This was very gratifying to Lancaster who had settled into a happy life of maturity. He was behind the King but was discreet enough not to impose too much of his will.

If only Gloucester had been the same.

But Gloucester was bent on mischief. How much longer, he demanded, was the country going to accept Richard’s ineffectual rule? He had made this peace with France and saddled himself with a child who could not produce an heir for years; he had frittered away her dowry. He was useless and the sooner he was deposed and someone else wore the crown the better.

The King had named Roger de Mortimer, Earl of March, as his heir if he should die without a child of his own body to follow him, and Roger, who was a son of Philippa the daughter of Lionel who was the second son of Edward the Third coming after the Black Prince, was accepted generally as the next in line of succession.

Thomas who could never wait patiently for events to happen sought out Roger to sound him, for it seemed to him that Roger would make a good figure-head.

It was a great mistake, he quickly realised.

Roger was a young man who had been brought up to believe that he owed his first loyalty to the crown. He was heavily committed to Ireland for Richard had some time before appointed him lord lieutenant of that turbulent country.

He was twenty years old, idealistic, eager to prove himself and when Gloucester told him what he had in mind he was not only astounded but horrified.

‘My dear Roger,’ said Gloucester, ‘you are heir to the throne. Depend upon it, we cannot wait for the time to come when it shall fall naturally to you.’

Roger was bewildered. ‘What does this mean?’ he asked.

The boy was a simpleton, thought Gloucester. Was it not obvious?

‘An army would follow you,’ persisted Gloucester. ‘You are beloved of the people. They are weary of Richard’s feeble rule. His extravagances must be stemmed or the country will suffer.’

Roger still said nothing; he was too bewildered for speech. What was Gloucester suggesting? Revolution? War? And against the King!

‘An army would rally to your banner. We should secure the King and his French wife and they would be kept in confinement till Richard agreed to resign his crown. We should have to seize my brothers Lancaster and York. But that should not be difficult. You are so pale. Why so? I tell you this plan cannot fail.’

‘This … this is treason!’ stammered Mortimer.

Gloucester seized his arms and glared into his face.

‘You mean you would not join us?’

‘I would not take up arms against the King. That is treason.’

Gloucester then realised that he had made one of the biggest blunders of his life. If Roger de Mortimer reported what he had suggested that would be the end of him.

‘By God,’ he said, ‘you are a man who does not know what is good for him.’

‘I know, my lord Gloucester, that no good could come to me if I were a traitor to the King.’

Gloucester’s hand was on his sword. Kill him. It was the only way. He had betrayed his schemes to this young man and if he went to the King …

Still, Richard could not be victorious. There was too much against him.

‘You shall not whisper a word of this to any,’ cried Gloucester.

‘Heads would fall if I did,’ replied Roger.

‘Aye. And yours would not be too safe.’

‘I have spoken no treason.’

‘There would be those to say you had shared in the plot.’

The young man was disturbed. There was no doubt about that.

‘Listen to me,’ said Gloucester. ‘You are not with us. But it will go ill for you as with us if you breathe a word of what I have said to you.’

Roger understood that. He was thoughtful and Gloucester went on: ‘Say nothing of what you have heard. It is the best way.’

Roger nodded. Of course it was the best way. It was the only way.

And shortly he would be leaving for Ireland.

They were uneasy days before he left. Gloucester was no more relieved to see him leave than Roger was to go.


* * *

So there was a plot afoot to take his crown from him. Richard knew it. Rumour was rife throughout London and the countryside. Gloucester was determined to stir up the people against him. They were whispering about him. He was enamoured of the little girl who was his Queen, they said. Why had he chosen a child? It was because he had no love for women. He was like his great-grandfather Edward the Second. Everyone remembered how he had surrounded himself with men favourites, pampered them, wasted the country’s money on them. Richard had spent money so extravagantly that the royal coffers were fast emptying. They had all witnessed the lavish manner in which he spent on his Queen. His table was filled with rich foods when there were many going hungry.

This was no way to rule.

Gloucester was fomenting trouble, and Richard knew why. There was something else. Why had Roger de Mortimer been so eager to get back to Ireland? What had Gloucester proposed to him?

Richard could guess.

There had been a time when there had been an attempt to depose him; and the head of that rebellion had been Gloucester, Arundel, Warwick and his cousin Bolingbroke with Thomas Mowbray.

Richard was never one to forget an insult and he would remember that five as long as he lived. Now it seemed that three of them had banded together – Gloucester, Warwick and Arundel; and those were the three he intended to deal with.

Having had experience of rebellion he was not going to make the same mistakes again. Then he had been a boy; now he was a man who knew how to rule. He was going to strike first before they could.

He came to London and with him was his troop of archers. The Lord Mayor of London, Richard Whittington, viewed the troops who filled the streets with some apprehension, and gave secret orders that the London trained bands should be ready for action.

Richard’s operations began by summoning a meeting of Parliament which would bring all the nobles to London and he sent special invitations to Gloucester, Warwick and Arundel to dine with him at the house of the Bishop of Exeter in Temple Bar.

