Jean Plaidy (35 page)

“I have heard that she is kindly and that her lovers are men whom she esteems. She was obviously devoted to the king and completely faithful while he was her lover.”

“She would not have dared be anything else.”

“I think we should not judge her too harshly, Richard, if we are going to exonerate your brother for his part in the liaison. Rumor says she was faithful to him and he was hardly that to her, even at the height of his passion.”

“That was his way. It was different.”

“Different laws for the sexes. Well, that seems to be an accepted idea. In any case, why worry about Jane Shore and Hastings? Your brother is past caring.”

“It seems…disrespectful…in some way.”

“Oh Richard!” I laughed at him and he laughed with me.

But the affair of Jane Shore and Hastings did not rest there.

Jane Shore was the sort of woman whose actions would be widely noticed and talked of. Her close relationship with the king had made of her a prominent figure. It was such women who often received confidences—sometimes indiscreet—from their lovers and through them could become involved in intrigue.

I had thought, from what I had heard of Jane, that she would be the last to be caught up in such a situation, but it seemed I was wrong.

After the king's death it was revealed that she had briefly become the mistress of the Marquis of Dorset, the queen's son by her first marriage to Sir John Grey. Dorset had received the promotion meted out to all the Woodville family. He had become a great friend of the king, which was not surprising. He was extremely good-looking, like most of the Woodvilles, adventurous, profligate, amusing, the sort of man Edward liked to have about him. It was well known that they indulged in adventures together and, knowing the two men, it was easy to guess the nature of these adventures.

Dorset had apparently admired Jane for a long time and, if it had been left to him, he would have tried to wean her from Edward, but Jane was too faithful, and perhaps wise, to let that happen. But on the king's death, there was no reason why she should not go to Dorset.

Richard shrugged his shoulders when he heard of that liaison. He found such gossip tasteless: he did not want to be reminded of that flaw in the character of his dead brother.

But this relationship between Dorset and Jane could not be lightly dismissed when it was learned that he had vessels in the Channel that he was equipping. This could only be for one purpose: war.

Lord Rivers and Lord Richard Grey were prisoners. Elizabeth and her family—with the exception of the king—were in sanctuary. Dorset would have his reasons. He knew he was in danger and escaped to the continent. It was just before this that Jane Shore became Hastings' mistress.

With a woman like Jane this seemed natural enough, but what was surprising was that she was found to be visiting Elizabeth Woodville in sanctuary, and these visits had begun before Dorset left the country. And now she was living with Hastings.

“The wife and the mistress, what can that mean?” said Richard.

“The queen never interfered with the king's mistresses,” I said.

“No. We all know that. She is a wise woman. We must be watchful of this. We must find out why Jane Shore is visiting the queen.”

At the time I thought it was perhaps not so strange that Jane should go to see the queen. Jane was a refined woman. She had been the wife of a goldsmith—a rich man—and she had been well brought up by her own family. She had not been accustomed, of course, to living in royal circles until she met the king, but she had been with him for a long time and would have become conversant with the manners of the court. She could well become on friendly terms with the queen.

The matter flared into significance one day when William Catesby came to see Richard.

I had heard of Catesby. He was well versed in the law and was a protegé of Lord Hastings, through whom he had acquired a high position in Nottingham and Leicester.

I knew that Richard thought highly of his abilities.

Richard spent a long time with him, and after he had left remained shut in his apartments, seeing no one for about an hour.

I was getting anxious about him. I guessed that Catesby had brought bad news. So I went to Richard's private chamber and scratched lightly on the door. There was no answer so I opened it and went in.

Richard was sitting staring before him.

“Richard!” I cried. “What ails you?”

He looked at me blankly and said, “I cannot believe this, Anne. And yet…”

“Tell me,” I begged.

