And now here was Elizabeth Woodville, proud of all she had achieved. Her eldest son Edward was now Prince of Wales and his brother, the little bridegroom, Duke of York. There was one of her children whom I noticed particularly. This was Elizabeth, the eldest of her daughters, for whom she demanded great homage because of the proposed union with the Dauphin of France, which had been one of the results of the Treaty of Picquigny. Elizabeth was addressed as Madame la Dauphine, which I thought a little premature, remembering what often happened to these proposed alliances.
The marriage of the two children was taking place in St. Stephen's Chapel from the walls of which hung blue velvet decorated with the golden fleur-de-lys. Lord Rivers led in little Anne Mowbray.
Both children did as they had been told, although I am sure neither of them had a notion of what it was all about. And when the ceremony was over, it was Richard's duty to scatter gold coins among the crowd waiting outside. And then Anne Mowbray, with Richard on one side and the Duke of Buckingham on the other, was escorted to the banqueting hall.
There were shouts of loyalty from the people. Weddings were always a source of interest and enjoyment and the wedding of such a young pair was particularly delightful to them.
It was on this occasion that I exchanged a few words with the queen. She said how grieved she had been to hear of Isabel's death.
"She was delicate, of course," she said.
"There are some of us who should not bear too many children." She was a little complacent, implying she, who had borne several children and still retained her youthful looks and beauty, was most certainly not one of them.
"I sent Ankarette to her to help her." Her face hardened. That was a terrible case. Ankarette was a good woman. She served us both well."
"I know, your Grace," I said.
She touched my hand lightly.
"There are some wicked people among us," she whispered.
"It is best that they are under restraint. I must go to Madame la Dauphine. I am pleased to see you here, duchess."
It was gracious of her to speak to me. I think she wanted to stress to me that the Duke of Clarence was unworthy to live.
The next days were given over to jousting. Knights came into London from all over the country to take part. The Woodvilles, of course, were very much in evidence and the occasions were graced by the presence of the queen and Madame la Dauphine. The absence of the Duke of Clarence was very noticeable.
Richard told me that he had spoken to Edward about their mother's plea for leniency.
"I should add mine, Anne," he said.
"But I am so unsure. He is our brother. He has been near me all my life. We were brought up together."
"Edward, too."
"No, Edward was not with us. There were just the three, Margaret, George and myself. We were the only ones in the Fotheringay nursery the young ones. I am glad no decision rests with me. Poor Edward. I know what he must be feeling now. His thoughts will be in the Bowyer Tower with George."
He told me later that Edward had sent for him and had talked of Clarence. In fact Edward could think of nothing else. He said that if he were wise he would let George suffer the penalty of treason.
"For," he went on, "there have been so many of his acts which are treasonable."
"I had to admit that that was so. But I asked him how he would feel if he gave the order for his brother's execution. That order would have to come from him.
"It would lie heavy on my conscience." he answered.
"And it would. Poor Edward, I pity him."
I said: "He should not reproach himself. He has been a good brother to George and George has scarcely been the same to him."
"I have suggested that he go to George and talk to him. Give him one last chance ... and if he should err again ... then make his decision."
"And what said he to this?"
"I believe he is going to do it. I feel sure he will forgive George."
Then I said: "The trouble will start again. It is inevitable."
"You think the king would be justified in signing the death warrant of his brother?"
"Justified, yes. But I do understand what you mean about its lying heavily on his conscience."
"We shall have to see. Edward is going to the Tower. He will go without ceremony. We shall soon know the outcome."
We did. When the king returned from the Bowyer Tower, the first thing he did was send for Richard.
I waited in trepidation to hear the news, for I guessed something of significance must have happened. Richard was absent for a long time and when he came back to our apartment he shut himself in. I went to him and he allowed me to enter his chamber where I found him looking very distressed.
"Richard!" I cried.
"What is it?"
"I... cannot believe it!" he said.
"This is the end. It must be."
"The king has forgiven him?"
He said nothing. He just stared ahead.
I sat on the arm of his chair and stroked the hair back from his face.
"Tell me, Richard," I said.
"I feel I should know, because of what I have suffered at his hands."
"It is a most astonishing turn of events." murmured Richard.
"He is mad ... completely mad. He has thrown away his chance. This must be the end. He himself made the decision."
"Richard, I beg of you tell me what has happened."
"Edward went to him ... ready to forgive him once more. But no sooner did George see him than he began to abuse him, shouting that he had brought a breed of reptiles into the family, that he had married a witch and not only had he married her but it seemed he had married her blood-sucking relations also."
The king would have been in no mood for such talk, I should have thought."
"You would have thought correctly. He ordered George to be silent. He accused him of acts of treason. He told him he had come to help him, but was growing less and less inclined to do so. George was reckless. He had clearly been drinking. A great butt of malmsey had been delivered to his cell on George's orders. Edward went on trying to reason with him. George is shrewd at times and he knew that the king was trying to find reasons for releasing him. Oh, what a fool George is! He could have been a free man today, but he was never very good at reasoning. He was always caught up in the passion of the moment. He went on ranting against the queen and the Woodvilles. Then he said a terrible thing. He said that when our father was away in battle our mother took a lover and the result was Edward which meant that Clarence was the rightful heir to the throne."
"What a monstrous story!"
"An insult not only to Edward but to my mother."
"I wonder what she would say if she knew?"
"She would be incensed as Edward is. He said to me, "You see how he is? What can I do? He is my brother. If I let him go free, how can I know from one day to the next what he will do?" I said to him, "You shall be confronted by our mother. Perhaps then she would not plead for you so earnestly"."