This Son of York

by Anne Easter Smith

  I know you, my lord, so why should I trust you more than my Woodville kin?”

  Richard was impressed with the lad’s reasoning. He spent the next hour trying to convince the youth of his good intentions, of Edward’s trust in him to take charge, and how thus he was surprised Earl Rivers had contravened Richard’s instructions to meet at Northampton. He explained how solemnly he took his duty to the crown and to England, and it was why he had had to detain Rivers and Grey, even though he liked both men.

  “When you take the oath and are anointed with the holy oil, your life will be one with England. Aye, loyalty to your family is important, but there will be times when you may have to choose England over family. That is what I had to do today. Thanks to your noble father, the throne now belongs to York, descendants of the first Plantagenet. It does not belong to the Woodvilles, but it is my belief they would try and rule England through you. Things are complicated, nephew, but I swear to you I will help you to the throne and guide you to the best of my ability.”

  At the end of the hour, Edward began to unbend and, realizing there was much for a twelve-year-old to absorb, Richard engaged him in lighter conversation.

  “I suspect you are looking forward to seeing your brother again, are you not,” he said, smiling, and offering the lad some ale. “I warrant you and he fight and wrestle as I did with my brother at your age.” At this critical juncture, he allowed himself a little white lie. “Oh, and I forgot. I also bring you greetings from your cousin, my son Ned. Aye, yet another Edward. ’Tis complicated with so many Edwards in the family, is it not?”

  Edward, now fully relaxed, chuckled. “You forgot Uncle George’s son is also Edward. I swear I will not call a son of mine Edward. I will think of something completely different, um,” he thought for a moment, “like Cuthbert!”

  Richard was relieved they were both laughing when Buckingham returned with food. The first hurdle seemed to have been vaulted.

  The good humor did not last long.

  When Richard told Edward that Rivers, Grey and the old chamberlain Vaughan had been sent north under armed guard, the king rounded on Richard, panic in his face.

  “What have they done, my lord?” he cried, tears close. “I forbid you to detain them! Where are they? I want to see them. They told me not to trust you. They said you would lie to me.”

  Harry spoke now. “Who? Who told you Duke Richard would lie?”

  Richard held up his hand. “Enough, Harry. It is not important.”

  “It is important,” Harry retorted. He turned to Edward. “It is your uncle Rivers who lied, Your Grace. He told us he had no good reason for evading our request to meet you at Northampton. The truth is he had no intention of meeting us, because your mother had instructed him to ignore your Uncle Richard’s request to rendezvous so you would get to London ahead of us. Do you see?”

  “Easy, Harry,” Richard warned, seeing young Edward’s mulish expression; his cousin’s aggressive tone was not helping. He pulled up a stool to sit and face Edward. Richard wanted to be kind, but this was a time to be stern. “Now you know the full story, can you blame me for assuming Lord Rivers and your mother had plans to usurp my lawful position as your protector and take power for themselves? I promise you, protecting you is what your father wanted. I am simply abiding by his wishes. Do you understand?”

  Harry exploded then. “By God, their action is tantamount to treason!”

  Edward jumped to his feet. “How dare you!” he yelled, clenching his fists and moving towards Harry. “My uncle is no traitor.”

  “Leave us, my lord!” Richard barked at Harry, angry at his cousin now. “You go too far.”

  Harry slammed the door behind him in disgust. A short silence followed during which Richard went to sit on a stool to wait for Edward to compose himself.

  “Certes, your uncle was acting on your mother’s orders, but until I am assured he was not plotting to take you to her without me, I must detain him—and your stepbrother,” Richard said, quietly. “It is clear that Sir Thomas, as your chamberlain and close confidante of Rivers, must have been party to it all, so he must be remanded too. They will be comfortably housed out of reach—but guarded. Once we are in London and I have talked to your mother, we shall see about releasing them.” He chose not to complicate matters by explaining he had separated the three conspirators to his three major castles—Sheriff Hutton, Middleham and Pontefract, which would make it more difficult for the queen to stage a rescue.