Then it came out. That arch plotter, Dorset, with whom it seemed Jane had become obsessed, had prevailed on her to win Hastings to the side of the Woodvilles. It had not, apparently, been a difficult task, as Hastings was already wavering. Dorset had insisted that Jane become Hastings's mistress, so that she could discover whether it might be possible to break his allegiance to Richard and get young Edward crowned and rule through him with the Woodvilles.

I said, “I cannot believe this.”

“There is evidence,” Richard told me. “Undeniable evidence. Catesby was aware of the plot. Hastings has betrayed me, Anne. Dorset has escaped to France and Hastings is plotting with Elizabeth Woodville. Jane Shore has been carrying messages from Dorset first and then Hastings…to the queen.”

“But Hastings is your friend, Richard. He was the one who came to tell you of the king's death and warned you against the Woodvilles. He was one of Edward's best friends.”

“In depravity,” said Richard bitterly.

“It was more than that. They trusted each other. Hastings knows that you are the king's choice. You are the one he chose to look after the young king and the state.”

“Anne, I have evidence that he is a traitor. I know he is plotting to thrust me aside…to crown the king and then he, I presume, with his dear friends the Woodvilles, will set about ruling the country.”

“Are you sure?”

“I have proof. Catesby has shown me a letter that Hastings would have sent to the queen. There can be no mistake. Hastings sought to embroil Catesby in the conspiracy, but he would have none of it.”

“What are you going to do, Richard?”

“Act promptly.”

So many people have heard of that dramatic meeting in the Tower. The date was the thirteenth of June and two meetings of the councilors had been called for that day. It was announced that arrangements were to be made for the coronation of the king and this was to be dealt with. There was one other matter that the Protector was eager to settle without delay.

At the meeting, over which Richard presided, were Hastings, Stanley, Morton, Chancellor Rotherham, Buckingham, and a few others.

They assembled as arranged in the White Tower. Richard sat at the head of the table and the meeting began.

Later Richard told me about it in detail—how they had come unsuspecting to the table. Hastings was as affable as ever; Morton talked about the strawberries in the garden of his palace in Ely Place and begged Richard to allow him to send some to Crosby's Place because he was sure they would please me.

Richard said, “I accepted his offer graciously and wondered how long I should allow this meaningless chatter to continue. I stood confronting them all…Hastings, Morton, Stanley…there was not one I trusted. I asked them if they were aware that before my brother died he had named me as guardian of his son and Protector of the Realm? They all looked astonished. Indeed, what I had said was true, they declared. All were aware of it.

“Then I said, ‘You know it well, but there are those among you who would seek to deprive me of these rights given to me by my brother.' They all continued to look astounded. I looked straight at Hastings and said, ‘And you, my lord Hastings, what think you of these plots of treason?' Even then he did not realize what was behind this. He looked bland enough, sleek and contented, plotting with the Woodvilles by day and indulging in night sports with Jane Shore, I thought. ‘What say you?' I insisted; and he had the temerity to reply, ‘But if they had done this that your lordship suggests, they should be punished.' ‘With death, my lord Hastings?' I asked. ‘With death,' he repeated.”

“He must have realized then that you knew of his perfidy.”

“I am not sure that he had till then, but in the next moment he must have, for I cried, ‘There are some among us who stand against me. Jane Shore, who was my brother's mistress, is involved. She visits the sanctuary and is in league with the queen…and there are others.' I was looking straight at Hastings and he knew then that I had uncovered the plot and that I was aware that Jane Shore was his messenger and the nature of her mission. I said, ‘Lord Hastings, tell us again what the fate of those who scheme against the government should be.' ‘If they have done such things,' said Hastings slowly, ‘and if such things can be proved against them…' I could contain my anger no longer. Smooth-voiced traitor that he was, he enraged me, the more so because he had feigned to be my loyal friend.

“I shouted at him, ‘Enough of your ifs and ands, Hastings.
You
are the traitor. You have done these things and you are guilty of treason.' He was stricken. I saw the shame on his face. I thought of the worthlessness of his assumed friendship, and I wanted revenge. I said to him, ‘I swear I will not dine while your head is on your shoulders.' Then I rapped on the table and shouted, ‘Treason!' The guards, warned what to expect, came in.

