Текст книги "The Sun in Splendour"

Автор книги: Jean Plaidy

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When the King was alive he had not dared to be too persistent. He had followed her with his eyes and in them had been that burning desire which against her will had drawn a response from her. She had fought it off successfully while the King lived. It was a different matter when he was dead.

Dorset had then claimed her and made her his slave. Jane was both repelled and utterly fascinated by the man. When he was not present she could tell herself that she must break away from him; but he only had to appear and she was lost.

Jane was not naturally a loose woman. She was not meant to be passed from one man to another. She needed a settled and respectable existence and with the King she had had that.

She had loved Edward. Who could have helped it? He had seemed to her—as he did to many—the most handsome man in the world. Moreover he had such charm of manner and such kindliness radiated from him; he was so powerful, so romantic, every inch a king, a perfect lover; he was all that Jane could ever have asked for.

She often thought of the early days, and how it had all come about. Her hfe had been simple enough in her father's household for he had been a well-to-do Mercer and those early days had been lived in the house in Cheapside where she had been born. Her mother had died and left Jane an only child to her father's care, which had been strict yet affectionate in its way. Thomas Wainstead had been eager to do everything for his daughter even to finding her a worthy husband in the goldsmith William Shore.

Perhaps all would have been well if Jane had not been so outstandingly beautiful that she caught the roving eye of one of the Court gallants who attempted to abduct her. That man had been William Lord Hastings and she had for ever after been wary

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of him. He was good looking—^but a pale shadow of Edward as every other man must be.

He was rich; he had the means to bribe servants and set the stage for abduction; and this might have taken place had not one of the servants—whom he had bribed to help him drug her mistress—not suddenly grown alarmed and warned Jane.

From the beginning marriage with Goldsmith Shore had been a dire mistake. Jane had wanted to be a good wife to him but she was naturally exuberant, full-blooded and romantic; and the goldsmith who was several years older than herself was certainly no hero of romance.

He was a highly respectable man—naturally he would be since her father had chosen him; he served the Court and was even more comfortably placed than the mercer; he was also deeply religious. Jane found him intolerable.

And then ... it was after the King's return from exile and that must have been some thirteen years ago ... he had come to the goldsmith's shop ostensibly to look at ornaments but in truth to see Jane of whom Hastings had spoken. Dressed as a merchant he had filled the shop with his magnificent presence and as soon as he saw Jane she had been aware of the glint in his eyes and understood.

It was a short step from then to becoming the King's mistress. She had never regretted it although she was often sorry for William Shore who in his way had been devoted to her. In those first days she had worried about her father, how he had taken the news, for there was no doubt that she had become notorious.

In the early days she had often wondered what would become of her when the King tired of her. Jane had never sought advantages; she delighted to please the King and although she knew she shared that honour with many others, still she did not care. She loved him. If she could please him that was her pleasure. This selfless attitude of hers, together with her amazing beauty which never ceased to astonish however many hmes the King beheld it, and her witty tongue which was never used unkindly remained a source of delight to Edward during all the years of their liaison.

For thirteen years they had been lovers. She was part of his life and a part he never wanted to change.

She had had standing at Court and the King had insisted that she accept a fine house which was full of treasures which he had

bestowed on her. He did not want to visit her in some hovel, he had said. And so she had lived in some state although she had not asked that this should be so.

Even the Queen had been kind to her. Elizabeth had sent for her and talked to her most gently. Jane knew that the Queen was aware of the life her husband lived. Perhaps she deplored it, but she preferred that he should have a mistress such as Jane, a good unselfish woman, by no means a harlot, than a succession of mistresses who would try to usurp the Queen's power.

They had liked each other. Although they were so different– Elizabeth eager to take all she could get and Jane asking nothing—they had one great quality in common: each knew how to handle the King.

They both managed admirably and they were the only two women who had kept their hold on his affections. They respected each other and whenever Jane was at Court she could always be sure that the Queen would treat her with respect. Whether she did this because to do otherwise would have angered the King, or whether she had a real respect for her, Jane was not sure. But she admired the Queen and considered her a clever woman and the Queen clearly had the same opinion of Jane.

And now the pleasant world had collapsed. The King had died suddenly, and Jane had lost her kind protector. She had never felt so alone in her life before.