  Edward’s lower lip trembled, but he bravely looked Richard in the eye. “I don’t think I want to be king, uncle. All this talk of power. I don’t even know what power means. Uncle Rivers didn’t teach me about that. We learned about chivalry, poetry and how to dance. Sir Thomas taught me Latin and French, but no one taught me how to be a king.” He was close to tears now, and clearly exhausted, he blurted, “Oh, I just want to go to London and see my lady mother and my brother.”

  Richard nodded. How could he tell the lad that his mother was poison? Not for the first time did he curse Edward’s stupidity for his choice of queen. “Aye, soon,” he replied. “Let me send in my friend Lord Lovell to tend to your needs. He is a good fellow and one your father liked well.”

  Richard bowed and left the room.

  The two messengers sent from Northampton to the council in London told very different stories of the events on the last day of April. The lord protector’s missive spoke of a perceived plot by the Woodvilles to take control of the king, and that instead he now had charge of the king and would be escorting Edward to London. He begged the lords and council to support his protectorship. His private letter to Hastings was joyfully received.

  But whatever Sir Richard Grey’s squire had conveyed to Elizabeth was different enough to cause panic at Westminster. At midnight, the queen and her children gathered some belongings and ran the hundred yards across the courtyard into the sanctuary of the abbey. From there, Ellizabeth’s eldest, Dorset, sent appeals to the council and clerics to intercept Richard on the road to London and seize the king from the protector and the duke of Buckingham. As if her flight did not arouse suspicion enough, she sent Dorset, as constable, to the Tower to fetch the royal treasure, half of which had been appropriated only the day before by Elizabeth’s youngest brother, Edward, when he had sailed with his little fleet into the Channel. “For safe keeping,” Elizabeth had said after giving both sons the command. History might well ask: for whom?

  All this was enough to sway those uncommitted councilors to Richard’s side, convinced the Woodvilles had effectively incriminated themselves. Certainly it was Richard’s perception of the events; the Woodvilles, however, may have seen things differently. Once Richard had thwarted her plan to secure the young king, Elizabeth’s flight into sanctuary smacked of a guilty conscience as far as Richard was concerned. She was afraid to meet me, he thought, as well she might be.

  Richard could not tell if the young king was aware or not that this day of triumphant entry into London was to have been his coronation day. Richard chose not to remind him. The lad greeted the flowers flung, the excited cheering, and the pealing bells with gracious smiles, waves, and handfuls of coins tossed among the thousands of well-wishers along the Chepe. Any misgivings he may have had about his unexpected escort was hidden in the perfectly polished facade he had been taught to show in public during his upbringing at Ludlow. Richard was impressed; the little he had seen of him, Edward had the makings of a good king.

  Richard gave Buckingham the honor of leading the procession and thus could not see the puffed-up young duke smiling and waving as though he were king. He blew kisses to the women who hung from upper-story windows and was more than generous with his seemingly unlimited store of farthings. Behind him, carrying an upright sword, was York Herald, his surcote emblazoned with the late king’s rose en soleil. Richard well remembered the awkward tension of his father’s faux pas all those years ago. It had not helped York’s cause then. He must be careful as protector, he thought,
not to behave like a king.

  The lord mayor, with the aldermen, burgesses, and members of the guilds, met the procession at the widest point in the large cobbled thoroughfare by the Chepe Cross. Forming colorful blocks of scarlet and blue among the drab browns and grays of the common folk, the leaders of London threw back their hoods and knelt in unison to swear an oath of fealty to their sovereign.

  Then a fanfare of trumpets caused a hush in the crowd, and Richard dismounted and knelt before Edward. He had chosen this moment to swear his own oath to Edward in front of the greatest number as possible of the young king’s subjects. Already Richard had heard rumblings that his wresting of the king from and arrest of his guardian smacked of a power play. He wanted to squash those false rumors. What did they think he would do? Take the crown for himself? “’Tis the last thing I want,” he had told Francis when the whisper had reached him at Barnet the day before. “‘I have to play God betimes,’ King Henry once told me, and that the responsibility was too great for one man. I have never forgotten it.” Except for his Maker, Richard had never told a soul that he had played God once.

