Jean Plaidy - The Sun in Splendour

It was decided that the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Bourchier, should head the deputation to the Queen and that Lord Howard should go with him.

Richard and Buckingham would await their return in the Palace.

Elizabeth received them with great misgiving. She had heard of Hastings’s execution and that Jane Shore had been set to do penance; she had also heard that Jane had been deprived of her worldly goods.

It was a great setback. Elizabeth had been hoping for a great deal from an alliance with Hastings. She and he had always been such great enemies and the fact that he had sought a reconciliation had been particularly pleasing to her.

Elizabeth had always enjoyed intrigue, and from the moment she and her mother had set out to capture the King and succeeded in doing so, she had believed she had a special talent for it.

She had looked forward to Jane Shore’s visits and now of course someone had betrayed them.

She wondered what this deputation meant. That it was of the greatest importance was obvious from the presence of the Archbishop of Canterbury.

He greeted her with respect as indeed he should. Was she not the mother of the King? How she longed to see her son; and how comforting it had been when Jane had brought her messages from him.

The Archbishop came straight to the point.

‘My lady, it is the wish of the Protector that you emerge from Sanctuary,’ he said. ‘You need have no fear. You have the Duke of Gloucester’s word that you shall be treated as the mother of the King.’

Elizabeth lifted her head and her eyes glittered.

‘What of my brother, Lord Rivers? Richard of Gloucester has imprisoned him. For what reason?’

‘My lady, you must know that your brother Lord Rivers and your son Lord Richard Grey attempted to take the King from the Protector. They withheld from him the news of the King’s death. It is for this reason that they are now his captives.’

‘As I should be if I came out of Sanctuary.’

‘That is not so, my lady. You have not committed these offences.’

‘I do not trust the Duke of Gloucester.’

‘He prides himself on keeping his word. He promised the late King that he would guard his son and that is what he is determined to do.’

‘I am the King’s mother. It is for me to guard him.’

Bourchier bowed his head and started again. ‘The Protector offers you an alternative. Come out of Sanctuary or deliver to me the Duke of York.’

‘Deliver him to you! Why? He is a child. He should be with his mother.’

‘His brother is asking for him. He wants him to join him in his apartments in the Tower.’

‘I shall not let him go.’

‘My lady, you have no alternative. Either you must come out of Sanctuary with your son and daughters – and the Protector promises that if you do you will be treated with the respect due to your rank – or you must deliver up the Duke of York.’

Elizabeth was silent. She did not want to lose her son; on the other hand dared she emerge from Sanctuary? Her great hope lay in trying to raise an insurrection against the Protector which she had thought possible through Hastings.

She must stay in Sanctuary.

What if she let the little Duke go? He would be with his brother. Poor child, he would hate to leave her and his sisters, but he would be going to his brother ... and it would be good for Edward to have his little brother with him.

Should she leave Sanctuary so that they could all be together? It was what her maternal feelings told her she should do. She knew Gloucester well enough to know that he would not be harsh with her unless she deliberately plotted against him. In truth he had been lenient with Jane Shore. He suspected her of plotting; she had indeed brought messages from Hastings; some would have had her head for that. Penance and confiscation had been enough for Gloucester.

No, he would not be hard on her. He would remember his brother’s affection for her and for that reason he would be kind.

She should leave Sanctuary.

No ... no ... that would be the end of hope. She would be safer in here.

She would have to let Richard go.

It was a fateful decision. In later years she often thought of it and wondered what would have happened to her sons if she had left Sanctuary at that time and kept all the family with her.

She sent for Richard. He came running to her. He was a charming little boy, more healthy than his elder brother and of a merry disposition. Poor Edward was often tired, suffering as he did from that strange disease of the bones which, said the doctors, prevented them growing as they should normally. Poor little King, he would never be like his father. It was different with Richard, he was a healthy, normal boy.

‘Richard, my little one,’ she said to him, putting her arms round him and holding him close to her, ‘you are going to see Edward.’

‘Oh, my lady, when do we go? Now?’

‘We are not going. I and your sisters have to stay here. It is just you who are going.’

‘Is Edward coming back to us?’

‘No, you are going to stay with Edward.’

‘When are you coming?’

‘That, sweetheart, I cannot say. It will depend on your uncle.’

‘I don’t like my uncle.’

‘Dearest, none of us do but for a while we have to do as he says.’ She held him to her and whispered in his ear. ‘It won’t always be so. Now you have to go with the Archbishop and he will take you to Edward and you will be able to shoot your arrows together.’

Richard smiled. ‘I can shoot further than Edward,’ he said.

‘Well, you must remember that he is not so well as you are. You will always remember that, won’t you?’

‘Yes, my lady. But you will come and be with us soon, won’t you, and Elizabeth ... and Cecily ...’

‘As soon as I can I shall be there. You don’t think I like being separated from my boys, do you?’

‘No, dear Mother, you do not. And you hate ...’

‘Hush ... Not before these gentlemen.’

The boy put his arms round her neck and whispered: ‘Dear Mother, I don’t like them much either.’

