Royal Mistress (40 page)

T
he queen had barely donned her mourning gown and seen her husband laid out in state at St. Stephen’s chapel when she acted.

Calling her brothers Lionel and Edward and her two adult sons to her apartments, Elizabeth began by dictating a letter to her oldest sibling, Anthony, Earl Rivers, at Ludlow, commanding him to bring the new king, twelve-year-old Edward, swiftly to London. Rivers had been supervising the late king’s heir on the Welsh Marches for several years, it being a tradition that the Prince of Wales be brought up in his own household from an early age. The journey from Ludlow would take several days after the messenger arrived, so young Edward would be too late for the funeral, Elizabeth knew. Those arrangements were already in place, and as was the custom after a few days of lying in state, the king’s body would be buried without delay. Elizabeth began dictating.

“Right well, beloved brother and guardian of my son, his grace, the new king of England, we greet you well from Westminster. As you may imagine, grief for my husband and lord’s passing is still lying heavy upon me. And yet, I am determined to secure the right to protect my son, the king, and be named regent by the council alongside you who has best known and loved your nephew these ten years as his governor. However, it has come to our attention that there are those who would name Richard of Gloucester as protector—”

“ ‘Those who would name’?” Tom interjected. “We were all there when the late king demanded it. Have a care, Mother.”

“What are you asking of Anthony?” Sir Edward Woodville asked, stroking his long aquiline nose between his finger and thumb. “I agree with Tom here, be cautious.”

“God’s bones, let me finish!” Elizabeth snapped. She waved an arm at her secretary. “Continue writing, Master Gunthorpe. Now where was I?”

The queen urged Rivers to come to London with young Edward without delay and to bring a large force to deter any possible opposition to her regency.

“Should we not ask the council’s advice on this?” Sir Edward tried again, awed by his sister’s ability to put aside her grief and begin strategizing. “Whatever you are planning, Sister, will be of no use if you do not have support from the council.”

“Ned is correct,” Lionel chimed in. “You must consult the council.”

Elizabeth grimaced as she looked from handsome Sir Edward to dour Lionel, the latter raised to the bishopric of Salisbury only last year thanks to her efforts. There were times when she wished she had been born a man. “Very well then, which one of you will speak for me?” she said. Seeing Lionel nod, she added, “We must convince the council that Gloucester is dangerous, and that I should be regent. Without a leader, we have the chance to bend the councilors to our bidding. Whatever the outcome of your meeting, I will send this letter to Anthony with or without their permission. We must get Ned to London as quickly as possible or we shall lose control of him.” She lowered her voice so her ladies across the room could not overhear. “I have no doubt Richard of Gloucester will take charge of the council and push us away. If we lose Ned, we Woodvilles are finished.”

Tom stepped forward, determination on his face. “I am constable of the Tower and thus have armaments and a garrison at
my command. Not to mention guardianship of the treasury. Let me go with Lionel to the council and remind them of that. ’Twill strengthen our case to set up a regency before Gloucester arrives.”

Elizabeth nodded, pleased to see Tom take the initiative. “Who else will support our case, my lords? Gloucester’s friends are all up north; surely we have those who will also want to see my son crowned as soon as the coronation can be arranged. We could have counted on Bourchier, but the man decided to die three days before the king, damn him.”

Elizabeth’s brothers were taken aback by the callous remark, seeing a new side in their sister. “I rather liked the old earl,” Sir Edward told them. “Who will take the treasurer title now, I wonder?”

“ ’Tis of no importance,” Tom interrupted. He turned back to Elizabeth. “You cannot count on Jack Howard, Mother, he is not our ally. But remember, there is such antipathy toward the clergy nowadays, the bishops will be glad to side with whomever controls the new regime. Rotherham, Morton, and Russell, not to mention Canterbury. All were loyal to my stepfather.”

“And Hastings?” Lionel asked. “Where does he stand?”

“I am not sure of Will Hastings,” Elizabeth mused. “He pledged to uphold Gloucester’s protectorship. He knows I dislike him and you despise him. Thus he is more likely to cleave to Gloucester than support me. They respect each other, I think.”

Tom disagreed. “ ’Tis my belief Gloucester blames Hastings for the king’s profligacy. I would not wager on those two as allies.”

Elizabeth rose, statuesque in her purple mourning gown, and clicked her fingers at her dog. “Come, Ficelle, we shall have to take the air, as I am excluded from the hallowed council chamber. Tom, Lionel, go now and make our case. And do not fail me.”

E
lizabeth was right that the councilors were lacking leadership during those first days following Edward’s death. They perceived the queen’s power as an extension of her son’s, and readily agreed
to send for the young king on the queen’s orders. However, they were wary enough to refuse her request that Earl Rivers bring a veritable army with him to guard the boy. “Who does the queen fear will attack them en route?” Howard asked his son later when the council allowed Rivers two thousand men, against Howard’s better judgment. “Certes, not Richard of Gloucester. He has already sworn fealty to young Edward, so we are told.”

