Morton had staked his future now on Henry Tudor's victory and if he could bring about the marriage between Elizabeth of York and Henry Tudor he would be delighted with his plans. If that marriage ever came about and it was to be effective those little Princes would have to be disposed of. So they had been kept out of the way at Richard's request. Well, that might be useful. It would give credence to the story that they were already dead. He was sorry that Elizabeth Woodville had come out of Sanctuary with her daughters. That was unfortunate on two counts. First if she had believed that Richard had murdered the Princes—her
little sons of whom she was so fond, for whatever else she was she was a devoted mother—she would never have put her daughters in his hands. Another fear—and perhaps an even greater one—was that Richard might find husbands for the girls. Then the marriage between Elizabeth and Henry Tudor could not take place and would the people accept Henry Tudor if by doing so they were not going to unite the houses of York and Lancaster?
We need to move fast, thought Morton. And yet how could they? They must be absolutely sure of success when they came in.
The weary year was passing. Henry Tudor had made no attempt to land. Clearly he was not ready.
Richard guessed there were traitors all about him. One morning there was discovered on the door of St Paul's a rhyme which could only spell treachery:
It was a criticism of the King and ran:
The Cat, the Rat, and Lovell our dog Rule all England under a hog.'
The Cat was Catesby, the Rat Ratcliffe and Lovell— a name frequently used for dogs—was Francis Lovell—all faithful friends. And the hog was himself taken from the sign of the Boar on his staff.
The rhyme was traced to William Colynboume who had been an officer in the household of the Duchess of York. Richard was deeply wounded not only by the criticism of his rule but because this man had been one of his family's servants. Colynboume had committed a greater sin than writing seditious doggerel verse. He was found guilty of sending messages to Henry Tudor giving the state of the defences of England.
He was accorded the traitor's death and suffered cruelly on Tower Hill.
One urgent need was staring Richard in the face, and that was the importance of getting an heir. There had always been anxiety about Edward's health and he and Anne had longed for another child. She had been so delicate that he had begun to feel that they would never have another and while they had the young Prince they could put their hope in him. But now he was gone. Moreover Anne's health had deteriorated rapidly since the death of Edward. It was clear that a great interest had been taken out of
her life and she felt so ill now that she could no longer disguise it.
Richard called in the doctors.
Could they not do something? Surely their skill was not beyond helping her.
They shook their heads.
Tt is a disease of the lungs, my lord. The Queen cannot recover. She can only grow progressively worse.'
The physicians were uneasy and he was aware that there was something else they wished to say to him. They hesitated, each waiting for the other to speak.
At last one of them said: 'My lord, the Queen's disease in these stages is contagious. You should no longer share a chamber with her.'
The implication of this was obvious. He and Anne would never have another child.
He explained gently to Anne. She understood. She said: 'I can't have long left, Richard. Bear with me for these few weeks. Then when I am gone you must marry again . . . marry a healthy young woman who can give you sons.'
He shook his head. 'There would never be anyone else I could love as I do you. Oh I know I have not told you often enough, not shown you. It is my way.'
'I know ... I know and I would not have had you otherwise. You have been good to me always . . . and it was always you I wanted. Do you remember, Richard, when we were together in those early days at Middleham?
'I have never forgotten them. For that reason I have always loved Middleham. I would we could be there now . . . together . . . with our son. . . .'
'Time passes, Richard. We have had some bad times ... I shall never forget those days I spent in that hot and foul-smelling kitchen. . . . Sometimes it comes back to me now ... I dream . . . and I wake up and am thankful that that is over. But we must look to the future. When I am gone ... I want you to be happy, Richard.'
'I could not hope to be.'
'You will be. You will succeed. You will be a great King—even greater than your brother. Oh Richard, I want you to be happy. If you are, everything that has gone on before will be worth while.'
'You are going to get well/ he said firmly, 'and when you are
we will have children, sons . . . sons and daughters.'
'Yes/ she said to comfort him. 'Oh yes.' And she tried to pretend that she believed that possible.
Christmas had come. It was spent at Westminster and in order to keep his promise to look after his brother's daughters, Richard had them brought to the celebrations. He had said that they should have gowns suitable to their rank and Elizabeth of York was attired as magnificently as the Queen.
She looked beauhful and her stay in Sanctuary had clearly done her no harm. She was sparkling, merry and clearly delighted to be free at last.
She showed marked appreciation to the King who was very gracious to her. She was very beautiful with her long golden hair flowing about her shoulders—a marked contrast to the Queen who, although she made a brave effort, looked as though she were visibly fading away.
Morton's spies at Court noticed Elizabeth's deference to the King and that he paid her due honour. They sent word to Morton who was horrified at the thought of Elizabeth's being at Court and clearly enjoying it, and at the accounts of the King's gracious-ness to her and her willingness to please.
Any marriage of Elizabeth of York not to Henry Tudor would render the scheme of making him King impossible. Elizabeth must not marry . . . until Henry Tudor came to claim her.
Morton did not like all this talk about the King's graciousness to Elizabeth. His task was to win the throne for Henry Tudor and he, shrewd plotter that he was, knew that slander against Richard would be of as great importance as winning a battle. Elizabeth must not marry.
In the meanhme there was a chance to defame Richard further.
Why not send out hints that he was contemplating marrying his niece? He was married to Anne yes, but a little dose of poison would soon remove her and then he would be free.
Anne would be dead soon, according to reports. She was weaker every day. So that story could sound plausible.
Richard could not understand why people should hate him so, why they should continue to send out these evil rumours.
Catesby and Ratcliffe said that it was because Henry Tudor had people working for him secretly and slander was one of the weapons they were using against him.
Events weighed heavily upon him. He must be prepared for
the coming of Henry Tudor and each day he saw Anne growing weaker and weaker.
On the sixteenth of March Richard was summoned to her bedside. He sat there holding her hand while the chamber was filled with darkness.
Outside the people stood about in the streets staring up at the sky for the sun's face was slowly being obscured.
It was the greatest eclipse of the sun which the people of England had ever seen and they thought it must have something to do with the passing of the Queen.
Anne was unaware of it. She knew only that Richard was with her, holding her hand and that she was slowly slipping away from him.
'Richard. . . .' she tried to say his name.