The Reluctant Queen

Isabel's Wedding

The shadows deepened. My mother was constantly apprehensive of what would happen next; and I shared her feelings.

Isabel was living in a world of dreams, I believed. George was often with her. They would talk, laugh, ride together and plan for the future. I did wonder whether George was in love with her or her fortune and what my father could do for him.

It sobered me a little to remember that I, too, was a great heiress. Our father must be the richest man in the country and to whom could he leave his wealth but to his two daughters? Yet Richard did not seek me in spite of my fortune. He was above all loyal to the king.

There came an alarming day when guards arrived at the castle. There was shocked tension throughout the place when we heard they had come to conduct my father to the king. Certain charges had been made against him and he must answer them.

My father was furious. This was the greatest insult. He demanded to know what the charges were.

He was told that, when the army was storming one of the Lancastrian castles, a man had been captured and, probably under threat, had declared that my father was scheming to bring Henry back to the throne after he had deposed Edward.

At this time this was an absurd accusation, for although my father had decided to withdraw his support from Edward, he had no intention of restoring Henry, for if he did there would be Margaret of Anjou to contend with, and she would be more difficult to handle than Edward could ever be.

I realised then that at the back of his mind was an idea of replacing Edward with George, Duke of Clarence who, by that time, would be his son-in-law.

However, that plan was in its early stages and my father wasincensed that he should be accused of something of which he was not guilty.

It amazes me, looking back, how easy-going Edward was and always had been. I suppose he could have arrested my father, but, in view of my father's power particularly in the north that could have meant the starting of a civil war; but Edward was forever placatory.

When my father refused to leave, the king sent back a messenger this time. Would the Earl of Warwick be kind enough to confront his accuser, just to show those who might be ignorant enough to believe there might be truth in the rumours, that they were utterly false?

When this request was made my father graciously acceded to it. He saw his accuser, completely confounded him, and outwardly it now seemed that he and Edward were on better terms.

This was emphasised when my father agreed to accompany the king's sister Margaret to Burgundy where she was to marry Charles who, on the death of his father, had become the Duke of Burgundy.

We heard about that ceremonious journey. The people of London cheered the procession rapturously, for my father was at the head of it and they thought this implied peace between him and the king.

I think my mother was hopeful of complete reconciliation. She understood far more than we could what a rift between our father and the king could mean; she had seen enough war in her lifetime and I knew she prayed each night that that would not come back.

Alas for her prayers!

Our father returned from the journey with plans in his mind.

I heard, from our mother, about Margaret's wedding and I knew that, though our father made a show of affability, he was far from pleased.

He was in favour of friendship with France and for him to be on terms of amity with Louis' enemy Charles of Burgundy would certainly not please the King of France; and if he decided to depose Edward, help from France would be very necessary.

We listened avidly to our mother's account of the wedding festivities, gleaned from our father, of course. How the feasting had lasted for days. But what interested us most was the account of the great fire in a castle near Bruges when the new duchess and her husband were almost burned to death in their bridal bed. It must have been caused by some enemy who was not discovered.

My mother said: "How thankful I am that your father was not involved in the fire."

But there were other matters in which he was involved.

Clarence came to Middleham, which delighted Isabel although she was a little petulant because he spent so much time with our father. And while he was there we had another visitor: our Uncle George. Isabel was truly in a state of bliss. She was soon telling me why. She could never keep news to herself, although I believe she had been sworn to secrecy.

"Uncle George has the dispensation from Rome," she told me.

"There is now no longer any reason why we should not be married."

"Only that you haven't the king's consent," I reminded her.

Isabel snapped her fingers a gesture learned from George. She looked smug.

"What do we care about that?" she replied.

She was smiling secretly. I wondered what that meant.

We were to prepare to leave. We were going to Calais. My father, who was Captain of Calais, wanted to test the defences there. It was a perfectly legitimate reason. Why should he not take his family with him? A man liked to have his family about him and there were so many occasions when it was necessary to leave them.

Uncle George accompanied us, which was significant.

We were excited at the prospect of going on such a journey, but all of us were dreading the sea crossing.

We came south, attracting as little attention as possible, and stayed at various castles on the way with friends of my father, of course. He and the men always shut themselves away and talked with great seriousness.