  “I swear to you on my life that I shall be faithful to you as my lawful sovereign for as long as I shall live, God save Your Grace,” Richard declared in a loud voice.

  “I thank you with all my heart, my uncle and lord protector,” Edward cried, doing his part. “I also thank you right well, Mayor Shaa and your company for your loyalty.” He maneuvered his horse around in a circle to encompass the throngs gazing in curiosity at their new king and shouted: “May God bless you all. I promise, under Duke Richard’s guidance and with God’s help, to fulfill my duty to you as your king.”

  As he got to his feet, Richard caught Edward’s eye and gave the lad a quick smile and an imperceptible nod of approval. He is just like his father, Richard thought wistfully. He has them in his thrall. Jesu, how I wish I had half of Ned’s presence or George’s charm. Instead I am pinch-faced and crookbacked.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  June 1–15, 1483

  Despite the lack of funds due to the Woodvilles’ thievery of the king’s treasure, Richard was able to demonstrate his administrative capabilities within the first few days. By the time the council formally proclaimed Richard protector and regent, he had won most of the members to his side. Jack Howard called him “masterful” to his son, Thomas, who was also appointed to the council. Richard gave the chancellorship to John Russell, bishop of Lincoln, and soon the rest of the spiritual lords ranged behind Richard’s protectorship, including Bishop Stillington of Bath and Wells, once a close friend to George of Clarence. Only one, John Morton, bishop of Ely, equivocated.

  As with any change in government, guarding a kingdom’s borders was paramount, and Richard quickly gave his northern ally, Henry Percy, earl of Northumberland, captaincy of the Scottish border. Then he sent a naval force into the Channel to find Edward Woodville’s fleet and offer his mariners a pardon if they abandoned Woodville. Most of the rebel fleet gladly complied, preempting any threat of a Woodville alliance with France.

  A new date for the coronation was set for June twenty-second, and to keep Edward safe from any possible Woodville coup, Richard moved the king and his servants to the royal apartments in the Tower—the best garrisoned palace in London. In truth, Richard made the decision, but it was Buckingham who proposed it. More and more, Hastings and Richard’s close friends watched jealously as the royal cousin wheedled his way into Richard’s confidence.

  Of all, the loyal Will Hastings had the most to lose with Buckingham’s ascendancy. Was it then that he began to question Richard’s motives? Or shore up a future for himself? At first he had been the most ardent supporter of Richard as protector, but as an older statesman, he perhaps believed by counseling Richard he would retain his close position to the throne and thus the young king. It was this expectation that made him send for Richard in April in all urgency, and Richard had duly rewarded him by according him governorship of the royal mint and the captaincy of Calais—no paltry offices. Surely, Will had thought, his loyalty was unquestioned, and thus he would also remain as chamberlain to the young king and on the protector’s council. He had expected the inexperienced Richard of Gloucester would gratefully seek his guidance upon arriving in London. Instead it seemed the now-mature Lord of the North had a mind of his own. As well, Richard’s generosity towards his young cousin threatened those expectations, and thus Will was wary of Buckingham.

  Following one of the many council meetings in May, in which he had played a major part and was beginning to relax his guard, Will strolled over to Richard expecting an acknowledgement of his invaluable insights.

  “I thought that went well, Lord Gloucester,” he offered. “If there is anything else I can do for you…”

  He was rudely cut off.

  “There is, Lord Hastings. You can kindly remove the whore Jane Shore from the house my brother, in his folly, thought necessary to give her. And she must return any jewels she was gifted,” Richard said, coldly. “They all belong to the crown, and, if you have not noticed, we have an innocent child as king, my lord, not a Caligula. I will not allow my nephew to have his father’s mistress sully his young reputation by allowing that woman to publicly flaunt her former liaison with my brother at court. She must go. Do you understand?”

