I knew in my heart that I must not submit my son to the rigours of the journey, and when the time came, I set out, leaving injunctions that Edward was not to tire himself and that I must be sent news of him regularly. So I rode south to join Richard.
He met me on the outskirts of London. I thought immediately that the last months had aged him. He looked drawn and there was a new wariness about him. He was bitterly disappointed, as I had known he would be, that Edward was not with me, but he thought I had been right not to bring him.
We rode together through the city to Crosby's Place. Much as I missed my son, I was glad to be with my husband, though I was not sure at that time who had the greater need of me.
When we were alone together Richard told me how glad he was that I was with him.
We did not speak a great deal of Edward. I think we were both afraid to face our fears and were trying to convince ourselves that he was merely suffering from an illness common to many children.
Richard then told me about the manner in which he had brought the king to London and added that the relationship between them was not a comfortable one.
"I see nothing of my brother in him," he said.
"He is all Woodville. I fancy he resents me. He blames me for the fact that his mother is in sanctuary and Rivers, Vaughan and Grey are imprisoned. It was necessary, Anne. There would have been war. They will have to lose their heads ... and soon, I think. I wish the king would trust me."
"Poor child, this is too much for him. He ought to be spending his time in childish pastimes, rather than finding himself the centre of intrigue."
"I would Edward were here. None of this would have happened if he had lived."
"How I wish that too!"
"Anne, what am I to do? It is my duty to my late brother who suspected something of this might happen. He has left me a sacred duty. It is England which is important. There must not be a civil war again."
"I am sure you will prevent it, Richard. You are wise and calm. You do not seek revenge on these enemies ... only that what is done to them shall be to the benefit of the country."
"That is so. But I do not know whom I can trust, Anne. What joy it is to have you with me! To you I can open my heart and speak as though I were communing with myself. Every man about me could be a potential traitor."
"You have good friends. Buckingham, Hastings ... and what of Francis Lovell, who was with us in the old days at Middleham?"
"Francis is a good friend, yes. Oh, there are a few, but I think of those powerful men in high places who could do me much harm. I never trusted Lord Stanley. He is shifty. This side one day ... the other the next. You know he was connected with our family at one time?"
"He married my father's sister."
"And now he is married to Margaret Beaufort. She is a strong-minded woman and Stanley is easily swayed. Moreover, she is the mother of that young man now skulking in Brittany, but methinks with an eye on the throne."
"Not Henry Tudor!"
Richard nodded.
"I suppose he considers himself the Lancastrian heir now."
"How could he? He is of such dubious birth." Then such as he is brush aside such matters. King Henry allowed Margaret Beaufort's marriage to Edmund Tudor, whom he called his half-brother, and Edmund Tudor may or may not -have been the legitimate son of Queen Katharine, Henry's father's widow, by Owen Tudor."
"But it is very dubious indeed. Oh, Richard, I should not concern yourself with such a man."
"You are right. My enemies are closer at hand. There is another who gives me cause for uneasiness, and that is John Morton."
"You mean the bishop?"
"Of Ely, yes."
"Did he not work with your brother?"
"Yes, but only when the Lancastrian cause was lost. He is ambitious, as so many of these churchmen are. They disguise their lust for power under a cloak of piety. They are the ones I do not trust, the ones to fear most."
"Dear Richard, you are overwrought. The death of your brother has affected you more deeply than you realise. I know how you cared for him, how he was always in your thoughts." That is so."
"Once the little king is crowned and on the throne you will have about you a council whom you can trust and your cares will be lifted."
"You may be right. How pleased I am that you are here!"
I was greatly cheered, but I wished I could dismiss any anxieties about my son.
Trouble came from an unexpected quarter. Richard said to me: "Jane Shore is now Hastings' mistress."
"I have heard that she is very beautiful," I replied.
"And I remember her having been wooed by Hastings in the first place.
Then your brother saw her and forced Hastings to give up the pursuit."
That may be true. Hastings and my brother revelled together. They had similar tastes for women and fast living. I think that was at the root of the friendship between them."
"So now Jane has gone to her original wooer."
"She will no doubt pass from one to another. She is that sort of woman."
"I have heard that she is kindly and that her lovers are men whom she esteems. She was obviously devoted to the king and completely faithful while he was her lover."
"She would not have dared be anything else."
"I think we should not judge her too harshly, Richard, if we are going to exonerate your brother for his part in the liaison. Rumour says she was faithful to him and he was hardly that to her, even at the height of his passion." That was his way. It was different."
"Different laws for the sexes. Well, that seems to be an accepted idea. In any case, why worry about Jane Shore and Hastings? Your brother is past caring."
"It seems ... disrespectful... in some way."
"Oh Richard!" I laughed at him and he laughed with me. But the affair of Jane Shore and Hastings did not rest there. Jane Shore was the sort of woman whose actions would be widely noticed and talked of. Her close relationship with the king had made of her a prominent figure. It was such women who often received confidences sometimes indiscreet from their lovers and through them could become involved in intrigue.
I had thought, from what I had heard of Jane, that she would be the last to be caught up in such a situation, but it seemed I was wrong. After the king's death it was revealed that she had briefly become the mistress of the Marquis of Dorset the queen's son by her first marriage to Sir John Grey. Dorset had received the promotion meted out to all the Woodville family. He had become a great friend of the king which was not surprising. He was extremely good-looking, like most of the Woodvilles, adventures, profligate, amusing, the sort of man Edward liked to have about him. It was well known that they indulged in adventures together and, knowing the two men, it was easy to guess the nature of these adventures.
Dorset had apparently admired Jane for a long time and, if it had been left to him, he would have tried to wean her from Edward, but Jane was too faithful, and perhaps wise, to let that happen. But on the king's death, there was no reason why she should not go to Dorset.
Richard shrugged his shoulders when he heard of that liaison. He found such gossip tasteless: he did not want to be reminded of I that flaw in the character of his dead brother. I But this relationship between Dorset and Jane could not be lightly dismissed when it was learned that he had vessels in the Channel which he was equipping. This could only be for one purpose: war.
Lord Rivers and Lord Richard Grey were prisoners. Elizabeth and her family with the exception of the king were in sanctuary. Dorset would have his reasons. He knew he was in danger and escaped to the continent. It was just before this that Jane Shore became Hastings' mistress.