In due course we crossed the Channel, which to our relief was less turbulent than it might have been, and we arrived not too battered at Calais. I had been there before, when I was very young, and what I remembered most from those days was the lighthouse, Tour de Guet, which I saw as we approached the land.

There was a welcome for us at Calais. My father, as captain of the place, was no stranger to the people, for although it was wellfortified for it was known as the Gateway to the Continent and was of the utmost importance to England the people were a little uneasy as to what would happen to them if the French decided to invade. Sieges were some of the most distressing aspects of war: so the fact that that he mighty Earl of Warwick had arrived to check the defences reassured them.

We were lodged in the castle and the first matter to demand everyone's attention was the wedding of Isabel to the Duke of Clarence.

A .thread of misgiving ran through all these preparations. Young as I was, I was aware of it. I thought a great deal about Richard during those days and memories of our friendship saddened me. I knew that the difference between the king and my father were growing more serious with the passing of every week. I would have to be on my father's side and Richard on that of Edward. So we would be enemies. Such situations do arise between friends in the event of civil war.

I tried to share in Isabel's excitement. This was her wedding and she was marrying the man she loved which was rare for girls in our position so it was really a matter for rejoicing in many ways. But there were sinister undertones and Isabel, in her exuberance, threw a little light on what was in my father's mind.

She chattered a great deal about her wedding dress and the entertainments which would follow the ceremony.

"As soon as it has been performed." she said, "I shall Duchess of Clarence ... wife of the king's brother!"

"I do hope it will be all right, Isabel," I said.

"Of course it will be all right."

"You had to come a long way to get married." She laughed.

"It was a great adventure, was it not? I'll tell you something. I shall be more than the wife of the king's brother."

"How can you be?"

She smiled at me, then pursed her lips as though she were holding in a secret. I feigned indifference which I knew from experience was the quickest way to get her to tell me.

"I could be Queen of England."

"And I could be the Angel Gabriel."

"Don't blaspheme!" she said severely, which amused me, coming from her.

I be the I still pretended not to be particularly interested and she burst out: "It could seem that Edward is not the rightful king after all."

"What do you mean? He is the eldest son of the Duke of York and York's claim to the throne is ..."

"I know, I know. That's what people think." She came close to me and whispered: "Some are saying that Edward is not the legitimate son of the Duke of York."

"But his mother is ... the Duchess ..."

"Women do not always give birth to their husband's children."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, they are saying that the duke was away fighting and so the duchess had ... friends. Well, one of these was Edward's father."

I gasped in disbelief.

"It cannot be," I stammered.

"What do you mean: it cannot be! What do you know about it? It can be ... and it is," The Duchess of York. She ... she's quite regal. They call her Proud Cis because her name is Cecily. She is our father's aunt."

"What has that to do with it? I tell you it is so, Edward is not the duke's son. Therefore he has no claim to the throne ... and George is the real king."

"What does our father say?"

"He thinks George should be king."

I stared at her. I simply did not believe this. It was some story George had invented in the hope of putting himself on the throne.

"How can you be sure?" I demanded.

"Proud Cis herself said so."

"When...?"

"When Edward married the Woodville woman. She was so angry because he had demeaned himself. Then she said: "It does not surprise me. You are not king. You were not the son of your father."

"Why haven't we heard this before?"

"Because it was hushed up."

"Then why bring it up now?"

"Well, these things come out. You cannot be sure when."

"It's absolute nonsense. No one will believe that of the Duchess of York."

"Of course they'll believe it. The duke was often away fighting somewhere. You don't understand these things. Older people will."

"I do not think anyone will believe it except those who want to." I felt very shaken. I knew it was a conspiracy and my father was involved in it.

A few days later my Uncle George, Archbishop of York, performed the ceremony of marriage and my sister Isabel became the Duchess of Clarence.

My mother was growing increasingly alarmed. I wished she would talk to me. Isabel was a blissful bride; and as for Clarence, he gave himself such airs that he might have been already the king. I began to dislike him more and more. He was handsome, it was true, and had a certain ease of manner. He had charm like his brother Edward, but there was something good about Edward. He might be self-indulgent, sexually insatiable as they said, but there was an innate kindness of which I detected no trace in Clarence. Richard was entirely different from either of them. But then he was unique. There was no one like Richard.

