The Stolen Crown: The Secret Marriage That Forever Changed the Fate of England (34 page)

She would never have allowed him into her bed by any other means.”

“But he reneged on his promise.”

“Yes. The Woodville woman turned his head, with a little help from that witch her mother. I wouldn’t be surprised if the daughter wasn’t dabbling in the black arts as well, but that’s for another day.”

“She never tried to hold him to his promise?” I asked.

“Well, what choice did she have? He was the king, not some ordinary knight, after all. And she had her pride. Who would want to be queen under such circumstances, with the king being forced by the papal courts to acknowledge the marriage? No, she stayed silent, and so did I, except on the occasion you know of.” She chuckled ruefully. “Heady wine the king had at that wedding celebration. I always assumed that the marriage of my daughter to the Duke of York was some sort of recompense, though goodness knows the king also had his eye on my daughter’s Norfolk inheritance.” The duchess sighed, for little Anne Mowbray had died just a few years after her magnificent wedding to the Duke of York. “I would be pleased to at last see my sister’s good name vindicated.”

“And perhaps you shall, my lady,” said Richard, rising. “Perhaps you shall.”

“Well,” said Richard as we left the duchess. “We have it.”

“But do we? Lady Butler never said straight out to the duchess that there was a promise of marriage, or gave her any details. Can we really be sure

2 2 8 s u s a n h i g g i n b o t h a m that there was a promise? Do we really have enough evidence to put this before a court?”

“You’re in a questioning mood today, Harry.”

“I’m just trying to look at things sensibly—for a change.” I smiled, but Richard did not. “The king could charm many a virtuous woman out of her shift. The duchess just might not want to admit that her sister could fall so easily. I think we should speak to others—like Hastings.”

“Very well. You speak to Hastings. I shall make my own inquires.”

Like Edward his friend, Lord Hastings had become an admirer of all things Burgundian during his enforced stay there, and his private chamber in his London home was a tribute to that duchy, with paintings on the walls and gorgeously illuminated manuscripts spread out on tables for all to admire. I duly did so, then told him of the rumor I’d heard and the need to inquire into it.

“Lady Butler? Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.”

“But you did hear of her before from the king?”

“Why, of course—just as I heard of many another in those days. Think of it, your grace. A young man loses his father and his brother, the person he respects most in the world and the person he loves most in the world, on the same day. Just three months later, he gains the crown. There’s the pain of how it was gained, but there’s also the pleasure, in knowing that everything he dreams of can suddenly be his. Women are ready to fall into his arms with but a smile. What young man’s head wouldn’t be turned by all that? What young man wouldn’t be profligate in such circumstances?”

“I was not condemning the king.”

“No. You think I’m digressing. I’m not. Eleanor Butler was a pretty young woman, though a few years the king’s senior—with all that he had been through at a young age, he rather liked his women a little older. The two of them met in the usual way, when she came to him to have her dower rights sped along. He took a fancy to her, and her to him, I daresay,

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and very soon, they were bedfellows. I know; I helped them meet privately now and then; out of the glare of her family and the court.”

“But did he promise her marriage?”

Hastings snorted. “To use an old cliché, why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free? And Lady Butler was most willing to be milked. Not that it’s a reflection on her virtue. There was only one woman who held out against Ned, or at least only one about whom he cared, and you know what happened to her. He made her his queen.”

“But couldn’t he have made her the promise, just to inveigle her into his bed?”

“Ned didn’t break his promises. And why make one to begin with? She was a lovely woman, but he didn’t love her, no more than he did the others he meddled with at the time. If she refused him, there were others who wouldn’t. He wasn’t in love with her; he wasn’t ready to love anyone at that time. It wasn’t until several years later, when the novelty of being able to bed anyone he wanted had worn off a little, that he fell in love, and that woman he married. He was willing to incur the anger of everyone around him for her. Not for Lady Butler, even though she would have been a better match for him in terms of rank.”

“And what happened to the king and Lady Butler?”

