Treason

by Meredith Whitford

  Laughing, he kissed her and lifted her onto his lap. ‘I’m still your uncle, pet, and I am very glad to see you again. Ladies, you remember my friend Lord Robsart, and Doctor Alcock.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Elizabeth, bowing. Richard had been clever to have Doctor Alcock, Bishop of Rochester, at this meeting. A man whose integrity no one ever doubted, he had been tutor to the ex-Prince of Wales and President of his Council. He was devoted to the boy, yet had gladly taken a place on Richard’s Council. His presence was a guarantee of good faith.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Richard suggested, ‘the younger girls might like to go through to the Queen’s room to meet their cousins. Bess, Cecily, I would be glad if you would stay. And, ladies, please be seated.’

  Thus the business part of the meeting was declared open. As a page brought wine I noticed Elizabeth looking around the room. Leaving on his progress the previous year, Richard had given orders for Westminster Palace to be cleaned from rooftops to cellars (long overdue, I may say), and he had over-hauled the household management to cut some of the waste and extravagance. A lot of noses were out of joint when he put in his own servants. No doubt Elizabeth had heard of this, and perhaps she, like others who didn’t know Richard well, thought it meant he was a dull, strait-laced fellow, quaintly faithful to his wife, as bad as old King Harry in his dislike of frivolity. Well, I don’t say he was ever frivolous, but like all his family he enjoyed magnificence; for years he had been the richest man in the kingdom, and he knew what people expected of a king. For his private suite he had taken different rooms from those his brother had used, and Elizabeth looked around at walls hung with gorgeous Flemish tapestries, ceilings new-painted and gilded, brocade cushions embroidered and tasselled with gold, priceless plate and glass on the shelves. I wondered if she also noticed, as I recently had, that eight months’ monarchy had aged Richard by as many years.

  A past master at getting people to talk, Richard sipped his wine in silence. Putting down her cup (gold, with a band of emeralds), Elizabeth said, ‘Your Grace, what do you mean to do with us?’

  ‘I made it plain in my public oath that I will look after you. I thought the girls would like to live at Court? I daresay they could do with some fun.’ Bess and Cecily nodded vehemently. After a year in Sanctuary they were pasty and spotty for lack of air and exercise, and I daresay they had been bored rigid.

  ‘Will we wait upon Aunt Anne? I mean, upon the Queen?’ Bess asked.

  ‘If you would like to, I know she would be very pleased.’

  ‘Well, we would like it. But, er, we wondered – perhaps now, er, we are not suitable.’ She blushed furiously. Bess never was capable of dissembling, but the thing had to be brought out in the open sooner or later.

  ‘Let’s speak frankly,’ said Richard. ‘Your father did an unforgivable thing, and he robbed his children of the positions they had been reared to expect. I wish it were otherwise, but it is past praying for. However, at my Court you will be treated with respect. The law says you are bastards, but you are still the children of a king, Bess – and my nieces and nephews. You will still be addressed as ‘Lady’.’ He smiled swiftly. ‘If you get any cheek from anyone, tell me or someone like Martin here, we’re quite good at dealing with that sort of thing. My own bastard son and daughter, John and Katherine, wait on me and the Queen. Like my Katherine you can join the Queen’s maids of honour. We plan to move north soon, probably to Nottingham, and I hope you’ll enjoy travelling with us. The Queen’s Wardrobe Master will see about clothes and so on for you, and I’ll see you have allowances. Good marriages, too, when the time comes.’

  ‘And me, Your Grace?’ Elizabeth asked. I think she dreaded that Richard would expect her too to live at Court, perhaps attending on the Queen, all the last twenty years turned to mockery.

  ‘That is up to you. Of course you will always be welcome at my Court, but you may prefer some private household?’

  ‘Catherine and I thought of living together.’ It made a touching picture, the two widowed sisters rearing their wee ones in a cottage and passing the evenings knitting. ‘Would you permit that, Your Grace?’

  ‘Have you anywhere in mind?’

  No they hadn’t. Queen and Duchess, it was twenty years since they had had to think of providing for themselves. Trustingly they gazed at Richard. ‘I know Sir James Tyrell would be glad to rent his house at Gipping,’ he suggested. ‘It’s large and pleasant.’