  Stunned, Will went pale but for two pink spots of anger on his cheeks. “Jane Shore is a decent, kind woman,” he asserted, “and, what is more, your brother loved her.”

  A long time ago, Will and Edward had decided Richard was a prude, but even so Will had not been prepared for Richard’s contempt now. “It does not surprise me that you defend such a woman, my lord,” Richard parried. “You are as debauched as she is. I pray you, have her removed immediately from the house and the court or…”

  Furious if not not a little uneasy, Hastings shot back, “…or what, my lord duke?” This conversation was not going at all as he had anticipated, and he began to be concerned. What if Richard knew that Will himself had taken Jane as his mistress, having loved her throughout her time with Edward? Perhaps Richard already knows, Hastings thought, alarmed.

  “Or I shall question your loyalty to me and our new king,” Richard said evenly. “I am determined to purge this profane court, and I consider you to be at the center of its immorality.” And he walked off.

  The viciousness of Richard’s attack made Will realize that not only had he lost the power he had held under Edward, but he might well lose his position on the new king’s council entirely.

  After safeguarding the kingdom from any possible attack and assigning the new council their roles, Richard turned his attention to the stubborn queen, who refused to leave sanctuary. He assured Elizabeth that he held no animosity towards her and attempted to persuade her, in vain, to rejoin the court. He was met with dramatic tears and an emphatic rejection of his offer.

  “She is convinced I wish her and her children harm,” he confided to Buckingham. “At least that is the excuse she is giving the other mediators I have sent to her. ’Tis as clear as a mountain brook that her refusal to leave is proof she is guilty of conspiring to keep me from my duty.” He did not voice his fear that only by his demise could she keep him from his duty. “But to the people, it merely looks as though she is afraid of me, and that does my standing with them no good. Ah, but the witch is a wily one.”

  Richard rubbed his right jaw, where a molar was screaming for a clove tincture. It made him irritable and impatient, but Harry was impervious to anyone else’s moods.

  “Witch? I would more likely call her a bitch,” Harry said, wringing his bonnet as though it were Elizabeth’s delicate neck. “Let her rot in sanctuary with her brood, I say. But with Dorset in there with his mother, I would keep an eye on them. Why not send your man Catesby to watch the abbey and report on who comes and goes.”

  Richard nodded slowly. “Good idea.” he said. “Incidentally, I don’t think I have expressed my gratitude yet for coming with me to London
of your own accord. It could have been dangerous for you to ally yourself with me so soon. You have my thanks and will be rewarded. Trust me.”

  “Oh, I trust you, Richard,” Harry said, unable to hide the greedy gleam in his eyes.

  It was thus that Henry Stafford, duke of Buckingham, became the virtual viceroy of Wales, one of the most important regions in the country. And, much to the annoyance of Jack Howard, who believed the task belonged to him as lord high steward, Buckingham was put in charge of arranging young Edward’s coronation. Others on the council were watching and waiting to see how the protector would fare, some still on the queen’s side. Ignored all those years at court by King Edward, there seemed no heights to which the young duke of Buckingham might rise. Richard had observed Harry’s conceit, but he was willing to overlook it in his need of a powerful royal cousin as ally, as Warwick had been for Edward. So, for the time being Harry’s assets overcame any doubts Richard had as he felt his way forward.

  It did not occur to Richard to express any trust issues with others in his circle, assuming they were as wary as he, but Richard knew Buckingham and Will Hastings had formed a mutual dislike of each other. Will’s staunch loyalty to Edward had always appealed to Richard, and Richard hoped he could count on that loyalty going forward with Edward’s son. He would, however, expose the young king as little as possible to a man Richard considered immoral. Therefore, for the moment and perhaps unwisely, Richard got into the habit of excluding Will from private conversations with Buckingham, fanning the flames of Will’s discontent. As well, when Richard went to the Tower to confer with the young king, it was Buckingham who accompanied the protector, not Hastings.