By Loyalty Bound: The Story of the Mistress of King Richard III (28 page)

The sun came out as the king’s army rode triumphantly into Salisbury where Buckingham, still dressed as a peasant, was brought to trial before Sir Ralph Assheton. Robert watched his handsome face take on a look of disbelief as he was found guilty of treason and sentenced to be beheaded in the market place the next day.

“Allow me to see the king, I beg you,” he pleaded as fear clouded his haughty eyes. “Let me throw myself on his mercy and beg his forgiveness.”

Sir Ralph raised an eyebrow and gestured to Robert. “Will you take the message to the king?” he asked.

Robert nodded and, excusing himself from the courtroom, ran up the stairs with a hand on his sword to where he knew Diccon was waiting in a private chamber. He looked up from a book as Robert entered, although the verdict had never been in doubt.

“My lord, the Duke of Buckingham pleads for an audience with you,” Robert told him. A look of hesitation flickered across his face. Then he carefully closed the book and pressed his lips together as he stared into the distance.

“No,” he said at last. “Tell him no. I will not see him. His execution will go ahead tomorrow.”

Robert inclined his head and returned down the steps to the courtroom with the message. He was surprised that the king had ordered Buckingham to be killed on a Sunday, but suspected that it was because he knew, if he hesitated for even a day longer, he might change his mind and forgive the man. Diccon had grown fond of Buckingham and had liked and trusted him and Robert knew that made his treachery all the worse.

It was early in November 1483 when Lord Stanley came back to Lathom with his son, Lord Strange, and a large company of men. Anne watched the impassive face of the Countess of Richmond as they sat at the supper table and her husband related the events of the past weeks, and although she heard her sharp intake of breath at the news of Buckingham’s execution on the Lord’s Day her expression never changed.

“He begged the king for an audience after sentence was passed but he refused to see him,” said Lord Stanley as he reached to cut another slice of meat from the dish of chicken at the centre of the table. “What news of your son?” he asked his wife.

“Landed at Plymouth in the midst of a storm, but put to sea again to avoid a trap.” Lord Stanley nodded and Anne, suddenly overcome with an uncontrollable rage at their plotting stood up and flung her platter across the table, scattering chicken, bread, trenchers, cups and wine across the floor and walls in a trail of white and red. The Stanleys stared at her.

“You are all traitors!” she shouted at them before running from the room.

The Stanleys were summoned to attend the Christmas court and Anne knew that the Countess of Richmond and her husband would have some awkward questions to answer about their involvement in the rebellion. On their first day Lord Stanley had been summoned by the king and returned around suppertime with a concerned expression and closeted himself with his wife and son in the solar, leaving Anne alone by the hearth in the hall. Since her outburst at Lathom the Stanleys had taken extra precautions never to discuss any of their affairs within her hearing.

The next day Uncle Robert came in the middle of the morning to escort her to see John and Katherine and, rather than expressing any reluctance to allow her to go, Anne had been surprised when the Countess of Richmond had sent a servant to ask Anne to attend her in the solar.

“I would ask a favour of you,” she said. “Will you intercede with the king on my behalf? I am accused of being a traitor, and if I am found guilty...” Her hand strayed to the back of her neck as if she was already imagining the touch of the executioner’s axe and she swallowed uneasily. “I know we have not always been friends, but I have tried to be kind to you, and surely you would not wish to see me die?”

Anne allowed herself a moment of satisfaction to see this woman whom she hated having to beg for her help.

“The king’s mind is not mine to command,” she replied, but then found herself softening a little. “I will mention the matter to him,” she promised. Much as she disliked the countess it would not please her to see the woman go to the block.

The children greeted her joyously and Katherine especially seemed to exude excitement as she kissed her mother. They had barely sat down and begun to exchange their news when Richard came in and Anne stood up and curtseyed to him.

“How are things at Stanley House?” he asked as she resumed her seat.

“They seem to be concerned about what will happen to the Countess of Richmond.”

“So they should be! Stanley’s wife is lucky she is not sent straight to Pontefract – or worse!”

