Anne of Warwick The Last Plantagenet Queen

by Paula Simonds Zabka

  Anne was surprised to see the usually stoic Richard weep, and the tears on his cheeks were nothing to the racking and twisting of his body. “God, Oh God, he was everything to me.”

  She drew Richard into her arms and held him gently as though a young boy. “Remember your brother at his best, my Love, the golden Edward.”

  Richard drew a shuddering sigh. “I did all I could to help him rule the Kingdom. He was fighting so many battles at once. My help wasn’t enough.”

  She still held him. “Sometimes one can never do enough in this world. God determines our destiny. Edward is at peace, Richard, and he left his realm in your care. You can help him more now he is gone, than you could have when he lived.”

  Slowly Richard straightened. The new lines on his cheeks and across his forehead, were determined now. “Anne, you are right. Now I must be stronger than ever before. Edward reaches from the grave for my help. All the times of testing have been but little moments against the days ahead.”

  Anne looked about the Great Hall, at the gabled roof, the carved screens, the heavy doors, which led to the chapel and solar. She must memorize it, for she knew that soon they would be in London facing an uncertain future. She took a deep breath. She would be resolute. This was Richard’s moment, and she must give him all the strength of her being to help him confront the many challenges and responsibilities that awaited him.

  Despite the tone of urgency of Hastings’ message, Richard made preparations slowly. He wrote the proper letters to the Queen and the Royal Council, intending to secure the proper legal appointment as Lord Protector under Edward’s will. He also wrote to Anthony Woodville, in charge of Prince Edward at Ludlow Castle in Wales, to ask what preparations were being made to transport the Prince to London, and to remind Anthony of his new authority as legal guardian of the Prince.

  For five days he waited, with no reply from the Queen or the Council. Then a second taut communiqué arrived from Hastings stating that the Woodvilles were intent on assuming complete control and ignoring the Royal will. Even now, Anthony Woodville and two thousand men were escorting the young King from Ludlow Castle to London.

  This messenger was more talkative. “The people are restive and wary of a boy King. Londoners quote the old truth, ‘Woe to the land whose ruler is a child.’ My master urges your immediate return. The situation is grave.”

  Richard listened and became alarmed. He was filled with a sharp unease. The throne stood empty. The realm was left to his care. He finally realized the urgency and knew, that to secure the throne and keep peace in the Kingdom, he had to go to the storm’s center. In London he’d dare the lightning.

  He gathered six hundred men and hastened south.

  III. CHAPTER 15

  At Ludlow Castle in Wales, Anthony Woodville, Lord Rivers, had experienced a surge of elation after the first messages arrived from his sister, the Queen, at Westminster, to bring Prince Edward to London. As the elder son of the Queen’s father, he was appointed the Governor of Prince Edward, in a Council established by the King, to oversee the upbringing of the King’s heir. Anthony would forge a strong Woodville influence in his early training. Richard was also on the Council but the other Woodvilles overwhelmed him. Anthony felt it would be pleasant to return to the Court and the milieu he found most congenial. The massive tranquility of Ludlow, overlooking the Tame River among the green and undulant hills of Shropshire, bored him. He’d seen enough sheep to last a lifetime. He gathered his two thousand men, carts, equipment, and his nephew, Edward the Fifth. The people cheered as they marched south.

  Anthony Woodville was different from his brothers. He enjoyed philosophy and ceremonious jousting. In Italy he’d found both the shrines and the new artistic ferment inspirational. Yet for all his sophistication and devotion, he was wary of meeting with Gloucester. They were to rendezvous at Northampton on April 29. He had suggested the meeting when he’d learned Gloucester had only six hundred men. As he marched south, he learned that the coronation of the young King had been set for May 4.

  “You’ll be anointed King,” he told his nephew, “and see your mother and brother and sisters.”

  The boy rode with jaunty assurance. “I like the cheering, Uncle. Will they cheer in London?”

  “Loudly, for they all loved your father.”

  “And everything will be done as I say?” The twelve-year-old could hardly believe it. Last week he’d been hard at lessons.

  “As you wish. What will you command?”