Then Dorset had come.

She had not wanted another lover so soon. She wanted to mourn the one she had lost—incomparable Edward whom she had loved so deeply and so long.

But Dorset would not wait. He had proved to her without doubt that she could not resist him. He was an impulsive impatient lover. He had long wanted Jane and it had been galling to have to stand aside for that old man his stepfather—King though he was.

How different was Dorset from Edward. There was no romantic lovemaking, Dorset cynically demanded and took. He was arrogant in the extreme and he wanted her to know that he was the master. Every time he left her she promised herself that it should be the last but when he came again he was as dominating as ever.

And now he had fled into Sanctuary. What would happen next? She hated to think of the proud Queen and her beautiful

children in that cold place. She had met them all, and had particularly loved little Richard the Duke of York. She remembered so well his marriage to Anne Mowbray. What an enchanting little bridegroom he had made and little Anne was such an appealing bride. Alas, the little bridegroom had become a widower very soon, a fact which did not distress him for he did not seem to know anything about it.

The new King she had rarely seen because he was kept at Ludlow; and now he was in the Tower of London awaiting his coronation and there was this conflict between his uncle Gloucester and the Queen and her family.

Jane shivered; she had always kept away from state matters. Perhaps that was another reason why Edward had found it so restful to be with her.

It was some days since she had seen Dorset. She was not unhappy about that. He frightened her and she always despised herself for being the victim of her own senses, so there was a certain relief in being away from him. How different it had been with Edward! How she longed to go back to those cosy days, those intimate sessions with that most charming of lovers!

Her servants came to her and said that there was a man without who had a message for her.

Her heart started to beat uncertainly. From whom? she wondered. And somehow she knew it was from Dorset.

She sent for the man; she took the crumpled paper. Yes, Dorset. He had escaped from Sanctuary. He was in a house not far from the Chepe. She knew of the house. It was one which was frequented by the men of the Court and had a reputation for harbouring high-class prostitutes.

They were good to him there. He wanted her to come to him at once. It was important.

She crumpled the paper in her hand. She did not want to go. Dorset would have to understand that she was not like the women he was meeting in that house. But he was in acute danger. If it were known that he had left Sanctuary the hunt would start. The Protector would not be content until he had caught him and brought him to trial.

At the moment the Queen's brother. Lord Rivers, and her son, Richard Grey, were held by the Protector. There was no doubt of what Dorset's fate would be if he were caught.

She pondered a while and then she decided that she must at

least see him.

She told the man: 'I will come at dusk/ He went away satisfied.

She went swiftly along by the river through to the Chepe until she came to the address Dorset had sent her. She was recognized at once by the lady of the house, who took her through several passages to a room at the back of the house and there was Dorset.

He came towards her and seized her hungrily. She tried to hold him off but it was the same as ever and she felt her resistance slipping away.

'Jane . . . my Jane . . . ' cried Dorset exultantly. 'I knew you would not fail me.'

'You said you must see me. What are you going to do?'

'I'll tell you later. There is time yet. We have the whole night before us.'

'I must go.'

'What, through the streets at this hour! Come confess it, Jane, when you agreed to come at dusk you knew you would not leave until morning.'

'I will not stay.'

He laughed; and she knew she would.

During the night she learned tht.– real reason why he had sent for her. Of course he had delighted in her body, but there were many handsome women on the premises and any would have been delighted to entertain the mighty Marquess of Dorset even though he was in hiding. The general belief was that the King would soon be crowned and then the Protector would go back to the North; the Queen and her family would emerge into prominence again and they would naturally be the ones who would control the King.

'I shall have to leave here very soon,' said Dorset. 'It's dangerous.'

'I am glad you realize it.'

'Oh yes, Jane, it will be sad to be far away from you, but I have to get away ... to raise an army to come back and show Edward's little brother that it is not as easy as he thinks.'

'I doubt he thinks it easy,' said Jane. 'Edward talked a great deal about him. He had the highest regard for him. He used to say he trusted him as he did no other.'

'Please, Jane, do not sing Gloucester's praises to me. The man is after power like everyone else. He sees himself as ruling the country through his little nephew King.'

'Edward did not think that.'

