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Authors: The Reluctant Queen: The Story of Anne of York

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BOOK: Jean Plaidy
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I put my hand in his. “Richard,” I said. “I know one thing and that is that if you go away from me now and we have not plighted our troth, I shall be desperately unhappy.”

“If only you will understand.”

“I will try to understand. Then I shall be happy. It is hard at first.”

He put his arms about me and kissed me tenderly.

“Anne, you are so young. You will grow up…with me beside you. It is what I have always wanted. Even in those days at Middleham I loved you…I looked for you. I wanted your admiration. I always wanted to do the things that were hard for me, to make you proud of me.”

“I am proud of you and I do love you. The past does not count really. We can be together. That is all that matters.”

“I shall speak with my brother. I know he will want my happiness and he will give his consent to our marriage now that he knows you want it, too. We have come through our troubles, Anne. We are going to be happy from now on.”

“Yes,” I said slowly.

“You still look sad. Why? You are not still thinking of…?”

“No. I was thinking of Queen Margaret.”

Richard looked puzzled. “Our enemy! Why should you think of her and at this moment?”

“Because I am happy and she is so sad. I am free and she is a prisoner. I was with her so much, I grew to know her…admire her in a way. I know she was rash and impulsive and arrogant…but she is courageous and I shall never forget her misery when she heard of the death of her son.”

“The man who would be king!”

“He had a right, Richard. He was the king's son.”

“There are some who doubt Henry was able to beget a son.”

“There will always be rumors.”

“You must not think of her. She is being taken care of.”

“Is she? In some dark dungeon in the Tower?”

“I doubt my brother would be overharsh with her.”

“I wish I could see her once more.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“I should like to let her know that I cared for her. I think she must be feeling very much alone. She liked me…in a way. I think I could bring her a little comfort.”

“Do you want that very much?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Perhaps it could be arranged. I could ask the king. I think he might grant such a request.”

“It would ease my mind a little. I am sure she will be stoical. I think she lost heart for battle when her son died.”

“I will see what can be done. And Anne…will you promise me that you will forget everything that puts doubts into your mind now that you and I have found each other at last, and all obstacles are being swept away, leaving it clear for us to be together for the rest of our lives?”

“I will,” I said.

I felt elated. The past did not matter. He loved me more deeply than he had ever loved another woman.

I was happy, happier than I had ever been before.

A COOKSHOP IN THE CHEPE

I
could not keep the news to myself. As soon as I saw Isabel I burst out, “I am going to marry Richard! He has asked me and we have the king's consent.”

She embraced me with affection.

“I always knew it,” she said. “You were meant for each other. You are both quiet and serious…different from George, and me. Is it not strange that we should be sisters and they brothers…and so different? Richard was always fond of you and you of him. You could never hide your feelings. Two sisters marrying two brothers. What could be closer than that? We shall be having a wedding soon.”

“He was only waiting for my consent and now that I have said I will marry him there should be no delay.”

Later that day a messenger came with the news that if I would make myself ready a guard would come to escort me to the Tower where I might see the prisoner, Margaret of Anjou.

Isabel was amazed.

I said, “I told Richard that I was unhappy about the queen and should like to see her, so he has arranged this for me.”

“To prove he will do anything for you!”

My spirits were high. I said blithely, “It would seem that that is so.”

“He must have asked the king himself. No one else would have dared given permission for you to visit such an enemy.”

“She is a poor, tired, lonely, unhappy woman.”

“She is a lioness, momentarily caged. Such a woman would be capable of anything. I am indeed surprised that this visit is allowed. As I said, it clearly shows what Richard will do for you.”

She kissed me. It was wonderful to see her pleasure in my happiness.

I shall never forget my meeting with Margaret.

She was there in her dark cell—a strongly guarded prisoner, a proud woman in defeat; but somehow she managed to create an aura of majesty.

“They told me I was to have a visitor,” she said. “I did not expect it to be you.”

She was pleased to see me and I was so glad that I had come. She knew it would not have been easy to get permission.

“I have thought of you so much,” I said.

