The Last White Rose, page 15
When they returned indoors for dinner, Mother was again complaining about how she had been reduced to humble straits and that there was no kind butcher this time to supply her with meat. “Father Abbot has been most hospitable, but we cannot expect him to go on providing us all with food. I hate presuming on his charity! Oh, if your father could see us now!”
After dinner, Elizabeth got out her chess set and tried to play with York, who would not sit still and readily gave place to Cecily. She was fed up with her brother crashing about the place, always wanting to be up and doing something. Dorset and Uncle Lionel were trying their best to keep him amused, but even they couldn’t channel all that energy. How different her two brothers were!
“Couldn’t we take him for a walk, my lady?” she asked, giving up on the chess game. “The sanctuary boundaries extend for some way around the abbey.”
“No!” Mother cried. “You could be seized. I will not allow it.”
“I don’t think so,” Elizabeth sighed.
“You will not take the risk. Sanctuaries might be holy places, but they have been breached.” There was an eloquent pause, and Elizabeth recalled that after the Battle of Tewkesbury, her own father had entered the nearby abbey and slain or dragged out the Lancastrians who had sought sanctuary there. Dorset had told her that years ago and said that, in war, rights were often overlooked, and that the King had only done what was necessary.
“But the sanctuary here enjoys the special protection of the King,” she pointed out, and then realized her mistake.
“Who is in the power of Gloucester!” Mother retorted.
* * *
—
It was decided that Dorset should leave sanctuary and try to raise support for the Queen. He departed on a bright May day, planning to go into hiding until he could safely contact his friends, and promising to get word to Mother of the whereabouts of Uncle Rivers and Dickon.
Although she had urged him to go, Mother was bereft. “I have four sons, and I am cut off from three of them,” she wept. “I can only pray that God keeps them safe.”
Elizabeth did feel sorry for her, because she knew she was grieving for Father, but she was finding her constant emotional storms and her obsessive suspicions about Uncle Gloucester wearing. Couldn’t she try to put on a brave face, especially for the younger children’s sakes? Anne, Katherine, and Bridget were much affected by their mother’s moods. Elizabeth worried about Bridget, who was different from other children in some way, although she could not exactly say why. Mother had not mentioned it, so maybe it was her imagination. Yet Bridget somehow seemed vulnerable, and Elizabeth’s heart felt heavy when she remembered that her little sister was destined for a convent. But, she comforted herself, that might never happen now.
Abbot Eastney visited them faithfully every day and brought them what news he could. He was optimistic and clearly thought that Mother’s fears were unfounded.
“The Council has recognized the Duke of Gloucester as lord protector,” he told them, accepting the cup of wine Mother offered him, which had been left over from dinner.
“Since he has control of my son, they had no choice,” the Queen muttered.
“But it was the late King’s wish, Madam,” Abbot Eastney pointed out, “and, from what I have heard, a wise choice. My lord of Gloucester has wasted no time. He has ordered that the laws of the realm be enforced in the name of King Edward the Fifth. He is having coins struck bearing the King’s image, and he is insistent that all royal honors be paid to his Grace.”
Mother looked doubtful. “And what of my other son and my brother Rivers?”
The Abbot hesitated. “I have just received some news. They are in custody in Yorkshire, Madam. Given that unfortunate discovery of the weapons, my lord of Gloucester fears that they might rise against him. But the Council has decided that they will not be prosecuted. When things settle down, I’m sure they will be released.”
“Gloucester had no right to imprison them—he was not then lord protector!”
The Abbot sighed. “But the Council has now authorized it. Madam, there is good news. King Edward’s coronation has been set for the twenty-fourth of June. Everyone is looking forward to it, and to the peace and prosperity that will surely follow. I was at court this morning and saw Lord Hastings, who was saying that he was overjoyed at this new world, and that nothing worse has happened than the transfer of the rule of the kingdom from two of your Grace’s relatives to two of the King’s, my lords of Gloucester and Buckingham, and it was our late sovereign lord’s wish that Gloucester rule for his son. Madam, all seems set fair for the future. Do you not think that your flight into sanctuary was a little precipitate?”
“No!” Mother cried. “My Lord Hastings must be a man of limited imagination to pass over so glibly the tragedies and perils that have overtaken me and my family.”
Abbot Eastney looked pained. “But there are no perils, Madam. And think how it looks to the world at large—the mother and siblings of the King seeking refuge in sanctuary, which carries with it the enormous implication that my lord of Gloucester bears you such ill will that you perceive yourself to be in danger. It is highly embarrassing for him—he, to whom your husband entrusted the rule of the kingdom. Will you not think again?”
“Absolutely not,” Mother declared. “You and others may be taken in by that man’s guile, Father Abbot, but I know him for my enemy!”
* * *
—
The next day, Elizabeth was trying to concentrate on her book, but Mother kept fretting about the whereabouts of Dorset and interrupting her. Her face lit up with expectancy when Abbot Eastney returned.
“Your Grace, I have learned that the King has been lodged in the Tower, as is customary for a monarch about to be crowned.”
