Jean Plaidy (31 page)

He asked the guard for paper and a pen to write. He should have been suspicious of the alacrity with which it was produced.

The Earl was equally glad to enliven his days in correspondence with his fellow prisoner. He told Perkin that he had heard something of him. News came now and then to the prisoners in the Tower—snippets of it … and then long silences so that one never really got the real story. Perkin told him what had happened to him and the Earl was eager to know more. Poor young man, he had been so long in the Tower that he knew very little of the outside world.

Perkin wrote of the freedom he longed to obtain, of Katharine waiting for him. All his thoughts were of freeing himself and getting away… . Escape from this fearful place, he wrote. Freedom. That is what I crave for.

The Earl craved for it too. “Am I to spend
all
my life a prisoner?” he wrote.

The guards who read the letters and gave them to the constable who showed them to the King before they were passed on to the intended recipient, said: “We are getting somewhere.”

“They were right. In time the two young men began to write about means of escape. How could they achieve it? “The guards are friendly,” wrote Perkin. “I have an idea that they would help us. There must be many prisoners in the Tower—many of them guiltless. It might be possible to get them to help us … It would be freedom for them as well as for us.”

The Earl was inclined to leave the planning to Perkin who had had adventures in various places, who had actually gone into battle. What could a young man who had been a prisoner since he was ten, know of these matters?

Planning made the days pass pleasantly. Perkin had a grand plan for seizing the Tower, they would get the guards to help. Warwick must not forget he was the true heir to the throne. He had the right to command. Perkin was only a humble citizen, but he would admit he had experience.

They grew excited. They drew plans. It was all in the mind. Both of them knew what they wrote about would be impossible to put into action.

But it was far more serious than they realized and they were to pay dearly for their diversion.

One day the guards came into Perkin’s cell. He looked up eagerly thinking they might have brought him a communication from the Earl.

The guards looked different; they were no longer smiling conspiratorially, no longer asking for the latest communication to the Earl of Warwick.

“Perkin Warbeck,” said the senior of the guards. “You are to be tried at Westminster on the sixteenth day of November.”

“Tried! But I have already been judged.”

“This is another matter. You will be tried with the Earl of Warwick for treason.”

Perkin did not understand.

“Plotting against the King’s person. Plotting to take possession of the Tower.”

“You mean …”

“You won’t get away with this one, I can tell you. It’s all there … in the letters.”

“My letters to the Earl …”

“And his to you … You’re in trouble, you and the noble Earl.”

Perkin understood then. This had been their plan. The friendly guards were the sinister spies of the Tudor King and he was in trouble … moreover he had involved the Earl of Warwick with him.

Henry was gratified. His ruse had worked. Perkin was of no importance to him, but the Earl of Warwick had fallen into his hands.

The two men had written to each other of escaping from prison. It would not be easy to condemn Warwick to death for that. People would say, for what reason was he in prison? Wasn’t it the most natural thing in the world that he should plan to escape?

That would not do.

He consulted with Lord Oxford who was the High Constable of England. The Constable knew what his wishes were and why. It was imperative that the match with Spain be made without much more delay. If the matter was allowed to drift the Spanish Sovereigns might well betroth their daughter to someone else.

“It would seem,” said the King, “that the Earl of Warwick was not planning merely to escape. His idea was to gather an army about him. That is quite clear.”

It was not. But the Constable knew that the King was commanding him to make it clear.

Henry was right. Oxford saw that. While the Earl lived there would be no peace in the kingdom. At any moment someone would arise and use him as a figurehead. There must be peace. What was the life of a young prince compared with the terrible revenge of war? It was the good of the country against an innocent young man.

“It must be made clear,” said Oxford.

Henry nodded.

The Earl was bewildered to find himself in the midst of so much excitement. Up to now he had spent his days in the quietness of his prison. He knew little of the world. Vaguely he remembered life at Middleham with the Duchess of Gloucester who had afterward become Queen Anne. She had been kind to him—she had been his mother’s sister and she used to talk to him about her childhood when she and Isabel his mother were together at Middleham with Richard whom she married and George whom Isabel had married. “They were brothers,” she had said, “we were sisters … daughters of Warwick the Kingmaker who married the sons of the Duke of York.” It had all been very interesting. Then she had died and King Richard had been killed at Bosworth and that was when life changed completely and he became a prisoner in the Tower. For what reason he had never been quite sure. Now he was beginning to understand. It was because his father was the brother of King Edward and King Richard and because King Edward’s two sons had disappeared in the Tower and Richard’s son had died and there was only himself left.