The situation was growing dangerous. An attempt to depose a king and set another up in his place would surely mean civil war. There was already one in progress between the Houses of York and Lancaster, and although there were intermittent periods of peace, the conflict rose from time to time and was always hovering over the country. But this would be a new situation. My father was hesitating. He was too wily to plunge headlong into that which I was sure Clarence was longing for. He was obsessed by the notion of snatching his brother's crown and placing it on his own jaunty head. Did my father think that he would be able to guide Clarence? The king's marriage had shown him that he could no longer control Edward. But would Clarence prove any easier?

I tried to talk to my mother about it. I felt so much in the dark.

I said to her one day: "Does the king know that his brother has married Isabel?"

"I believe he must know by now."

"My lady, what will he do... what will he say?"

"I wish I knew."

"Shall we go back?"

"We must wait and see."

"And will the king be very angry with my father?"

"Your father has been very angry with the king for some time."

"Will they ... go to war against each other?"

"I hope not ... I pray not." She set aside her dignity then and drew me against her, holding me tightly.

"I do not know what will become of us, my child," she said.

There was disquieting news from England where there was trouble in the north. It was known that there was increasing discord between the king and the Earl of Warwick. The north was for Warwick and there were always people spoiling for a fight.

I have often wondered why men are so eager to go to war which frequently results in hardship and misery to so many. Can it be because their lives are so dull and war provided excitement? And for the rough soldiery there is, of course, the prospect of looting and gain.

However, there were some men in the north who could not wait and, no doubt believing that they would have the support of the Earl of Warwick, decided to start without him. First there was Robin of Holderness. That was not his real name but leaders of risings were apt to call themselves Robin. It was derived from Robin Hood and there was the implication that the object was to take from the rich to help the poor. So as this rebel came from Holderness, he was called Robin of that place.

Ironically enough, the revolt was suppressed by my uncle John, Earl of Northumberland who had from the beginning been firm in his support of the king. Poor Robin of Holderness paid for his impatience and folly by being deprived of his head.

But no sooner was this Robin despatched than another and more important one arose. This was Robin of Redesdale. At first we were unsure of his identity. His object in rising was said to be a protest against heavy taxation and the power of the Woodvilles who were intent on gaining wealth and power for themselves rather than doing good for the country.

It seemed from what we heard that Edward was not very concerned about these risings. The country had had only short periods of peace during his reign and he had always shown himself capable of dealing with these disturbances.

He had set out for the north in a rather leisurely manner and was convinced that Robin of Redesdale would soon go the way of that other Robin.Then came a piece of disconcerting news. The identity of Robin of Redesdale was revealed and it was none other than Sir John Conyers, and the Conyers family were a branch though only a minor one of the House of Neville.

This was a revelation which must have sent a shock through the country. My father was unprepared for it; but he made a quick decision. He must return to England.

With my mother and Isabel I went to Warwick Castle while my father with his followers rode to London, accompanied by the Duke of Clarence.

We were bewildered. We did not know what was happening. Isabel was most distressed: she complained that she had been torn from her husband so soon after they were married and she could not understand why this had been necessary.

None of us knew what it meant, but we did hear that the people had given our father and the Duke of Clarence a warm welcome. They believed that they had returned to England because there was trouble in the north, and between the Earl of Warwick and the king, the trouble would soon be dealt with. It was quite clear that they had no notion at this stage that there was such deep-rooted trouble between Edward and my father.

However, we were concerned with settling in and it was not very long after we returned when Isabel announced that she was pregnant.

She was delighted though somewhat apprehensive.

"George wants a son." she said.

"I am sure we shall have lots. Why look! We have not been married long and already one is on the way." My mother was delighted and there was little talk of anything else but the coming baby.

Isabel settled down to enjoy the fuss which I think helped to compensate her for the loss of George.

Sometimes during those days I wondered what was happening and whether the king had made friends with my father and Clarence and whether they had put down the rising in the north. Occasionally there were visitors and they would bring a little news. We allowed ourselves to believe that the relationship between the king and our family had returned to normal. True, the king could not have liked to hear of Clarence's marriage, since he had forbidden it: but it was done and the king was not one to hold grudges; he must be the most easy-going man in the kingdom, so therefore it was reasonable to suppose that all was now well. After all, that was what we wanted to believe.

