I shrugged. ‘I’ve rather lost touch, what with one thing and another. I did hear that Lovell destroyed many of them. Why don’t you ask him?’
‘Lovell is in hiding in Flanders, as you well know.’
I didn’t know, in point of fact, but I was grateful for the information.
I shrugged. ‘Much of it will still be at Nottingham, I imagine, where King Richard left it. Somewhere in the middle of it you will find the letter of resignation I handed in immediately after his coronation. After that I was just one of Queen Anne’s waiting-women.’
‘And it was in that capacity, I suppose, that you accompanied the Vaughan ruffians to Brecon, and fired a lead bullet into Bishop Morton’s backside? Do me a favour!?
‘I was doing my bit for my King. It was all quite unofficial.’
‘We did find certain items at Nottingham,’ she admitted, ‘but there were many files, of the very greatest importance, that were unaccountably missing. Are you quite sure that Lovell destroyed them all?’
‘No. How can I be? What exactly are you looking for? The files on the Princes? I’ve already told my brother of Rochester all there is to know about them.’
She stood up. ‘I am not in the least interested in those peevish brats! Richard murdered them, and as we do not have either the time or the inclination to take the Tower apart, stone by stone, we shall never be able to recover their bodies. Agreed?’
‘Absolutely,’ I said. ‘If that’s the truth you want established, I’ll back you up all the way, and even fill in a few details if you like. I just want my husband out of the Tower, and pardoned, and permission to retire to Horton Beauchamp together.’
‘You dare to bargain with me?’
‘I thought that that was what you wanted. It’s a good bargain, after all. I’ve no further interest in politics, I can assure you. I just ask for a quiet life. As for Roger, if he agrees to give his allegiance to your son, you can be pretty damned certain that he’ll keep his word. He believes in the Knightly Code.’
She snorted. ‘I didn’t think we had any of those still in stock. Such men are often more dangerous than those who can be bought.’
‘There is a file,’ I said, ‘that might be of some small interest to your ladyship. It relates to King Edward’s mistresses. He had three regulars, you’ll recall. A merry one – Elizabeth Shore. A wise one. And a pious one. He was always very cagey about the identity of the last two. They were great ladies, and King Edward was a great gentleman. He didn’t want to hurt their reputations. Hastings knew the truth, of course. How could he not? He was Edward’s closest friend, the King’s Chamberlain, and Head of Yorkist Intelligence. He opened a file on each of them, but he was very discreet about it. They were not listed in the index, so they were very, very hard to find. I used to speculate about the identity of the pious one in particular. There are few such ladies at Court, and fewer still with influence. It was only when I found the file that I had my answer, and all became obvious. Why King Edward showed you, and your husband, such extraordinary favour, when he had no cause to trust either of you beyond the length of his arm. No obvious reason, that is.’
The colour had drained from her face. She sat there, gripping her rosary so hard that you could almost hear the beads crying out in pain.
‘Hastings was a threat to your precious reputation,’ I went on, ‘and so you roped him into that foolish conspiracy. It was easy for you, with your links with Elizabeth Woodville and the Shore woman. You were all in the same guild, after all. When Richard took him out for you, it suited you down to the ground. Christ, what fools we were not to realise that it was all a set up! You must have known how Richard would react in a case like that. You as good as murdered Hastings.’
‘You will have great difficulty in proving it,’ she said, icily.
‘I can prove quite a bit of it, with that file. What Hastings didn’t know, he made up. And he had a colourful imagination where women were concerned.’
‘You will hand the file over to me.’
‘Certainly I will. For a price.’
‘You are aware, of course, that I can have you persuaded?’
I laughed. ‘That won’t do you any good. The file isn’t in my possession. I’ve an account with the Medici Bank in Bruges, and they have it in their safe deposit room. They are under strict instructions. If the least harm comes to me, or to my husband, they are to hand it over, at once, to the Duchess Margaret of Burgundy. I’m sure that you wouldn’t want that to happen. That lady knows a few tricks when it comes to publicity, and I reckon she’d make good use of the information. Just think of the damage it’d do to your image! The pious, chaste, charitable, learned Countess of Richmond, revealed as a right little raver who used to knock King Edward out of action for a week at a time!’
I could tell that she was not pleased.
‘Be careful not to set your price too high,’ she hissed.
‘I’ve already named it. Roger’s freedom, and my own. A full pardon for him. His lands restored. I’m not bothered about a place at Court. You meet such common people there nowadays.’
‘And how can I be sure that you’ll not come back for more?’
‘You can’t,’ I said, ‘but I won’t. You see, I don’t have anything to lose at the moment. Once my husband is safe, and restored to his lands, I’ll go out of my way to make sure that things stay that way. There’ll be no mileage in offending you, will there?’
‘Indeed there will not,’ she snapped.
I smiled. ‘Look, there’s no need for hard feelings. The bottom line is that you’ve won. You’re the one whose son is King, after all. As a gesture of my good will, I’ll even throw in my copy of the pardon that King Richard granted to your brother-in-law the day before Bosworth. I’m sure that William Stanley doesn’t want anyone to know that he had second thoughts.’
I often wonder what Margaret would have done if she had found out that Bessy had been holding the file, and Will Stanley’s pardon, all along. To say nothing of Richard’s gold, which not only helped us through a very thin time but enabled us in due course to buy a small manor in Suffolk for my younger sons’ eventual benefit.
Anyway, the day after Roger received his pardon, and swore allegiance, I nipped along to Margaret’s apartments and handed the package over. She gave the papers a cursory look, just to check that I hadn’t fobbed her off with Buckingham’s household account roll or something, and then thrust them into the fire.
‘Get out!’ she snapped. ‘Never dare to show your face at Court again.’
Roger had his lands back – although we lost for good the bits we were granted after Buckingham’s revolt – but we were so tied up in parchment bonds, recognisances and such like, that if we ever put a single foot out of line we’d be utterly ruined. We are still bound to this day, although the Slimebag has granted us some small relief in return for almost ten years of quietness on our part.
Roger was given special orders concerning me. He was responsible for keeping me confined to Horton Beauchamp.
After nine months of marriage, Bessy produced an heir for Tudor, Prince Arthur. (Tudor is under the delusion that he is descended from King Arthur. I suppose that we are all entitled to claim descent from a fictional character of our choice. Even Roger reckons to descend from Guy of Warwick.) I used this as an opportunity to petition Bessy to intercede for me, and she did so, catching Tudor in a good mood. I am now free to go anywhere I like, as long as it is in Gloucestershire.
15
It is good to have Roger home again, and safe. Good also that he is up at the far end of the park with Guy, supervising repairs. It leaves me free to set this down without the risk of finding him watching over my shoulder.