Anne of Warwick The Last Plantagenet Queen

by Paula Simonds Zabka

  Richard kissed her again and held her tightly. “Sweeting, you’ve nothing to fear any more. After your rest, I will return to you. Believe in me.”

  “I do, Richard. For the first time in so long, my heart is at ease.” She stood, pushed back her long mussed hair. “And when you come again, I’m going to be pretty for you.”

  Richard rose to leave as Anne’s attendants came to collect her. Bidding farewell, he rode back to the Abbey.

  Anne was escorted to the bath tent. The bath was a revelation. Anne had never seen a bathing tent before. Above the tub, sheeting stretched on a framework. The tub itself was padded with sponges. The soap was scented. Joan Oldenhall and her daughter Harriet tossed the old clothes in a corner until Anne stood naked. She blushed. “Such long hair.” Harriet began to sort out the various combs. She was a big girl. “You look like a faery princess, I vow.” She smiled happily. Her own young man preferred a bit of plumpness to roll in his hand.

  Joan kicked the discarded clothes aside. “Best burn them.”

  “I had some lovely clothes once,” Anne remarked. Her coffer with the dresses made in France had disappeared somewhere in the grinding struggle to reach Wales.

  “No matter. The Duke will be buying you silks and velvets.” Joan began to wipe Anne with the sponges. The tub water turned gray. Dirt floated to the top. Joan had no mercy; Anne’s skin flushed pink with rubbing. “Think you’ll wed again soon, lass?”

  “I don’t know. All rests with the King now.” She watched Harriet preparing a bucket of hot herbs and perfumes. “You will make me smell sweetly again.”

  Joan whooped. “An’ don’t think men can’t smell the sweet essences. Drives them crazy. Like a stallion among mares.”

  Harriet bent over Anne. In spite of the sheltering frame of sheeting, she saw Anne’s eyes were dark circled. “First you’ll get some sleep. And eat. God’s bones, you’re thin as a rail.”

  “I know.” Anne felt dreamy, relaxed beyond measure. She closed her eyes and imagined that she drifted on some sun-warmed lake, all flower-banked and peaceful.

  A great clatter of horses hoofs raced by the window. She sat up startled. “Is there trouble?”

  Harriet giggled. “Trouble’s over. The King’s ‘bout to execute some traitors at the Abbey. Bet my Walt’s there to see it all. This will be good for business, ‘specially if Edward of Lancaster is buried in the town.” She began to pat Anne dry. The towel was warm and fluffy.

  II. CHAPTER 7

  Richard arrived at the Abbey as Edward was removing Somerset and the last of his captains. “The Abbot would have these men in sanctuary, but as traitors to the realm, they have no protection here except from God himself.” The Abbot twisted his hands, protesting that the Abbey would have to be re-consecrated. Edward paid no heed. “As Constable of England, Richard, take them to the town square in Tewkesbury to be tried and executed.”

  Richard stood to watch the executions. He’d never seen a beheading. Planting his feet apart, his arms clasped behind him, he copied the bland indifference he saw on Edward’s face. His brother was astride a horse caparisoned for a festival.

  Somerset was first. They had to drag him from the Abbey screaming for mercy. Several of his captains had died but two others still lay at the foot of the altar coughing blood.

  Richard admired the bold stride with which Somerset now marched to the hastily constructed block. He was still in armor, except for his helmet. Calmly, he forgave the executioner, then knelt, prayed, and waited.

  The axe fell gashing the side of his neck. The Duke moaned. A convulsion shook him. Blood began to drip onto the cobblestones and form tiny rivulets. In fury the executioner swung again, cleaving the Duke’s scalp so the axe slid off in a mire of hair and gore. Richard felt sick. Where had they ever gotten such a headsman? Probably a felon winning a pardon for this service. Somerset’s body shook with spasms. Dark blood gushed from his mouth.

  Several people in the crowd cheered. A good show. By God, it might take three or even four hacks. And there were fourteen more men to die.

  Richard walked over to the block and handed the headsman a silver coin. “I’ll double that if you finish him in one stroke.”

