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 alclass="underline" 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.