“She was too proud to be his mistress openly, and he got tired of all of the secrecy involved, especially where there were others who could satisfy him as well or better without all of the to-and-fro required with her. My apologies for my bluntness; I mean no disrespect to the memory of the lady, who was a kinswoman of yours if I’m not mistaken. She was proud, as I say, and I believe she came to regret the affair also. It just ran its course in the end. He found others, and she decided to devote herself to religion. Ned drove more than one lady into the arms of the Church, you know. I hope the Lord remembers that.” Hastings sighed. “Christ, I miss him.”

“His likes will never be seen again in England,” I said.

“Hm. Gloucester’s not seriously thinking there’s anything to this promise of marriage business, is there? For I can tell you, Ned loved those boys of

2 3 0 s u s a n h i g g i n b o t h a m his. If there were anything amiss that would threaten the succession, he would have paid the Pope a pretty sum to get it put smooth. He would have done—and did—a lot more than that. Clarence died because Ned didn’t want him to menace his son’s throne one day.”

“He’s simply doing his duty to investigate a rumor he has heard. He too is concerned for the king’s security.”

“Well, I’ll be glad when the lad is crowned. For Ned’s sake. Maybe that will get the queen to come out of sanctuary, too. The sooner that nonsense is all finished, the better.”

Hastings walked me to my waiting barge. As it pulled away, another barge pulled into view, close enough for me to recognize Thomas Rotherham, Archbishop of York, and John Morton, Bishop of Ely. Evidently they were coming to visit Hastings.

Odd, I thought. Why not just meet at Westminster?

As I walked into Richard’s inner chamber at Westminster, I hoped that he had not set his heart on becoming king, for it seemed to me that if anyone knew the truth about King Edward and Lady Butler, it would have been Hastings. Richard, however, hardly blinked when I told him of our conversation. “I expected as much.”

“Richard?”

“Harry, if there is one thing you can say about Hastings, he was devoted to Ned. He’d do anything for him, including lying for him, and he naturally wants to see Ned’s son safe on the throne. Commendable, but an incentive to lie. So if he says there was no contract of marriage between him and Lady Butler, it’s almost a guarantee that there was one.”

“But what if he simply happened to be telling the truth?”

“How did he act when you asked the question? Surprised?”

“Well, no. But hearing that a wench had entangled herself with Edward wouldn’t come as a surprise to him.”

“Especially not if he’d prepared a story beforehand, knowing that the

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time was coming for him to be questioned about it. Now on the other hand, we have the Duchess of Norfolk. What would she gain by lying?

Nothing. The story makes her sister look like a simpleton, and there aren’t any offspring to gain the throne by its telling. No, Harry, I think we have to give the duchess precedence over the lord, in both rank and truth. And knowing that, and guessing what Hastings would say, I’ve been speaking to a bishop.”

“Bishop Morton?”

“Why, no. What brought him to mind?”

“I saw him at Hastings’s house. Him and the Archbishop of York.”

Richard frowned, then shrugged. “Well, in any case, I’ve been speaking to the Bishop of Bath and Wells. Stillington has a fine mind.”

“Speaking to him about what?”

“Why, this marriage between the old king and Lady Butler, of course.

Or shall I call her the uncrowned queen?” Richard yawned. “No, that’s too time-consuming. Let’s stick with ‘Lady Butler,’ shall we? She’s not in a position to mind, poor lady.”

“But the only word we have is her sister’s! And she wasn’t unequivocal.”

“No, there are other circumstances to support it. Look at my brother George. Why do you think he was killed?”

“Because he executed Annette Twynho for no good reason. Because he was dabbling in treason well before he became of age, with Oxford and the like.

Because he spread those rumors that Edward was a bastard. Because—”

“Because he knew the truth about the king and Lady Butler.”

“How?”

“Who knows? Maybe someone babbled it to him. Maybe even Ned did in a misguided moment. But why else kill him? Annette Twynho’s death was an outrage, but it wasn’t a threat to Ned. As for the other reasons, the House of Lancaster wasn’t exactly flourishing at the time. And no sane person would believe that my mother was an adulteress.”