The royal palace within the Tower had been one of Father’s favorite residences. Elizabeth could remember many happy times there. Ned would like it, although he might be a little lonely. If only they could all go and stay with him.
Mother wrung her hands. “Of course. It is a strong and secure fortress. Where better to immure a defenseless child?”
“Madam, please!” Abbot Eastney was unusually severe. “The Council has approved his being there. And I might add that the lords are becoming uneasy about your continuing in sanctuary. It reflects badly on the Lord Protector. The people are saying he does not take fitting care of your dignity or your safety. They are putting the worst construction on it.”
“I care not what the people say. I will not leave and expose my children to danger. Already, he has two of my sons!”
Cecily put her arms around her. The Queen’s shoulders were heaving.
“Please, Mother,” Elizabeth pleaded, kneeling before her. “Let us leave here. I’m sure that everything will be all right.”
“My lord of Gloucester will be so relieved to see you back at court that I’m sure he will bend over backward to make you welcome and do you all honor,” the Abbot said.
“No!” Mother was adamant. “You think I fear too much—but I believe you all fear far too little!”
* * *
—
Late in May, Elizabeth was present when a deputation of councillors came to Cheyneygates and knelt before the Queen in the Jerusalem Chamber.
“Your Grace,” their spokesman said, “the Lord Protector asks that you leave sanctuary with your children and assures you of your safety. Will you not come with us and return to court?”
Elizabeth was praying that Mother would agree, but she saw her mouth set in an angry line.
“Do you think I’m a fool?” the Queen cried. “I will not leave this place while my lord of Gloucester is free to do harm to me and mine! He has imprisoned my brother and my son. Is that not evidence of his malice?”
“He has imprisoned them, Madam, because he fears that the malice is all on the side of you and your family,” one councillor said boldly. “But he would like to make peace with you, so that you can enjoy an honorable retirement as queen dowager. He intends you no harm.”
“How can I believe his word? He is a villain! And I will not be shunted into retirement.” Elizabeth watched, horrified, as her mother broke down in tears, and saw that she was not being difficult, but was genuinely frightened.
“Then, Madam, we can only conclude that you are hostile to the Lord Protector and that he is right to be wary of you and all your blood.”
* * *
—
Several days passed. It was now June and the weather was warm. Elizabeth often took a chair and a book into the Abbot’s courtyard, where York and her sisters could play their games around her.
Late one afternoon, when she returned upstairs to wash for supper, she heard the Abbot speaking urgently to her mother.
“Your Grace, Lord Hastings told me today that Gloucester has ordered the city of York to muster troops to march on London against you, your kin, and your adherents. Gloucester believes that you have intended all along to murder and utterly destroy him, my lord of Buckingham, and the old royal blood of this realm.”
“Now you have it, Father Abbot—proof, if any were needed, of how deeply he hates me and mine.” Mother sounded at her wits’ end. “Why should I wish to destroy the old royal blood of this realm when it runs with my own in the King’s veins? And what harm can we do Gloucester now? I am in sanctuary, powerless, and my kinsmen are scattered, either in prison or in hiding. At last, this traitor has betrayed his malice. He makes me the scapegoat for his own shady dealings. These accusations are merely an excuse to bolster his power with military force!”
There was a pause, and Elizabeth held her breath.
“In truth, Madam, I am concerned, but I fear that you have rather brought this on yourself.”
“I—a defenseless woman?”
“Not so long ago, you had command of everything. Hardly defenseless, forgive me, but one who could be perceived as an enemy. I believe my lord of Gloucester fears that you are spending your time here plotting and secretly rallying your supporters.”
“What supporters? He has dealt with anyone who might have helped me!”
“Dorset is yet free. And you cannot deny that you are looking to him to seize back power from Gloucester.”
“If he can raise support.”
“That isn’t the point. It’s the intention that counts. My advice now is to stay here. With these northern troops marching south, it is the safest place for you.”
Realizing that the Abbot was leaving, Elizabeth hastened back downstairs, her heart pounding, remembering what her mother had said about people breaking sanctuary. Would Uncle Gloucester really go that far, with his armed force behind him? She could not believe it.
* * *
—
A week later, they were about to retire to bed when the Abbot appeared.
“I am sorry to disturb you so late, your Grace, but there is a gentleman here who wishes to speak to you.” He stood aside to admit a cloaked man carrying a candle.
When he put back his hood, Elizabeth recognized Lord Hastings.
“Your Grace.” He knelt before the Queen and tried to kiss her hand, but she snatched it away.
“I do not receive those who betray me,” she hissed.
“Madam, I am no traitor. I served the late King faithfully and I will serve his son likewise. I came here because I must speak to you, and it took a lot of cunning to circumvent the scrutiny of Gloucester’s men, who are watching who goes in and out of sanctuary. I have come to mistrust Gloucester’s intentions. I fear he aims at the throne itself.”
“No!” Mother wailed, her frosty manner dissolving. “It is what I have feared all along!”
“Why, my lord?” Abbot Eastney asked.
“I believe that these troops Gloucester has summoned will be used to effect a coup. Many at court suspect that his ambitions are focused on the crown.”
“Belief? Suspicion? That is not evidence or proof.” The Abbot sounded angry.