“I pointed to Rotherham and Morton, for they were involved in the plotting, though not as deeply as Hastings. I said, ‘Arrest these men and take them to the Tower.' I was not sure of Stanley. When could one ever be sure of Stanley? I did not want to be unjust. Nothing had actually been proved against him. Yet I suspected him. ‘Put him under house arrest,' I said. Then it was Hastings's turn. He was a proved traitor and I ordered that he should be taken out to the Green at once and his head severed from his shoulders.”

I could not believe this. I stared at Richard in dismay. Knowing him, I was well aware of the depth of his feelings. He had liked Hastings: Hastings was the kind of man whom people did like.

“It had to be,” said Richard. “They took him to the Green. They found a priest and he was shriven; they could find no block, so they used a piece of wood that was lying around, intended for repairs that were due to be done to the chapel. And there Hastings lost his head.”

I covered my face with my hands and Richard put his arms about my shoulders.

“It had to be, Anne,” he said. “You do not understand how ruthless these people can be.”

“Oh, Richard,” I said. “I understand too well.”

I learned what happened after that dramatic scene; how the cry of “treason!” had been heard coming from the Tower and was carried through the streets of London; how the people crowded into the streets; how they brought out their weapons to protect themselves and their homes because they feared there might be riots.

Richard had sent for the Lord Mayor of London, Sir Edmund Shaa, a goldsmith, highly respected in the city. “There must be no trouble,” he said, and a proclamation was prepared at the instigation of Sir Edmund, who read it aloud in the streets of London.

“Lord Hastings has been executed,” ran this statement. “He was a traitor to the Lord Protector and the Government. He was planning to rule all England through the new King. He had enticed the last King into evil living and he had spent the last night of his life in the bed of Jane Shore, the whore, who was herself involved in plots against the Government.”

The trouble was subdued, but Richard's conscience continued to trouble him. He knew how fond Edward had been of Hastings; he himself had liked the man. But he had acted in the only way possible, and by doing so he had killed a man he had thought to be his friend. He took Hastings's widow Katharine under his protection. She should have her husband's property; he would always make sure that the child of the marriage—a boy not yet of age—should be cared for.

I was glad of that; and I think Richard felt a little better after it was arranged; but I doubted he would ever be able to banish from his mind the memory of Hastings's perfidy and his tragic end on Tower Green.

         

Richard had no wish to punish Jane Shore but her share in the conspiracy could not be ignored. His brother had really loved that woman. She had not been one of his light loves. She and Elizabeth Woodville stood apart from the myriads of women in Edward's life, and Richard felt he would be haunted by his brother's reproachful ghost if he harmed her.

He was in a quandary. Her name had been mentioned in connection with treason. She had carried messages, knowing full well what she was doing, and it must be made clear that those who indulged in such practices could not go unpunished.

She was a harlot and there was a recognized treatment for harlots. Richard did what others had done before him; he decided that he would not judge her himself. He would pass her over to the Church.

She was brought before the Bishop of London's court, which sentenced her to suffer the penance demanded by the Church for such as herself. She should be deprived of her possessions, those which had been bestowed on her by her lovers and were therefore tainted with sin; and she must walk through the streets in procession to Paul's Cross, barefoot and wrapped in worsted, a lighted taper in her hand.

I heard from my women, some of whom had seen the spectacle, that crowds had gathered to see this notorious woman. She looked very sad, but her beauty impressed all those who saw her. Though her feet were bleeding from the rough cobbles that she had to tread, she held her head high and walked with dignity.

Poor Jane Shore, the beloved of Edward, Dorset, and Hastings, too. I thought a great deal about her and wondered if she mourned the death of Hastings, and what her fate would be. I supposed there would always be men to care for her. She was that sort of woman.