The King and Queen are here, visiting their sons. I should not say this, but I wish they had not come. Wherever she goes, Elizabeth Woodville brings constant demands and unrest. This morning’s episode was typical. We heard her shouting at Edward in their royal bedchamber, which is close enough to our room for the boys to hear every word.
‘George is a traitor, Edward. You know he is. Everyone knows. How much longer are you going to wait?’
The King said coldly, ‘The Duke of Clarence is no concern of yours.’
‘He is everyone’s concern. It is outrageous that – ’
I began to talk loudly about something trivial, trying to drown her words, but Edward held up his hand to hush me. He is nearly nine now, and has a natural authority that cannot be ignored. So I fell silent, and Elizabeth’s furious voice was terribly clear.
‘Your brother has been guilty of treason a hundred times over. If he were a common man you’d have sent him to the block years ago and thought nothing of it. Why should he be favoured and escape execution? People are saying you have lost your courage.’
‘That is not true. You know perfectly well – ’
But she cut through his words.
‘Are you admitting that you love your treacherous brother more than you love justice?’
The King’s voice was quiet and angry. ‘Elizabeth. You know the reason.’
‘That old tale? Pah! Of course I know – who better? Why are you worried? We can deal with any troublemakers – you have the power. But you must use your power, Edward. I am sick of your cowardice and dithering. Whose side are you on – George’s or mine? Make up your mind, before he makes it up for you.’
The door slammed, and we heard the clacking of her high-heeled shoes as she ran down the stairs.
Richard’s face was white and his lips were trembling. I tried to take him on my lap, but he pulled away. Edward had more sense. He spoke to his little brother cheerfully.
‘Grown-ups have arguments sometimes. Don’t worry about it.’
He reached for a knitted stocking and slipped his hand into it, then wriggled it towards Richard.
‘A big snake coming to get you,’ he said. ‘Ssssssssssss!’
Richard began to fend the woolly snake off and laughed, unwillingly at first.
Edward looked at me over the top of his head as he went on gently buffeting his brother.
‘My mother is right, Lisa,’ he said. ‘The King has to show his hand.’
He never calls his father Papa, just the King. I did not know what to say. All I know is, I am full of fear.
***
The boys are outside, doing their sporting activities. I am in the kitchen, helping Annie to pluck chickens and telling her about the Queen’s tirade this morning – but the door bursts open and men from the royal guard come clattering in. They are red-faced and excited, laughing yet somehow shocked.
Annie’s brother is one of them. She asks, ‘Jack, what’s happened?’
‘The King’s brother,’ he says. ‘The Duke of Clarence. Arrested, tried, condemned to death. We’ve just escorted him back to the Tower.’
‘He’s been asking for it for years,’ Annie says. ‘Sit down, you lot, you’re making the place untidy.’
She goes over to the barrel of ale in the corner and starts filling mugs.
‘Lisa, hand these out.’
The men are unbuckling belts, undoing tunics, dumping their swords and scabbards on the floor, pulling out chairs, sitting down. Laughing, clinking mugs together, shoving the chickens out of the way so feathers fly around. It’s going to be a party.
‘What are they going to do with him?’ Annie asks after a bit. ‘They can’t hang the King’s brother like some common criminal.’
‘Special treat,’ Jack says, grinning. ‘Big privilege. They’ve said he can choose how he wants to die. Got to make up his mind by tomorrow morning. Cheers. Here’s to justice.’
‘Here’s to justice!’ they chorus, clinking mugs again. Ale slops over. The serious drinking begins.
***
We know now how Clarence chose to die, although Annie reckons it was someone else’s choice, not his. They found his body in a huge barrel of red wine. So Annie is probably right. He was helped, as she put it.
There are a lot of people in the kitchen again, not soldiers, just the servants who work here. This is our natural meeting place when something has happened.
‘Clarence always liked a drink,’ a man says, and everyone laughs.
Annie says, ‘I hope they don’t chuck it away just because he’s been in it. Malmsey’s a lovely marinade for venison.’
I find it hard to join in the merriment. Perhaps because my father has compassion for those who die, I’m appalled by what has happened. The luxurious life of this castle has shown a nasty underside, like turning over a dead bird and finding it full of maggots. For the first time in all these years, I almost wish I had gone home with my father and stayed there, that day when Edward fell from his pony.
Too late now. Conflict and betrayal and killing are part of the way these privileged people live. As well as caring for the boys and keeping them happy, I may need to protect them, though I do not know from what or whom.
Anne Mowbray, the little girl who was married with such ceremony to Richard two years ago, died last week. So the dog-breeders will have to pick a new bride to mate with their pedigree prince. I think of her white, serious face and wild red hair, and grieve for her. Increasingly often these days, I wish I could take my lovely boys away from this mad place and let them grow up as I did, in a simple house where we worked hard and did nothing to harm anyone.