The Stolen Crown: The Secret Marriage That Forever Changed the Fate of England (46 page)

The next morning I saw him as they led him out. He bore himself well and didn’t show any fear, I will give him that. He had asked to be shriven before he died, and the king did grant him that one request, so I suppose his mind was at peace.”

“Where did it take place?”

“The marketplace, on a scaffold built just for him. It was a fair-size crowd.” Sir Christopher paused again, as if expecting me to be pleased about Harry’s ability to attract spectators, and seeing my lack of gratification, went on. “He walked up the scaffold, then spoke for the first time. His voice didn’t shake, but then, he didn’t speak all that long. He asked that the king show mercy to his wife and children.” Sir Christopher nodded at me in case I was so dim as to miss this reference to myself. “Then he begged forgiveness for betraying his king. I thought that was only proper.”

“He was referring to the fifth Edward. The rightful king.”

Sir Christopher looked at me with the all-patient look of a man who had long ago decided that women were fools and was constantly having his opinion reconfirmed. “Oh, no, my lady, I’m certain he was referring to our King Richard. Why, you weren’t even there! Anyway, after the duke asked for forgiveness, he said that he deserved his death as a sinner.

Then he laid his head on the block. He started praying and was still praying when—well, you know. It was done with one stroke, quick and clean.

The head was brought to King Richard for him to see that the deed was done, and then the Grey Friars took him away, head and all, in a cart, to their abbey in Salisbury. The king gave them a little something for their trouble in burying him.” He nodded at me sternly. “He could have displayed the head, you know. You can consider yourself a lucky woman that he did not.”

“I could not possibly be luckier,” I agreed. I felt a twinge of guilt for my sarcasm, but it had apparently gone over Sir Christopher’s head. I rose to my feet slowly. I was only twenty-five, but I felt twenty years older than that. “Thank you for humoring me, Sir Christopher.”

3 1 6 s u s a n h i g g i n b o t h a m “Not so quickly, my lady. I have humored you. Perhaps you can humor me. You must know that I have been looking for your eldest son, at the king’s order. Where is he?”

“I do not know,” I said truthfully. “And I shall anticipate you by saying that if I did, I would not tell you.”

Sir Christopher shook his head. “There’s no need for secrecy. The king wants only to round up all of the duke’s family to prevent further rebellion.”

“As my son is but five, I think it is safe to say he shall not be inciting a rebellion, wherever he is.” I gathered myself to my full height, which was not at all impressive. “My children are all I have left now, Sir Christopher. I shall not put my boy in the king’s hands without knowing what he intends to do with him.”

“Very well.” He whistled and the guards came to lead me back to my chamber. “We’ll be leaving at dawn tomorrow. Have yourself and your other boy ready by then.”

“Sir Christopher?”

“Yes, wo—your grace?”

“If you will let Hal and I ride on horseback, I daresay our journey to London will be much quicker than in that dreadful litter.”

“Amen to that,” said Sir Richard’s voice behind the bed curtains.

Back in my chamber, I heard the sounds of muffled sobs. I hastened to the bed and held Hal as he cried on my shoulder. “Mama. I thought you had gone away too like Papa.”

“I had a headache and needed some fresh air, that is all. I am sorry to have frightened you. Come. Lie back down and we’ll go to sleep together.”

“I want Papa.”

When King Richard took my husband’s head, had he thought of the four-year-old boy who would be weeping into his pillow? But of course he had not. No one ever thought of such things. I stroked Hal’s hair, so like his father’s, and held him tighter. “I know you do. I want him too. But it cannot be. You know what I told you. He fell very, very ill while he was traveling and is with God now, helping to watch over us.”

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“I want Brecon. I want Edward and the girls.”

So did I. “I know, but they must stay where they are for now, and we must go to London. It is a very interesting place.” I decided not to bring up the fact that we were prisoners of the crown now. Enough was enough for one night. “Why, your brother and sisters have never seen it. You will be the very first.” I kissed Hal on the forehead. “You must get to sleep now.