“She did plot against you,” said Anne. “I saw Buckingham visit her on more than one occasion and there were messengers coming and going from Lathom all the time. Even though I was mostly confined to my chamber I would have been blind not to see it. I wrote a letter to warn you but it was discovered and burnt by the countess and after that I was denied pen and ink and watched even more closely.”

“I thought Harry Buckingham was my friend,” said Richard. “Of all the people I might have suspected of treason he was the one who had most cause to be loyal. Why did he turn against me?” he asked, and seeing the bewildered look in his eyes Anne reached out her hand to touch his arm.

“I think he may have had ambition to take the crown himself,” she said. “I doubt he would have willingly stood aside for Henry Tudor.”

“Tudor’s bastard blood has no claim to the throne of England!” said Richard, vehemently, “and to think that I was once willing to listen to his mother’s entreaties that I allow him back from France.”

“What will happen to her?” asked Anne.

“That is for parliament to decide.”

“Is there evidence that she plotted against you?”

“More than enough,” he replied grimly.

“The countess has begged me to intervene on her behalf and ask that you will be merciful,” Anne told him.

“She fears for her head?” asked Richard, with a slight smile.

“I think she does.” Anne paused. “You would not have her executed?”

“Do you not think she deserves it?” he asked. “It is the punishment for treason and she has knowingly plotted against me.”

“I know,” said Anne. “I do not like or trust the woman. I do not like or trust any of the Stanley family, well apart from Edward. But she is a pious and godly woman and I would not like to think...” Anne stopped as a shiver ran through her at the thought of an executioner hacking the countess’s head from her body amidst her blood and screams.

Richard stood with his back to the fire. “Ruling a kingdom leaves no room for sentiment,” he said. “Treason cannot go unpunished.” He looked at Anne for a moment and then his face softened into a familiar smile. “I will not have her killed,” he said. “Not because I feel inclined to leniency in her case, and not simply because she is a woman, but because I must strive to keep the support of her husband. Stanley is a constant thorn in my side, and even though he swears he knew nothing of the plot I do not believe him. But the man has far reaching influence, to say nothing of a large army. I cannot risk him openly turning against me. But do not repeat this to her,” he warned as he sat down again. “Let the woman worry a little. Some fear may help to concentrate both their minds and even change them in my favour. I will strip her of her lands and titles and give her into the care of her husband. He can take her back to Lathom and keep her confined there where she can have no more communication with her son.”

Anne nodded with relief, thinking that the hardest part of Richard’s punishment would be the countess’s loss of the title she loved so much; having to be called Lady Stanley rather than Countess would not please her at all.

“Anne, there is another important matter I wish to discuss with you.” He glanced away from her to smile at Kate. “I think it is time that a marriage was arranged for our daughter.”

“Already?” asked Anne. “She will not be eleven years old until the spring. Surely there is no rush?”

Richard frowned. “It is not just a matter of her marrying, but of her making a suitable marriage,” he explained. “I have a man in mind who is not only a good Yorkist and a reliable supporter, but a man whom I know will be kind and tender towards her.” Anne waited to hear what he would say, praying that he had chosen well yet knowing that his decision would be final despite any reservations that she might have. “The Earl of Huntingdon has been a widower for almost two years now and although he has a daughter he has no male heir. He will be a good husband.”

“But he is your age. He is old enough to be her father!” protested Anne.

“He has been an honourable and loyal lord to me, especially during the rebellion,” said Richard. “Yet he is the least wealthy of any earl and it would please me to reward him. I will give them gifts of lands and estates that will secure our daughter’s future as well as his.”

Anne looked at her child. “Will this make you happy?” she asked, though the excitement dancing in Kate’s eyes told her all she needed to know.

“I have met him, Mama, and he is very kind.”

“After the marriage Kate will live in her husband’s household with the earl’s daughter until she is old enough for the marriage to be consummated,” said Richard. Anne nodded and reached out her arms to hug her daughter to her.

“It is just so hard to think that she is almost grown up,” she said with tears in her eyes.

“I will arrange for you to meet William,” said Richard gently. “Then you will be reassured that he is a good and kind man.” He paused. “And now I will give you some time alone with the children,” he said, though, as Anne watched him go, she wished that she could spend more time with him as well.