Meanwhile Isabel had passed out of the first stages of pregnancy and her condition was becoming obvious. My mother was constantly supervising the ladies and we were all making clothes for the baby. We heard how Isabel and I had come into the world and what a blessing we had been; and the greatest joy a woman could have was to bear a child.

It was all very cosy and comforting and Isabel, being at the centre of it, revelled in it.

Then certain items of news filtered through to us and they caused a shiver of alarm. Robin of Redesdale was proving to be no insignificant leader. He was surrounded by determined men and it was startling to learn that all the leaders of the expedition were connected with the House of Neville. There was my father's nephew, Sir Henry Fitzhugh, his cousin Henry Neville and Robin himself, Sir John Conyers, who had married one of the Neville girls. Their main grievance was that the king had estranged the great lords of the land for the sake of the low-born, insignificant Woodvilles who had sought to rule to the country's detriment.

Isabel had lapsed into contentment and did not want to consider anything that might disrupt it. She was sure the king would accept her marriage. Considering the fortune she was bringing to her husband, how could the king complain about the daughter of Warwick not being a worthy match for his brother when he himself had married most unwisely a woman of no standing and fortune?

Each day she looked for Clarence's return. She wanted to talk to him about the baby.

So the weeks passed and after a while we were lulled into a sense of security: and then one day a company of men came riding to the castle. They had been with the army and they were Warwick men, for the badges of the Ragged Staff were prominently displayed.

It transpired that they were on the way to join my father's armyand it was during supper when we sat at the big table with our mother that Isabel and I heard what was happening. It was a terrible shock, for we realised that our father was at war against the king.

"It was at the Battle of Edgecot that the Earl of Pembroke was captured, my lady." said the captain.

"My lord Warwick was not present, but we met the victors at Northampton later. It was on the earl's orders that he lost his head."

"Who lost his head?" asked my mother faintly.

"The Earl of Pembroke, my lady, and the Earl of Devon was killed."

My mother was aghast. She knew that my father hated those men. They were his enemies and blatant adherents of the Woodvilles; they were of that clique which had surrounded the king and lured him away from the influence of Warwick. There were greater shocks to come.

"So that was the end of Pembroke and his brother," went on the captain.

"But the real prize was Lord Rivers and his son, Sir John Woodville, and they were taken in Wales and beheaded at Kenilworth."

The queen's father and her brother!" cried my mother in dismay.

"And on the earl's orders!"

"It is the Woodvilles this war is all about, my lady. What a prize that was!" I had rarely seen my mother so distressed, although she made an effort to hide it from the guests.

I kept thinking about her and when she had retired for the night I went along to her chamber. She was on her knees in prayer and I stood for a moment in silence watching her.

She was aware of me but she did not turn round immediately. Then she said: "Anne, my daughter, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, my lady mother, you are very unhappy. I wanted to be with you."

She stood up and I ran to her. She put her arms about me and held me close.

"I am afraid, Anne. What does this mean!" I said slowly: "It means that my father is at war with the king." They were killed on his orders. The queen is a hard woman. She loves her family. Everything she has done has been to promote them. She would destroy those who stand in her way ... but to her own she gives everything. And they have killed her father... her brother "I think, my lady, that she will want revenge."

"What will become of us? My dearest daughter, what will become of everything?"

"My father is very strong, my lady. He will overcome all our enemies.

"You are right, my child. Stay with me. Let us pray together."

Events were taking a dramatic turn and I was no longer outside them looking on.

The change came one day when I was in one of the turrets and saw in the distance a large party of riders. They were, of course, coming to the castle. I ran down calling to my mother.

She was already aware of the arrival.

"Your father has come," she said.

We were in the courtyard when my father rode up and there was someone riding with him, a tall regal figure. I stared. I could not be mistaken. No one else was as tall and commanding in appearance. It could only be the king, He had dismounted, my father with him. My mother was about to kneel but the king put his hand on her shoulder and kissed her cheek.

"My lord ..." began my mother.

The king has come to visit us for a while," said my father.

The king smiled and said what a pleasure it was to see the beautiful countess and her charming daughter.

"I do not see my dear sister-in-law."