  The headsman blinked. Through his black hood he recognized the Duke of Gloucester. His deep bow scraped the ground. He raised the axe, brought it slowly, carefully down and pushed, sawing through the vital column of the neck. Somerset twisted, groaned. Finally his mangled head fell, lips drawn back in agony. Fourteen to go. Richard realized his clothes were already spattered with blood. He glanced at Edward. His oldest brother stared into the far distance.

  After the axe fell for the last time, Richard turned to Edward. “And what of Margaret of Anjou?”

  “She will remain under guard at the Abbey until we return to London, at which time she will be exposed to the public and thrown into the Tower to rot.”

  Later that evening, Edward and Richard refreshed themselves at a local manor and took count of the day’s events. Clarence had departed earlier for London to be with his wife, Isabel.

  Edward lounged in a lamb’s wool robe near a blazing fire burning in the manor fireplace. “We have prevailed again, my brother. Your men fought bravely and turned the tide with the rout of Somerset’s forces. No one can stand against us.”

  “Your spearmen gave me the edge I needed, Your Grace. Hopefully, the Lancastrian threat is forever finished.

  “That thorn is out of our side. But the Medusa’s head has many vipers and though we have slain three enemies these past weeks, the Scots are probing at the northern border. James III would strain our truce with Scotland, and the devil knows what Lord Percy, Earl of Northumberland, is up to. You must be my power in the North, Richard. You are already Viceroy to Wales and the West Marches. I am now giving you authority over the East and Middle Marches north to Yorkshire and Cumberland. Lord Percy will be under your command.” He paused to study his brother’s astounded face. “You are also granted the estates of Warwick including Middleham Castle and Sheriff Huttton.”

  “I am at a loss for words at your trust and confidence in me, Your Grace. I will not disappoint you. But what of Warwick’s daughter, Anne? You know how I have longed for her, and now that she is here in Tewkesbury, I fear to leave her here. Let me wed and take her with me when I go north.”

  “Richard, you have served me faithfully and with such loyalty as I could ever hope for. In gratitude, I give you permission to wed the daughter of Warwick with my full pardon and blessing. It will be necessary, first, that you quiet the Scots at our border so that James III will know that we will tolerate no breach of our truce with Scotland. Your Anne can stay with Clarence and her sister Isabel in London until your return. I leave for London myself in the morning to reassure the populous that the Lancastrian threat is over. She may join our train.”

  Richard was pleased that the king had given him newfound hope for a joining with Anne, but he was worried about Anne’s safety in the hands of the Duke of Clarence. Clarence was too eager to shelter her. He came again to the Oldenhall manor the following day having barely slept the night thinking of his good fortune, and anxious to tell Anne of his news.

  Joan welcomed him. Anne would be down in a minute. “An’ pretty as a love song,” she chuckled. The young Duke chatted with Stephen about saddles as he waited, especially about an ornate new one the leather-master was designing for ladies’ riding horses. He met Harriet’s young man, Walter Dawson, who had fought in Hasting’s vanguard near the Swillbrook that morning. Walt was apprenticed to the town’s leading ironmonger, and had two more months to serve. “And then you’ll marry?” Richard asked, forcing himself to relax. He was glad for the chance to relieve his anxiety.

  Harriet giggled. “Father and St. Venus willing, and the stars be right.”

  Richard thought ahead. The moon ruled early July. A good sign. “I’ll send you a wedding gift.”

  Harriet sighed. A wedding gift from the Duke of Gloucester! Better than heaven! S
he’d brag to the entire town.

  Richard unwrapped a small package he’d been holding. “And for you, Dame.” He held up an assortment of bright ribbons a squire had purchased. “For your gowns.”

  Joan curtsied. “Your Grace is like your brother. Everyone loves him, and so it will be with you.”

  Richard smiled. The comparison with Edward warmed him. He found Stephen Oldenhall’s house a place of comfort, of ease. No tensions lurked here. No fork-tongued Woodville mocked. He hoped he could stay away from the Court as the wheel of his life turned.