Word was sent to Richard as soon as the king had died, but there was no mention that he was to be named protector. The duke had spent many an hour closeted with his wife and chaplain, grieving. Knowing he would be too late for the funeral, Richard chose to go to nearby York to organize masses for his brother’s soul, gather the northern lords to him and swear fealty to the new king. Without a sense of urgency, he made his plans for the long journey south, certain that men such as Hastings and Howard, with the rest of Edward’s loyal council, would take the reins until young Ned and he could get to London. He wrote to Anthony Rivers, in charge of the young king at Ludlow, and suggested they meet on their way south so Richard could accompany his nephew into the capital. He assumed he would be named to some sort of regency, but he was unaware of Edward’s deathbed wish that he be sole protector.

He had not, however, bargained on the queen’s duplicity.

Much to Elizabeth’s delight, the councilors, made up of many notable lords and prelates in London for Edward’s obsequies, not only agreed to set up a regency council in which she and Dorset would take a part, but also, fearing that Gloucester would seize power for himself, ignored Edward’s wish that his brother be sole protector. Instead they made him one of the regents. Will had voiced his opposition to the shared regency, reminding the councilors of the king’s dying wish, but he had been overruled. It was clear the Woodville power remained strong.

Will addressed the queen’s obvious haste. “Why not wait for Gloucester? What has she to fear from him? They both want to
see young Edward crowned, and no one could be more trustworthy than Gloucester to carry out the late king’s wishes. The duke will not deny her access to her son. In all my years of close confidence with the late king, I have never seen rancor between Gloucester and the queen. Is this something new?” The unspoken answer had to be that Elizabeth wanted sole power, but no one dared to denounce the queen in public, even when she was absent.

It was later, when this council acquiesced to sending the fleet to sea, with Sir Edward Woodville in charge, to defend England’s ships from French piracy and to hastening a coronation for the young Edward, that Will Hastings’s suspicions intensified about the Woodville motives.

Will became incensed when Dorset boasted to him and a few others, “We Woodvilles are so powerful that even without the king’s uncle, we are able to make and enforce these decisions.”

“Christ’s bones, you are not above the rule of the council, my lord,” Will snapped.

“Young Edward is the king, Lord Hastings, and, in case you have forgotten, we are his closest blood relatives. Have a care, my lord,” Dorset threatened before stalking from the room.

Hastings hid his disquiet as best he could, but as soon as the councilors disbanded for the day, he lost no time in writing a private letter to Richard of Gloucester at York. Christ’s nails, why had he not anticipated the queen’s intent and written to Gloucester before the king died.

Most dear and gracious duke, we greet thee well. As your brother’s loyal friend, I write to urge you to come to London with all haste and bring as many as you can muster with you. I fear our new sovereign’s mother and kin are looking to control him. By now you will know that the king named you as protector until your nephew is of age, and you must assume your role as soon as possible.

Will then revealed the queen’s plan to overturn the late king’s decree that Gloucester be sole protector and become regent herself. He assured the duke of his own loyalty to his dead brother’s wishes and to the new boy king.

As well, Dorset persuaded the council to make his uncle, Sir Edward, commander of the fleet and sent it to sea, taking a portion of the royal treasury with him “to pay the troops.” Should Woodville influence on the council and the young king be so great as to exclude you and me from it, I fear for our safety, my lord, and for the good of the realm.

Who could he send to carry the urgent message? Once again, his eye fell on his one-time squire turned lawyer, William Catesby, whom he had mentored. “Say nothing of your mission, William, but go you with all haste to find the duke of Gloucester at York and put this into no one’s hands but his.”

Catesby forced an unctuous smile as he tucked the heavily sealed missive into his pleated doublet and bowed. In truth, he resented being treated like a common messenger when he preferred to remain at the council meetings, to ascertain to whom he should afix his star. The last place he wanted to be at this most dramatic time was in the cold and wild of the Yorkshire hills.

W
ill’s letter was the second of two warnings Richard had received at York during his mourning for his brother. The duke of Buckingham, the only royal cousin Richard had left, had sent a similar missive not two days before from his castle in Wales assuring Richard of his support and requesting to join his cousin on the road to London. Buckingham had been informed of Rivers’s imminent departure with the new king from nearby Ludlow, and the duke, too, worried that the royal cousins would be ousted from the new king’s circle by the Woodvilles if they
did not take possession of the boy before he arrived in London.

“Master Catesby, I thank you heartily,” Richard said affably when he had read Will’s letter. “Come, take some refreshment and tell me what you know of the situation in London. You are Hastings’s lawyer, are you not?”

“Aye, my lord, and I have been privileged to be noticed by the archbishop of Canterbury as well,” Catesby answered, hand-washing and bowing low again in his ingratiating manner as he took the proffered cup of ale. He could see the grief for Edward plainly on the duke’s face.

Richard sat down and studied the man, who was probably the same age as he. Catesby appeared humble. His face was leanly handsome and his demeanor intelligent though watchful, but the word
fox
came to Richard’s mind. “I assume you have attended the council meetings. Can you give me a fair account?”

As soon as he saw the chance to be useful to the most important man in England, Catesby’s interest in his mission grew, and he wished he could have broken the seal on Hastings’s letter and learned the contents. He now observed Richard of Gloucester with interest as he prepared to speak. He was impressed by the splendid mourning garb, the man’s calm dignity, and his plain speaking. Loyalty Binds Me was the duke’s motto, Catesby remembered, and he could well imagine, from all he had heard, that loyalty truly defined this man’s character.