The Reluctant Queen

Queen of England

So I found myself Queen of England, and I think I must have been one of the most reluctant to wear the crown. There was nothing I wanted so much as to return to Middleham, for Edward to have come miraculously alive so that we were no longer in the centre of the stage. I wanted to be with my son, to nurse him back to health. I worried continually about him; as for myself, I was both physically and mentally exhausted.

There was to be a speedy coronation for a king was not recognised to be a true monarch until he had been anointed and crowned.

My gown had to be produced at the utmost speed and my seamstresses worked unceasingly through the days and nights to complete it. It was made of purple velvet and cloth of gold, and it was quite magnificent, but I felt no great interest in it, so full was my heart of foreboding.

I was undoubtedly in a nervous state, likely to be easily upset and see portents of evil in the most ordinary happenings.

We were to leave Baynard's Castle for the Tower where we would spend the night in accordance with the custom, and the two young princes who were still there occupying the state apartments had to be hastily moved out so that we could occupy them. It seemed symbolic.

The two boys were lodged in a tower near the Water Gate. I wondered what they thought, particularly little Edward who had been brought up to regard himself as the heir to the throne. He had been treated with special homage since the death of his father and a boy would surely relish such treatment. I wondered how he was treated now. From king to bastard must be rather shocking in his young mind.

I should not be thinking such thoughts. I should remember I was the queen now. All eyes would be on me. That made me worry about my appearance. Did I look pale and wan? I was far too thin and getting more so. How I wished I were strong and healthy like Elizabeth Woodville, the mother of many children. How she had enjoyed her role!

Richard was constantly enquiring about my health. Sometimes I thought he was asking himself if I would ever be pregnant again. Then my thoughts switched to that other subject which was of greater concern to me than anything: my son's health.

I doubt we could have been ready for the magnificent display which our coronation turned out to be if preparations had not already been made for another that of young Edward the Fifth.

London was in a merry mood. Coronations are always welcome. They provide a holiday and interesting sights, free wine, dancing, singing, carousing in the streets an excuse to make a colourful occasion in their drab lives.

Because Richard had been lord of the north and his most faithful followers came from that part of the country, several thousands of them came south to share in his triumph. They created quite a stir in their rusty armour and their shabby uniforms; their rough manners were regarded with contemptuous amusement by the southerners. They camped in Moor Fields and were quite a side attraction.

Richard was glad to see them and went out to greet them, and tell them how pleased he was that they had come to his coronation. He brought them into the city, riding at the head of them and they settled round Baynard's Castle.

They are my friends," Richard said.

"I could trust them to serve me to the end. They may lack elegant uniforms and graceful manners, but their honesty and fidelity is unquestionable."

I believe he was enthralled by what was happening to him. He was as ambitious as his brothers. Though he would never have attempted to take the throne as Clarence had, but since it came to him as his right, he rejoiced in it. He was born to govern and he could now use his talents to their full. I could see the rising excitement in him. I told myself I must suppress my fears and try to be a worthy consort. I would pray every night that I might have a family of strong boys.

"Soon, oh Lord," I begged.

"It is time I had children and I have great fear for Edward."

The day before the coronation, when we came to the Tower, Richard looked magnificent. In the past I had been used to seeing him in sombre black; now he was in blue cloth of gold with a cloak of purple velvet trimmed with ermine. Alas, I was forced to ride in a litter drawn by horses.

I stood with Richard at the High Altar. Our gowns were removed so that we were both naked from the waist while we were anointed with the sacred Chrism. It was a solemn moment. Scenes from the past kept flashing through my mind. Isabel, so excited because she was hoping to marry Clarence and she believed she might be queen; that haunting burial of a baby at sea; myself in the cookshop kitchen; the news of my father's death; the death of the Prince of Wales ... the grief of his mother. There was so much tragedy to be thinking of while they were proclaiming me queen.

Then we were arrayed in cloth of gold and crowns were put on our heads: the trumpets sounded, and as I listened to the loyal shouts, I was brought out of the past to the dazzling present.

Richard and I had a short respite alone in the privacy of our chamber before the banquet began.

I saw that Richard was exultant.

"This seems unreal to me," I said.

"Tis real," he said.

"Sometimes I think it was always meant to be."

"You ... the king!"

"Edward would understand," he said.

"He knew his son had no right. Who could know that better than he did?"

"But he hoped no one would ever question that right."

"That is true. But right is right and truth will come out."

"You should not be thinking of your brother on a day like this," I told him.

"I think of him every day."

"You will be a good king, Richard."

"I shall do my best. Are you feeling well, Anne? You look very tired."

How those words depressed me! I strove so hard not to look tired, and when they were so solicitously said they hurt the more.

I talked of Buckingham, who had been much in evidence.

"One would have thought it was his coronation," I said.

"How he would have liked that!"

"He was certainly the most brilliantly attired person present."

"That is Buckingham."

"That blue velvet, blazing with gold decorations!"

"Well, he is a handsome man and likes to call attention to the fact."

"He certainly did."

"He has been a good friend."

"So," I said, "a little flamboyance can be forgiven him."

"A thousand times," said Richard.

Then we went to Westminster Hall where tables had been set out to accommodate the guests. Richard and I took our places at that one which had been placed on the dais, there to be served by the greatest nobles in the land.

It was a nice touch that Richard ate from dishes of gold and silver offered to him by two men whom I knew well but had not seen for many years. One was Francis Lovell and the other Robert Percy, those boys who had learned the arts of war and gracious living at Middleham when Richard was there.

It was a thrilling moment when Sir Robert Dymmock rode in as King's Champion. He looked splendid in white armour and his horse was decorated in red and white. When he made the challenge, I saw the look that passed across Richard's face and I knew of the turmoil within him. I guessed he was still thinking of his brother Edward, wondering if he were looking down and seeing him in what he would think of as his son's place.

But it had been proved. Edward had not been married in truth to the boy's mother and Richard was the rightful king of England.

I longed more deeply than ever for the peace of Middleham.

