By Loyalty Bound: The Story of the Mistress of King Richard III (8 page)

Anne squirmed under his gaze. She was glad that she had Izzie to share a bed with for the present, but the future held unknown terrors that were beyond her control. If she was given in marriage to this man then she would have to submit to his attentions and demands like a good wife, meekly and without protest, and the prospect terrified her.

She and Izzie huddled together in the open carriage that Sir William provided, holding hands tightly as they rocked and jerked along the muddy, puddle strewn roads. Even with cushions to sit on, the journey made Anne ache as much as riding a horse and she felt constantly sick. Izzie spoke in whispers of outlaws and robbers and, although Anne kept telling her not to worry, she did not succeed in reassuring herself. She was tired and anxious and did not know for how many days they would have to travel, or what awaited them when they arrived.

At last they saw the walls of the city in the distance with myriad towers and spires rising above their height. Anne had never seen so many people in one place and the buildings were so crowded together in labyrinthine streets that there was hardly room to pass between them in places and Sir William, on horseback, rode ahead to clear a way through the stalls, which spilled out from the shops into the lanes. As Anne looked upwards she thought the houses leaned so precariously that they would tumble into the street below and it was only the narrowness of the gaps that kept them upright. Everywhere there was noise: people shouting, hammers clanging, dogs barking. Then the huddled, lime-washed homes and shops of the traders gave way to the houses of the wealthy as they approached the river to the south. She saw that they were coming to the edge of the city wall where it reached down to the riverside and on the shoreline there was a huge palace with round towers at each of its corners.

“That is Baynard’s Castle,” said Sir William as he drew his horse level with the litter to point out the sights. “And if you look to the other side you will see the tower of St Paul’s church.” Anne craned her neck at the high wooden steeple that seemed to reach up to the heavens and then at the houses and warehouses that clung to the shore of the river. “There is St Benet’s church. And this is St Paul’s Wharf. My brother’s home, Stanley House, is nearby.”

Izzie leaned across her to get a better look at the broad archway and wooden gates that were opened to admit them into a square court surrounded on three sides by buildings rising four storeys high and topped with pointed, shingled roofs.

A dark figure, silhouetted in the light from the lamps inside, came down the wooden stairs from the first floor and greeted her. “I am pleased to see you at last Mistress Harrington. I am Lord Thomas Stanley, your guardian.”

Anne stared at the thin-faced man with the light brown beard. He looked younger than she had imagined, though his eyes were narrow and his unsmiling face had a mean foxy look. He was dressed sombrely in black, with a small cap on his head. She made a brief curtsey and he stood aside to indicate that she should enter.

He took them through the lower hall, past the kitchens and buttery to a solar where Anne could make out the river in the fading twilight. Here a woman of around middle age stood waiting to greet them.

“You are welcome,” she said. “I am Lady Stanley. I hope your journey was not too difficult.”

“It was bearable, my lady,” replied Anne, studying the small and slender woman in her expensive satin dress that barely skimmed the floor; a blue and gold necklace glowed above the low cut bodice, and the jewels of the rings on her fingers danced in the candlelight. She felt shabby beside her in her soiled cloak and shoes and old gown.

“Come and sit close to the fire. You look cold,” she said and beckoned them forwards as servants hurried in with flagons of wine and trays of honeyed cakes to refresh them.

“Sir William,” she said as he bent to kiss her hand lightly. “Thank you for bringing Lord Stanley’s wards safely to us.”

“It has been a pleasure,” he said, his eyes meeting Anne’s before she turned away to sip a little wine to settle her stomach.

“You are welcome in my house,” Lord Stanley told them. “You are fortunate that the misplaced loyalty of your uncles has made your rescue possible. From now on you will be treated properly and you will attend court and the coronation of the king.”

“How is old Henry?” asked Sir William with faint derision in his voice.

“He is still resting in his rooms at the Tower. The day after tomorrow the Earl of Warwick will conduct him to St Paul’s for his readeption. Then we will have a true Lancastrian king once more; a holy and saintly man, not one who lives a debauched and immoral life - and for that we should thank God.”