  ‘Very well.’

  There was a pause as we all drank wine. Elizabeth said, ‘May I have my sons to live with me?’

  ‘Later, perhaps.’

  Elizabeth put down her cup. ‘They told me you had murdered them.’

  Richard gave her a long, level look. ‘In the twenty years you have known me, what have I done to make you think me capable of that?’

  ‘You killed my brother and my other son!’

  ‘I executed traitors.’ Under his cold blue gaze her eyes fell. ‘Who told you I had killed your sons?’

  ‘Lady Margaret Beaufort. Doctor Morton. My son Dorset. They were very convincing.’

  Quite gently Richard said, ‘Didn’t you stop to think it would do me no good to murder my nephews, but that the mere accusation would do me great harm? And that it is the Lancastrian party, led by Lady Margaret, that has every reason to want those boys dead? Did you never realise they were working to the sole end of putting Henry Tudor on the throne?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘You did, Mother,’ Bess said, and I’ve never heard such simple dislike expressed in three words. ‘It was why you agreed to marry me to Tudor.’

  ‘That was after – ’

  ‘ – after they’d told you a lot of lies a child wouldn’t have believed.’

  Catherine Buckingham spoke for the first time. ‘Harry told Doctor Morton he had killed those boys on your instructions, Sire. I didn’t believe him. I thought it would be a stupid thing for you to do, and I never believed much of what Harry said. He thought Morton would make him king.’

  ‘And did Doctor Morton believe this convenient story?’

  She spread her hands in a shrug. ‘I do not know. Although I do know he put it about that you were responsible for the deaths. He was always writing letters.’

  ‘And who,’ Richard asked, ‘was behind that attack on the Tower last July?’

  Colour surged patchily up Elizabeth’s face. ‘We were. My son Dorset. And me. All of us.’

  ‘Why? Did you really think people would rise to restore your son to the throne?’

  ‘I did then. You cannot understand. All those years. Everyone thinks I only married Edward to be Queen, but I would have married him whoever he was. He said that if I truly loved him I would be his mistress. He never understood that a woman can be chaste. So in the end he had to marry me because that was the only way he could have me and he was mad for me, and when he insisted on a secret wedding he said it was because of Warwick and I believed him.’ The words were gushing from her; I think she had forgotten where she was and who she was speaking to. ‘I don’t suppose he loved me for very long, soon I bored him and always, always there were other women. I had to suffer that. Then in ’77 Clarence found out about Eleanor Butler and Edward had to tell me, and yes, I urged him to put Clarence to death, but you know Edward, if he had not wanted to do it nothing I said could have swayed him. And he did it, and ever since I have lived in fear of the secret coming out – and with the knowledge of what the man I had loved and married really was. And you, you men, ask your wives how they would feel if you made them bear two children after they knew their marriage was invalid and they were nothing but whores and their children bastards! So yes, I tried to get my son crowned before anyone could stop it, I thought it wouldn’t matter then if the pre-contract story came out, and yes, I went on trying to regain his throne because it was not his fault! It was all your brother’s doing, and after twenty years – ’

  Suddenly she realised she was on her feet, haranguing the King. She broke off, half crying.
Her sister took her hand and put her gently back on her seat, giving Richard a look that begged him to understand.

  ‘Elizabeth,’ Richard said, ‘I have already said I think it unforgivable of Edward. I have not enjoyed discovering what he was capable of. And of course it is not your son’s fault. But do you understand now that all those schemes are finally over? That rebellion last year – no one wants your son as King. The people trust me. History has shown time and again how unpopular – and dangerous – royal minorities are. I hope your sons won’t rise against me when they are of age; but certainly they have no hope now. Nor do people want some unknown Welshman as king, married to Bess or not. Did you never stop to think that he could not marry her and make her Queen? She is a bastard. By marrying her he’d be declaring her legitimate – which would also make her brother legitimate and therefore the rightful king. That scheme was merely to involve you, to use you.’ He too broke off as if realising he had said more than he intended. Wearily he said, ‘Do you understand? All of you? I am prepared to overlook the past, but if you become involved in rebellion again I will not be lenient. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes.’ Elizabeth hesitated, then went slowly on, ‘If you will believe in it and accept it, I give you my word.’