No one challenged the King's Champion, and there was a cry of "King Richard!" which echoed through the hall. I sank back in relief listening to the loyal shouts.

And I saw the pleasure steal across Richard's face. He was the accepted King of England.

A newly appointed king must show himself to his subjects all over the kingdom, and as soon as London settled down after the coronation, we set out on a royal progress.

The highlight of this was our arrival in Yorkshire, the stronghold of the House of York and where Richard knew the most loyal of all greetings could be expected. I was happier than I had been for some time, because my son Edward was to come to us there that he might join in the welcome that was given. The people would want to see their Prince of Wales with the king and queen, said Richard.

I could scarcely wait to see him.

We reached Pontefract where Edward was to join us.

He had not yet arrived but messengers were waiting to tell us that he was close by.

What joy it was to see him when he came to the city! But that joy was tinged with fear, for he had not come on horseback as I should have expected, but in a chariot. The doctor had said the ride would be too great a tax on his strength.

To my tortured imagination, it seemed that he looked more pale, more frail than when I had last seen him.

After the formal greeting, I was alone with him in the chamber which had been prepared for him. He was a little breathless.

"It is exciting, my lady." he said.

"My father king and my mother queen, and I the Prince of Wales!"

"I think you should be resting, Edward. It has been a tiring day."

"I am well, my lady mother," he replied, apologetically, trying to suppress his breathlessness.

I put my arms round him and said: "Edward, my darling son, tell me just how you feel. Is there any pain? You may tell me, you know."

He hesitated, then he said: "Oh no, my lady. It is nothing. I am well... really well. Just a little tired."

"Dearest Edward," I said. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Good health is given to us by God. It is His will and we should not seek to excuse our weakness."

I held him against me and he put his arms round me.

"I want to be big and strong," he said.

"That is what my father wants me to be."

"When your father was about your age he used to get tired ... even as you do. And see now, he is big and strong ... a king."

He nodded and gave me a tender, pathetic smile which touched me deeply and made me sad.

Tomorrow," I told him, "we shall ride into York. That is your father's favourite city."

"It is because we are of the House of York."

That is true. How is Middleham, Edward?"

"It is as ever, my lady."

"Do you think of me when you are there?"

"All the time. When I hear horses approaching, I always hope that it is you ... or a message to say that you are coming."

"I would I could be with you more... or you with us."

He smiled at me a little sadly, and I guessed he was thinking of the strain of the journey and the demands which would be made on a Prince of Wales at court.

He is too serious for his age, I thought: and I longed for him to be carefree as other boys of his age.

"In York, we shall be meeting many old friends, Your cousin is going to join us."

"Which cousin is that, my lady?"

"Your cousin Edward. Oh, how many Edwards there are! They are all named after Edward the king. He was such a well-loved person in the family. Your cousin, Warwick, perhaps I should say."

"He is twice my cousin," said Edward.

I nodded.

"That is so the son of my sister and your father's brother. We must welcome him warmly for he has neither father nor mother now."

Ts he coming back to Middleham?"

That has not yet been decided, but he will be under your father's care. Edward, why do you not lie down for an hour or so? I shall see that you are ready in good time before you are expected to join us."

He looked grateful, and I went out and left him. I was uneasy and above all things I should have liked to take him back to Middleham. If there was one person who should be looking after him now surely that was his mother.

Later young Edward, now Earl of Warwick, joined us. I was very interested to see Isabel's son. He was eight years old two years younger than my Edward. He brought back memories of Isabel; he did not remember his mother, so I could not speak to him of her. He had been barely three when his father had died. Poor little orphan!

I thought he might be a companion for my son, but Richard was unsure whether it would be wise to have him at Middleham. He could not forget that he was Clarence's son. The children should not be held responsible for their father's sins, I said.

Richard thought he would rather wait awhile and test the boy before he made him a close associate of our son. In the meantime young Warwick could have his own household at Sheriff Button. Richard's nephew John, the Earl of Lincoln, was in residence there; and it seemed to Richard that that would be a good home for Warwick, at least temporarily.

When we entered York we were given a tumultuous welcome. We had been accepted in London but not with the rapturous delight shown to us here.

Richard, of course, had brought peace to the north; it was up here that his worth was recognised. He belonged to the north and the northerners showed that they realised this.

The people of the town had long awaited his arrival and had been making lavish preparations for weeks. The streets were hung with banners, there were pageants at every corner and the mayor and the aldermen with noted citizens of the town, all in their colourful costumes, were waiting to proclaim their loyalty.

Richard was overcome by emotion. This greeting came from the hearts of these people and was not given in exchange for a holiday and free wine. On behalf of the citizens the mayor presented Richard with a gold cup filled with gold coins, and for me, there was a gold plate similarly filled.

I had rarely seen Richard so pleased.

"These people do not pretend." he said.

"One senses their loyalty. Their feelings come from the heart. We will stay here for a while and there is no reason why Edward's investiture should not take place in this city."

I was relieved. This meant that Edward would not have to travel another long distance for a while.

I said I thought it an excellent idea.

"We shall have to send to London for the necessary garments and whatever will be needed," I said.

That shall be done," replied Richard.

The citizens of York were delighted at the prospect. There were more days of pageants and entertainments. A banquet was given by the mayor, and players were engaged to amuse us.

The investiture itself was a grand ceremony, but for me it was fraught

with anxiety. I knew how exhausting these ceremonies could be, and I was watchful of Edward throughout. He had a wonderful spirit. I wished that I could make him see that he must not feel guilty because of his weakness. I wanted to tell him that his father loved him as dearly as I did, but he did not find it easy to show his love. It was not easy to explain that to a ten-year-old boy.

I was relieved when the ceremony was over and Edward had come through without any signs of great exhaustion. We walked from the minster, our crowns on our heads, with our son, now Prince of Wales, beside us, and the shouts of the crowd were deafening.

I wished that we could have lingered at York, but despatches were coming from London. There was a certain restiveness in the capital. What was the king doing in the north was being asked? He was not merely lord of the north now; he was King of England. Rumours started that he was so enamoured of Yorkshire that he had had a second coronation there.