  Anne came slowly, almost shyly, down the handsome staircase. She was dressed in pale yellow. Full skirts, rustled and billowed below the high waistline, swaying as she walked. Her hair glowed yellow as gold, plaited and bound with ribbons and buttercups. The sight of her took Richard’s breath away. He could see the glow of her skin, smell the jasmine perfume. “Could my Lady and I have a small parlor to ourselves?”

  Stephen Oldenhall waved them toward the left wing. The privacy his house afforded was his greatest pride. He could have accommodated all the lovers in Tewkesbury.

  In the cool, dim light of the small solar, Richard embraced Anne and kissed her passionately. “I’d forgotten how beautiful you are. I wanted to bring a gift. I couldn’t find anything suitable. But I have an even better surprise for you.”

  He sat down beside Anne on a bench, backed by pillows, against the wall. He noticed the parquet floor. Oldenhall had given them the most luxurious of rooms.

  “What is it? Did the King pardon me?”

  “Even better news. He has agreed for us to wed.”

  Anne gasped and held Richard even tighter. “Oh Richard, tell me I’m not dreaming.”

  Richard rose and whirled her about the room.” There is even more, my Love. I have been granted the estates of your father, including Middleham Castle.”

  “This can’t be real. When? When can we start our new life?” Anne looked up at the dark blue eyes. She willed herself to forget the past year. Only he was real: his square jaw with a passionate mouth, the intensity of his gaze, the muscled power of his body and the tenderness of those Plantagenet eyes.

  “I don’t know, Anne. The King asks me to march north to quiet the Scottish border. James III gives us trouble there. Edward would have us wait until my return. It should not take long. I have been given great authorities.”

  “How can I bear to part from you again?”

  Richard drew her to him. Her skin was creamy, smooth. He wanted to hold her forever. Under his kiss, her lips opened, warm and responding. “Anne, it would be best if you stay with your sister, Isabel, in London. You have been under a great strain. The rest at her manor will help you recover your full energies. You can leave with the King’s train in the morning.” He kissed her gently and forced a smile from her disappointed face. “We needn’t hurry. We will have a lifetime together.”

  Anne touched his hair. “And you’ll weave me clover crowns once again?”

  He held her closer. “This parting will be easier, my little one. This time I leave knowing you will be here upon my return. You give me great incentive to complete my march hastily. Until then, we will be as the eagle, Aquila, and the Swan in the summer sky, flying together forever. And the stars in the Corona near them will be a heavenly reminder of my love for you.”

  II. CHAPTER 8

  Although part of the King’s train on the way to London, Anne did not see much of the King or his entourage. She was well treated but some were ill at ease with her, knowing she was daughter of the slain Warwick and uncertain of her standing with the King. This mattered little to Anne, as she was still in a state of bliss from her sojourn with Richard, and filled with dreams of their future life at Middleham.

  Shortly after her arrival in London, she was transported to the Erber, home Isabel and Clarence. It was located in Downsgate near the bustle of Thames Street. Anne was awed by the immense structure. It originally belonged to her paternal grandfather, the Earl of Salisbury, and, at one time, housed five hundred men and their horses among luxurious gardens. It was considered one of London’s finest residences. Clarence staffed it with three hundred people, restored the flooring of Pucbeck marble and hung a tapestry of Arras, costing eight hundred gold rubles, in the main room.

  George of Clarence received Anne coldly. Although he had suggested at Tewkesbury that Anne stay with him and Isabel, it was to keep her under his control. “So you have finally arrived, daughter of Warwick. Sister to Isabel or no, you are still under attainder as a traitor, as is your mother who still takes sanctuary at Beaulieu Abbey.”

  Anne was taken aback by Clarence’s fierce attitude. “George, I mean to be no problem and I am grateful for your hospitality. You know I was forced to do my father’s bidding. You were no less a traitor than I when we were fleeing England not too long ago.”

  “But I have earned the pardon of the King with my sword at Barnet and Tewkesbury.”

  “Yes. And the King was pleased for your return to his service. But at Tewkesbury he told Richard that I was to be pardoned also.” Considering George’s state of mind, she did not tell him of the King’s permission given to Richard to wed her.

