He looked into Bolingbroke’s glowing eyes. There were thoughts there which he could not read. But he knew Bolingbroke was right.
How long that night was! Richard saw clearly now what lay before him. He would have to betray his friends or lose his crown. That was the choice.
He could not lose his crown. It was a cruel and bitter choice.
The five who were known as the Lords Appellant and the Parliament known as the Merciless Parliament had forced this on him.
He vowed vengeance on the five – but he gave way.
They were terrible days that followed. The King’s favourites were all declared traitors and condemned to death. Robert was safe and Suffolk managed to escape in the disguise of a Flemish poulterer; Neville was not condemned to death as he was an archbishop but he was outlawed and all his goods confiscated; Tresilian suffered the fearful death meted out to traitors and was hanged, drawn and quartered. His terrible fate did not arouse much sympathy throughout the country as his cruelty to the peasants was remembered.
When Simon Burley was arrested there was great sorrow in the royal household.
‘Simon!’ cried Richard to Anne. ‘What has he ever done?’
Anne was stunned. She had grown very fond of Simon Burley! He it was who had come to Prague to negotiate for her marriage; she had liked him from the moment she had seen him. He had talked so appealingly of Richard and had made her look forward to seeing her new home. He had been one of their dear friends.
‘I’ll not allow them to harm Simon,’ cried Richard.
‘We must try to stop them,’ Anne agreed. ‘Oh Richard, we can do something.’
‘Arundel always hated him. And it seems to me that on the strength of his victory at sea, Arundel feels he should rule the country.’
‘It is Gloucester I fear most.’
‘My own uncle,’ cried Richard bitterly. ‘I tell you this, Anne, it would do me much good to see his head on a lance.’
‘Hush,’ cautioned Anne. ‘People listen. What can we do about Simon?’
‘I shall tell Parliament that I’ll not have him harmed. He has been my friend since childhood.’
It was all rather ineffectual talk, Anne knew; but it soothed Richard so it achieved some purpose and he needed soothing at this time.
Simon was accused of misusing power and of promoting a corrupt Court about the young King; he had raised his income in a few years from twenty to three thousand marks; it was even said that he was planning to sell Dover to the French.
It was no use protesting that this was nonsense. They were bent on his destruction.
When Gloucester with Arundel came to the Tower to see the King, both he and Anne declared their wish that Simon Burley should be pardoned.
Anne went on her knees before Arundel and cried: ‘My lord, listen to me. This man has done no harm. Or if he has it was done in innocence. He is a good man. He is my friend … mine and the King’s. I implore you to set him free.’
Arundel was an arrogant man. He did not seem to realise that it was the Queen who knelt before him – or if he did, he enjoyed her humility.
He said: ‘I have no intention of freeing Simon Burley, Madam. He must take the consequences of his actions.’
‘It is unjust. It is cruel …’ cried Anne.
She caught at his robes but he walked on and she fell to one side.
It was unheard-of arrogance to treat the Queen so.
Richard went to the Queen and helped her to her feet.
‘These men shall learn that I am the King,’ he muttered.
His uncle Gloucester said in a loud voice: ‘It is because we wish you to remain King that we bring these charges and are determined to see them carried out.’
There it was again, the threat. He could almost hear his great-grandfather’s cries coming all the way from Berkeley Castle.
‘We cannot spare Simon Burley,’ said Gloucester firmly. ‘Your cousin Bolingbroke has soft feeling for him too. But though he has made himself our ally I could not spare this man for him.’
A further insult, thought Richard. Not even for Henry of Bolingbroke when the Queen had gone on her knees to him!
‘So you have sentenced him to the traitor’s death!’ cried Richard.
‘He is a traitor,’ retorted Gloucester.
The traitor’s death. Hanged, drawn and quartered – that venerable old friend to be so treated!
‘That,’ said Richard determinedly, ‘is something I shall not allow.’
Gloucester shrugged his shoulders. The point was that the man was removed from the sphere of influence. How he went was not all that important. It might be advisable to give way on this point. Let Burley go by way of the axe.
He died on Tower Hill, that dear old friend.
The King and Queen were plunged into melancholy. There was nothing to be done now but mourn, and, thought the King, plan vengeance.
Thomas Arundel was made Archbishop of York in Neville’s place and the government was carried on in Richard’s name.
Chapter XIII
TRAGEDY AT SHEEN
As she sat stitching at one of her gowns in the manor of Kettlethorpe, Catherine Swynford was brooding as she often did on that period in her life which on looking back seemed so brief and so glorious.
She had been exalted then; not because she had been admired by the son of a King but because she had loved and been loved. She had believed then – and again but briefly – that the love she and John of Gaunt had borne each other was rare in the history of the world. There had been times when she had deluded herself into believing that it would go on for ever. She should have been wiser. It was true that the convent-bred girl had become the wife of an obscure knight and had lived largely away from great events. And then she had seen him. He had seemed to her like a god. John of Gaunt, the most notorious man in England, and he had been her lover.
All was over. But she would never forget; and there could never be any real contentment for her because always her thoughts would be straying back to the past with that infinite longing which would not be subdued. It imbued everything with a gentle melancholy. Yes, she accepted fate but she could never be truly happy again.
He had been good to their children. He had done what he said he would; but the fact remained that they were bastards, though bastards of royal blood. There were plenty of those about. But hers were different, she had always maintained. They had not been begotten in some hurried fumble. They had been conceived in love.
But what was the use? It was over and done.
She would never forget their last night together. There had been that terrible indecision which had obsessed him. But she had known that he would go. He had to go. He loved her, yes, but he was a man with a vision. Ambition there would always be, and he must serve it.
So now there she was, a lady of the manor, well cared for. He had seen to that. Her jewels would keep her for the rest of her life if need be. He would put their sons in high places. Even Thomas, her son by Hugh Swynford, had his niche and was with Henry of Bolingbroke. John, Henry and Thomas Beaufort would be even better provided for. She had no fears on that score.
But none of this could ease her melancholy.
She had her attendants; she lived like a lady in her manor, looking to her household, with plenty to minister to her needs. And here in the country now and then news came from Court of the young King’s conflict with his uncle of Gloucester and she thought: At least John is spared those troubles.
She had heard that the young King had come near to being driven from his throne, but a year had passed since, mercifully, those troubles had blown over and he was now in control.
He had taken firm action; he had reminded those about him that he was twenty-one years old. He would have no more regencies, he said. He would rule himself.