  There was a long silence. At last Richard said, ‘Very well.’ Elizabeth sank to her knees and kissed his hand.

  ~~~

  ‘And do you think she’s really learned her lesson?’ my wife asked me one night soon after this.

  ‘Oh, I think so. At the very least she has decided to cut her losses. I think she realises the Beaufort-Morton crowd made a fool of her, and no one enjoys that.’

  ‘Hmm, well, I hope so. But Richard must be careful.’

  I knew Innogen. ‘What does that, in that tone, mean?’

  ‘Little, I hope. But have you noticed Bess lately?’

  ‘Noticed her? What do you mean?’ Bess and Cecily had settled happily enough into life at Court. They had new clothes and pleasant rooms; all I had noticed was two pretty, well-dressed girls enjoying a life of parties and young men.

  ‘She is in love with Richard.’

  This flat statement left me gasping. I reared up in the bed to stare at Innogen, who crossly tucked down the bedclothes I had disturbed. ‘That’s nonsense! He’s her uncle!’

  ‘And when did commonsense have anything to do with love? Lie down, the cold air’s getting in.’

  I lay down. ‘You’re mistaken. Bess misses her father. They were very close, she was his pet. Naturally she looks for the same with Richard – whom she has also admired and loved all her life. No, Jenny, it is nonsense.’

  ‘Is it? Power can be very seductive. She looks at him not as a fond niece at her uncle, but as a woman seeing a man she desires. And the fact that he’s interested in no woman but Anne only makes it worse. To a woman, that can be a challenge. Katherine has noticed it too, she spoke to me about it.’

  ‘Yes, but Katherine’s seeing love everywhere just at present.’ The day before we left London William Herbert, Earl of Huntingdon, had tremulously asked Richard for his daughter’s hand in marriage; no great surprise to anyone. Looking glumly at the prospect of being a grandfather at thirty-two, Richard had given his consent, for he had a good opinion of Will Herbert and wanted Katherine to be happy. Which she radiantly, delightedly was.

  ‘Maybe, but she has sense. So Richard must be careful. You know how easily gossip starts. And Bess might take after her father.’

  ‘Oh dear, yes. Although,’ I tried to look on the bright side, ‘she may take after her mother, and Elizabeth Woodville was always chaste. Bess is a good girl, I think.’

  ‘I think so too, but both her parents were clever at getting what they wanted. And scandal starts from little things.’

  ‘So what’s to do? Should someone speak to Bess?’

  ‘Probably that would be the worst thing. To do her justice, she tries quite hard to hide her feelings. No, I think I’ll take her north with me next week.’ We had decided that from Nottingham Innogen would continue on up to Middleham to see our children. As well, Anne worried about her niece and nephew, George’s children. ‘Bess can hardly refuse the chance to see her brothers. Best thing would be for Richard to marry her off as soon as possible – but for the time being she can come north with me. I’ll keep her there for a while. I could do with a rest.’

  ‘Why? Aren’t you well?’ For answer she put my hand on her stomach. ‘Jenny! Really? Oh my love...’ I had always wanted more children. ‘When?’

  Her hand covered mine. ‘I’ve missed twice, though you were too busy with Parliament to notice.’ She giggled. ‘Not too busy all the time, it seems. I think it was that night you were so proud of yourself going off to Parliament in your earl’s robes for the first time.’

  ‘Ah yes, that night. So you must rest. Yes. Go home to Middleham, see the children, take care of yourself. No rushing over to Sheriff Hutton all the time.’

  ‘I’ll send Bess to do that.’

  That conversation took place in Cambridge, where Richard had paused on his way north; from memory, he was discussing the most suitable men to send as envoys to Pope Sixtus VI. Both keen to encourage learning, Richard and Anne took a great interest in universities, and they liked Cambridge. Anne took the chance to endow Queens’ College, while Richard founded scholarships and poured out money for the building of a chapel at King’s College. From the plans it promised to be the most beautiful in England.