"She is resting, my lord. Her condition."

The king raised his eyebrows and said: "What good news! My brother is indeed a fortunate man."

Preparations for the arrivals were already in progress. The servants always went into action at the first appearance of visitors.

My father led the king into the hall. That something strange was going on was apparent. There was about my father a certain triumphant air. And where were the Icing's attendants? But the king was smiling and affable, as though there was nothing unusual in arriving thus. There was one chamber in the castle which was kept for royal visitors and here the king was installed. Through the castle there was that excitement which a royal visit always generated; but this was something different. Why had we not been warned?

It was some days before I realised that the king was my father's prisoner.

It was all so bewildering. We were in the dark, groping through it for understanding, and it was not until much later that I learned from Richard what had really happened. Richard spoke of it even then with great resentment.

The king had been marching northwards to quell the rebellion when news of the defeat at Edgecot reached him; and when the army knew what had happened they deserted in large numbers, with the result that the king found himself alone apart from a few friends Richard among them. They were at Olney when George Neville arrived.

"He did not come as an archbishop," said Richard when he told me of this, "but in armour. I was with my brother and I feared what this meant, for I knew that my brother was conspiring with your father and had done so ever since he married your sister Isabel. I had a feeling that George meant Edward no good, for he had always been jealous of him and resentful because Edward was more gifted, and the elder. George Neville was very respectful to the king and asked him if he would join him and his brother in Coventry for the Earl of Warwick was anxious about the king's safety.

"My brother said: "Why is the earl so concerned for my safety when a short time ago he was righting against me?"

"Never against you, my lord," said George Neville, "but against those who seek to destroy the realm." I was so angry that I called out to my brother not to listen to the man. But you know how forgiving Edward is. If he has a fault, it is being too ready forgive his enemies and to believe the best of them. Edward put his hand on my arm and said lovingly to me: "We are in their hands, brother. Just for this while." And then he turned to the archbishop and said, "I see I am your prisoner. What do you ask of me?"

"That you come with me to my brother," answered the archbishop. And so we went to the Earl of Warwick."

I told Richard how sad I had been when I had heard a garbled version of this. It was heart-breaking for me to think the friendship between our two families was over.

"I was with him," went on Richard, "at the meeting with Warwick. I think your father was more embarrassed than my brother. The earl impressed on Edward that he wished him no harm and talked of his holding him for his own protection. That was not true. The earl had never forgiven him for marrying the queen. There were many of us who thought that was a mistake. But my brother is impulsive in his affections. He gives love without thought of gain. I suppose the marriage was good for him if not for others. It was her rapacious family which caused all the trouble. Oh, Anne, what mistakes have been made! It is true that your father helped to put Edward on the throne, but Edward is a king who will govern; he will not be led. And your father is a man who wants to rule through the king he has set up. It was doomed to fail."

How right he was!

The king was the most agreeable guest and none would have believed he was with us against his will. The servants vied with each other to receive his attention. I never saw a man so lacking in arrogance and self-importance and yet who could convey such a kingly air.

My father was in a state of elation at this point. He believed he had won the battle. He had shown the king that he could not reign without him. But after a while the euphoria began to fade. Edward might be pleasure-loving, seeking the easy way of life by refusing to look at unpleasant facts, but that exuberant personality, those kingly smiles, were what charmed the people. They did not want to lose their genial king. This was Edward's strength. It was nearly ten years since my father had set him on the throne and during that time he had made the people love him. They wanted Edward, and there was unrest throughout the kingdom.

It was known that the king was somewhere in the north, a captive of the Earl of Warwick, which was a signal to some to defy the law. Rioting broke out. This was a situation which could not be allowed to continue and my father realised that the king must be moved to a stronger fortress.

It was a sad day when Edward left Warwick Castle for Middleham. How we missed him! There were doleful faces in the castle. Apprehension returned. Our father had left with the king and there was further trouble. Rumour reached us that my father's supporters, assuming that the war was over since the king was the earl's prisoner, had returned to their homes, so his army was disbanded.

"Where is the king?" the people were asking.

"Who is ruling the country?"

As the violence increased and many were defying the law, my father thought that the people should be shown that Edward was still the king, and he allowed him to make a ceremonial visit to York where he was given a tumultuous welcome.