"One should always take heed of the people," said Richard.

"I shall have to leave for the south. Our son should go with us."

"Richard." I said.

"Have you noticed how these ceremonies are tiring him?"

Richard nodded sadly.

"I am deeply aware of it, Anne." he said.

"Will he ever grow out of this weakness?"

"You were not very strong as a boy." I reminded him.

"And yet now you are as strong as any man."

Ts his some internal weakness?" He looked at me and, for the first time, I felt there was a hint of ... well... not exactly blame ... but was it criticism? Edward's weakness came through me. Was he implying that? Perhaps I was too sensitive. Perhaps I imagined what was not there. But I did fancy I read thoughts flashing through his mind. How could the great Warwick have produced such a weakling? Isabel had died. No one believed she had been poisoned by Ankarette Twynyho. She had died of her weakness, but although two of her children had also died, she had still been able to produce two healthy ones. I had been unable to do even that. My only child, the Prince of Wales, was a weakling. And over all these years I had shown no sign of further fertility. I was no use to him ... as a queen ... as a wife.

This was unfair, of course. Richard had always been tender and understanding ... a faithful husband. But the seed was sewn and the terrible doubt would live on in my mind. The fault was in me. I could bear only one weak child, and I was therefore unfitted to be the wife of a king. Passionately Richard longed for children ... sons. For all the venom she had aroused, Elizabeth Woodville had fulfilled her duties as a queen and had produced a healthy brood for Edward.

I was very unhappy.

Richard, sensitive to my sadness, put an arm round me.

"We will take care of him, Anne. We will restore him to health. Tis true, I was a poor thing in my youth. I did not have the right frame for all that heavy armour. I used to hide my weakness just as Edward does. He has no need to do that from us. We understand. We must make life easier for him. Yes ... when he is older, he will grow out of his weakness, even as I did."

I shook off my foreboding. I would pray as never before that I might be fertile.

"Richard," I said.

"He cannot make the journey to London."

"We should all be together. It is what the people expect."

"But after this exhaustion, he needs a long rest. He needs care. He needs freedom from strain. He needs tender nursing."

"So he must go back to Middleham?"

"Yes, Richard, and I must go with him."

"But ... you should be with me. You have just been crowned queen."

"I want to go with you, Richard."

"I think you, too, find the ceremonies exhausting."

"No ... no. I get a little tired. I think everyone does. But I am thinking of that special care which only his mother can give him."

Richard stared blankly ahead of him.

I cannot do this, I was thinking. And then: but I must. I should be with Richard, but my son needs me more.

"You think you must go with Edward then?" said Richard slowly.

"I do."

"And you could not leave him to the care of others?"

"I know I should be with you. The people will expect it. There will be rumours."

"Rumours? I shall know how to deal with rumours."

"It is hard for me. I want to be with you. I want to be all that you would wish me to be. I love you, Richard. I have since those days at Middleham, but this is our son."

"I understand," he said.

"He needs you more than I do. If you come with me you will be unhappy thinking of him."

"And if I am with him, I shall be thinking of you ... wanting to be with you."

"It is a situation in which there is no true satisfaction. Life is often like that, Anne."

"I want you to understand, Richard. My heart will be with you."

"And if you were with me it would be with Edward. I see how you feel and I think you are right. Edward has the greater need."

I went to him and put my arms about him. He kissed my hair.

"Very soon," he said, "the day after tomorrow mayhap, I must leave for London and you will go back to Middleham with our son."

Edward and I left York and I insisted that he ride in a chariot. I rode with him, for, as I said to him, I was glad to be carried. I had found the ceremonies very tiring. He looked pleased and I thought what a common trait in the human character it was to find pleasure in the fact that other people suffer from the same weaknesses as we do ourselves.

From then I would get my son to rest by complaining of my own tiredness.

With us rode Edward's cousin, young Warwick. As I watched him I wished that my Edward had his strength. Not that Warwick was all I should have looked for in a son. I was sure that my Edward had the better mind.

I think Isabel's son would have liked to come with us to Middleham, for he and I became good friends and he liked to listen to accounts of my childhood which I had spent with his mother.

How sad it was, I thought, for a child not to remember his mother and very little of his father.

So I told him how beautiful Isabel had been, how merry, how excited when she had known he was coming into the world, and his sister Margaret also. I was not sure where Margaret was at this .time. I supposed she was being brought up in some noble household and I thought what a pity it was that brother and sister had to be parted, and could not enjoy their childhood together as Isabel and I had.

I was sad when I had to leave young Warwick behind at Sheriff Button. His cousin John, Earl of Lincoln, who was the son of Richard's sister Elizabeth, Duchess of Suffolk, was in residencethere and Warwick was put in his care. We had an enjoyable stay and I was relieved to feel that Warwick would be happy there. We should be able to visit each other, I told him; and that seemed to please him. Then my son and I travelled the short distance to Middleham.

In spite of leaving Richard, I could not help a feeling of pleasure at being in the home I loved. As soon as we arrived, I took my son to his bedchamber and insisted on his retiring at once. He was very glad to do so.

I lay on his bed with him; we were contented with our arms about each other. I had made it clear that there was to be no ceremony between us. We were going to forget that I was the queen and he Prince of Wales. I was just his mother and he was my little boy.

For the next weeks I gave myself up to him entirely. I was with him all the day. I watched over his meals, and if I thought he was a little weary, I insisted on his taking them in his bedchamber. There we would eat together.

I have the greatest satisfaction in remembering that my son was happier during that time than at any other.

And what was so heartening was that his health began to improve.

If Richard could have been with us, I think I should have been completely happy. I was the best remedy Edward could have. My loving care was better than any physician.

On some days we rode together, but I would not allow him to be too long in the saddle, although sometimes he wanted to be.

All through the long golden days of September this way of life continued and at the end of each day I would thank God for the improvement in my son. I was able to assure myself that he was going to grow into a strong man.

