Henry came before him as a subject to his King. He bowed and knelt. Richard took his hand and bade him rise. It did not seem that he was the vanquished one and the man who knelt before him the conqueror.
‘My lord and sovereign King,’ said Henry, ‘I have come back before my time.’
‘Why do you come thus, cousin?’ asked Richard.
‘I have come to seek the restitution of my lands and heritage.’
‘I am ready to accomplish your will so that you may enjoy all that is yours without exception.’
‘There is one other matter,’ went on Henry. ‘The common report of your people is that you have governed them badly for twenty years. They are not content therewith. If it pleases you, I will help you to govern better.’
The Archbishop then asked leave to speak, and when this was granted he told the King that his rule could no longer be tolerated and that he must abdicate.
Richard had expected this. He knew that the soft words of his cousin could be set aside. Here he was his cousin’s prisoner and Henry of Bolingbroke, Duke of Hereford and Lancaster, had an army behind him, while Richard’s followers had deserted him.
What was a King without an army when his enemies came against him?
He was a prisoner in his cousin’s hands and no good could come of denying it.
He faced Henry and said meekly: ‘Fair cousin, since it pleases you it pleases me.’
They began the journey to London. They had given him a miserable little horse to ride and when they reached Chester Richard was a prisoner in his own castle and the one who was set to guard him was the young Earl of Arundel who bore him a grudge for the murder of his father.
But when I reach London, thought Richard, it will be different. The people of London will rally to me. Everything will be changed then.
Alas it was not so. He soon realised that London had rejected him and had transferred its allegiance to Henry.
They took him to the Tower and there he remained while Henry went to St Paul’s to pay respect to the tombs of his father and his mother. The people liked the sentiment he showed at these tombs and they came into the streets to cheer him.
Henry was moving cautiously. He was determined that Richard must abdicate of his own free will. He did not want it to be said that he had driven him from the throne. That Richard was a weak ruler all must admit; and that England needed a strong king was equally obvious. But it must come about as Henry wished.
He wanted it to be known that Richard, who was still the King, must be treated with respect and every effort must be made for his comfort. He even ordered that his dogs should be brought to him. All must know that Henry was a just man and would only take the crown if it was seen that Richard could no longer wear it.
He was with the guards in the chamber when the hound Math was brought in.
It was then that the strange thing happened for Math came bounding towards the King but before he reached him, he stopped suddenly. Then he turned away from Richard and went to Henry and placing his feet on his shoulders licked his face.
There was great astonishment in the chamber for the dog had previously paid little attention to any but the King.
Henry was the first to speak. ‘What does this mean?’ he asked. ‘Is this not your dog?’
‘Like others,’ said Richard, ‘he was mine, but, you see, even my dog knows which side he should be on.’
It was uncanny. The guards talked of it. It was a sign.
Nothing could have convinced them more than that strange act of the dog that Richard’s reign was over, and that of Henry of Bolingbroke had begun.
Chapter XVII
PONTEFRACT
They had given him the clothes of a foreigner that he might not be recognised as they took him down the river. He was not sure of his destination. He felt numbed and at times he was certain that he would wake up and find he had been the victim of a nightmare that had seemed to go on for weeks. At Gravesend they alighted and went by road to Leeds Castle in Kent.
A prisoner, he the King! No, no longer the King – plain Richard of Bordeaux. He would never forget those last days in the Tower. Gloomy days, with the rain pelting against the grey walls and the darkness of despair in the fortress.
For the last time he had worn his royal robes, but he was not allowed to sit on the throne. He had gone there only to give it up.
How they had shamed him! They had kept him standing while they read out the long list of his deficiencies. And then had come the degrading moment when he had taken off his crown and handed it to Bolingbroke.
Oh fool that I was! he had thought. I had him in my power once. I exiled him. I should have destroyed him then.
And Bolingbroke was now Henry the Fourth of England. It was the end. He had failed and it had all happened too quickly for him. He had not seen the danger until it was right upon him.
Leeds was one of the most beautiful castles in England standing as it did on two islands connected by a double drawbridge, but Richard was in no mood to admire his surroundings. He could see nothing but that terrible scene in the great hall at Westminster when he had meekly handed over his birthright to his cousin.
It was all over now. This was the end. Pictures from the past filled his mind. He remembered so well the anxious looks in his mother’s eyes. She had feared for him from the moment she knew he was destined to become a king. He thought of his great father and wondered what he would feel if he could look down on what was happening to his son.
He must not brood on these things; of what then could he think? Of the present? He shivered. The future? What hope was there in life for him?
They did not leave him long at Leeds. They did not tell him where they were taking him, but he knew that he was riding North. Ah yes, to some Lancastrian stronghold of his cousin-enemy. First they kept him at Pickering and after that at Knaresborough and finally they came to the Castle of Pontefract.
It was built on a rock and the high wall was flanked by seven towers. The moat on the western side was deep. He had visited Pontefract before and had heard of the dungeons there. There was at least one he knew which could only be entered through a trap door. Prisoners were lowered and left there to die.
What did they intend to do with him? The fact that he had been taken to this grim fortress of Pontefract could be significant.
It was deep winter now and the weather bitterly cold. There were snowdrifts about the castle walls. From one of the towers Richard could look down on the town and he could see the guards who were stationed about the castle. There were always guards; when one group went off duty another took it’s place. It was heartening in a way because it meant that his enemies feared there might be an attempt to rescue him.
He let himself dream. This nightmare would pass. He would be back again. He would be King; men would bow before him; he would ride to Windsor and see his dear little Isabella.
Isabella, Isabella, he murmured, what do you know of this?
Poor sweet child! She was growing up now. She would hear news and her sweet heart would be torn with grief.
He must write to her. Perhaps they would send her to him. She was too young to be suspected of subtlety. She was but a child. She would be faithful to him in his adversity. Unlike Math. When he thought of that incident it struck him as uncanny. It had unnerved him more than anything that had gone before. Looking back, he saw that in that moment when Math had turned from him to Henry he had known it was the end.
Dear, sweet Isabella! She would never turn from him.
They allowed him writing materials. With mingling pleasure and pain he took up his pen.‘My mistress and my consort, cursed be the man who has separated us. I am dying of grief because of it. Since I am robbed of the joy of being with you, I suffer such pain and am near despair … And it is no marvel when I from such a height have fallen so low, and lose my joy, my solace and my consort.’