The marriage covenant was signed on the twenty-ninth day of February, that year being a leap year, and Katherine and William were married at the small church of St Helen in Bishopsgate on Monday the eighth day of March. Richard made them generous grants of land, including some that had belonged to Lady Stanley, which would pass to them after the death of Lord Stanley, and Anne could not suppress a rueful smile at the thought of how much it would anger the woman to know that her property would eventually belong to Kate – one of the ‘bastard children’ whom she had claimed had brought such shame on the Stanleys.

The weather had been warm for April, especially at Hornby where the spring often came late. Anne had been in the herb garden that she and Lucy had planted, cutting back the unwanted winter growth. She was washing the earth from her hands in a bucket filled with water, scrubbing at the blackness that had crept beneath her fingernails with a small brush when she heard the messenger come. She went across the courtyard with a towel in her hands and still wearing a course apron over her gown.

“I come from Middleham, my lady,” said the messenger. Anne’s heart raced as she took the letter, praying that it was not bad news. The sight of her son’s handwriting reassured her that he was safe, but the news he sent stunned her. Edward Prince of Wales was dead. The little son of the king and queen had died unexpectedly at Middleham whilst his parents were at Nottingham Castle.

“God have mercy on his soul,” prayed Anne making the sign of the cross. “Richard,” she whispered, knowing how much he had treasured his youngest child, and although her heart broke for the queen as well it was mostly for Richard that she wept as she shared his grief.

When she related the news to her husband at supper she found that he had already heard.

“People are discussing it in Lancaster,” he told her, “and some are saying that it is God’s judgement.”

“For what?” she asked.

“They are saying that the king’s heir has been taken from him in retribution for his murder of his brother’s sons.”

“People think it is a punishment? They are saying that he murdered Lord Edward and Lord Richard?” Anne remembered that Sir William had hinted at the same thing more than six months before.

“No one knows where the princes are. They were in the Tower, but they haven’t been seen since Buckingham’s rebellion, so people draw their own conclusions.” He shrugged.

“Do you believe it?” she asked him. She knew that his opinion of Richard had changed since the hasty execution of Lord Hastings.

“If I were in the king’s place I would not have wanted two rivals whom many think were the rightful monarch and his heir.”

“You speak as if you believe they are dead.”

“Well if they are alive let us see if the king produces them to countermand these rumours.”

“And risk them being the focus of another rebellion?”

“The king has already risked a focus for rebellion by persuading the dowager queen and her daughters to come out of sanctuary,” said Edward.

“But they are all girls. Surely no one would back a rebellion to put a queen on the throne?” asked Anne.

“A woman can soon find a husband to support her,” said Edward, “and my father tells me that when Henry Tudor held court at Rennes Cathedral last Christmas he made a vow that he would marry the Lady Elizabeth.”

“That is what Buckingham suggested,” said Anne remembering the day that she and the countess had met him on the road to Worcester.

“There are many who would like to see Tudor on the throne with the late king’s daughter as his queen,” said her husband. “And although she fears the shadow of the axe, my father’s wife is still in contact with her son.”

“How so when she is confined at Lathom and allowed to see no one” demanded Anne.

“Even the king would not deny her the comfort of her confessor – especially when he believes she is seeking forgiveness for her misdeeds against him. Christopher Urswick is loyal to her and carries messages and letters to Henry in France.” Edward suddenly fell silent and gave Anne a hard look. “I should not have told you these things. I sometimes forget my father’s warnings to be circumspect in my conversations with you. I trust you will not repeat any of this to the king. I do not want to forbid you to write any letters.”

“I see him so rarely it is of little consequence. He is in London for most of the time now and does not have the leisure to correspond with me,” remarked Anne. She would not risk a letter to Richard, she thought, but she would send word to one of her uncles the next time they sent a messenger to her.

However, the next letter she received was from Isabella, who was in London with Uncle Robert, and she also mentioned the Lady Elizabeth.

To Anne Stanley, at Hornby:

Well-beloved, I greet you well and recommend myself to you. We are all well and I hope you remain in good health.