Hastings glared at him. “While there is the slightest doubt of his intentions, we must be on the alert. And I am truly convinced that his much-vaunted loyalty to his brother now counts for nothing, while I, who was faithful to King Edward, and will be to his son, to the death, am frozen out. My opinion now counts for nothing. I am shouted down in council. Buckingham’s is the dominant voice. They will tolerate no dissent—and I fear that Gloucester has come to see me as an obstacle to his ambitions. Madam, I know you have no cause to love me, but I am your friend, and I urge you to heed my concerns. I swear I will do everything in my power to uphold and protect the King’s rights.”
Mother grabbed his sleeve. “Are you telling me that my son is in danger?”
“I will not lie to you, Madam. I fear he is. But I will keep him safe, I promise.”
Elizabeth shivered. She was praying that Hastings was wrong.
“Let us hope that your concerns are unfounded,” the Abbot said, clearly unconvinced.
* * *
—
Mother lay awake all night, weeping piteously. “I feel so helpless,” she sobbed. “All my instincts urge me to protect Ned, but I cannot get near him. Even if I left here, they would not let me go to him.” She dissolved in a fresh flood of tears.
Elizabeth did not know what to think. Lord Hastings had been one of her father’s closest friends. Should she trust his instincts? Or was he angry at having to give place to Buckingham and looking for a return to power? Mother believed he had betrayed her plans to Uncle Gloucester, and certainly he had no cause to protect the Wydevilles. But somehow she believed that he was their friend, however mistaken he might be about Uncle Gloucester. Yet why was Abbot Eastney so skeptical?
She longed for this horrible situation to be resolved. She wanted to get out of sanctuary and feel normal again—and she wanted to believe the best of her uncle. It seemed incredible that he should bear such malice toward her mother, or that he was plotting to seize Ned’s throne—especially after doing so much to establish him as king. She still believed that his intentions were honorable. It was living with someone who was convinced otherwise that made her doubt it.
* * *
—
In the middle of June, Elizabeth and Cecily finally persuaded Mother to sit with them in the courtyard. It was a pleasant day and the children were playing a noisy game of tag.
“Quietly!” Mother commanded. “You will disturb Father Abbot!” But they raced on, heedless. “Oh, well.” She gave a faint laugh. “They are young, and it is not fair on them, being cooped up here.”
Elizabeth sat in the sun, feeling in her pocket for the letter from Lord Stanley that the Abbot had given to her yesterday. She was not to worry, Stanley had written. There were tensions on the Council, but all was set fair for the King’s coronation, and he himself was keeping a watchful eye open. If he could be of service to her and the King, he would not hesitate. It was reassuring to know that both he and Lord Hastings were looking out for them at court, and that Stanley was not taking such a pessimistic view as Hastings.
York was becoming boisterous and began pulling Anne’s hair when he caught her. She slapped him in retaliation and things got rough to the point where Elizabeth had to separate them. “Play something different!” she admonished them.
“There’s nothing else to play.” York looked mutinous. “I wish Ned was here. I hate playing with girls. I’m bored.”
“Then we’ll do some lessons,” she said.
“Oh, I’ve thought of something,” he answered quickly. “Let’s play hide-and-seek.”
There weren’t many places to hide, so they soon gave up and began running around again until Katherine hurtled into the Abbot, who had appeared in the archway.
“Steady now!” he warned her, smiling. Then his expression grew serious. “Your Grace, I must talk to you.”
“Cecily, take the children upstairs,” Mother commanded. They went, York protesting noisily. “What is it, Father Abbot?”
“There is no easy way to tell you this, Madam—but Lord Hastings has been executed.”
Elizabeth gasped, shocked. Mother had clapped her hand to her mouth. “What?” she whispered.
“My lord of Gloucester summoned Hastings and others to a council meeting in the Tower this morning. There, he accused him of treason and had him summarily beheaded. It was done without judgment of law or justice. There was no trial by his peers, as there should have been.”
“But why?” Mother’s voice sounded strangled.
The Abbot sat down on Cecily’s vacated stool. “No one quite knows. At court, it is said that Gloucester accused Hastings of plotting treason against him.”
“Treason? You cannot commit treason against a lord protector, only against the King! Now you see that I was right. This man is a tyrant and will stop at nothing to get what he wants—and what he wants, Father Abbot, is my son’s crown! One by one, he is removing or neutralizing all those who stand in his way. Me, my brother Rivers, my son Grey, and now Hastings, good, faithful Hastings!” Shocked as she was, Elizabeth was surprised at that. A week ago, Mother would have called him something rather different. “And who is to be next? My poor boy, who is shut up in the Tower in Gloucester’s tender care?”
Abbot Eastney looked grave. He even reached out and laid his hand on the Queen’s. “Madam, Lord Stanley, Archbishop Rotherham, and John Morton, the Bishop of Ely, were also arrested at that council meeting, but spared execution. They have been sent to Wales, where I assume they will be imprisoned.”
Mother had turned pale. “Without trial?”
“Yes, without trial. Madam, I do fear that you were right all along. These are acts of tyranny, for which there is no justification.”
