"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 realised 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' 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 which 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 Shaw, 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' 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' 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 recognised 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, bare-footed 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 which 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.

There were rumours all over London. The king's coronation had been postponed until November. Hastings had been executed without trial; the queen was in sanctuary. Why did she think it necessary to seek such protection? The king was living in the state apartments in the Tower of London. And there was tension on the streets. People were waiting for something to happen.

Richard was worried. Morton and Rotherham were in the Tower, having been arrested at the time of Hastings' execution. Buckingham consulted with Richard and they decided that Rotherham was an old fool who could not do much harm, and it would be wise to release him. As for Morton, he was of a different calibre. He was a man to be watched. Suppose he, Buckingham, took charge of Morton, who was a very cultured man? If he were separated from fellow schemers and shut away somewhere in the heart of the country, he might settle down to study and enjoy it. Suppose Buckingham sent him to his castle at Brecknock? There he would live a secluded life of culture which would keep him out of mischief. From time to time Buckingham would visit him and make sure that there was always a watch kept on him. That seemed an excellent solution.

As for Stanley, they knew where they were with him. He was a man who would be where his best interests were. It was not so difficult to keep an eye on such men.

It was then agreed that the great problem was the queen. If she would come out of sanctuary and live in the manner of a queen dowager, the people would be satisfied and cease to wonder about her. She was the Protector's sister-in-law, the beloved widow of his brother who had been very dear to him, therefore he and the queen should be good friends.

When the suggestion was put to Elizabeth, she would not consider leaving sanctuary, thus proclaiming as clearly as if she had made an announcement from Paul's Cross that she did not trust her brother-in-law, nor the government.

"Then if she will not come out," said Richard, "the Duke of York must join his brother in the Tower. The king is lonely. He wants his brother with him."

Elizabeth refused to let her son go and Richard was growing angry with her.

"She has been a trouble since my brother set eyes on her in Whittlebury Forest," he said to me.

"How I wish he had never seen her! Think of it! There would never have been a quarrel between Edward and your father. Was that not all about her? And her family. They have been responsible for war and bloodshed and now here she is ... telling the world she is afraid of me, afraid of the government, seeking sanctuary, refusing to let her son go. I tell you, the Duke of York is going to join his brother in the Tower."

There was conflict between the churchmen. Richard said that Elizabeth was using young Richard of York as a hostage and that was why she would not let him go. That could not be countenanced any longer. The Archbishop of Canterbury thought that to take the child would be going against the sacred law of St. Peter. However, the general opinion was that the situation was too dangerous to allow the queen to hold her son a hostage and he must be brought out to join his brother in the Tower.

It was unfortunate that the plan had to be carried out in the only way possible, for Elizabeth would never have let her son go unless forced to do so. Armed men were sent to the queen. The Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Bourchier, was extremely dismayed, as he believed that it was not right to remove any person from sanctuary against that person's will. But, having been overruled, he was obliged to allow the deed to be done.

He begged the queen to let her son go. She said she would not do so. She wished to keep her children with her. They needed their mother at such a time. The king was in the Tower awaiting his coronation which should have taken place by now, but some people had seen fit to postpone it. For what reason she had not been told.

The archbishop explained to her that the king needed his brother and asked for him to join him. The two boys should be together, and he feared that if she did not allow him to go willingly, he would be taken by force, which would not be good for him.

Elizabeth wanted the archbishop's assurance that her son would be respected according to his rank, well cared for and protected. He gave her this assurance and at length the archbishop took the nine-year-old Richard of York by the hand and led him out of sanctuary. Richard told me that when he was brought to Westminster Hall he had a brief interview with him.

"He was sad at leaving his mother and sisters but was looking forward to being with his brother," he told me.

"Poor child," I replied.

"It is tragic when he is so young to be taken from his family."

"Well, he will be with his brother," said Richard.

However that rather delicate incident was over, very much to Richard's relief.

There was no doubt that the treachery of Hastings had hurt Richard deeply and made him more aware of the dangers which surrounded him. More than ever I longed for Middleham and the everyday affairs of family life. Between them, Richard and Buckingham had decided that they must be rid of the Woodvilles. At that time Earl Rivers, Richard Grey and Sir Thomas Vaughan, who had been arrested at Stony Stratford, were awaiting sentence. These men were all a potential danger to the realm. The Woodvilles must be stopped from making trouble, if there was going to be a chance of governing the country without continual conflict.

Sir Richard Ratcliffe, a man whom Richard trusted, was sent to see the execution of these men carried out.

Richard had known Ratcliffe when his grandfather was comptroller of Edward's household; and later when he had fought with Richard in the north and they were besieged at Berwick, Richard had awarded him a knighthood. Richard said he was a man on whom he could depend.

Ratcliffe went to Pontefract where the executions were speedily carried out.

I wondered what the feelings of Elizabeth Woodville were at that time. So many of her family had perished. Her two sons were in the Tower and no longer under her care. She had been a very ambitious woman and she must have known when she married the king and there was so much opposition to the match that her life would be fraught with dangerous difficulties. We had all had ample proof of her ambitions but she did indeed love her family. She had made that clear enough.