There is much fear here in London and the king has armed men on the streets to keep the peace as the taverns and the yards are full of people whispering and their theories grow more bizarre by the day. People are saying that the king has murdered his nephews and that he plans to divorce the queen and marry his niece the Lady Elizabeth.

Robert says the king is much angered by these rumours. Yet every day new bills appear and pamphlets too and my husband is scarcely home for trying to discover who is behind it all.

There are rumours of rebellions and invasions also, and although the king has deployed warships in the channel and tried to persuade Duke Francis to hand over Henry Tudor he has so far refused and Robert fears that the threat from Tudor and his supporters is credible. Perhaps the king should not have been so lenient with Tudor’s mother, the Lady Stanley. What do you know? Are you at liberty to write, or does your husband censor your letters?

I hope at least to see you again come Christmas and until then I remember you daily in my prayers.

Written at Crosby Hall, London.

Your loving cousin, Isabella.

As Christmas 1484 approached Anne and Edward travelled south once again. On Twelfth Night they attended a banquet in Westminster Hall, and although people had said the celebrations of 1483 had been lavish they were certainly overshadowed by this, thought Anne.

At each place there was a small package but, as Anne reached to unwrap the one set before her, a trumpeter announced two pages who came in bearing gifts for the queen and the Lady Elizabeth who were seated on either side of the king at the top table. Anne watched as the two women unwrapped their presents amid much laughter and then begged leave, with ladies in attendance, to retire to an ante-chamber.

“What did they receive? I couldn’t see,” Anne asked her daughter.

“They are gowns,” laughed Kate. “Papa sent for the finest silks and had garments fashioned in the latest style for both of them.”

“That was very generous.”

“He said that both should be dressed finely for this feast,” she was explaining when she was interrupted by a gasp, followed by a moment’s silence as the two women returned. “They could be twins!” laughed Kate. But Anne could not match her smile. She could see that the queen and her niece, with their slender figures and fair hair looked eerily similar in their matching gowns. It troubled her and she wondered if Richard had not misjudged the mood of some of the assembled guests.

“He treats his niece as if she would be a queen as well,” remarked Edward beside her, echoing her own thoughts. “This will not help the rumours that he plans to replace his wife with her.”

“I think he just means to be generous, and fair,” said Anne.

“Then it is badly judged,” said Edward. “He should have had more sense.”

Anne didn’t reply, but she knew that her husband was right. To dress them both the same was to invite comparison and although she knew that he had done it to show that the Lady Elizabeth was still a respected member of his family, she wished that she had had the opportunity to advise him against the rashness of it.

She turned to her own gift with a frown and undid the ribbons to find a pair of soft leather gloves.

“Do you like them?” asked Kate eagerly. “I helped Papa choose all the gifts. He knows nothing about fashion!”

“They are beautiful,” said Anne. “What did he give to you?”

“I am wearing it!” she said, standing up and twirling around to show off her emerald green gown. “And my husband gave me the brooch.” She bent for her mother to admire the jewels and as she did so Anne noticed the swell of her young breasts.

As Anne had foreseen, the gossip about the dresses given to the queen and her niece reignited speculation that the king intended to put away his wife and marry the Lady Elizabeth.

“And it is not helped by the queen’s poor health,” said Uncle Robert as they sat in the solar at Stanley House one day in the early spring. Now that Lord Stanley spent much of his time at court and Lady Stanley was still confined at Lathom, there was no one to forbid Anne receiving visitors. “There is even talk that the king is poisoning her,” said her uncle.

“Oh, but that is ridiculous!” burst out Anne, incensed that anyone could think that Richard would do such a thing. “But is the queen’s health no better?” she asked.

“She does not come out of her bedchamber and her ladies say she has become very thin and frail and coughs much of the time.”

“And what do her physicians say?”

“They say she has a wasting disease. In fact they have advised the king to refrain from her bed, though whether it is because she is so weak or because they fear it is a contagion I do not know.”

Anne nodded. She felt sympathy for both of them. “Then the outcome does not look hopeful.”

“I fear not,” agreed her uncle sadly.