  The child laughed. “Jousting, and tournaments. Hunting. I’ll have my own falcon.” He paused a moment and added, “and jesters, and all the marchpane I can eat.”

  Anthony thought of Richard. It was a pity. When young Edward is actually crowned and anointed, the Protectorship would be meaningless. Given a chance, Gloucester would have served England well. But then the Queen would have had no power at all. As they neared Northampton, Anthony grew more confident. He planned to send the boy King and the two-thousand-man-escort on to Stony Stafford, fourteen miles further south. He would talk with Gloucester in Northampton before proceeding further himself. The Duke would have to see reason, when two thousand men supported the reason. Sometime the meek might inherit the earth, but not this time.

  Within an hour of his arrival at Northhampton, Anthony greeted the Duke of Gloucester. Young Edward was already at Stony Stafford. The two men arranged to dine at the local inn.

  “A fine place with good board.” Richard said, in a casual conversational tone. He and Anthony Woodville sat down at a table of carved walnut. “Buckingham will be joining us. I told him to bring only a few men.”

  “Buckingham? I hadn’t heard.”

  “Well, he wants to serve, as do we all. After all these years at Brecon he’s anxious, even eager.”

  Anthony looked around uneasily. He knew Buckingham hated the Woodvilles, having been forced as a young boy to marry the Queen’s sister, Katherine. He drank his wine. “No doubt bad roads will detain him. Mud and ruts this time of year, you know, step in a pothole and drown,” he laughed.

  It was late when Buckingham arrived with three hundred men. The three men had one last cordial drink together. Anthony Woodville retired. Richard turned to his new ally.

  Well, Henry, why did you bring so many men?”

  “To give you more help, Richard. You know the Woodvilles will challenge your Protectorship.”

  “And you suggest?”

  “Action. The Queen is usurping your authority even now.”

  Richard nodded. “At dawn we’ll take the young King. I’ll escort him to London.”

  Buckingham agreed. He had not misplaced his faith. Richard was going to be the power, and he’d be the man behind the power. A voice in his mind, which had dimmed with the years, suddenly shouted “Kingmaker”, which startled him. It was a fresh new thought. The voice had become quiet during his years in Brecon, away from the Woodvilles. It had whispered to him when he came to Court, but it did not control him. Now the word “Kingmaker” roared liked thunder. He repeated it to himself, over and over. He didn’t try to deny its implications.

  Before the light of dawn on April 30, a day as yet unmarked by more than the song of the nightingales, Richard took the first steps. He had his men put Anthony Woodville and his attendants into custody. Accompanied by Buckingham and a small guard, he rode with forced speed to Stony Stafford to intercept the Prince’s party.

  Young Edward V stared up at his Uncle of Gloucester who had just arrived in full armor. The boy wet his breeches. Now he fought back tears. The dark-haired man didn’t look like an uncle. His half-brother Richard Grey, the Queen’s son, had just arrived with the message from his mother: They must hurry to London.

  “My Lord, you speak of my father’s will,” young Edward quavered. He was tall for twelve. “Protectorship? I know of no Protectorship. Where’s my Uncle Anthony?”

  A brave lad, decided Richard. He’d stand his ground. “Your Grace,” Richard kept his voice low, “you have bee
n misled. It is I who will take you to London, to act as your Guardian and Protector.”

  Richard Grey laughed. He saw two thousand of Anthony Woodville’s men. Gloucester and the fop Buckingham had barely a bodyguard. “You’ve a forked tongue, Gloucester. Even as a Northerner, you can perceive you have no authority here.”

  Richard flicked an angry glance at Lord Grey. The man was of no account. He turned back to his nephew. “You know I served your father loyally for many years. So I’d serve you as your father ordered. Will you be content?” The young prince nodded in assent.

  The boy kept his dignity beneath the springtime tan and soiled clothes. “Why didn’t my mother tell me?”

  “Your mother likes to arrange things herself.” Buckingham couldn’t suppress a grin. He considered it an amazingly good jest played on the hated Queen. He understood that even the boy King’s coronation banquet foods had been ordered. He wished he could see Elizabeth Woodville’s face when she heard the news of the interception by Gloucester.