'Edward always refused to see ill in anyone. Look at the manner in which Warwick duped him. We have to think of the little King. He is desperately unhappy because my uncle Anthony was taken from him. He frets for my brother Richard. Just think, those fine men are in the hands of that hunch-backed little upstart.'

'He is not a hunchback. One shoulder is a little higher than the other, that's all. Edward used to say that they forced him to wear armour that was too heavy for his bones. Moreover Edward always thought so highly of his administrative power. He trusted him as he did no one else. . . .'

'Yes, exactly as he trusted Warwick when the mighty Earl Kingmaker was thinking of unkinging him and remaking Henry.'

'Wait a while,' said Jane. 'See what happens. Go back to Sanctuary where you will be safe.'

'Dear Jane, you are the perfect mistress but do not seek to meddle in matters of which you know nothing. I am going to instruct you and you shall play your part, I promise you.'

'What do you mean, instruct me?'

'I want you to do something for me. You will, won't you?'

'If I can I will, but what is it?'

'Jane. Listen. We need to bring men to our side . . . influential men. Men like Buckingham . . . but I don't know enough of him. There is one other whom I know very well and who is important to us. You could help me here, Jane. You could persuade him. He would listen to you.'

'Who is this man?'

'Hastings.'

'Hastings! You know how I feel about Hastings/

'Oh come, Jane. You bear him a grudge and that is not like you. What did Hastings do but admire you? What has he ever done against you but look at you with longing? I know that at one time he tried to abduct you and take you by force. Don't think too hardly of him, Jane. It was the sort of adventure we all indulged in/

'I have never forgotten it.'

'But you have forgiven him. He has always been so eager to

show you how pleased he would be for a little norice from you.'

'You think 1 could persuade him to change sides?'

'Yes, Jane, 1 do . . . cleverly, subtly . . . as you with your merry witty talk would know how to.'

'You ask the impossible.'

He took her by the shoulders and shook her.

'Do this for me. I want to be back in power. I do not want to skulk in Sanctuary afraid of Gloucester's guards for ever. Come Jane, do this for me. Be my lovely little Jane. It would be a challenge. Do you fear you could not do it?

'I have not considered doing what you ask.'

'It would be revenge on him. He treated you with scant respect when he tried to abduct you . . . aye, and would have done so but for that last minute dash of conscience which beset your maid. Have your revenge, Jane, and work for me at the same time. Help me out of this wretchedness into which I have fallen. Think of my mother, our proud Queen. Think of the Princesses and the little Duke of York. They are forced to live in Sanctuary, afraid to emerge. Afraid of their lives. Oh Jane, help me . . . help the Queen who has always been your friend. You loved the little Duke didn't you? I think you were a special favourite of his. The King once said that you had told him you looked on Richard as your own. And little Catherine and little Bridget. . . . Think of them.'

'I am sorry for what has befallen the Queen, but it is not for me to meddle.'

'So you will nrt help your friends?'

'I would if I could. But Edward named the Duke of Gloucester as the Protector of the Realm and of the little King.'

'He did not tell him to send the Queen into Sanctuary.'

The Queen went of her own free will.'

'Because my brother and my uncle have been arrested. For what, Jane? For bringing the King to his coronation.'

Jane was thoughtful. Then she said: 'Lord Hashngs was the King's best friend.'

'And you should remember that.'

'He never liked the Queen.'

'Oh that was due to some silly quarrel about the Captaincy of Calais which went to Hastings when my mother thought it should have gone to my uncle.'

Jane continued silent.

Dorset drew her to him and began to make violent love to her.

'Promise me, Jane/ he said. 'Swear you will help. Amuse yourself with Hastings. . . .'

'What you suggest is . . . is. . . .'

He stopped her with his kisses. He was laughing. 'You'll do it, Jane,' he said. 'You'll do this for me.'

Jane felt half ashamed, half excited. She was glad to escape from Dorset. When she was with him he was irresistible but she fervently wished that she could fight off the violent passion which he inspired in her. She wanted love. She had it astonishingly enough from Edward. There could be none to replace him but he was gone now and it was no use brooding on the past.

Since she had left Dorset she had thought a good deal about Hastings.