On the sixteenth day of March 1485, the sun mysteriously faded in the middle of the day.

“It is an eclipse,” explained Edward. They were standing in the courtyard at Stanley House and it had grown suddenly cold and all the birds had fallen silent as the false dusk fell across the city. “It happens when the moon on its orbit comes between the earth and the sun.”

“It is a bad omen,” replied Anne. Her husband shook his head at her superstitions, but barely had she spoken than the passing bell began to toll. She stared at Edward. “The queen?” she asked. Edward nodded. “God take and preserve her soul,” said Anne. “And God help Richard,” she whispered.

The bell continued to toll as the false night darkened the city. It seemed to be the only sound as it echoed out, over the walls and across the river to the fields beyond, as if the whole of the heavens mourned the passing of Anne Neville.

Anne watched as a bubble of light appeared on one side of the shrouded sun.

“Don’t look at it,” Edward told her. “There’ll be many blinded by the strength of the sun’s light this day. I would not like you to be one of them.”

But it was not only eyes that were blinded, but minds as well. Rumours abounded that the king had murdered his wife to marry his niece and thwart the ambitions of Henry Tudor. “They speak of little else on the streets,” said Edward as they sat down to supper at Stanley House on the day the queen was laid to rest in Westminster Abbey.

“How was the king?” Anne asked Lord Stanley who had attended the funeral.

“He wept, though many said his show of emotion was as well-performed as that of a player.”

Anne stared at her father-in-law and saw that he had no sympathy for Richard. She placed her spoon beside the bowl and saw that her hand was shaking with emotion.

“Will he marry the Lady Elizabeth do you think?” asked Edward.

“Who knows what his mind holds?” said Lord Stanley. “The man is an enigma and I will never understand him. But Ratcliffe has promised that he will talk to him, and he is one of the few men that the king may actually listen to. Though when he will manage to say his piece heaven alone knows. The king has shut himself away in his apartments and refuses to see anyone.”

Although Richard was never out of her thoughts and prayers Anne neither saw him nor had any message from him until past May Day, when Uncle Robert came and said that he wished to see her.

“A moment,” said Anne, suddenly conscious of her drab gown, and she ran up to her bedchamber to change and pin a fresh clean coif around her face before allowing her uncle to hand her onto the barge that would take her to Westminster. As the oars swathed through the water of the river the sun came out for the first time in weeks and Anne hoped that it was a good sign.

She was ushered into the presence chamber where Richard sat on an elaborate chair, dressed in a rich black and gold doublet with a dark gown over the top. She sank into a deep curtsey and stayed there for a moment, her eyes on the patterns of the tiled floor, wondering what it was he wanted to say to her.

After gesturing to her to rise he stood up and came towards her. “I will speak with you in private, my lady,” he said.

She bent to kiss the ring on his outstretched hand, her nostrils filling with the familiar scent of him.

“Come!” he said and offered her his arm. She placed her fingers on his cuff as she had so many years ago at Baynard’s Castle, although she doubted that today he intended to take her into the garden and make love to her.

He led her to an ante-chamber whose windows looked out over the mead that spread down to the river. She heard him close the door behind them and for the first time in over ten years she was completely alone with him. As he stood beside her at the open window, their arms almost touching, she saw the faint lines around the corners of his mouth and the edges of his eyes, which held traces of his sorrows. She wanted to hold and comfort him.

“Richard?” She put her hand in his. “Richard, I am truly sorry,” she told him. “I know you loved her.”

He lifted her hand and held it against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat and it was as quickened as her own.

“Yes, I loved her,” he replied, “but not in the same way that I love you. She was my wife and I kept myself faithful to her body. And I wept when she was taken from me. But...”

He paused and looked at her, at her face and then down at her hands and his ring which she still wore. “I have always loved you,” he told her. “I think I loved you from the moment I saw you at Hornby Castle. What we had was special. It could be so again.”

“Would you have me as your mistress?” she asked.

“No,” he said and she pulled her hand from his in sudden disappointment. “I would have you for my wife.” She stared at him as he took her hand in his again and raised it to his lips. “Anne, will you marry me?”