  “You’ll regret this, Gloucester.” Grey’s voice was shrill. “Do you think the men are just going to let you ride away with the King?”

  Richard turned to him. “Henry, have Lord Grey put in custody. I’ll speak to this army of guards. Alone.”

  From the balcony of the local inn, Richard looked at the assembled soldiers and felt an immediate kinship with them. They all served England. His words were simple. “My late brother, your King, has in his will, appointed me Guardian of the young King and Protector of the Realm.” The absolute certainty of his demeanor conveyed Royal authority. “I dismiss you. Return to your homes. You have served well. The young King is safe under my protection.”

  The soldiers shrugged. This was Richard Plantagenet, Duke of Gloucester, a premier noble of the land, and Lord of the North. With a few laconic comments, they drifted away. Neither disturbance nor commotion marred the day.

  Richard’s letter to Anne at Middleham was dated April 30. It contained one sentence: “With the aid of Buckingham I this day took charge of the person of Edward the Fifth.”

  On May 4, the boy was brought to London.

  John Kendall, Richard’s Secretary, wrote another letter to Anne describing Richard’s arrival in London with the young King. The boy King was dressed in blue velvet. The city fathers greeted him decked in scarlet, trimmed with fur. There was a great procession. No one challenged the Duke of Gloucester’s position as Lord Protector. Indeed, most were greatly relieved he’d insisted on assuming custody of young Edward.

  Elizabeth Woodville fled to Westminster Abbey with Prince Edward’s brother Richard, her family, and the bulk of her worldly possessions including much of the Royal treasury formerly secured in the Tower. A hole had been knocked in the Abbey wall so her plate, tapestries, coffers of jewels, and ornate furniture, could be more quickly dragged to safety. Her son, the Marquess Dorset, escaped across the Channel to the Low Countries with part of the treasury.

  Kendall concluded. “Though the people love her not, it is a foolish woman who hides thusly and so appears guilty. She should trust His Grace of Gloucester and no harm would befall her.”

  Shortly afterwards, in Richard’s own precise hand, was the message, “Come to London, Anne. The city and I will welcome you.”

  III. CHAPTER 16

  Riding into London, Anne had forgotten that the city could be so beautiful. For the first time in twelve years, she saw the countryside and city not through a veil of cold winter dullness and thick, pungent smoke, but tinted instead with all the clear, glowing beauty of early June. The land had never been so green. The Ermine Road, as it entered London from the north, was crowded with prosperous travelers in expensive broadcloth, their saddle bells jingling. Choirboys sang in a church they passed; young men played at quoits and bowling on open patches of greensward. The great spire of St. Paul’s and the gleaming, four-turreted White Tower stood guard above a city of spires. A delightful excitement filled her. She lifted her face to the sun. It was warmer here in the south. A voice behind her caught her attention.

  “You fare well m’Lady?” Jack o’ Parr, who Richard had sent ahead to escort them, was already flushed with a summer tan. “His Grace awaits you anxiously.”

  “I’m fine, thank you.” She patted the horse’s neck, enjoying the feeling, once more, of riding, even in this mild manner. “Do we go to Crosby Hall or is it to Baynard’s?”

  “Crosby Hall, m’Lady. It’s very splendid these days.”

  Anne nodded, looking about. Richard’s banner of the White Boar was everywhere. Citizens smiled at her and called greetings. Several children ran up with bunches of wildflowers. The whole world seemed as fair as a rainbow.

  “You told me all was well in London, Sire, and so it is. It should be a lovely summer.” For a moment, she recalled a not-so-pleasant moment in the past and dismissed it. Tonight she would hear the six bells of St. Michael’s in Cornhill, famed as the sweetest of tone in England, ring in Evensong. Perhaps tomorrow she might shop in Cheapside. A pity Ned hadn’t come with her. Surely, in another month or two, Ned would have complete recovery from the winter’s coughing complaint. Her mother would keep her informed.

  She pointed ahead. “There’s the roof of Crosby Hall. I had forgotten it was so tall.”