We will be up early tomorrow.”

To my surprise, he nodded and lay quietly against me. Soon he was asleep. It was I who spent a sleepless night, wondering what life could possibly hold for us now.

To my gratification, Sir Christopher and Sir Richard allowed Hal and me to ride on horseback the next day, albeit not on our own horse, but each of us on a pillion behind a squire. With that, we made better time, aided by the weather, which could not have been better for our journey to the king. We did not get even a drop of rain. Thinking of the weather that had shut us in at Weobley, I was beginning to have a very dim opinion of the Lord’s sense of humor.

Several nights and several inns later, we were at Westminster. I was stiff and chilled when I was helped off my horse, but it was not for that reason that I could barely walk. Sir Christopher said gruffly, “Courage, Duchess.

You’ve shown it so far. The king won’t harm a lady. Why, the Countess of Richmond was involved in the scheme as deep as the devil himself, and she’s suffered naught but being given into the custody of her own husband.”

“Poor man,” muttered Sir Richard.

I was briskly steered to the king’s presence chamber, at a pace so sharp that I was unable to take much notice of my surroundings other than to notice a general prevalence of white boars, snorting and pawing on every surface imaginable. There were other supplicants waiting to see the king or, failing that, one of his officials, but Sir Richard and Sir Christopher went to the guards and said a quick word. In just a moment, I was in the presence of the man I hated more than any being on earth, before and since. Pushing Hal down with me, I sank to the floor in an obeisance.

3 1 8 s u s a n h i g g i n b o t h a m The king looked at me. With my eyes cast to the floor, I could not see his gaze, but I felt its hostility. Whatever contempt he had had for me earlier, when I was merely an upstart Woodville, must have paled for what he felt for me now, not only a Woodville but the wife of his betrayer as well.

Beside me, little Hal sneaked his head up to stare in awe at the king—the first one he’d seen, I realized. Somehow it had not occurred to me on our journey that I should have given him some pointers in royal etiquette, and I could only hope that nothing would inspire my son, who since Harry’s death had shown a tendency to turn chatty around men near his father’s age, to tell the king about his and Harry’s pissing contests. Hal had finally managed to lure Sir Christopher into one, I had observed on one occasion before hastily averting my eyes. (Lack of endowment, I had discovered, was not the explanation for Sir Christopher’s occasionally sour temper.) “Is that the king?” Hal whispered.

“Yes,” I hissed, grateful that Hal had not picked up on any of the less flattering appellations I had for our sovereign. “Hush.”

“Leave us,” Richard said to Sir Richard and Sir Christopher. “Take the boy away too.”

“Take him away? Where?” Forgetting myself and looking at the king, I clutched at Hal.

I saw then in the king’s face the very faintest hint of shame for what he had done to those two other children. In a matter of seconds, however, the king had resumed his impassive gaze. “They may take the boy to get some refreshment,” he said icily. “He will be brought back to you when we are done.”

“Oh.” I relaxed my grip on my son’s arm. “Mind your manners,” I hissed as Sir Richard and Sir Christopher led Hal away.

“Rise.”

I obeyed, trembling.

“Lady Buckingham, you are the widow of the most untrue creature living.”

“Harry loved you, your grace. It broke his heart to rebel against your grace.”

“His broken heart is nothing to us. He is lucky we did not choose to rip it out of him while it was still beating. Were it not for his being our

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close kinsman, we would have done so. Enough about him, though. He shall rot in a hell of his own making, we hope. Have you anything to say for yourself?”

“I heartily beg your forgiveness,” I said, deciding that this was the only safe reply. I considered kneeling again for good measure but decided against it.

“You were privy to your husband’s schemes?” I hesitated. “Lying will boot you nothing.”

“Yes, your grace.”

“You encouraged them?”

“Yes, your grace.”

“You aided them?”

“Yes, your grace.”

The king scowled. “We do not kill women,” he informed me.