She had always told herself that she disliked him. She had never forgotten that experience when she had been about to take the ale which her maid had brought; she remembered still the frightened look in the girl's eyes and then her confession. Often she had wondered what would have happened if she had drunk the ale and gone into a deep sleep while Hastings was let into the house and carried her away.

Hastings himself had often looked shamefaced and had even told her how he repented that act. She had shrugged his apologies aside. She had told herself that was in the past and of no importance now for he would never attempt such an action with her again. The King had laughed at it. 'Forgive poor old Hastings,' he said. 'He's a good friend to me. I trust him and that means a great deal. What he did I am afraid we would all have done if the idea had occurred to us.' She had protested and made Edward see that men who thought they had a right to treat women so were rogues. He agreed with her, and said: 'But then you are so beautiful, Jane. A temptation to us all, and did I not take you away from that virtuous goldsmith of yours?'

She could sound Hastings. He always looked at her with a kind of brooding tenderness nowadays which made her feel differently towards him.

When she next saw him he was on the way to Westminster to talk with the Protector. They were arranging when the corona-

tion should be, she knew. Dorset had said that the Protector would put it off for as long as possible because once the King was crowned he himself would cease to be so important.

She smiled at Hastings. He immediately hesitated. She supposed she had never done that spontaneously before.

He paused and bowed low. 'Greetings, Mistress Shore,' he said. ' 'Tisa fine day.'

'It is so,' she answered.

He was still pausing, looking at her with that obvious admiration.

'You grow fairer than ever every time I see you,' he said.

'You are gracious.'

'Jane.' She saw the hope leap into his eyes. It had been easier than she had thought.

They supped together. He talked soberly of the death of the King. 'A sad blow to us both, Jane,' he said. 'Nothing will ever be the same for either of us again. You miss him sorely do you not?'

'Most sorely,' she confirmed.

'He was a great man ... a great King. He possessed all the qualities of kingship. That he should go like that ... so suddenly. . . .'

'He lived too heartily,' said Jane. 'I often told him.'

'He could not help it. He was made like that. Do you know, Jane, I am twelve years older than he was. Think of it, I have had twelve more years of life.'

'My lord, I hope you have twelve more left to you.'

'Now that you are gracious to me, I could wish it,' he said.

That night she became his mistress.

It was easier than she had thought. He was kindly, tender and he loved her. That was obvious. He told her during that first night together how bitterly he had regretted that first approach. He had always felt that if he had tried to woo her as she deserved to be wooed, perhaps he might have been successful before Edward found her.

'I have a feeling, Jane, that you w^ould be faithful to the one you loved.'

'I always was to Edward.'

'I know it well. He knew it. He loved you for it and although he could not repay you in the same vein he often said what joy you had brought to his life. What of Dorset, Jane?'

She shivered. 'He is in hiding. I do not want to see him again.'

'Dorset is not a good man, Jane.'

'I know it well. I am glad to be free of him.

Hastings seemed well satisfied with that.

DEATH ON TOWER GREEN

So Jane Shore was now Hastings' mistress. It was a matter which was talked of throughout the town. Jane was popular with the citizens; so was Hastings.

Gloucester listened with distaste. He had always deplored Edward's way of life and had on more than one occasion told his brother that it was no way for a King to live. Edward had laughed at him, had called him a monk, and said he could not expect everyone to be like himself. Hastings had been such another; it was something Gloucester had always held against him. He had reason to be grateful to Hastings for he had kept him informed of what was happening in London and in fact had been the first to tell him of Edward's death. But now that Buckingham had joined him and had shown himself to be so single-mindedly his man he was moving away from Hastings.

His brother's chief advisers had been Lord Hastings; Thomas Rotherham, Archbishop of York and Lord Chancellor; John Morton, Bishop of Ely; and Lord Stanley. Rotherham had shown himself up as a weakling by handing the Great Seal back to Elizabeth when she was packing her treasures to go into Sanctuary. He was not the kind of man Gloucester wanted about him. Morton was a good man but he had been a staunch Lancastrian and had only become Edward's minister when it was certain that there was no hope of Henry's being restored to the throne. It was a matter of expediency and Gloucester did not like such men. Stanley had not a very good reputation for loyalty and had previously shown himself ready to jump whichever way was best for Stanley; there was one other reason why Gloucester would not trust him too far. He had recently married Margaret Beaufort, that very strong-minded woman, who was descended from John

of Gaunt and was also the mother of Henry Tudor. That upstart of very questionable parentage had of late begun to hint that he had a claim to the throne as grandson of Queen Katherine the widow of Henry the Fifth through a liaison—though the Tudors called it marriage—with Owen Tudor. Royalty on both sides, said Tudor, counting Katherine of France as his grandmother and John of Gaunt through his mother.