Richard told me that when he heard this, with Lord Hastings, a trusted friend, he gathered together an army and marched to York; but before they reached that town they heard that the king had taken matters into his own hands and announced his intention of going to London.

My father then realised that he had gone wrong somewhere, and if he attempted to stop the king there would be many to rise against him.

The welcome Edward received in his capital city was enough to convince my father that he had failed. He had won in the field but his victory had been turned to defeat.

He must have realised then that he was never going to gain control over Edward and there was one project left to him.

That was to set Clarence up in his place.

Isabel was now heavily pregnant. In a little more than a month her baby would be due. It was a bright April day. My mother was making the last arrangements for the birth.

"Children have a habit of arriving before the appointed time." she remarked to me.

"I am so glad that Isabel is with me. I am not completely ignorant of these matters, you know."

"I have realised that, my lady," I said.

"And I rejoice, too. I suppose everything is all right?"

"What do you, mean?"

"Isabel seems a little listless."

"My dear, she is tired. Can you imagine what it is like carrying a baby around with you?"

"But Isabel seems rather frail."

I saw the look of fear cross my mother's face, and I wished I had not said that. I knew she worried a great deal about our health. She herself was a strong woman; she should have had big healthy sons instead of two rather delicate girls. Indeed, it was because I had fancied she was a little worried about Isabel now that had made me so. But I must not talk of my fears to my mother, so I talked of them to one of Isabel's maids.

I had liked Ankarette Twynyho from the moment she had joined the household. She was a young widow who had lived in Somerset before joining us. As she had recently lost her husband she was glad to move away from her village the scene of her tragedy.

She had been, briefly, in the queen's service and I think she found life at Warwick Castle preferable to serving under the imperious Elizabeth Woodville.

She was entertaining and used to tell us anecdotes about the queen which amused us and we came to learn a little about that strange cold woman who, when she had married the king, had set in motion those events which had been so disastrous to us all.

Ankarette reassured me now.

She said: "The duchess is not a robust lady, but she will be all right.

Everything is prepared and she will have the utmost care. I can see that the countess is a lady who knows something of these matters, and with everyone in attendance, all will be well."

"You comfort me, Ankarette." I said.

That's what I am here for, my dear," she said. I liked her Somerset accent and her easy manner with us all; and I could assure myself that, with my mother, Ankarette and all the others in attendance, Isabel would be safe.

Isabel took comfort from her too. It was Ankarette who would slip a pillow behind her back when she was looking uncomfortable and who came up with the drink Isabel was just about to ask for.

We were sitting in Isabel's chamber, for often she liked to lie down, and when she did she wanted us with her, and we were talking idly when we heard the commotion below.

I went to the window and what I saw made me gasp with amazement.

I turned and said: "It is my father, and with him the Duke of Clarence."

"Did you say ... George?" asked Isabel, rising. And there they were just a small company of men. I went to the door and I heard my mother say: "Something is wrong."

I started down the stairs. Isabel was following me. My father was already in the hall. He embraced my mother, then me. Isabel ran into her husband's arms.

There is not a moment to lose." my father said.

"You must prepare to leave. We should be on our way to the coast in an hour."

"It's impossible." cried my mother.

"Isabel..."

My father was silent but only for a second. He looked at Isabel. Then he said: "It must be. Come quickly. Bring only what is necessary. We must get to the coast without delay."

We had always been brought up to obey my father's commands instantly and without question; and my mother had set us an example in this. But this was different. There was Isabel to consider. Isabel and George were clinging to each other, speaking words of love, and my father was impatient.

"Listen to me," he said.

"I cannot explain now except to say that my enemies are pursuing me. If I am captured it will be the end ... the end of everything. It is imperative that we leave without delay. Everyone ... the whole family."

"We cannot move Isabel and I shall not go without her." said my mother stubbornly.

"You will go!" insisted my father.

"And Isabel will go with us. You are wasting time. Believe me, I would not do this now if it were not necessary.

"Is it... the king?" began my mother.

"Anne, I am telling you. For God's sake, do not hinder me. It is necessary that we get away ... all of us. We must get to the coast with all speed. Do not argue. Isabel must come with us. Do you understand?"

"Yes." said my mother.

"I understand. But the baby is almost due."

My father sighed.