Perhaps it was folly to believe good can last. The blow came from an unexpected quarter.

Trouble must have been fermenting for a long time before I had a hint of it. Perhaps I should have known there would be some discord. Richard had come to the throne in an unusual manner. Edward's son was still in the Tower with his brother, and the young always touch the hearts of the people. Richard was surrounded by enemies. He, more than any, knew he lacked the charismatic charm of his brother. The people forgave Edward his sins because he was so handsome and charming. Not so Richard. Richard was sober, hard-working, trying to do his duty, to lead the country into what would be best for it. But he was not handsome and he rarely smiled.

The people could not love him as they had Edward only those in the north would be faithful to him because they felt he belonged to them.

It was to be expected that the Marquis of Dorset would make trouble if he could. He was, after all, Elizabeth Woodville's son. He had tried to scheme with Hastings and Jane Shore. Hastings had lost his head and Jane Shore her possessions; but the wily marquis had lived to fight another day.

Naturally he would seize his chance. But what so shocking, so outrageous, was that his accomplice should be the Duke of Buckingham.

I could understand Richard's dismay and when I heard what had happened which was not until some time after this had taken place I reproached myself because I had not been with him.

Yet in my heart I knew I had been right to come back to Middleham to nurse my son.

What had happened seemed unbelievable when I remembered Buckingham's enthusiasm for Richard's claim to the throne. He had been the one to make the announcement and to have his men shout for Richard in the Guildhall. I remembered how he had outdone everyone else at the coronation in his magnificence his badge of the burning cartwheel displayed on the trappings of his horse, his enormous retinue which had reminded people how my father used to travel in his case displaying the Ragged Staff instead of Buckingham's Stafford Knot.

It was inexplicable. What could have happened to make him change his allegiance so suddenly?

I could only think it was some private ambition which had brought about the change. He had a flimsy claim to the throne. His mother was Margaret Beaufort, daughter of Edmund, second Duke of Somerset. Henry the Fourth had tried to exclude the descendants of John of Gaunt and Catherine Swynford from the succession, but there was a theory that this would be illegal as they had been legitimised. But, of course, if Buckingham was indeed in line to the throne, there was one who came before him and that was Henry Tudor, Earl of Richmond, whose mother was that Margaret Beaufort, daughter of John Beaufort, first Duke of Somerset. She had married Edmund Tudor and Henry was her only son. She was now married to Lord Stanley, for Edmund Tudor had died at an early age and Henry Tudor had been brought up by his uncle Jasper Tudor, and he was the son of Henry the Fifth's widow, Katharine, and Owen Tudor.

Lady Stanley was a forceful and formidable lady, harbouring high ambitions for her son Henry who was at present in exile in Brittany, no doubt very closely watching events in England.

Buckingham's defection may be traced to an accidental meeting with Lady Stanley when he was travelling between Worcester and Bridgnorth. Buckingham was most impulsive and reckless; the only man I ever knew to rival him in that way was Clarence. They were both feckless and ready to act without giving very much thought as to what the consequence of that action might be. I felt sure this was what had happened to Buckingham.

He was faintly disgruntled because he had not yet received the Bohun estates which Richard had promised should be his, and consequently he was ready to listen to Lady Stanley.

Moreover, he had been on very good terms with Morton who was his so-called prisoner in his castle. The bishop was a shrewd and clever man who would know how to handle Buckingham. Morton was a Lancastrian who would be delighted to see the red rose flourishing again. Richard had completely misunderstood the characters of both Buckingham and Morton, and it had been a great mistake to put them together. They were schemers, both of them, but whereas Morton was firm in his support of the Lancastrians, Buckingham would sway this way and that according to his feelings at the moment. And at this time he was veering away from Richard; and between them, Buckingham and Morton hatched a plot.

It would be desirable, they decided, to see the Houses of York and Lancaster united. This could be done by the marriage of Henry Tudor to Elizabeth of York, King Edward's eldest daughter. Dorset would be willing to work for such an end because it would bring the Woodvilles back into prominence; and it would rid them of the man who stood in their way: Richard the Third.

They had invited Henry Tudor to come to England with what forces he could muster; and the uprising was planned for the eighteenth of October; and when Buckingham raised his standard at Brecknock, it was inevitable that Richard should get news of the intended attack.

Richard was at his best in such a situation. He quickly marshalled his forces. Luck was with him. There had been heavy rains on the Welsh borders and the Severn and the Wye were in full flood and impassable. Buckingham could not join his allies who were to arrive in a fleet provided by the Duke of Brittany.

Thankfully, the entire mission was ill-fated. A storm dispersed the fifteen ships so that Henry Tudor, with Dorset, was unable to land, and could do nothing but return to Brittany.

Buckingham's attempt to replace Richard had failed.

Richard was incensed. His own motto was "Loyaulte me Lie" and he had adhered to it throughout his life. There was nothing he hated more than disloyalty.

He denounced Buckingham as 'the most untrue man living' and a price of one thousand pounds was put on his head, and when he fell into Richard's hands there would be no mercy. Richard would remember Hastings another one-time friend turned traitor and he had lost his head the very day he was denounced.

I wondered how Buckingham had felt he, the flamboyant nobleman who regarded himself as of royal descent a fugitive fleeing for his life.

He went northwards to Shropshire and made his way to one of his old retainers, a certain Ralph Bannister, who helped him and set him up in a hut in the woods surrounding his house at Lacon.

Poor foolish Buckingham! He learned that there were others beside himself ready to betray for the sake of gain. The reward of one thousand pounds was irresistible to Bannister; and one morning Buckingham awoke to find himself surrounded by guards.

They took him to Salisbury on a charge of treason. Buckingham was ever hopeful. He begged for an audience with the king. There was so much he could explain, he declared, if only he had the chance to do so.

Richard was adamant. Buckingham had betrayed him. There was no friendship left between them.The penalty for treason was death and proud Buckingham who had possessed great wealth, known greater power, who had dreamed wild dreams, lost his head ignobly in the market place.