These had been Edward's men. It sometimes happened that when there was a change of rule there had to be a clean sweep. He wanted none of them—except perhaps Hastings. Buckingham was at his right hand. Buckingham was royal and the second peer in the land after himself. Then on a humbler scale there were Richard Ratcliffe, Francis Lovell, William Catesby . . . men who were his tried friends and had been over the years.

He was going to need staunch and trusted friends. The position was dangerous. If he were defeated by the Woodvilles they would have no compunction in destroying him. He was fighting not only for what he believed to be right but for his life.

It would be good to see Anne who was coming south for the coronation which was fixed for the twenty-fourth of June.

He met her on the outskirts of London and as soon as he saw her he was appalled by her frail looks. She always looked more delicate than ever after an absence. He had hoped that she would have their son with her although he had known that the little boy's health might have prevented his travelling.

Anne smiled as he took her hand; there was sadness in that smile for she noticed how he looked eagerly for their son and the disappointment on his face when he realized he was not with her.

'Welcome to London, my dear,' he said.

T could not bring Edward,' she told him. 'I dared not. His cough has worsened and I thought the journey would be too much for him.'

He nodded. 'He will grow out of the weakness,' he said with an attempt at assurance, but he added: 'Praise God.'

'Oh yes. He was better in the spring.' She smiled and tried to look excited but all she could really feel was exhaustion. Being with Richard lately had always been something of an ordeal because she must continually pretend that her health was improving—and as that was far from the case it was not easy.

As they rode side by side into the City, he told her that the King was in the Palace of the Tower and that the coronation would be

on the twenty-fourth of June. It was now the fifth so there was not much time.

There was a great deal to tell Anne but he did not want to overwhelm her with the detail of events nor did he wish to alarm her. He could see that she was uneasy when she heard that the Queen was in Sanctuary.

He took her to Crosby Place, his residence in London, and as soon as she arrived he insisted that she rest. He sat beside her bed and talked to her, explaining how the Woodvilles had tried to get control of the King, that their ambitions had to be curbed and it was for this reason that he had had to imprison Lord Rivers and Lord Richard Grey. The King was not very pleased about this.

'You see, Anne, they have brought him up to be a Woodville. My brother was too easy-going. He allowed the Queen to surround him with her relations. They have taught him that they are wonderful, wise and good.'

'Does it mean that he turns from you?'

Richard nodded ruefully. 'But I shall change that. He will learn in time.'

'I do wish there need not be this conflict,' said Anne, 'and I wish that you could come back to Middleham.'

'It will be some time before I do, I doubt not. My brother left this task to me and I must fulfil it.'

Then he talked of Middleham to soothe her and he asked about their son's progress with his lessons, for he was clever and his academic achievements made a happier subject than his health.

Anne slept at last and as Richard was leaving her chamber one of his attendants came to tell him that Robert Stillington, the Bishop of Bath and Wells was below and urgently seeking a word with him.

Richard immediately commanded that the Bishop be brought to him. He bade him be seated and to tell him the nature of this important news.

Stillington folded his hands and looked thoughtful. After arriving with a certain amount of urgency he seemed reluctant to explain the cause of his visit.

Richard knew that he was one of those ambitious men who sought advancement through the Church. There were plenty of them about. He had been a staunch Yorkist and in 1467 had become Lord Chancellor, an office of which he had been deprived on the restoration of the House of Lancaster; but it was given back

to him when Edward returned. He resigned after a few years and when Edward had been a little disturbed by Henry Tudor's bombastic claims, Stillington had been sent to Brittany to try to persuade the Duke to surrender him to Edward.

He had failed and later he had been put into the Tower at the time of Clarence's death on a matter which had been somewhat secret and of which Richard was ignorant. It had seemed too trivial at the time to enquire about and Edward had dismissed it. In any case Stillington had soon been released.