“You, too, have been in my thoughts. Are they treating you well?”

“I am with my sister.”

“And your mother?”

“She must remain in sanctuary at Beaulieu.”

“So it is only you who has been forgiven.”

“It would seem so. I am to marry the Duke of Gloucester.”

“The little duke! Ha! My boy was tall and handsome. What we have missed, you and I!”

I said, “I have known the Duke of Gloucester since my childhood. We have always been friends. I am very happy because I am to marry him.”

She did not answer. She was staring ahead of her and I wondered whether my coming had reminded her of her son. But I immediately told myself that he would always be in her thoughts.

“I hope they are treating you well,” I said.

“They let me know I am their prisoner.”

“You would like to return to France?”

She nodded. “My father will be anxious for me. The King of France is my friend. They may do something…but does it matter now?”

“Indeed it matters. When you are free from this place you will be yourself again.”

“I have lost my son. I have lost everything that meant anything to me. They have murdered my husband.”

“They say he died of melancholy.”

Her laugh was bitter, without mirth. “What will they say I died of? Frustration? Humiliation?”

“You are not dead, my lady. Spirits such as yours do not die easily.”

“Why should I want to live? Tell me that.”

“Who can say what the future holds?”

“I have lost everything. I sit here and wonder, could I have changed anything? Could I have acted differently?”

“Wars are terrible. They destroy people and countries. We should all be better without them.”

“What is right must be fought for. The tragedy is when evil prevails.”

I looked at her sadly. I could see that her downfall had been because she had never been able to see another point of view than her own and she had an innate belief that she must be right. Poor Margaret!

“And you, child,” she said. “You were thrust into this melee to serve your father's ends. I know your heart is with York…because of this boy…this little duke. And now, strangely enough, you are to get your heart's desire. You are young and I am old. But I was your age once. Do you know I was fifteen exactly a month before I married Henry? I came to England. I was beautiful, full of health and good spirits. They cheered me in the streets of London then. The daisy was my emblem. It was displayed everywhere. Henry was so proud of me and I was pleased with him. Oh, how alarming it is for a young girl to be presented to a husband she has never seen! Even the fact that her husband is the king of a great country does not subdue the fear. Henry was so kind, so gentle. I thought I was going to be the luckiest girl in the world.”

“I understand,” I said.

“The Cardinal Beaufort…he was my friend…and then there was the Duke of Suffolk who brought me over and who won my confidence from the beginning. I felt I had the kindest of husbands and friends already in my new country. Where did it go wrong?”

I might have hazarded a guess. It went wrong because Henry was weak and had inherited insanity from his grandfather Charles the Mad; it went wrong because she herself attempted to dominate those about her, because she was arrogant, inexperienced and a foreigner; and because the rival House of York was reaching for the throne.

“The people did not like me,” she went on. “They hate people to be in command if they are not of their blood. They said Henry could not beget a child and that I was too friendly with Suffolk. They implied that Suffolk was the father of my child. The cruel lies! They would say anything to discredit me. I hated them.”

“There was too much hatred,” I said.

“Life is cruel. When I was with child I was so happy…so certain that everything would be all right. They did not hate Henry as they hated me. He was so benign, so gentle, so patient, but, of course, he loved learning more than power. He wanted to be a scholar. How happy he would have been in a monastery…or a church—although many men of the Church seem to be as ambitious as all others. But Henry was doomed from birth. And then, when we might have had a chance…the madness overtook him. Do you know he was not aware that he had a son? For months after the birth he was unaware of it.”

I said, “I know of this. You have told me. Put it out of your mind. Do not speak of it. Do not brood on it if it makes you unhappy.”

“It is engraved on my mind. I could not forget it. I cannot believe that I shall never see my son again. I brought him up to be strong…”

I shuddered, thinking of his asking that men should be beheaded, and sitting beside his mother, watching the executions. Poor child! Poor Margaret! She had made him what he was and what that was I was not sure. I only knew that I had glimpsed cruelty in him and the thought of being married to him had terrified me. I could only rejoice at my escape, though my escape meant her torment.