“Come,” said Lady Stanley in a gentle voice. “We will leave the men to their talk of kings and politics. You look in need of rest.”

The men politely nodded their heads before Lady Stanley led Anne and Izzie up wide stairs to the top of the house.

“I would prefer to share with my sister,” said Anne when Lady Stanley opened a door and showed her a bedchamber.

“That is not necessary. This house has many chambers,” said Lady Stanley, sounding a little insulted. “There is space for you to have a bedchamber each even though my sons will soon join us as well. But if you insist,” she conceded at last as Anne stood firmly outside the door, “though you will have to share the bed.”

As Lady Stanley organised the servants to unpack their few belongings and bring washing water and more logs for the fire, Anne joined her sister by a window that Izzie had thrust open to look out.

“Noise,” she breathed in excitement. “All I can hear is noise.” Yet it wasn’t a complaint. She looked round at Anne with brightened eyes. “The city is alive!”

All night long the noise kept Anne awake. Not just the chiming of the church bells and the singing and brawling of the drunkards in the streets, but other sounds that she couldn’t identify: the barking of what sounded like a thousand dogs and, from a distance, a roaring and howling that she thought could only be the souls of the dead being tortured in purgatory.

“Those strange noises in the night,” she whispered to Sir William as they sat down for breakfast next morning after hearing mass in the family chapel. “What were they?”

“Ah, those were the king’s wild creatures,” he replied. “But there is no need to be alarmed,” he said, reaching for her hand. “Perhaps you and the lady Elizabeth would like to accompany me on a tour of the animal houses at the Tower?”

Anne stared back at his enquiring face. She’d had no idea that there were wild animals in London. She had heard that the Tower had a dungeon that was feared by many, but she did not know that the captives were guarded by ferocious animals.

“Is it safe?” she asked, imagining lions and wolves roaming at will.

“I will look after you,” he said, moving a little closer and increasing the pressure on her hand. “The animals are all confined in cages so you can come to no harm. Except for the bear,” he added. “His keeper takes him on a thick chain down to the river so that he might catch fish for his own dinner.”

Anne stared at Sir William, unsure whether to believe him or whether he was teasing her and trying to make her afraid. Her instinct was to refuse, but the invitation to see these animals intrigued her. Perhaps, she thought, if she was to be his wife she should allow herself to get to know him better and a visit to see this menagerie appealed to her.

When the meal was finished, Sir William told Anne and Izzie to bring their cloaks.

“We will go by water,” he said. “I have summoned the Stanley barge and sent word to the keepers to expect us.”

When they stepped ashore near the west entrance to the Tower the smell assaulted Anne’s nose. Everywhere there was a stench of rotting food and faeces. At the Lion Tower the keeper greeted Sir William and allowed them in through the gate and she held a corner of her cloak over her face and breathed through her mouth to prevent retching at the reek of the caged animals. But the stink didn’t seem to bother either Sir William or Izzie, who rushed forward for a closer look.

“Nan!” she squealed in delight. “Come and see.”

Behind wooden bars, that looked rather insubstantial to Anne, the amber eyes of a wolf gazed back at her. Rather than being the fierce snarling beast she had expected, it looked surprisingly subdued and even afraid. In the next cage was the bear that Sir William had spoken of. The thick metal chain that was fixed around the creature’s neck clattered as it moved. Its paws were huge and ended in long, curved claws and she hoped that it wouldn’t be let out whilst they were visiting. Suddenly a roar reminiscent of the ones she had heard in the night echoed across the courtyard and she found herself clinging to Sir William’s arm in fright.

“Now that is the lion,” he laughed, patting her hand and drawing her towards the wildcat’s lair. Anne watched as the animal with a huge mane of reddish hair prowled backwards and forwards behind the bars, snarling and showing crisp white teeth that she had no doubt would tear her to pieces given the chance.

“It seems very angry,” she said as she watched it turn and turn again in its small enclosure, praying that it wouldn’t escape.

“It is quite content,” said Sir William. “It has food and water and shelter. What more could it want?”

“Its freedom?” she asked, as she saw its mate at the back of the cage, gnawing on the bone of some other beast that had been fed to it.