Now here was Stillington with this urgent news which he prefaced by explaining it was for the ears of the Duke of Gloucester alone, for he himself did not know what use should be made of it.

All impatience Richard urged him to explain and Stillington burst out: 'My lord, the late King was not truly married to Elizabeth Woodville.'

Richard stared at him in astonishment.

'Oh my lord,' went on Stillington, 'this is true. I know it full well. I myself was in attendance on the King when he gave his vows to another lady. She went into a convent it is true but she was still living at the time when the King went through a form of marriage with Elizabeth Woodville.'

'My lord Bishop, do you realize what you are saying?'

'Indeed I do, my lord. I have pondered long on this matter. There is only one other occasion when I mentioned it and I told the one whom I thought it most concerned: the Duke of Clarence.'

'You told my brother this!' Richard stared in horror at the Bishop. 'When . . . when?'

'It was just before his death.'

It was becoming clear now. Events were falling into place. Stillington in the Tower. Clarence drowned in a butt of malmsey. Clarence would have had to die, possessed as he was of such knowledge.

How deeply it concerned Clarence, for it meant that he, not Edward's son, was heir to the throne!

And Clarence had died. Edward had seen to that. At the same time he had imprisoned Stillington and suddenly the Bishop had found himself in the Tower.

But why had Edward let him go free? Wasn't that typical of Edward? He always believed the best of people. He wanted to be

on good terms with them. He could imagine his saying to Stillington: 'Give me your word that you will tell no one else and you shall go free on payment of a trivial ransom.' And Stillington would give his word to Edward, which he had kept until this moment. But he was of course exonerated from his promise now.

He was speaking slowly. 'You say my brother married . . . before he went through the form of marriage with the Queen.'

'I say it most emphatically, my lord. For I performed it.'

'My brother had many mistresses . . . .'

'The Queen was one of them, my lord.'

'Nodoubt this was some light of love . . . .'

'No, no, my lord. The lady was Lady Eleanor Butler, daughter of the Earl of Shrewsbury. She was a widow when the King saw her.'

'He had a fancy for widows or wives it seems,' murmured Richard. 'Goon. Old Talbot's daughter.'

'Her husband had been Thomas Butler, Lord Sudeley's heir. She was some years older than the King.'

'He liked older women,' mused Richard.

'He went through this form of marriage with her. She was his wife when he went through a form of marriage with Elizabeth Woodville. The Lady Eleanor went into a convent and I discovered that she died there in 1468.'

'So she died after he went through the form of marriage with Elizabeth Woodville.'

'Exactly, my lord. You see what this means?'

Tt means that Elizabeth Woodville was the King's mistress and the Prince now living in the Palace of the Tower is a bastard.'

'It means exactly that, my lord/

'My lord Bishop, you have shocked me deeply. I beg of you to say nothing of this to anyone . . . anyone whatsoever, do you hear?'

'I shall remain silent, my lord, until I have your permission to tell the truth.'

'I appreciate your coming to me.'

'I thought it was something which should be told.'

'It must be kept secret. I must ponder on this. I must decide whether or how it should be acted upon.'

'I understand, my lord, and I give you my word.'

'Thank you. Bishop. You have done right to tell me.'

When the Bishop had left Richard stared in front of him visualizing the prospect ahead of him.

Jane Shore was happier than she had been since the death of the King. It was a revelation to her that she was actually beginning to care about the man she had intended to dupe and who for years she had deeply resented. But Hastings was very different from that brash young man who had tried to abduct her. She had become an obsession with him over the years when he had watched her with the King and realized her qualities. Now he was finding that kindliness, that gentle wit, all her outstanding beauty was for him.

His friends laughed. Hastings has settled down, they said.

His wife, Katherine Neville, daughter of the Earl of Salisbury had long been indifferent to his philanderings. They had had three sons and a daughter so the marriage could be called successful after a fashion. They did not attempt to interfere with each other's way of life and Hastings had been closer to the King than to anyone else on earth. Edward had even said that when they died they should be buried side by side so that, good friends that they had always been in life—apart from that one occasion when the Woodvilles had sought to sow discord between them and had quickly discovered that it was useless—they should not be parted in death.