  Clarence was furious at the revelation. “The King’s mind was numbed with the exhilaration of victory. He will rescind his decision when he recalls your father’s treachery. Until then, you will remain here as my prisoner.” The lines on his face became hardened. “Richard will be so informed when he returns from Scotland.”

  Anne could not believe the changes that had come over Clarence since they were last together, and became more apprehensive.

  “Do not concern yourself, Clarence, I will not run away. Where is Isabel?” she spoke boldly. She would not show any hint of fear to this shallow man.

  Clarence laughed. “Be assured you will not run away. I do this kindness for Isabel or you would be in the Tower. Your room is up the back stairs. I will send Isabel to you.”

  Isabel came in the afternoon. The sisters rushed to embrace each other. “Oh Anne! I have missed you so. It is so wonderful to be together again. You must tell me everything that has happened. I have heard that you experienced a brutal time with the Lancastrians.” She did not comment on Anne’s thin, frail condition. “I prayed for you every day.”

  Anne looked at Isabel thoughtfully. Her sister was filled out since those days at Amboise, France. Her beautiful skin glowed with improved health. She wore apple blossom silk fluffed with lace.

  “So much has happened, Isabel, it makes me sad to think on it again.” Anne related some of the events but she had to be careful, knowing Clarence could use some of the telling against her. “I am most grieved at the death of our father, as you must be too, Isabel, but I was happy to learn that Clarence had reunited with his brothers so that your life was no longer in danger.” Anne did not tell Isabel of Clarence’s threats and harsh behavior upon her arrival.

  Isabel had a small tear at the corner of one eye. “I miss father also, sister. I know he used you and my Clarence to further his own cause, and for this I am very sorry.” She wiped away the tear.

  “How were you cared for after the horrible time at Tewkesbury?”

  Leaving out the nightmarish experience with Margaret of Anjou, Anne focused on more pleasant memories. “It was Richard who found me and took care of me, Isabel. I stayed at a fine manor. I had never known such comfort and hospitality. Afterwards, Richard had to go to Scotland at the King’s bidding. Border uprisings as usual. So I thank you and George for taking me in.” Anne was bursting to tell Isabel that Richard was given the King’s permission to wed her when he returned from Scotland, but she knew Isabel would tell Clarence and feared his reaction. “Is Ankarette with you?”

  “Oh yes! She has been my salvation. Such a comfort. I will send her to you.” Isabel kissed Anne on the forehead and left the small room. “We will dine later tonight.”

  Ankarette came to Anne’s room and gave Anne a motherly hug. “Lord child, I thought I
would never see you again. I can see I must fatten you up as I have your sister.” She brought water to wash and some gowns from Isabel’s wardrobe. The servant was stouter, ruddier. “Isabel tells me the Duke of Gloucester has been sent to Scotland. When does he return?” she asked bluntly. She felt that Anne needed protection. Much as she loved Isabel, Ankarette disliked and mistrusted George of Clarence. She was sure he’d plot something, anything, to keep all the Neville inheritances. He had become obsessed again with thoughts of grandeur.

  “I don’t know,” Anne answered slowly. “While the Duke is in the North, he plans to stop at Middleham and Sheriff Hutton. Those estates of my father have been ceded to him by the King.” The names were a joy to say.

  Ankarette nodded. “Don’t talk about estates to Clarence, my love. He wants it all. Beauchamp, Salisbury, Warwick, every one.”

  “Clarence never liked the North.”

  “But he likes being very rich and important.”

  “And Isabel?”

  “Oh your sister is unaware. She knows he claims her land as her husband, as is natural. She doesn’t bother about the extent of it. He is also laying claim to her mother’s estates. But if the Crown does not claim them, you are entitled to half. This is why you must be wary, my love. He will try to disinherit you as a traitor to the realm.”

  Anne understood.” Clarence would like to see me vanish somehow?”

  “Surely so, or confined to the Tower.”

  Anne smiled at Anakarette. “I will be watchful, but Richard will champion my cause when he returns.” Anne looked at her nails. She could feel her ribs through her dress. “I must be ready for him, Anakarette.”

  “You will, dear lady.” Anakarette plied the comb through Anne’s hair. “I’ll see to it. Time and God heals all.”