By Loyalty Bound: The Story of the Mistress of King Richard III (24 page)

“At least the Stanleys are not so riotous,” she said. “Though Sir William would have me for his mistress if he could persuade me.”

Richard stared hard at her. “Does he pursue you?” he asked. She nodded. “But you will not comply?”

“Of course not!”

“Anne.” He laid his hand on her shoulder. It was comforting and familiar. “You would ask me if you needed my protection? You must promise me that.”

“I know that I can come to you,” she told him as his hand dropped to his side and his attention strayed to someone behind her.

“Mistress Stanley.”

“Your Grace.” Anne curtseyed to the Duchess of Gloucester as she joined them. She smiled at Anne in a friendly way and they spent a few moments talking about the children as she stood with her hand resting in the crook of Richard’s arm, as a reminder that she was his wife. Yet Anne could not dislike her and after a while they excused themselves and her uncle, who had been waiting nearby, escorted her back to her husband.

The celebration was opulent, and the guests praised the king, saying that he had kept a Christmas that outdid anything seen in former years. There were lutes and viols and horns for the dancing and after a little persuasion by Edward she agreed to join in. Then they sat on the benches around the walls and watched as the king’s players performed Vice Titivillus, the agony of mankind besieged by the world, the flesh and the devil. Perhaps too serious a subject, wondered Anne, though one which seemed not to concern the king at all as he lolled on his throne in his new clothes, cut with full sleeves in the latest fashion, surrounded by his daughters who reminded her of angels with their blonde hair and white Christmas gowns. But Richard looked more serious and Anne knew that he was worried for his brother’s welfare.

Parliament met on the twentieth day of January 1483.

“Gloucester was welcomed in as a hero,” Lord Stanley told them, looking as if he had swallowed a bad posset. “He has been granted the palatinate of Cumberland and the Scots Marches.”

“So now he rules most of the north,” remarked the Countess of Richmond with a frown.

“Not all the north,” Lord Stanley told her. “I still have enough lands throughout Lancashire, and Percy retains power in Northumberland.”

But Anne thought he sounded worried at the growth of Richard’s wealth and power. Lord Stanley prided himself on his own influence in the north and it was clear that this latest development had unsettled him.

At last James Harrington caught a glimpse of the high grey walls of Middleham Castle as he reached the summit of the hill. In the spring sunshine the moors were golden yellow with flowering broom and, if he had not been so intent on delivering his message to the Duke of Gloucester with all due haste, he might have paused to enjoy the angular hills. Instead he spurred on the eager dark bay that he had exchanged for his own tired mount at the castle stables at Skipton. He was keen to reach Middleham, yet dreaded the words that he must speak to the duke.

King Edward had been in good spirits at Eastertide and had taken a party of friends to row boats on the river. The morning had been warm and promising, but a cold wind had blown up after dinner time and although some of his party had tried to dissuade Edward from such an outing in the inclement weather, his mind was set and they went anyway. But torrential rain had poured down whilst they were in the middle of the river and although James and others had taken the king’s oars and brought him quickly to shore his clothing had been soaked through and the following morning he had woken shivering and burning with the fever of a severe chill.

He had insisted on rising and dressing as usual but was so obviously ill that he was persuaded back to his bed and his physicians summoned. He had been prescribed herbal drinks and a bloodletting to lower the fever and balance his humours and at first had seemed to be recovered. But then had come the coughing fits that had shaken the whole of his body, dry at first and later with green sputum that he spat into the bowl beside his pillow. His strong voice was reduced to a croaking whisper as he struggled for his breath, and his physicians could only confer in the corner of his bedchamber in increasing alarm as whispers of poisoning haunted the corridors and ante-chambers of the palace. When it had seemed beyond doubt that he was dying, the king had sent for his lawyers to add a codicil to his will that appointed his brother, Richard, Duke of Gloucester, as Lord Protector of the kingdom.