My thoughts during that time were mostly with Richard. I felt that I should be with my son. My son's health was somewhat improved but not sufficiently for him to undertake a long journey. I did not want him to be submitted to the rigours of court life. While he was at Middleham in the keen fresh air, living a comparatively simple life, I believed his health would improve.

Richard wrote urging me to join him.

I tried to explain to Edward. I told him that I would be back soon and if he. did everything he was told and did not overtire himself, and took the nourishing food which was prepared for him, he would soon be well enough to join his father and me. In any circumstances we should see each other soon.

And so I joined Richard.

My husband was so pleased to see me that I knew I had been right to come. I guessed that the defection of Buckingham was still very much on his mind.

"There is no one I can talk to as I do to you, Anne," he said.

"I know not whom else I can trust."

"I would not have believed this of Buckingham." I replied.

"I should have been more watchful of him. He was never stable. Sometimes I wonder I looked at him questioningly as he paused.

But he went on: "He was the one who was so insistent that I take the throne. He believed Stillington absolutely ... then to turn like that! And to Henry Tudor!"

"I have heard but little of this Henry Tudor."

"An upstart who thinks he has a claim to the throne."

"But how could he?"

"You know these Beauforts. They are so ambitious and strong. They are a bastard branch of the family and should never have been recognised as anything else. Their forebears were born before John of Gaunt married Catherine Swynford. But because they were legitimised ... well, it has given them ideas of their importance. Buckingham had these because his mother was one of them. And now Henry Tudor is another. He thinks he has a claim through Katharine, the French princess who married Henry the Fifth when he conquered so much of France."

"He is in Brittany now?"

"Yes, sheltered and aided by Duke Francis of that place. I have my enemies, Anne."

"And you have those who love you."

"I have you and Edward, that is true. Anne, what of the boy?"

I said: "He is a little better."

"And what thought he when I wanted you to be here with me?"

"He understood. I have promised him that when he grows a little stronger he shall be with us both."

"Ah, if only that could be! The people need to see him. They like to know their future king."

"That is for years and years ahead."

"It is for God to decide. But the people would like to see him."

"I fear his health would not allow him to come this time."

"Then we must pray that it soon will be. How goes Warwick at Sheriff Button?"

"Well, I believe. He rides and exercises well. Learning does not come easily to him." That is a pity."

"He is a pleasant, good-natured boy. It is just that he does not think quickly and is slow at his lessons. He cannot read yet. Edward is so different."

"Oh yes, our son lacks nothing in the head. If he could but combine the physique of young Warwick and his own learning, what a boy we should have!"

"We have the most wonderful boy in the world, and I am going to nurse him back to health. In years to come you and I,are going to laugh at our fears."

"I pray you will be proved right." he said fervently. I forced myself to believe it and gave my attention to Richard. I learned how deeply wounded he had been by Buckingham's disloyalty. The hurt was far greater then I had at first realised.

"Why, Anne?" he said to me on one occasion.

"He has even set in motion evil rumours about me."

"People listen to rumours but do they really believe them?"

"Rumour is pernicious." said Richard.

"People absorb the slanderous words and then in time some of them accept them as truth. Buckingham would have made me out a monster ... a man of no loyalty or principles, with no right to the throne of England."

"But it was he who pressed you to take it!""He could not say that I had arranged for Stillington to betray the truth, though I am sure he would have liked to."

"He would have Stillington to contend with."

"No doubt that was what made him refrain. But he has set about one very unpleasant rumour ... a very disturbing one."

"What is it?"

"I hardly like to mention it. He says I have caused the princes -Edward and Richard to be murdered in the Tower."

"Edward's sons! Your own nephews! People would never believe that."

"There are some who will believe anything, particularly if it is evil."

"But the princes have been seen shooting at the butts on the Tower Green ... so how can they be dead? People only have to see them to know that rumour is false."

"Yes, but I think they should not appear too much in public from now on. When a man such as Buckingham turns traitor, it sets an example for others to do the same."

"An example! To have their heads chopped off in the nearest market place?"

"I mean to revolt. People always think they will succeed where others have failed. Storms could easily blow up about those boys in the present atmosphere. The last thing I wish for is more trouble on that score. There is already enough. Buckingham's insurrection has been a shock to the nation. The country needs to settle to a sense of security. Buckingham must be forgotten along with scandalous rumours. I have planned to go on a progress through the country. I want to see the people, to talk to them. You must come with me, Anne. I cannot express how much it pleases me to have you with me."

I had to quell my anxieties regarding my son, and I gave myself up entirely to Richard's needs.

The winter was over and March had come. It was time for us to set out. Richard wanted to make sure of loyal support from all over the country in case, with the coming of spring, Henry Tudor should attempt another invasion.

We travelled through towns and villages and finally came to Cambridge where we intended to stay for a few days.

Richard was very interested in the university and for some time had been bestowing grants on it, with various gifts. We were received with great warmth. Richard was happier in such an atmosphere and so was I. For those few days I found peace in the cloisters, and I enjoyed listening to the discourse between the king and and the ecclesiastics.

I was really sad when we left and made our way to Nottingham.

I shall never forget Nottingham Castle. Little did I guess, as we approached it, that I should encounter such tragedy within its walls. Set in an almost perpendicular rock, it looked impregnable. I studied the intricate stone work on the north side with particular interest because it had been started by King Edward and finished by Richard, for Edward had died before its completion.

There were a great many ghosts in Nottingham Castle, for so many people in the past had suffered there. Edward the Second's queen had come here with her paramour Mortimer; I had heard that she slept with the keys of the locked fortress under her pillow every night so she must have been in a perpetual state of apprehension. King Henry the Second, King Richard the First... they had all been here.

It was the middle of April a bright sunny day with a promise of spring in the air. There was no spring for us. It was the end of hope.

It was late morning when the messenger arrived from Middleham. Eagerly Richard and I received him, but when we saw his face, a terrible fear took hold of us.

I heard Richard's whisper: "It is ... the Prince of Wales ..."