“Come, Lady Anne.” She felt his hand on her back and wasn’t sure whether he meant to protect her or push her nearer to the cage. She didn’t want to get closer but her resistance only increased the pressure of his hand. “You are quite safe,” he told her. “They cannot hurt you.” She glanced up and found him smiling down at her with a mixture of affection and impatience. She looked away and back at the pacing lion, suddenly feeling sorry for it in its captivity.

“Look!” exclaimed Izzie who was standing with her hand to her mouth outside another enclosure. Anne turned to see a spotted cat mount a female from behind, holding it tightly with its forepaws as it thrust into it. Izzie’s eyes were sparkling at the unexpected entertainment and beside her Sir William laughed in an unsettling tone.

“It is disgusting,” said Anne with distaste as she moved out of the reach of Sir William. And as she heard his laughter, now directed at her, she averted her eyes from the act on the other side of the bars, staring instead at the urine stained stream of water that flowed from the cage.

“The natural world can afford much pleasure if you allow it to,” Sir William told her as she walked away from the animals and back towards the gate. Anne sensed him staring at her body again as he spoke. She would never experience any pleasure with him, she thought.

When they got back to the house, Lady Stanley called them to the solar where bolts of materials in an array of colours were spread across the coffers. There were wools and velvets, and silks brought from far Eastern countries, as well as martens’ fur and dark brown sable.

Izzie rushed forward to finger them all, picking up some and holding them to her face. “They are all so beautiful!” she exclaimed. “Are we really to have gowns sewn from these?”

“My husband does not want you to appear in public wearing inferior gowns,” said Lady Stanley. “He desires you to have clothing that reflects your status.”

“Is it allowed?” asked Anne, her fingers tracing the softness of richly dyed indigo wool of the finest weave she had ever seen. It was a royal colour and she wondered from which merchant it had been bought.

“Of course it is allowed. The Stanleys may wear whatever they choose!” said Lady Stanley and Anne was reminded that she was sister to the traitor, Warwick. “See what a fine collar this would make,” she went on, taking a pellet of marten fur and draping it around Anne’s neck before gathering up a swathe of dark green velvet. “With this it would look very well.”

Anne clasped the soft materials as Lady Stanley unrolled an azure blue silk and swathed it over Izzie’s shoulder. These were the finest and most expensive cloths she had ever seen and, although they had always been well-dressed at Hornby, she had never had anything to compare with these.

“You must choose with haste,” urged Lady Stanley. “The seamstresses must begin work at once if your gowns are to be ready.”

On the morning of the coronation, the Stanley household was awake early with servants running up and down the stairs with hot water, basins and freshly laundered linen. The previous evening bathtubs had been filled for everyone to bathe in rose-scented water and, feeling fresh and fragrant, Anne pushed back the linen sheets of the bed and began to dress in her new chemise and the pale green silk kirtle. A girl helped her step into the darker green overgown and fastened the wide belt with gold thread that held up the voluminous folds of the skirts. She slipped her feet into fine stockings, with delicate garters, and then into soft leather shoes that the girl tied with laces around her ankles. Her hair was combed back from her face and fastened up underneath an embroidered hennin before a short veil of the palest cream linen was pinned into place.

“You look beautiful!” said Izzie, in her own blue gown with dark fur trim. Her fair hair was held back from her face but being younger was allowed to fall loosely down her back and she wore a blue cap that matched her gown.

Close by, the bells in the wooden tower of St Paul’s church had begun to ring and, where there had been anticipation, a feeling of foreboding settled around Anne as she remembered that the purpose of the day was to place King Henry back on the throne as a puppet king - when the real king and his brother were exiled from their country. Thinking of Richard she glanced at herself in the burnished mirror and thought how joyful she would have been to see herself like this as a bride, about to be married to the man she loved. She watched her expression change to one of sadness and regret that the best time of her life could already be past.

“Let me see!” said Izzie, pushing her aside to take her place. Anne watched her sister smile at her reflection then meet her own eyes through the mirror. “The Stanley sons and cousins have come,” she said with a touch of apprehension. “By the end of the day we will have met our future husbands.”