Edward had rendered up his spirit to his Creator that same night and arrangements were begun for masses for his soul before his burial at Windsor. James had stood guard outside the chamber door as the deceased king’s councillors had met with the queen to arrange the day on which her son, King Edward V, should come from Wales for his coronation. It seemed that the decision had been difficult and James had paced with irritation as the raised voices from within argued to and fro about the numbers of men who should escort him on the journey. At length the angry voice of Lord Hastings was raised above the others and James had heard him tell the assembly that he would go himself to fetch the king if he did not come in a timely manner and with a moderate retinue. Then the door had flung open and Lord Hastings had come out with a thunderous expression. As his eyes had lighted on James he had drawn him aside.

“You are a man who is trusted by his grace, the Duke of Gloucester,” he had said. “Come to my chamber for I must send word to him about his brother’s death. It seems these Woodvilles would keep him unknowing until they have taken control of the young king. They intend to disregard the late king’s will. Bid the duke come in haste, and with a strong party of men,” he had added as he handed James the letter and a small purse of coins to cover the expenses of his journey. “Do not delay.”

Tears filled the eyes of the Duke of Gloucester as James stood in the hall at Middleham Castle and explained the circumstances of the king’s death. He bid a servant find his wife and son to join him in prayers for his brother’s soul.

“He died shriven and at peace, my lord,” James reassured the duke, whose face looked even paler than usual.

“Will you oversee the arrangements for us to go to York?” he asked, seeming at a loss to know how to conduct such things himself. “I wish to hear a funeral mass in the Minster before we leave for London.”

“Lord Hastings was anxious you should come without delay. He suggested bringing a force of men in case there were difficulties,” James told him.

The duke shook his head. “A day or two will be of small matter now. I cannot go until a mass has been said for Edward’s soul and I have sworn public fealty to the new king.”

“Yes, my lord,” said James as he watched the duke walk as if dazed towards the chapel door.

“And find my secretary,” he added, turning back. “I must send letters to the queen and to my nephew at Ludlow Castle. I must ascertain when he will leave for London so that I may meet with him and escort him into the city.”

A few days later the peace of Hornby Castle was disturbed by the clatter of hooves as a messenger galloped up from the main gate. Anne was teaching letters to little Ned as she had once taught John, and Lucy was rocking the new baby, Thomas, in a cradle with her foot whilst her hands were absorbed in hemming some new bed linen.

The two women glanced at one another as they heard the squire call urgently for Edward to come down from his chamber at the top of the tower.

“What now I wonder?” said Anne. “I hope it is not another Scottish invasion. Life has been too peaceful of late,” she remarked. “I always did fear the calm that comes before a storm.”

They waited, listening to the hurried footsteps and voices outside, until Edward came into the solar with a look of disbelief on his face.

“What has happened?” asked Anne getting up from the bench in alarm.

“The king is dead,” he said and thrust the letter into her outstretched hand. “He went fishing on the river at Easter and caught a chill. They thought he might recover but he relapsed and died on the ninth day of this month.” Edward stared at Anne. “It is hardly credible,” he said at last. “He seemed so full of life when we were in London.”

“And young Edward is barely twelve years old. That’s very young to take the throne. God bless him,” she said, making the sign of the cross as she thought of the boy, not much older than her own son, who had so much responsibility now heaped upon his shoulders. “Will there be a Regent?” she asked.

“The king made a new will on his deathbed and appointed the Duke of Gloucester as Lord Protector.”

“That at least is pleasing,” said Anne, “though I doubt that the Woodvilles will be happy.”

“What makes you say that?” asked Lucy, who took little interest in the affairs at court.

“The queen’s family are loose living,” Anne told her. “The duke believes they led his brother astray. He will blame them for the king’s death, you can be sure, and he will not be content for them to have any influence over his nephew.”

The following day another messenger arrived on a horse speckled with sweat and froth. He came from Lord Stanley with a letter that summoned both Edward and Anne to London.

“Why do I have to go?” she asked as Edward read out his father’s words. She wanted neither the arduous journey nor the attentions of Sir William, nor the sight of Anne Neville clinging to Richard’s arm.