“Otherwise…”

Just children and innocent men
, I thought. Involuntarily, I gave my neck a pat for reassurance. I thought of inserting another plea for forgiveness but decided to keep silent until I was addressed again.

“We cannot have you at large at this time,” Richard said finally. “Your husband showed himself as untrustworthy as a man can be, and we have no reason to think you better. So what shall we do with you?”

“I thought I could stay with one of my sisters,” I ventured. “Anne, Margaret, and Joan still live.”

Evidently, however, the king’s question had been purely rhetorical. “So you can send messages and plot with your brothers? You’ll go where we say.” I looked as meek as possible. “You and your son will be lodged at the Abbey of the Minoresses for now, and must remain inside its walls. Behave yourself, and you will be allowed to go where you will in due course.

Don’t behave yourself, and you will find yourself in the Tower instead.”

At least, I reflected as Hal and I were placed onto the barge that would take us to the Minories, as it was called, I knew now where I stood with the king.

3 2 0 s u s a n h i g g i n b o t h a m Our chambers at the Minories, located conveniently near the Tower so that I could all the better contemplate the price of not behaving myself, were by no means uncomfortable. The convent had been patronized by generations of great ladies, some of whom liked to travel between their lodgings here and their great estates in the countryside, and our rooms had all of the luxuries I was used to, with the added benefit of not having Sir Christopher and Sir Richard snoring in the next room. The king had made a small allowance for our board, and my sisters Anne, Margaret, and Joan, having learned of my whereabouts, soon sent me gifts and money. Were it not for the absence of my girls and Edward, I could have settled into a sort of resigned numbness.

As it was, however, I passed the December days by praying for Harry’s soul, by answering Hal’s questions about our present state, which came at a rate of about twenty per hour, by doing needlework, and by sending petitions to the queen begging to be allowed to see her. Queens were supposed to intercede with their husbands for their subjects, and if my sister was any indication, they enjoyed doing this. I decided that it was time Queen Anne got some more practice at it.

In seeking a royal audience, I proved more successful than had Harry, for after a week or so of pleading, I was brought to the queen in her suite at the royal apartments at the Tower. After she bade me rise, she studied me.

“You look very thin, my lady. I do hope you and your son are getting all you need to eat at the Minories?”

“Yes, your grace.” I decided not to waste the queen’s time and to make my request straightaway, especially since the queen had allowed me such a good opening. “My meals are ample, as is the king’s allowance, but I am not eating well, your grace, because I am anxious. My young daughters, as your grace might know, are at Tretower in the care of the Vaughan family.”

“I do know that. I have made a point of inquiring after them, and have been assured that they want for nothing and are in good health.”

“That might be, your grace, but I fear for them, irrational as that might be, and I miss them deeply.”

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“The king tells me you have actively secreted your elder son from him.”

“I carried out my husband’s wishes, your grace. He was a wanted man, and he was terrified that our son might fall into the hands of men less generous and merciful than his grace the king.” (Even today, I congratulate myself on that turn of phrase.) I dropped to my knees.

“Your grace, in the name of the Virgin Mother, might I humbly ask that you be my advocate with the king in this matter? My petition is that all of my children be reunited and be returned to my custody, without punishment for those who have sheltered Edward.” My voice began to shake. “Please, your grace, as a mother, you must understand.

My heart bleeds for them every day. I have already lost my little Humphrey and—and after Harry died I lost the child that I carried in my womb. Without the four remaining to me I have nothing I wish to live for.
Nothing
.”

I had rehearsed the first half of my speech, but not the latter; it came straight from the heart. I began sobbing violently.

Women seeing other women crying are either moved or hardened, I have found; there is seldom any in between. Fortunately for me, Queen Anne was of the former type. She stooped and put her arm around my shoulder as I bawled. “I know well what it is to be the child of a rebel, and I know well how it is to miss a child,” she said when I finally quieted. “I shall put your petition to the king. As he is a loving father, I believe he will look upon it with favor.”

“Thank you, your grace.”

“Sit and have some refreshment and compose yourself, Lady Buckingham, before you return to your lodgings.”