I could not help smiling. “You’re certainly right about that.”

“So there’s only one reason that I can think of that would explain why

2 3 2 s u s a n h i g g i n b o t h a m Ned executed George: George knew something that would threaten the succession. And this was it. Don’t think it’s just my opinion; Stillington thinks there might be something to it also. Harry? You’re looking green.”

“You mean to take the crown,” I said. “You want it. Don’t you?”

Richard nodded slowly. “Yes. I do.”

“Even if it means taking it from your nephew?”

“I’m not even convinced it belongs to him. And if it does? Harry, you know your history. Richard II and Henry VI were child kings, and look what happened. Disaster after disaster, crisis after crisis.”

“But they had poor advisers, men who were interested in their own gain.

Here you would be in charge, and you would rule wisely.”

“Yes, for a few years. And then what would happen when the king came into his majority? All my good work would be undone; all wasted with a few strokes of a whelp’s pen. With me being king, England could be great from the very start, and could go from triumph to triumph. We’d win back the lands in France that Henry VI lost, for one thing; we’d be bringing Edward III’s dream to fruition. You hated that Treaty of Picquigny; so did I. Why, Louis has been laughing up his long nose at us ever since. Do you want more of that?”

“But—”

“It wouldn’t just be France. The people of the North love me, and with good reason; I’ve served them well. Why couldn’t all of the people grow to love me? They wouldn’t love me because of my cockmanship, like they did Ned; they’d love me for what I did for them. I’d give them good government, better laws, peace and tranquility. Trade would flourish, because we’d open new markets. Now, Ned’s boy is a clever boy, I’ll grant you that, but he’s a boy. By the time he got on his feet as king, assuming that he stood upon his own legs and wasn’t guided by his mother’s people, precious years could be lost. There are so many things we could be doing now, now and for years to come. We would make this little island the envy of the world.”

He draped an arm around my shoulders.

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“I’m telling you all this because I know I can trust you more than any other man in the world. You’ve never failed me; you’ve always wanted to serve me. Will you help me in this? If you say no, I’ll manage, but I’d like to share this glory that is to come with you.”

“All right,” I said. “I’ll help you.”

Richard embraced me hard and held me there for a long time. Finally he released me, and burst out laughing.

“Just think, Harry. All this is due to one man’s inability to keep his cock in his drawers.”

We set to the work of claiming the crown—I never thought of it as usurping, not then—that very afternoon. First on the agenda was Richard’s sending to York for armed men. They were needed, he wrote, to protect us against the queen, her kin, and her affinity, who were intending to murder the two of us and all of the old royal blood.

“The queen plotting against us?” I asked skeptically. “She’s in sanctuary.

How can she plot?”

“Dorset’s still there. Besides, if she’s not plotting now, she will be when the news of the marriage with Lady Butler comes out. In any case, we’re going to need the troops, and this will get them here as soon as any other means.”

Without protesting further, I watched as Richard put his seal to the letter.

Quietly, we set about finding other witnesses to the relationship between Edward and Lady Butler, for although we were counting on Edward’s notoriety with the female sex to carry a great deal of weight, we wanted something more substantial than the Duchess of Norfolk’s sisterly assurances of the lady’s virtue. But nothing was forthcoming, so we consulted with Bishop Stillington and William Catesby, a lawyer whom Richard had recently made Chancellor of the Earldom of March, and decided that other grounds should be put forth. “The oldest lawyer’s trick in the book,”

explained William Catesby. “Throw enough muck against the wall, and hope that some of it sticks.”

2 3 4 s u s a n h i g g i n b o t h a m “I should hardly call this muck,” protested Bishop Stillington. He was a former chancellor of the fourth Edward’s, and had spent several months in the Tower after Clarence’s execution. No one, not even Richard, who had been back in the North at the time, was quite sure why, but I had always assumed he’d made a careless comment about the high-handed manner in which George’s trial had been handled. He’d not stayed on Edward’s bad side for long: the following year, he’d been sent to treat with the Bishop of Elne, King Louis’s ambassador.