The man did not speak for a moment; he was afraid as all messengers are when they carry ill ridings.

"Tell me." said Richard harshly.

Why would not the man speak? Why did he hold us in suspense? Half of me was urging him to speak, the other half begging him not to. I knew what he had to tell us before he spoke. It was what I had been dreading for months.

The prince is dead, your Grace."

I heard the cry of anguish which Richard could not suppress. I went to him and took his hand.

We just stood there, stunned by the news which we had feared so long.

Richard waved his hand to dismiss the messenger. He could not bear the sight of him. Later we would hear how our son had died. We did not need to know now. We could see it clearly, as though we had been present. We had feared so much ... lived with the fear so long; we had waited with such great anxiety for messengers, terrified of what news they would bring. And now it had come.

Few children can have been mourned so deeply as our little son. It was more than the death of a child; it was the death of hope; it was the end of a way of life; for me it was the beginning of those fears which came to mock me in the night.

Richard and I were very close to each other during the days that followed.

His continual cry was: "Why should this happen to me? Edward had many children and what sort of life did he live? He was never faithful to his wife; he had countless mistresses; he pandered to the flesh ... and yet, he left two sons and many daughters. Is this a punishment from heaven?" He turned to me in horror.

"Was Stillington's story true? Am I robbed of my son because I robbed Edward's of his crown?"

I tried to comfort him. He had never done aught than what he considered to be right, I reminded him. Edward's sons were illegitimate. They had no right to the throne.

"I cannot rid myself of this fearful guilt," said Richard.

"Edward was our son. He was more than our son ... he was our pledge to the people that there would be a ruler to follow me. I should have taught him wisdom, Anne. He was a good boy. He would have been a good man. He was bright. Think of young Warwick. There he is ... healthy ... sporting at Sheriff Button, while our Edward ... What does it mean, Anne? You and I are cursed?"

I said: "Perhaps there will be another."

I did not believe it. If I could not conceive when I was younger, and in a better state of health, why should I now?

The sound of his bitter laugh hurt me and the memory of it stayed with me.

No, there would be no more. The only son I had been able to give him was a puny boy who, with a struggle, had lived for eleven years.

I was no use as a king's wife. I was thirty years of age and barren ... and kings needed sons.

We mourned together, but something had happened. Perhaps it was in my mind. But I could not but be aware of Richard's disappointment.

"Let us leave Nottingham," he said.

"I never want to see the place again. Every time I see it I shall remember that messenger who came here on the most dismal of all days, with the most tragic news which could befall us. I hate Nottingham. This I shall call the castle of my care." Richard seemed withdrawn and I felt we were no longer as close as we had been before.

He was busy all the time. Summer was coming and affairs of state demanded attention. They did not stand still because the king and queen had suffered the greatest tragedy of their lives.

Richard knew he had put the country into a state of defence. The perpetual bickering with the Scots usually began in the summer but the English lords of the north who had their property to protect would doubtless keep them in order.

The great concern was Henry Tudor. What was he planning in Brittany? He had made one attempt, but by the Grace of God had been prevented from landing by a storm. Could the same good luck be expected if he were to attempt another landing?

There was a great deal to occupy Richard. I did not suggest returning to Middleham. That could only be a place of mourning for me now.

All peace had gone from my life. I could not believe in anything now not even in Richard's love. A canker had entered my mind and all I looked upon seemed tainted.

I saw myself, no longer young, weak, useless a barren queen. I fancied Richard had changed towards me. If he had loved me once he now looked at me through different eyes. I was no longer the woman at his side to help him, to comfort him. I was a burden.

He had chosen unwisely. I had been Warwick's daughter and, with my sister Isabel, the richest heiress in the kingdom. We had been fond of each other in childhood, it was true, and our marriage had been acceptable to him for what it brought. I had dreamed of a great love. But did true love drift away when disaster struck? There were times when I knew I was being foolish. The death of our son could not have changed Richard's feelings towards me. Was I responsible for it? Could I be blamed because I could not get a healthy child?

I tried to reason with myself. Richard is a king. He needs heirs. He has to think ahead. Above all things he needs a son to train, to lead, to teach how to take over the government by the time he, Richard, grows old or meets his death. Richard desperately needs a son.

I could not talk to him of the fears in my heart. There were many times when I did not believe in them myself. Richard had never been a man to show his emotions. I used to tell myself it was because they went so deep. They were not superficial as his brothers Edward's and George's had been. Both of them had known how to find the words which pleased, but they lacked sincerity.

So there was I, torn by doubts, entertaining all kinds of pernicious suspicions because I had considered myself and found myself wanting.

Richard was making a show of throwing off his grief but I, who knew him so well, could detect the abject misery in his eyes.

He said to me one day: "Katharine is of an age to be married."

Katharine, with her brother John, was still at Middleham, and Katharine must be about sixteen years old.

"I should like to see her settled," went on Richard.

"John, too, though perhaps he is a little young yet."

"Whom have you in mind for Katharine?" I asked.

"William Herbert, the Earl of Huntingdon."

"That seems very suitable."

"As for John, I should like Calais for him."

"Captain of Calais! That would be a very important post."

"He is my son," he said, I fancied, coolly.

And I thought, your son indeed a strong, healthy boy. My state of mind was such that I imagined what he must be thinking. I can get a healthy son by another woman, but not by my queen.

I heard myself say: "He is young for Calais."

"I thought perhaps next year. I need those I can rely on, and I can do that with my own son. But to begin with ... Katharine's marriage. I think the time is ripe for that."

Katharine joined us. She was a bright and pretty girl, very excited at the prospect of marriage and, of course, the Herberts were delighted by a union with the king even though there was illegitimacy, it was still a royal marriage; and the king would look after his own daughter.

So Richard's daughter was married and I noticed that when his eyes rested on her they were filled with pride ... and something else, I wondered? Was it resentment? Why should he be able to get healthy children by another woman when his queen failed him? It was becoming an obsession with me. I looked for it on every occasion. One day he said to me: "I have been thinking of naming Warwick as heir to the throne."