Gloucester was not without his spies, nor was Arundel. Neither of them liked the sound of that invitation. Moreover they knew that Richard had his archers in London.

Gloucester sent word from his castle of Pleshy that he was too ill to attend. Arundel sent no word but all the same he returned to his castle at Reigate and put it in a state of siege.

Warwick, failing to realise the true position, arrived at Temple Bar.

The King received him graciously and talked of domestic matters so that Warwick had no idea that anything unusual was happening.

They sat drinking wine and talking in desultory fashion of the Parliament which was to assemble shortly.

Then suddenly Richard rose and called to his guards. Warwick was on his feet wondering what the change in the King’s attitude could mean.

‘You are under arrest,’ he said.

‘My lord …’ stammered Warwick.

‘I know of your plots,’ Richard told him. ‘You had better admit that you were planning with Gloucester and Arundel to come against me.’

‘It is false …’ stammered Warwick unconvincingly.

‘Let him be taken to the Tower,’ said Richard. ‘He will tell us all in time I doubt not.’

The protesting Warwick was taken away.


* * *

That takes care of Warwick, said Richard to himself. Now for Arundel.

Arundel was skulking in Reigate, but Richard did not want to take up arms and go out to his castle to get him, which would be to declare open warfare. The best plan was to lure him to London and once there he could easily be put under arrest.

Richard sent for Thomas Arundel, now Archbishop of Canterbury, and when the Archbishop arrived Richard told him that he had a request to make.

‘I wish the Earl, your brother, to come to me here in London, and you must bring him to me.’

The Archbishop looked startled. He did not know yet that Warwick had been arrested but he was filled with alarm by the King’s words.

‘My lord,’ he said, ‘would he not come more readily at your bidding than mine?’

‘I think he has some notion that I am displeased with him. I have requested him to dine with me but he does not answer my invitation.’

‘My brother must have some reason, my lord. He must be sick.’

‘I think he needs a little assurance and that will come best from you. I promise this – by St John the Baptist I swear it – if he will come to me of his own accord no harm shall come to him. But I wish him to come peacefully. You understand, my lord Archbishop, I do not wish to go to his castle and take him. All I wish is to have speech with him. Persuade him to come in peace.’

‘He must have heard some warning …’

‘My lord Archbishop, you know how these things happen. Go to him. Persuade him. I have sworn, have I not?’

The Archbishop then said that he would go to his brother, which he did.

The Earl was pleased to see his brother but alarmed when he heard the cause of his visit.

‘He has heard some rumour,’ said the Earl. ‘He wishes me some harm.’

‘He has sworn by St John the Baptist that no harm shall befall you.’

‘Nevertheless I would not trust him.’

‘Come, brother. You should return to London with me. If you do not come you will anger the King. He will come here to get you and he has a troop of archers with him.’

‘But why should he come to take me unless he wishes me ill?’

‘Because he is young and is still new to power. He asked for obedience. Give it to him and he is your friend. I tell you he has sworn not to harm you.’

At length the Earl was persuaded and he returned to London with his brother where the two spent the night at Lambeth.

The next day they were rowed across the river in the Archbishop’s barge to Westminster where the brothers said goodbye to each other and the Archbishop was rowed back to Lambeth.

The Earl was taken to the King’s chamber where Richard was in conversation with several of his ministers and when he saw who had come he merely looked at him, giving no welcome. Arundel felt his confidence ebbing away.

The traitor! thought Richard. You were one of those who hurried my dear friend, Simon Burley, to the scaffold. There shall be no mercy for you now. Anne wept for Burley … she pleaded for him on her knees. My dear sweet Queen, who never harmed any. And you spurned her! You turned away from her pleas. By St John the Baptist, Arundel, there shall be no mercy for you now.

‘Take my lord Arundel away,’ he cried.

So they took him to the Tower and later to the Isle of Wight where, Richard said, he was to be held a prisoner until Parliament met.

That, said the King, accounts for two of them.


* * *

Two of the enemies were where he wanted them; there remained the third and most dangerous of them all.

It was beginning to grow dark when the King with an armed guard set out for Pleshy in Essex, Gloucester’s favourite residence.

All through the night they rode. There had been a light rain falling but as they came in sight of the magnificent Pleshy towers the sun came out. It was a strong fortress that castle with thick walls and moat surrounding it.

The King had left the larger part of his force hidden in a thicket with instructions to come to him at a given signal.

Richard hoped that Gloucester had not yet heard of the arrests of Warwick and Arundel. If so he would be preparing himself for a siege and in such a fortress he could hold out for a long time.

The sound of the approaching party had brought the guards to their posts and because it was a small party no suspicion was raised. Richard was exultant when he heard the shout of ‘The King!’ And the portcullis was immediately raised.

Gloucester came quickly to welcome his nephew. It was clear that he had heard nothing.

Richard shouted: ‘Prepare to leave at once. You are to return with me to London.’

‘My lord … for what purpose?’

‘Oh just a little matter for our good … yours and mine. You will learn in time. Now I and my men are hungry; we would eat before setting out.’

While food was served, Gloucester was growing more and more uneasy.