  In those few days there, and on the journey north, I observed Bess. Reluctantly I concluded that Innogen was right. In private Richard and Anne never hid their feelings for each other; lovers as well as husband and wife, they would hold hands, kiss at every parting and meeting. Once, discussing that King’s College Chapel, Richard absently lifted Anne’s hand and kissed her palm then the tips of her fingers, and her answering smile held all the romance in the world. Bess blushed an ugly red and turned away. A minor incident, but it made me watch her, and yes, she could hardly keep her eyes off Richard. And she didn’t like it when Innogen put forward the plan that Bess should accompany her north.

  Puzzled, Richard said, ‘But surely you want to see your brothers? I know your mother would like to hear that you have seen them.’

  ‘Oh yes of course, but... I don’t know the north, you see. How long must I be away?’

  ‘As long as it takes,’ said Anne with such a sweet smile that I realised she knew too. Well, in twelve years she had become used to women taking too much interest in her husband. ‘Lady Robsart will be glad of your company, Bess. So will your cousins.’

  To give Bess credit, she was doing her best. Smiling, she said, ‘Yes of course. And my brothers, as Uncle Richard says. I’ve never been further north than York.’

  ‘You’ll enjoy it,’ said Anne.

  After one night in Nottingham Castle, perched high on its rock, Innogen set out for the north, Bess smiling valiantly beside her. And I didn’t know as I kissed them farewell that it was the end of all our happiness.

  Eighteen

  Whispering voices. Someone crying. A candle being held too close to my eyes. I struggled up from the clinging mists of sleep. ‘Invasion?’

  ‘No. Martin, wake up.’ Francis Lovell was shaking my shoulder. The candlelight shone on the tears falling down his cheeks.

  ‘O Lord, is it my wife? What has happened – ’

  ‘No, Martin. I’m here.’ She came forward from the shadows at the end of the room, Joyce Percy with her. Sheet-white, tears in her eyes, dishevelled and travel-stained, Innogen was clad in black. So it was one of the children. ‘Martin, there is terrible news.’

  ‘Which one is it?’

  She pressed her hand to her head as if it ached. ‘No, darling, not ours. It’s Edward.’

  Stupidly I said, ‘Which one?’ and then I remembered Francis’s tears, and saw the cold, still horror in Innogen’s face. And I knew. ‘No! O dear lord, no!’

  ‘Yes. Richard’s son. Anne’s only child. The
Prince of Wales.’ Innogen sank down on the bed. I shoved a pillow behind her back. It was still full night, she must have ridden hard to get here.

  ‘What happened?’

  Joyce shut the door. Innogen said, ‘Among us, the truth. He complained of pains in his stomach, low down.’ She laid her hand against her groin. ‘We thought he had been eating green apples again. We gave him the usual medicines. The pain didn’t go. It got worse. He had a fever. Soon he was screaming with agony. His abdomen swelled up, it was hard as a rock to the touch. He was delirious. His breath smelt of shit and he had such pain. Nothing we did was any help, the doctor didn’t know what to do. He was screaming for his parents. In the end all we could do was to dose him until he was unconscious. After three days he died. That little boy.’

  ‘O Christ. No. It’s too cruel.’

  ‘Yes it is. Don’t appeal to Christ, Martin. There is no God, no loving Virgin who understands a mother’s heart. For this will break their hearts.’ She didn’t cover her face as she wept, rocking back and forth. ‘Why should a child suffer like that? Why was there nothing we could do? And why that child? The King’s heir, Anne’s only child. Why him?’ Struggling to master herself she said, ‘And you and Rob must tell them, Martin. Their oldest friends.’

  Yes, of course it had to be us. I didn’t think I could do it but I had to. ‘What do we tell them? They mustn’t know the truth.’

  Drearily Innogen said, ‘The nursery mistress and Lady Warwick and I swore everyone at Middleham to silence. Because no, his parents must never know the truth. You will tell them – a sudden fever. It was quick, all in a day. He soon fell unconscious from the heat of the fever. He hardly suffered. That is all Richard and Anne must ever hear. Get up, Martin, for you must go and tell them.’