"Warwick... but...?"

"We must face the truth, Anne. You and I will never have a child now. It is too late and I would fear for you. But there must be an heir."

"Richard, you are young yet. Pray do not talk of such need for an heir."

"A king's life is often a short one."

"As all our lives may be." I was thinking of Hastings and Buckingham, and I believe he was too.

"Warwick's father was tainted with treason. Would that not exclude him?"

"It could be dealt with. He is the next in line."

"Richard, Warwick is not fit to rule. He is weak-minded. It would be like Henry the Sixth all over again."

Richard was thoughtful.

"There is my sister Elizabeth's son, the Earl of Lincoln I looked at him with sorrow and he went on gently: "These matters have to be considered. Sometimes they can be painful. One thinks of what might have been He turned away and soon after that he left me.

I went to my chamber and shut myself in.

If only I could bear a son! If only I could be strong! Would Richard love me then? There were too many ifs and if love must depend on such things, is it love?

Had he ever truly loved me?

I tried to pray. I tried to ask God and the Holy Virgin to help England and me. But how can one pray for something which, in one's heart, one knows one can never have?

There was a certain amount of talk at this time about the possibility of Henry Tudor's making an attempt to depose Richard and to set himself up as king in his place. His supporters had put forth a proposition which could be attractive to the people.

The Wars of the Roses had appeared to come to an end when Henry died murdered, most likely and when Margaret of Anjou had been driven out of the country and Edward had come so triumphantly back to the throne. But there could be a recurrence of the troubles, and the idea of uniting the House of York with that of Lancaster seemed a good one, since it could mean that the rivalry between the houses could be ended forever. If Henry Tudor, a Lancastrian, were married to Elizabeth of York, this could be achieved.

At this time Elizabeth Woodville, with her daughters, was still living in sanctuary, which must have been very different from the grandeur which she had maintained about her in the past.

This suggestion of a marriage for her daughter had changed people's attitudes towards her. Richard was worried. Elizabeth Woodville was notoriously ambitious, and if she thought there was a possibility of her daughter marrying a king, she would soon be scheming.

"She may be helpless at this time," said Richard, "but a woman who could force a king to marry her and holds her position through so many years must be watched."

He discussed the matter with the men whom he trusted. Ratcliffe, Catesby and Francis Lovell were deep in his confidence. He regarded them as his true friends and he took counsel with them often.

The result of this was that he promised Elizabeth Woodville that if she would leave sanctuary with her daughters, they should all be perfectly safe and nothing held against them; they should be under his protection; he would see that good marriages were arranged for them and they should each receive property to the value of two hundred marks.

When Richard took a solemn oath before the Lords Temporal and Spiritual, as well as the Lord Mayor of London, and the aldermen, that he would honour this promise, Elizabeth could not doubt his good faith.

From Richard's point of view it was a wise move. Elizabeth Woodville had no loyalties except to her own family and for them she would fight with all her strength. She must be asking herself how long her daughters would have to remain in sanctuary; good marriages were necessary for them before they were too old; and if she could ingratiate herself with the reigning king, why bother to put another in his place?

Not since our son's death had I seen Richard look so amused. I understood the reason why.

"My spies tell me that Elizabeth Woodville has shifted her allegiance. She is breaking off her connections with the Tudor and is urging Dorset to return and try to seek favour here. Do you see what a good move it was to bring them out of sanctuary?"

Attention was focussed on the eldest daughter, Elizabeth. This was naturally so, for she was really at the heart of the matter.

She was invited to come to court an invitation she accepted with alacrity.

Richard said it was an excellent move. I was not sure, for the moment I set eyes on Elizabeth York, my misgivings increased.

She was tall; she had long fair hair, blue eyes and a dazzlingly fair skin; she was very beautiful which was to be expected with such a mother and handsome father. Without doubt she was Edward's daughter. She had charm as well as beauty. She moved with grace and glowed with health and vitality. It was to be expected that she should immediately become a popular figure in the court.

She was very solicitous of me, very deferential. I guessed she had been primed by her mother to be gracious to the king, to charm him, as she would know very well how to do.

The situation had changed. The Woodvilles were back and this time as our friends.

As soon as Elizabeth came to court I seemed to grow more tired, more feeble. I was more conscious of my infirmities and my cough troubled me at awkward moments. But perhaps that was due to the comparison between myself and Elizabeth.

I found I was thinking of her constantly. I would watch her in the courtyard, coming in from a ride flushed and beautiful, surrounded by admirers. In the dance she attracted the attention of all: she dressed with splendour but good taste. She was so clearly delighted to have stepped out of dull seclusion and was determined to enjoy her new surroundings.

People cheered her in the streets. She reminded them of her magnificent father.

When he ruled, said the people, those were merry days. There was no fear of invasion then, no fear of war when we had a good laughing king on the throne and an heir to follow.

Then the whispering started. Was the king thinking of marrying Elizabeth of York? The queen surely had not long to live by the look of her. And what chance was there of an heir from her? But Elizabeth was his niece. Was that allowed? A dispensation from the pope perhaps, but even so. His niece! Popes could be very obliging if approached in the right manner. Think of it. An heir! That was what was wanted. Then we should have a king to follow. Richard was not old. He had many years left. But he must get an heir.

Elizabeth would have fine strong children. Think of her mother and who her father was.

Did I imagine the rumours? Perhaps I exaggerated, but they were there.

My senses had become alert. I fancied I heard scraps of gossip. I saw the watchful eyes. I saw Elizabeth smiling at Richard and I knew he must think her charming. Who could help that? Perhaps she reminded him of Edward whom he had loved so dearly more than anyone, I now believed. And Elizabeth brought out all her charms for him. Was he not the king? And she would have been instructed by her mother.

But would Elizabeth Woodville want her daughter to marry her uncle? I believed she would find anything acceptable for the sake of a crown.

It is strange how an insidious whisper, a hasty glance, a gesture even can plant suspicions in the mind.

