wed? At least I wed Elizabeth so I could bed her.”
Richard had the grace to look sheepish. “Kate is the daughter of a Kentish farmer—although her mother is vaguely related to the Hautes—the Richard Haute who owns Ightham Mote. She knew when we first…er…when…well, you know,” he tailed off awkwardly. “She knows ’tis impossible, and that I must take a wife one day who befits my rank. But unlike you, Ned, I have been loyal to only her.”
Edward let out a low whistle. “Then I admire you, little brother. To have found a paramour as lovely as your Kate—remember her, Will? She of the long russet hair who sang like an angel. Nicely done, Richard. I envy you.”
Richard shot back, “Why should you? I thought Elizabeth was your love and your wife. ’Tis why I have a hard time understanding why you…er…why you wander.” Richard wondered if he had gone too far, but Edward was in his cups and in a benevolent mood.
“To each his own needs and desires,” Edward said, raising his cup and scanning the room. “Now where has that little baggage gone.”
Richard gave up and gave in to his own cup of wine.
“This is good news, Ned. You can be sure Meg had a hand in it,” Richard surmised, when the brothers had been given leave to meet with Duke Charles in Aire. Formerly a staunch Lancastrian supporter, the d
uke had been forced to change his allegiance now his enemy Louis was hand in glove with Lancastrians against him. “I am looking forward to seeing our sister again tomorrow, are you not?”
Edward harrumphed. “She can be a force, I have to confess, but aye, ’twill be good to witness Meg in her new role. And I shall expect an impassioned plea from her on behalf of George. Poor George, he must be much disillusioned by all of Warwick’s false promises.”
It was Richard’s turn to harrumph. “Poor George indeed!” he spat. “He is not a charming child anymore, Ned. He grew up getting his own way so many times, he never learned how to handle disappointment well. I will wager he is knowing it now. He is his own worst enemy.”
“Careful, little brother,” Edward warned. “Your jealous side is showing.”
Although Edward came from the meeting with an agreement from Charles to fund his return to England with men and ships, it took another six weeks to ready his little flotilla. Unfortunately, a storm blew the ships off course, separating them. When the mortified master of their ship informed Richard they were making for a little-known spot named Ravenspur, Richard’s grin astonished the captain. “Just like Bolingbroke!” he cried. “We are landing in the same spot as the fourth Henry did when he came to depose his cousin Richard back in…” he frowned trying to remember the date.
“1399,” John Parr reminded him as the captain looked blank. “’Tis a good sign, my lord.”
“Sweet Virgin, I hope you are right,” Richard replied, scanning the horizon. “Although where Ned and the others are now, is anyone’s guess, God help us.”
As luck would have it, all of Edward’s commanders were separated in the storm, but his little army of five hundred, now on foot, were joined the very next day by Richard, Rivers, and Hastings with their companies. Just as Henry of Bolingbroke had experienced, no welcoming peasantry greeted them as they began to march into the heart of Yorkshire, and in fact the town of Kingston on Hull refused entry to the former king. It was when Edward chose to use exactly the same ruse as that distant cousin that he gradually began to win people to his side.
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