‘This is the Archbishop of Canterbury, my love, and Lord Howard. They are going to take care of you.’ She lifted pleading eyes to the Archbishop. ‘You will take care of him, my lord? I want your promise.’

‘I give it, my lady. I pledge my life for the Prince’s safety.’

‘Then take him and remember those words. Goodbye, my little one. Say goodbye to your sisters. You are going to be with your brother and I shall be thinking of you both so dearly. Tell him that, will you?’

‘Yes, dear lady, I will.’

‘And remember it yourself.’

The little boy flung his arms about her. ‘I do not want to leave you, dear Mother. I want to stay with you. I don’t want to go to Edward even ...’

She held him tightly and looked appealingly at the Archbishop, who shook his head.

‘You could go with him, my lady,’ he reminded her.

So she was torn again. She must stay. She dared not go out. How could she know what would happen to her? If she were ever going to regain her hold over her eldest son she must stay in Sanctuary and relinquish his younger brother.

‘Dearest baby, you must go. You must be brave, my love. We shall all be together soon. Edward is lonely for you.’

‘Yes, dear Mother.’

She kissed him tenderly and sent for his sisters who took their leave of him.

And then the Archbishop took the little boy by the hand and led him out of Sanctuary.

That day he entered the Tower to be with his brother.

In his prison at Sheriff Hutton Lord Rivers heard occasional scraps of news as to what was happening throughout the country. That the Protector was in command was obvious. It had been a masterly stroke to arrest him at Northampton for it had given Gloucester a free hand with the King.

Yet how near the Woodvilles had come to success. Once the King had been crowned none could have taken charge of him, young as he was, and Edward was well enough primed to insist on keeping his Woodville relations about him. That would have been the end of the Protector. He would either have had to join the Woodvilles, and quite clearly become an inferior member of the party, or go back to the north. No, that would have been too dangerous. Gloucester had the north with him. It would very likely have been his head for he – Plantagenet that he was – would never have taken a subsidiary role with the Woodvilles.

Oh yes, a master stroke. But then Gloucester was a master at the art of strategy and justice. Edward had thought more highly of him than of anyone else. Elizabeth knew that and had always resented it; but she had realised there was no one to change the King’s opinion and that he would have turned against her if she had tried to.

Gloucester was indeed capable of governing, Rivers conceded that. But oh how the Woodvilles longed to!

And he, Rivers, was at the head of the family. He would have been chief adviser to the King.

Gloucester knew it; that was why Rivers’s fate was inevitable.

Of course Gloucester might have had his head on the spot as he had Hastings’s. That would not have been wise. He might have had the country against him if he had. He wanted to go cautiously, which he had done. He had by the arrest of Rivers and Grey taken over the King; he had delayed the coronation; he had set himself up as Protector, and as the last thing the people wanted was a bloody conflict, for heaven knows they had had enough of that with the Wars of the Roses, they had accepted him. They saw in him a good and steady ruler, and that was what they wanted.

So now there was only one logical fate which could possibly await Rivers. The only question was when would it come, and he guessed it was at hand when the Earl of Northumberland arrived at Sheriff Hutton.

The trial was brief. He was accused of treason and condemned.

It would not have been so easy for them to find him guilty if a quantity of arms had not been found in his baggage which indicated clearly that he was ready to do battle.

He spent his last night in making his will, praying and writing poetry.

‘My life was lent

Me to one intent.

It is nigh spent.

Welcome fortune ...’

He wrote and found some pleasure in musing and writing down how Fortune had treated him and at last brought him to the state in which he now found himself.

He had been told that he would be taken to Pontefract where Richard Grey was being held and Thomas Vaughan would be brought there from Middleham, so that they should all lose their heads in the same place on the same day.

Lord Rivers then asked that he might be buried beside his nephew, Lord Richard Grey.

The request was granted and on the twenty-fourth day of June Lord Rivers, Lord Richard Grey and Sir Thomas Vaughan were beheaded at Pontefract.

Buckingham was growing impatient. A volatile man, impulsive, always seeking excitement, he wanted events to move fast and if they appeared to lag he was always ready to act in such a way as to speed them on.

Richard told him of Stillington’s revelation and Buckingham now suggested that Richard should make this known to the people and then take the crown.

This was a big step which Richard had had in mind for some time, but he hesitated to take it. In the first place it seemed disloyal to the brother whom he had revered for to declare his sons illegitimate would have enraged the late King. On the other hand he must have known the truth – who more than he? And he had had Clarence despatched when Stillington had let the truth slip to him; and Stillington himself had been imprisoned in the Tower.

It was the truth and the fact was that Edward the Fifth had no right to the throne.

The trouble with the country now was that there were rival factions conspiring against each other which was due to the minority of the King. But if the true King were proved to be a grown man, a man who had the ability to govern, what a boon that would be for the country!

Buckingham was right. He should state the truth and tell the people; then he would be proclaimed Richard the Third.

It would save the country from possible civil war – and the country had had enough of that.

He discussed the matter with Buckingham; he pondered the position deeply. It was right that the truth should be known. It was best for the country.