"I know that well. It will not be easy for her, but it must be. My enemies are marching to take me. It will be my head and the end of the family as we know it. So please do as I say. Get ready. We leave in an hour."

That was enough. Isabel was crying in Clarence's arms. She was terrified. She knew we were leaving the country and she hated the sea at the best of times. But now my mother had taken charge.

"Come along. You have heard what your father has said. Isabel, go to your chamber. Anne, get Ankarette to look after Isabel and to prepare at the same time. You have heard your father say we must be ready to leave in an hour."

Our thoughts were in turmoil as we got a few things together. There would have to be a litter for Isabel and that would impede our progress considerably. But the situation was dangerous. I heard my mother murmur: "Why does there have to be all this trouble? Why cannot men be content to remain where God put them? Why all this striving for power?" But the situation was desperate and if my father said he was in danger of losing his head, we knew those words were not idly spoken. We had heard of too many lost heads not to believe such a statement.

By the time the hour had elapsed we were on our way to the coast.

That journey is one I shall never forget. It was brought home to me then how quickly triumph can change to disaster. Only a short time ago the king was my father's prisoner and it seemed that all his plans were succeeding; then suddenly there was a complete change. It was incomprehensible that my father should now be fleeing for his life from the avenging armies of the king.

We were in imminent danger. We had brought the minimum of goods and servants with us on our father's orders. Ankarette came, as she was in attendance on Isabel and my mother thought she would be useful. We had to think how we should deal with Isabel as we should no longer have the comfort of the lying-in chamber.

Poor Isabel! I hoped the fact that Clarence was with us would compensate for her discomfort.

My mother and I rode with my father who looked very grim. He seemed to have aged since I last saw him. This was a bitter blow to his pride and I guessed he was blaming himself bitterly because he had let victory slip through his fingers.

But there was no time for brooding on the past. We were making for the shores of Dorset and messengers had been sent on to order that as many ships as possible were ready for us, so that we might embark as soon as we reached the coast. It was imperative that we leave the country at the earliest possible moment.

I wondered why we were going as far west as Dorset, as my father kept some of his best ships at Southampton.

So we rode on during that day, unsure whether at any moment we might be intercepted by my father's enemies and he be taken to London ... to the Tower, possibly to await his death. And what would happen to us? I was sure the king would not allow us to be treated harshly, but the idea of a life without my father was difficult to contemplate. It must not be, I kept saying to myself. It cannot be. My father was invincible. I had been brought up to believe that, and it was not difficult to convince myself now that it was true.

What a relief it was when at last we were in sight of the sea. Those who had gone ahead had been successful in commandeering a ship. It was enough. My father and Clarence directed us all on board. Isabel had the best cabin and could be fairly comfortable there, I hoped. I prayed that we might reach Calais before her pains started.

My father's being Captain of Calais meant that we should be sure of care and attention there and in the castle would be all that we needed.

I said to Isabel: "It is fitting that your first child should arrive in the very town where you were married."

However, it was not to be so, and we encountered further misfortunes, for when we joined my father's fleet at Southampton a further shock awaited us.

The new Lord Rivers, who had succeeded to the title when his father was executed, was waiting there for us. He had a score to settle. A battle ensued, during which several of my father's ships were lost. He decided that he would take what were left and get away before Rivers could bring in reinforcements.

The sound of gunfire was terrifying and my mother and I were with Isabel in her cabin where we tried to talk lightly, although we all knew that any moment might be our last.

"Your father always wins in the end," said my mother firmly.

"Once we are safe in Calais all will be well. How are you feeling, Isabel?" Isabel was not sure. She thought the pains might begin at any moment.

"Let us pray that we reach Calais before they do. It is not a long trip really and if the sea is kind ..."

We were away. The battle was over. I learned later that my father had feared that there might be trouble at Southampton which was the reason why he had arranged for us to embark in Dorset. He had lost one or two ships in the battle, but we should rejoice because we were on our way to Calais.

How relieved we were to sight land! Our father sent out signals. The Captain of Calais had arrived. He was waiting to be welcomed.

To our dismay we heard gunfire. This was amazing as Lord Wenlock, in charge of the castle, was one of my father's agents. A small boat was sent in to find out the meaning of this apparently hostile reception.