  Past the massive Leadenhall, and through the Arch of St. Helen’s Campanile, they hurried to the main entrance. For the first time, Anne experienced a warm affection toward the elegant townhouse where roses bloomed by the arched doors, and whale oil lamps gave flickering comfort through the night. Middleham was home, but here, Richard, her husband and England’s Lord Protector, would live and shape the future.

  During the evening she found out the extent of that shaping. At supper, Richard spoke of a petition from the citizens of York regarding a decrease of the city farm fees. The populous was already seeking his advice and assistance throughout the land.

  Anne smiled at him over a glass of brandywine. She thought Richard looked different. Perhaps it was his clothes. Richard had always favored warm earth hues. Now the greens and browns were more richly weighted with gold braid. There was an ornate thumb ring on his right hand. Well, that was the hand that would sign for England. He must look the part. She broke a wafer in two, still studying him. “Can we then bring Ned to London for the summer?”

  Richard shook his head. The new lines on his forehead appeared deeper by candlelight. “I’m afraid not. There is much unrest. God and St. George, so much. The Council has been concerned that if young Edward becomes King as a minor, it would create problems for them and encourage rivalries. So they requested that Parliament continue my Protectorship even after his coronation until he is of age to govern.”

  Anne beamed with surprise. “That’s wonderful, Richard, but by what authority can they do this? It is not the usual custom.”

  “The Lords and Commons have sanctioned it according to ‘The Law of God and Nature’, as they declared, for the good of the Realm. It must be so, Anne. I could not assume this authority on my own. I must depend on the will of the realm. There are serious problems brewing.”

  “The Woodvilles?”

  “Yes. And I may need your help, Anne. I am trying to negotiate with the Queen Dowager to come out of sanctuary, but she’s all pride and scorn. I have her son, Prince Edward, nicely accommodated in the Royal apartments in the Tower. He is surrounded by friendly company and has many visitors from the Court. The Constable of the Tower, Sir Robert Brackenbury, is the finest of men to oversee his care. Yet the Queen; her daughters; Prince Edward’s brother, the little Duke of York; and her churchly brother Lionel, continue to hide in Westminster. We have pressed no charges against any of them.”

  “Malice is her nature, Richard.”

  “Anne, it’s no secret. When Edward died, pleading to the very hour of his death for harmony in the land, the Queen ignored his pleas. From the beginning she refused to acknowledge the Protectorship. Furthermore, she called a King’s Council, an utterly illegal act, a
nd succeeded in having them appoint Edward Woodville Commander of the fleet. She intended to use that power against me.”

  Anne nodded, thinking that the Hall had grown dark as they talked. Above them the lovely, ornate roof was obscured, the gallery only sparsely lit. The gleam of andirons was golden. She rose and rubbed the tense muscles of Richard’s shoulders. “Yet, there is more?”

  “Aye. The Council by the Queen’s order, functioned in place of a king, collecting taxes and such. God, they had no right to do so. The Woodvilles even stole Edward’s fortune from the Tower, and what is not in sanctuary with her has been taken out of the country by ship. England is bankrupt. So easy to destroy what it took a lifetime to build.”

  “And all this you must undo, and prepare for the young King’s coronation as well?”

  “Yes, but extending my authority as Protector of the Realm will make it easier.”

  His strong muscles were slack, weary. The strain was also evident in his voice, thought Anne.

  “There was a rumor I was to be assassinated,” Richard continued. “ I heard it even before I took charge of the boy King. He was guarded by two thousand men, yet none challenged me. I secured his person, but not his heart. He’s sullen and defiant. Anne, you’ve a gentle way. Go to him for me and tell him how much I loved his father and want to be his friend. He will listen to you.”

  “Of course, I’ll do what I can. He’s young. He has been raised in the evil Woodville manner. It will take time.” With her fingertips she tried to smooth away the worry lines. “Throughout the realm there is rejoicing that you have firmly assumed the Protectorship. The people feel safe again.”

  Richard stood and held her in his arms. “You smell of flowers,” he whispered. “Jasmine.”