Richard was watched. Elizabeth was watched. And so was I. We were the main characters in the drama which was being built up around us. I was the wife who had become a burden the wife who must die before the happy conclusion could be reached.

Christmas had come. It was eight months since I had heard of my son's death, but the sorrow was still as great as ever. Richard tried to comfort me, but inwardly I shrank from him. He could not hide from me his terrible preoccupation with the succession. I think it was as great a concern for him as the threat from the Tudor.

London was merry because it was Christmas. The shops glittered with their merchandise and people crowded the streets. It was the season of good will.

Richard must hide his anxieties and therefore Christmas should be celebrated with merriment and good cheer. I think he tried to make it as it had been in his brother's day. That was not possible, for all the show of splendour, but I knew the laughter did not go very deep.

On Christmas Day I dressed myself with great care and had a magnificent gown for the occasion. It was made of damask and cloth of gold set with pearls. I was telling myself I must set aside my sense of foreboding. Richard was most tender to me, always so solicitous. I must cast off these terrible suspicions. They had been brought about by the whispering of evil people and had no roots in reality.

I thought I looked a little better. There was a faint colour in my cheeks. This night, I promised myself, I would assume merriment; I would try to believe that I might yet recover and give birth to a beautiful baby boy.

So, in moderately high spirits, I went down to the great hall where Richard was waiting for me. I thought he looked pleased because of my improved appearance.

In fact he said: "You look a little better, Anne."

I smiled and he smiled at me; and together we went into the hall.

There was the usual ceremonious greeting for the king and queen. Richard took my hand and led me to the table on the dais.

And then I saw her. I was startled and then deeply shocked. Elizabeth of York was wearing a dress which was an exact replica of my own. We gazed at each other; she seemed as astonished and embarrassed as I was. I gave her my hand and she kissed it. Then she raised her eyes to mine.

I said: "You are wearing my dress and I yours."

"Your Grace ... I do not know how it happened. I had no idea. May I say how well it becomes your Grace?" I said: "It becomes you, too, my lady Elizabeth."

Then I moved away. In my present state of mind the demons were back to torment me.

It was deliberate. Someone had planned this. It was a cruel joke. There are two queens, it implied. The one who is on the way out and the one who is about to enter.

Later I said to Richard: "Did you notice the dress Elizabeth was wearing?"

He looked blank.

"What of her dress?"

"It was exactly the same as mine."

He did not seemed to think it was of any great moment. But how did I know what was going on his mind?

After that Christmas my health declined further. The winter was a hard time for me. My cough persisted. Richard was showing signs of strain.

Nothing was going right. There was the continual threat of invasion. People remembered the last reign with regret. There were evil rumours in the air. Someone had pinned a paper on the walls of St. Paul's with the inscription:

"The Rat, the Cat, and Lovell our dog Rule all England under a hog."

It was a reference to Catesby, Ratcliffe and Francis Lovell - Lovell being a name much used for dogs; those three were Richard's closest advisers. The Hog was, of course, Richard himself, his emblem being the sign of the Boar.

It was not merely a couplet; it was an expression of the people's growing dissatisfaction and dislike.

Soon it was being sung in the streets. I was sighing more than ever for the old days of Middleham. There had been little happiness for either of us since Richard had taken the crown. How I wished the Bishop of Bath and Wells had never made his revelation. How I wished that the young Edward the Fifth were king of the realm.

There was a continual watch for ships about the coasts, for now an invasion seemed inevitable. On the continent, Henry Tudor was preparing to take from Richard that which had brought him not a vestige of happiness.

There was a burning need for an heir. I would have given Richard everything I had. How ironical that I could not give him what he wanted most.

I was living too long. If I were not here, I reminded myself, he could marry again. He could beget a son and then there would be new hope in the country.

I was taking too long to die. There was a new rumour now. There was nothing too evil they would not say against Richard.

I knew it, by the glances at my food, much of which I took in my chamber, feeling too weak to eat in public. I could see that was in the minds of my women. Snatches of a sentence spoken in a sibilant whisper would reach my ears.

The king was tired of his sick, infertile wife. She was a burden to him, and he could not afford to carry burdens. His own safety was too precariously balanced. He was having her food laced with poison, the quicker to remove her.

It was three months since that Christmas when Elizabeth of York had appeared in a dress exactly like the one I was wearing, showing how different we were dressed alike, to make the contrast more remarkable. She so sparkling, nubile, gleaming with health beside this poor sad creature, thin, pale and ailing.

Someone had prophesied my death and the people in the streets were saying I was already dead.

I discovered this when one of the serving women came upon me suddenly and almost swooned. She cried out: "I have seen the ghost of the queen! Poor lady, she has come back to haunt us. Small wonder ..."

It was disconcerting. I felt I had been buried before I was dead. Killed ... by the poison administered at my husband's command!

I sat in my chair, my hair unbound, a loose robe about me, shocked and bewildered. Richard found me thus.

I said to him: "Why am I so weak? Do you know why, Richard? What have I done to deserve death?"

He took my face in his hands and kissed me.

"Why do you talk thus?" he asked.

"Anne ... my Anne ... you deserve to live and you shall." I shook my head.

"No," is said.

"My time is near. I feel it close. I am sorry I have been so weak."

"Do not talk so, dear Anne," he said.

"You have been so dear to me. You have brought me such comfort in all my adversities. Remember how you pitied me when we were at Middleham? I was so tired ... and you kept my secret." That is long ago, Richard."

"Be of good cheer, Anne. You have no cause to be other." For a moment I believed him and I was ashamed that, even for a short while, I had allowed myself to harbour thoughts against him.

But in the night those doubts came back. He was so kind, so gentle with me. Then why did I have those dark thoughts? Why did I let myself doubt him? He could never marry his niece. He wanted me to stay with him, to comfort him, as I always had.

It was March and with March comes the promise of spring.-But I shall not see that spring.

They say it is an eclipse of the sun. It is significant. Darkness descends on the earth but the earth will be bright again. But there will be no brightness for me. There is darkness all about me. There is so much I shall never see, so much I shall never know.