Edward had refused him that consolation. And what was more had given it to Anthony Woodville. My lord Rivers! That upstart! Where would he have been if his sister had not attracted the King and had the cunning to refuse him till he married her.
A curse on the Woodvilles. And that sly woman the Queen had tried to pretend she was Isabel’s friend by sending her the woman ... Ankarette somebody. Curse curse curse the Woodvilles and in particular the Queen who was responsible for their rise. Edward was a fool to have married a woman of no standing. They were always the worst when it came to grabbing titles and lands.
He ground his teeth in rage and wished with all his might that he could raise an army and destroy Edward.
How dared the Queen send a woman to serve Isabel! And why had she done it? Why?
Pictures were darting in and out of his fevered mind. That woman ... sent by the Queen! For what purpose? Why should the Queen send Isabel a woman to serve her?
There was something behind this. The more he thought of it the more excited he became. He revelled in his excitement. It took his mind off the disappointment in the loss of Mary of Burgundy.
The woman had come ... sent by the Queen ... and Isabel had died. He did not trust the Queen, so he did not trust any of her women.
He sent for one of his menservants. He said to the man: ‘Send the woman Ankarette to me. I would speak to her.’
‘My lord,’ was the answer, ‘she has left us. She went after the Duchess’s death. She said she had come to serve her and now she and the child were dead there was no reason why she should stay.’
‘Oh she did, did she? I understand. Yes, I think I understand very well. Where has she gone? Has she returned to her mistress the Queen?’
‘I think not, my lord. She has a home in Cayford.’
‘And where is Cayford?’
‘It is in Somerset I believe, my lord.’
‘Ah, that will do. I will find her.’
The manservant looked astonished but George waved him away. The plan was already there in his mind; and he never paused to consider consequences. He summoned eighty of his guards and told them that they were to go with all speed to a place called Cayford which was in Somerset. There they would find the home of Ankarette Twynhoe, and they were to arrest her and bring her immediately to Warwick Castle where he would be awaiting them.
The Captain of the guard looked somewhat dismayed. It was a well-known fact that none had the powers of immediate arrest except the King; and although Clarence was the King’s brother that was not the same thing.
‘Why do you hesitate?’ asked Clarence.
‘We are to arrest this woman ... in the name of ...’
‘You are to arrest this woman. Have I not told you? I command it. I command it ...’
When Clarence was in such a mood it was wisest to obey him and the Captain remarked that he would leave at once for Somerset.
When the soldiers arrived Ankarette was at home with her daughter and son-in-law, who were visiting her for she had been long from home nursing the Duchess of Clarence. They were sitting peacefully at dinner when Clarence’s guard appeared.
As the Captain came into the dining hall Ankarette rose from the table in astonishment.
‘You are under arrest,’ she was told.
Her son-in-law had risen with her. ‘What means this?’ he demanded. ‘What right have you to burst in on us thus ... ?’
‘We are ordered to take her to Warwick Castle.’
‘For what reason?’ cried Ankarette. ‘I have just left Warwick.’
‘On the charge of poisoning the Duchess of Clarence and her child.’
‘This is madness,’ said Ankarette.
‘You must nevertheless come with me to answer the charge.’
Ankarette’s son-in-law laid a hand on her arm. ‘You should not go. They have no right. Only the King can arrest a person in this way ... and these men do not come on the King’s orders.’
‘We come on the orders of the Duke of Clarence,’ answered the Captain.
Ankarette said: ‘It is such nonsense. I shall be able to prove my innocence without the least trouble. I will go.’
‘My dear Mother,’ said Ankarette’s daughter, ‘I think you should refuse to go until you know more of this ridiculous matter.’
The Captain of the guard had called in his men. ‘It would be better not to resist,’ he said.
They all saw the wisdom of this. What chance had three of them against eighty?
Ankarette said: ‘I will come peacefully and I shall want a very good explanation of this violation of my home, I warn you.’
‘So be it,’ said the Captain of the guard.
‘We are coming with you, Mother,’ said Ankarette’s daughter.
So the three of them were taken to Warwick Castle where Clarence was waiting for them in a fever of impatience. He had worked himself to even greater fury convincing himself that Isabel and his child had been murdered at the instigation of the Queen. This was not so much a case against Ankarette Twynhoe as against Elizabeth Woodville. He had been thinking a great deal. This was going to be the first step on his journey to the throne. He was going to expose these Woodvilles as jealous murderers and people would see how foolish the King was to have given them the power they had. He had been drinking heavily of his favourite malmsey wine while he awaited the arrival of the party from Somerset, and he was intoxicated not only with the wine but with dreams of the great triumphs which lay ahead.
First he must deal with this woman – the Queen’s woman as he thought of her, the Woodvilles’ assassin.
He was down at the gates of the castle when the party arrived.
They had the woman, he gleefully noticed. She looked truculent, very sure of herself. And who was this with her? he demanded to know.
Her daughter. Her son-in-law. But he had not wished to see them. They came uninvited. The man was subservient as became him in the presence of the great Duke of Clarence.
‘My mother-in-law is no longer young, my lord. We do not care for her to travel alone.’
Clarence laughed. ‘She is not too old to do the bidding of her masters and mistresses, it seems. Take the woman into the castle and send the others away.’
‘My lord ...’ It was the daughter.
‘Take this woman,’ cried Clarence, ‘and remove her from my castle. It is only Ankarette Twynhoe that I am going to bring to justice. Of course if these people want to make trouble they will be arrested without delay.’
Ankarette was now beginning to feel alarmed. She knew Clarence’s temperament: it was impossible to have lived for a while in his household and not discovered something of him. What did he mean? Of what was he accusing her?
She turned to her daughter. ‘Go at once,’ she said. ‘I see his mood is ugly. I shall be all right. There is nothing of which he can accuse me.’
‘Stop this whispering,’ cried Clarence. ‘Take the woman into the castle.’
Ankarette turned to smile reassuringly at her daughter and the younger woman, after hesitating for a moment, went off with her husband. They would have to find their way to the nearest town to see if they could find a night’s shelter.
Ankarette meantime was conducted into the hall of the castle.
Clarence had seated himself at a table and he signed to the guards to bring her to him. He looked at her angrily and said: ‘You will stand trial tomorrow.’
‘Trial, my lord ... for what?’
‘Your pose of innocence is useless, murderess. I know what you have done and at whose instigation.’
‘My lord, I beg you, tell me what it is you think I have done?’
‘You know. You murdered my wife, as your mistress instructed you to.’