“I shall never forget Hexham,” she said, for it was no use my trying to stop her thoughts going to the past, and with me beside her she must speak of those terrifying events in her life. “That was a bitter defeat for us. The enemy were in command of the field. Henry had escaped. He never had a taste for battle and was always eager to get away from it as soon as he could. I was there with my son…a little lad then. I knew they would kill him if they caught him. He was only a child, but he represented a threat to them. He was heir to the throne and while he lived there would always be a rival to York. He was more important to them than Henry. Henry would never be a true ruler, but if Henry died the rightful king would be my boy. They would take the first opportunity of killing him. What could we do? We were without men, even without horses. I took the boy's hand and fled with him into the forest.”

“Where were you going?”

“I did not know. All I wanted was to put a distance between us and the Yorkist army. So into the forest we went. I told myself we would meet someone who would be loyal to us…who would help us. But we had not gone far when we ran into a gang of thieves. They surrounded us. I shall never forget how their eyes glinted when they saw the jewels on our clothes. They proceeded to rob us. We had stepped from one danger to another.”

I reached out and took her hand. “Please do not speak of it. It distresses you.”

She smiled sadly. “It is over. I have suffered far worse than that encounter. I would rather be in that forest surrounded by robbers than here in this doleful prison. We had good fortune there, for while the robbers were quarreling among themselves over our jewels, I saw the opportunity to escape. I took Edward's hand and we plunged into the forest. The trees were thick and close together and we were soon out of their view.”

“You will escape from this place,” I said. “I know it. Your spirit is too strong to be suppressed. Was it not always so?”

“But now I am old I have no one to care for.”

“You have your home…your father. You love him. You would rejoice to see him again.”

She nodded. “Yes…yes, that is true. And in the forest there was some good luck: We had not gone far when we came face to face with another robber. He was different from the others—a tall man of rather noble countenance and somewhat courtly manners. He was an outlaw. I presented my son to him. I said, ‘This is the son of your king. Save him.' I had taken a chance, and it was strange, for a change came over his countenance. He was touched, perhaps by my pleading, perhaps by Edward's beauty and dignity. He said, ‘Follow me,' and he took us to a hut that he inhabited with his wife. They fed us and led us to safety.”

“Who was he?”

“A Lancastrian gentleman who had lost his home and fortune in the wars and taken to the life of an outlaw in the forest.”

“It is an inspiring story,” I said. “I am glad you told me. Does it not put new hope into you?”

“You comfort me,” she said. “Tell me. Why do they let you come to see a dangerous prisoner such as I?”

“Perhaps they do not think you are dangerous.”

“As long as I live they will regard me as such.”

“I think the Duke of Gloucester pleaded with his brother the king, because he knew how much I wanted to see you.”

“I shall remember that,” she said. “It will help me through the days of darkness.”

“Then I am doubly glad I came.”

Still gripping my hand, she said, “Life is strange. Here are you, the daughter of the man whom for so long I regarded as my greatest enemy, and out of your compassion you are the only one who comes to cheer me.”

“You were friendly with my father at one time.”

“That was not friendship. For him it was vengeance on the man he had set up and who had defied him. He used me for that purpose. As for myself, I knew this. I merely wanted to use his revenge for my purpose. That is not friendship.”

“How I wish it had never been.”

“The tragedy is that that is the wish of most of us at some time in our lives.”

“I must go,” I said. “My visit was to be only brief.”

“I shall never forget that you came.”

She took me into her arms. “The pity of it,” she said. “You and I have known true friendship. In spite of ourselves, love sprang between us.”

“I shall pray for you,” I told her.

“And I for you. All happiness to you, my child…who should have been my daughter.”

“I always loved Richard of Gloucester,” I said.

She smiled at me sadly and the guard came to take me away.

         

When I returned to Warwick Court, Isabel was waiting for me. She listened, not very attentively, to my account of my visit to the Tower and then suddenly burst out: “George is displeased!”

BOOK: Jean Plaidy
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