And because of this he had plotted against the King. Had he? He had not known that. He had merely wanted to be free.

The Earl of Oxford visited him. “Yes,” he said, “you wanted to be free so that you could take the crown.”

The young man looked puzzled. “I wanted to be free,” he said.

“You have been here a long time.”

“I came when I was ten years old. I am now twenty-four. More than half my life I have been King Henry’s prisoner.”

“Oh … not a prisoner,” said the Earl of Oxford. “You were put here for your protection.”

“Did I need it for so long?”

“The King thought so. And because your father was the Duke of Clarence you thought you had more right to the throne than he had.”

“I had more right to the throne.”

The poor innocent boy. He did not realize that he was signing his own death warrant. It was so easy to trick him … this innocent. How could he be otherwise, having spent so many years shut away from the world?

“I have come here to help you,” said the Constable of England. “It would be better for you if you confessed that you know you have more right to the throne than the King and you wanted to depose him.”

“I have more right to the throne… .”began the boy.

“Ah, that is what I said. Confess your guilt and the King will doubtless forgive you as he did Perkin Warbeck.”

“Oh, he is free then?”

“He is not free now. I was referring to what happened when he was captured and brought to the King. The King was lenient to him and at first forgave him … but he tried to get away and only then did the King put him into the Tower. Confess to your guilt and the King may well be lenient with you.”

The young Earl was persuaded and the Constable went in triumph to the King.

“He should be tried and condemned at once. Warbeck too.”

“They will both be found guilty,” commanded the King. “Warbeck is unimportant. He has been proved to be a fraud. But I have had enough of the ungrateful fellow and he could have a following and one can’t be found guilty and pay the penalty without the other.”

So Perkin and the Earl of Warwick were tried, found guilty of treason, and both condemned to death.

The King did not wish to take revenge on either of these traitors. They were young and foolish, he said; but they had made trouble and for the good of the country this time he intended to act. He had been lenient before; but he had been answered by ingratitude.

Perkin Warbeck should be taken to Tyburn and hanged; the Earl of Warwick should be beheaded on Tower Hill.

In their cells in the Tower the two men awaited the death sentence.

Perkin was resigned. He would never see Katharine again. He wondered what her life would be like without him. It was true that they had been separated for some time while he was imprisoned. But there had always been hope.

This was the end then—all those grandiose schemes were to end up at Tyburn.

There was no hope now. Waiting for them to come and take him he wondered if there was some point where he could have altered the course which had led him to this day. He did not know and it did not matter now.

The people had crowded into the streets to see his last moments. It was a holiday for the spectators. He heard their shouts as he was drawn along. He did not care that they jeered at him, that they had come to witness his last humiliation.

As they put the rope about his neck he was murmuring Katharine’s name; and he hoped that she would recover from the desolation he knew this day would bring her. He was praying that she might find some happiness after he had gone.

This was the end then. He, Perkin Warbeck had coem to the end of the road.

At Tower Hill there was another spectacle. The young Earl walked out of the Tower and felt the cool air on his face; the mist was on the river; it was a bleak November day. But it was a great experience to walk out from those gray walls. He wondered what his life would have been like if he had been at liberty for those fourteen years he had spent in prison.

But the time had come for him to lay his head on the block. He did so … feeling almost indifferent. Why should he regret leaving a life of which he knew so little?

One swift stroke and it was over.

They brought the news to the King: Warwick is dead.

Henry nodded. Now he was sure the negotiations with Spain would be delayed no longer. He had removed the only claimant he had to fear.

The Spanish Princess

he Court was at Richmond. Prince Henry with his sisters Margaret and Mary had ridden in the day before from Eltham; everyone was excitedly talking about the imminent arrival of the Infanta from Spain.