Edward frowned. “My father’s instructions are that I am to come to London in your company. I would be grateful for your co-operation,” he told her.

“Your father fears to leave me alone here at Hornby,” replied Anne. “He thinks that with a new king on the throne I may assist my uncle to reclaim what is rightfully his!”

In the end she went compliantly. They wore the black of mourning and travelled at a respectful pace. The country was teeming with talk and speculation. Most of the common folk at the inns were confounded by the news of the king’s death and rumours and whispers about poisoning abounded. But people seemed willing to support young Edward.

In the north there was much rejoicing that Richard would be Lord Protector but as they travelled further south the people seemed more surly when his name was mentioned, saying that they knew nothing about him and why couldn’t the queen be relied upon to guide her own son.

When they reached London there seemed to be an air of shocked disbelief still hanging like a pall of smoke over the city. The workmen didn’t whistle, the merchants exchanged their news in whispers and even the lions in the Tower menagerie seemed to have stopped roaring out of respect for the dead king.

Lord Stanley seemed troubled when they arrived at Stanley House. He dismissed her and Edward almost immediately to their bedchamber, and when they were called down to supper the sight of him and the countess with his eldest son, sitting near the fire, told her that there had been a long discussion that she and her husband had not been party to.

It was becoming increasingly clear to Anne that not everyone was content with the prospect of the Duke of Gloucester taking charge. Rumour was that the queen was furious and had not even written to Richard to tell him of his brother’s death and it had been Lord Hastings who had eventually sent the news north.

Robert Harrington watched as the Duke of Gloucester knelt before the high altar in the Minster at York and swore duty and due obedience to his king. Waiting his own turn to take the oath of fealty beneath the carved stone arches of the cathedral, he sensed the restlessness of his brother beside him. After they had all confirmed their loyalty, they would set out to meet the new king, who was already on his way to London from Ludlow Castle with his maternal uncle and tutor, Anthony, Earl Rivers, the queen’s brother.

Kneeling, he repeated the words of the vow and as he rose he looked at Diccon. He looked saddened and Robert wished that he could put an arm around his shoulders to comfort him. Others saw a grown, resilient man yet he still saw the young boy who had idolised his eldest brother and was deeply hurt by his loss.

At length they moved from the Minster to the waiting horses. The narrow streets of York were crowded with well-wishers who had gathered to watch them ride out, but the mood was sombre. There was no cheering, only the sound of hooves on cobble stones as they filed out under the Monkgate bar. Richard had received word from his nephew that he would await him at Northampton and they rode south at a pace that became their mourning, the duke and all his retinue dressed in black.

“It seems we have arrived before His Majesty,” remarked Richard as they finally entered the town of Northampton. The fore-riders had found them rooms at one of the inns and the duke bade the rest of his retinue make camp outside the walls. They had barely had time to wash their hands and settle themselves before the hearth when they heard horses and Robert followed the duke out to the courtyard thinking to greet his king. But it was the queen’s brother, Earl Rivers, who rode towards them. Robert inclined his head to the earl, although his defeat at the joust following the Duke of York’s wedding still rankled with him and his dislike of the man was intense. But he watched Diccon welcome him cordially enough and bid him come inside.

“Where is the king?” he asked as the innkeeper brought wine.

“His Majesty has ridden on to Stony Stratford for the night. We thought to leave accommodation for you here, my lord,” explained Earl Rivers. “I would not have liked you to arrive to find no room at the inn.” He smiled as took up his cup of wine.

Richard laughed. “It would not be the first time I have slept with the horses,” he replied, though Robert very much doubted that he ever had and knew that before long he would have to supervise the pegging together of the duke’s travelling bed once it was unloaded from the wain. “Will you eat with me?” Richard asked the earl. “Or do you intend to return to the king?”

“No. The king sends his greetings to you, but he is in the care of his half-brother Richard Grey and does not need me this night. We will ride together to join them in the morning and progress from there into the city.”