A message came back from Lord Wenlock informing my father that the king had sent orders which had arrived only a short time before the earl and his party, and these orders forbade him to allow the earl to enter Calais. Lord Wenlock greatly regretted this but he must obey the king's orders.

My father was nonplussed. He had come so far, only to be refused entry. This meant that he was no longer considered to be Captain of Calais.

He was in despair, and just at that time Isabel began to give birth to her child.

This took our thoughts from all other matters. The danger to Isabel was acute as the birth showed signs of being difficult, and we had none of the usual comforts to ease the delivery.

"If only we had some wine," cried my mother. That might help to soothe her and deaden the pain."

That was one of the most terrifying times of my life. I shall never forget the agonised cries of my sister. I felt sure she was going to die. I kept thinking of her as she had been so happy, so merry, so contented with her marriage, so gratified that she had so quickly proved that she could bear children; and now, here she was, on a none-too-calm sea without adequate provisions, in acute agony and in danger of losing not only her baby but her life.

At such times one realises how much one loves people and how heart-breaking it is to see those whom we love suffering, particularly when we are helpless to do anything to alleviate that suffering. Isabel and I had bickered often enough, it was true, but she was my sister, a part of my life, and I could not imagine being without her.

My father was at the door of the cabin. His eyes were anxious and I felt a sudden tenderness towards him. He does love us, I thought. He truly does. It is only that he is so busy fighting to keep his power that there is little time to show it.

"How is she?" he asked.

"Poorly," replied my mother.

"If we had a little wine ... even ..."

"You think that would help?"

"She could sip it and it has a soothing effect. It might even dull the pain."

My father sent one of the small boats in with a message to Wenlock asking him for wine for his daughter who was in childbirth. He said the man should be his friend but at times like these how could one know who was a friend? But he understood Wenlock must obey the king's orders. Warwick was no longer the Kingmaker; he was an outcast from England fighting for survival.

However, Wenlock did comply with the request and to my mother's delight he sent the man back with two casks of wine.

There was something else which Wenlock did. With the wine came a secret message to my father telling him that it would be folly for him to attempt a landing. It was what they were hoping he would do. He had authorised the gunfire to prevent such a landing. The earl should make his way to a French port for it was certain that Louis would be hospitable to his old friend.

It was sound advice.

Meanwhile, Isabel's condition was becoming desperate. The wine helped a little but she was very ill: and I guessed from Ankarette's pursed lips and unhappy expression that something was wrong.

My mother came to tell me.

"She is sleeping now. Poor child. It was a difficult birth."

"And the child? Is it a boy?"

The child was a boy," she said.

Understanding flashed into my mind.

I said: The child ... is dead?"

My mother nodded.

Our great concern was Isabel. My mother and Ankarette were with her. There was no room for anyone else in the small cabin. If I could have been with her I should have felt easier in my mind, but to be shut away from my sister whom I had known all my life and might never know again filled me with numbed misery.

I thought of her trying on her wedding dress, so contented with herself and life. She was to marry Clarence; she would be Queen of England: the child she would have would one day be king; she would start a dynasty ... the dynasty of York and Warwick. What dreams to come to nothing!

I prayed for her to live. Perhaps that prayer would be granted. Then I prayed for the impossible that we could go back to Middleham and be girls together ... back in the happy days with Richard of Gloucester among the boys who came to my father's castle to learn the arts of war.

At last I was allowed to go and see her, but only for a short time.

My mother had said: The worst is over. With care she will recover."

She lay back exhausted ... free of pain ... the useless, futile, purposeless pain. I felt a sense of relief that she was not yet aware that the child which had cost her so dearly was dead.

My mother came to me and said: "She is breathing more easily. She will recover, I hope and pray. I rejoice that we have not lost our Isabel."

The ship was pitching and tossing. In the extremity of our anxiety we had not noticed the discomfort. Now, as I stood up, I had to cling to my mother for support.

"There is the burial," she said. I was glad Isabel was spared that.

They had sewn the little body into a sheet. I could not bear to look at it. It was so depressing small and helpless. All those months it had been growing, waiting for that moment when it would come into the world ... and it had come only to leave it.

The captain of the vessel was saying a prayer. We stood in silence as the sheet encasing the little body slipped into the water.