A traitor, and she had been married, or at least betrothed, to the late and unlamented Edouard Lancaster, Prince of Wales.
‘Richard was no fool. By marrying Anne, he would inherit all the rights to Warwick's northern holdings and, he hoped, a share of the Beauchamp estates which Warwick acquired through marriage. Anne would also provide him with all the necessary introductions to the clan-like northern families. Although in all likelihood King Edward didn't approve of the match and perhaps foresaw some difficulties with brother George who just happened to be married to Anne’s sister, he finally gave his consent.
‘In July, 1471 Richard headed north with his own household and retainers and took up residence at Middleham, which must have pleased him no end. He was also granted the former Neville lordships of Sheriff Hutton and Penrith and the whole of Warwick's holdings in Yorkshire and Cumberland. Not a bad start for a kid not quite nineteen years old.’
‘This kid had already murdered someone,’ Gail huffed. ‘That’s a start too.’
Laura shrugged. ‘Hey, he only did what he had to do.’
‘Yeah, sure. Continue.’
‘Thank you. Let’s see. Ah … okay, by the autumn of 1471, Richard was back in London on urgent family business. George - and I should use his title - Duke of Clarence, was dead set against Richard's marriage to Anne, his sister-in-law as I said. Ever the dog in the manger, George insisted that all of the Beauchamp lands were his, and went so far apparently as to have Anne hidden in an inn in London to keep her out of Richard's hands. Richard's spy network soon found her and she was taken to St. Martin's to await the King's pleasure.
‘Although King Edward was capable of extreme anger, a hallmark of the Plantagenets I might add, he was generally the type of man who tried to make all the people happy all the time. The brothers argued back and forth in private until finally the case was handed over to an official hearing. A temporary arrangement was sorted out but the wrangle between the two Dukes was to continue for some time.
‘Anne and Richard were cousins, as well as in-laws and a papal dispensation should have been sought prior to their union, but this formality was overlooked and they were married, in July I think, 1472. Richard's son Edward was born in December, 1473, at Middleham.’
‘He had a son? I didn't know that.’ Gail was genuinely surprised.
‘You see, the Bard missed that; didn't even mention it.’
‘Just the best reason going for murdering the Princes though, isn't it?’ Gail said, smiling maliciously. ‘A clean succession; thanks Dad.’
Laura lowered her reading glasses. ‘I see, so you like Shakespeare’s version better? Usurp the throne and kill the kids, just for fun? Don’t bother mentioning the fact that Richard was a family man.’
‘Will was just using poetic licence or something, that’s all.’
‘Oh well, that’s all right then,’ Laura replied derisively. ‘We wouldn’t want historical fact to get in the way of a good story line, now would we? Shall I continue?’
‘Sure.’
‘While her estates were being argued over, the widowed Countess of Warwick remained in sanctuary at Beaulieu Abbey. In June 1473, Richard had her brought to Middleham to be with her daughter prior to the birth of young Edward. There’s major speculation on Richard's reasons for having his mother-in-law under his roof. They range from “isn't he the nicest boy” to “that will shut the old bag up”.
‘Apparently she had been writing to anyone of importance, complaining about the unfair treatment she had received regarding her estates. She had every right to complain. Apparently, she had been stripped of her inheritance by her two darling son-in-laws. Actions which were technically illegal, I might add, so the boys circumvented the law by having her declared legally dead. Nice trick, don’t you think?’
‘Could they do that?’ Gail asked, appalled.
‘They were royal dukes. What do you think?’
‘You mean they got away with it because of who they were? That’s not fair.’
Laura chuckled. ‘Fair, yes well, I think if you check down through history you’ll find that the law, despite every effort, tends to bend a little under the pressure of raw power.’ She paused for a sip of wine. ‘Anyhow, after his success with his mother-in-law, Richard put the screws on another widow, the dowager-countess Elizabeth Howard. She was the mother of the Earl of Oxford, one of the last surviving Lancastrian supporters and menace at large. Richard was granted the lands of her rebel son, but the lady had considerable holdings in her own right which Richard wanted as well. He took her into custody, ostensibly to prevent her from helping her son's cause and then terrorised her into surrendering her inheritance to him despite the fact that he had absolutely no right to it. He didn't use physical force or anything. The tactic he used was to suggest that she come up for a visit to Middleham, a journey which, because of her great age, the distance and the fact that it was winter, would most certainly have killed her.’
‘That's terrible!’
‘Terrible or not, it worked a treat and he got away with it. King Edward obviously turned a blind eye despite the fact that he knew what his brother was doing was unlawful. Actually, many estates were carved up by George and Richard without regard for the feelings of others.’ Laura caught their waiter’s eye. ‘Want another glass of wine, Gail?’
‘Sure, why not?’
Laura smiled. ‘You’re not worried about drinking too much tonight?’
‘No husband, no kids, get on with the Story.’
‘Right, okay. In 1476 - Richard would be twenty four by then - the remains of his father and brother Edmund were taken from their resting place at Pontefract and reburied with solemn ceremony at Fotheringhay. It was probably the last time that Edward, George and Richard spent time together on reasonably friendly terms.
‘You see, George’s wife Isabel died shortly afterwards and the following January his sister Margaret's husband Charles, Duke of Burgundy was killed at the battle of Nancy. Margaret had no children, but Charles left an heiress, Mary, his only child from a previous marriage. What a wonderful idea. Why not marry George and Mary? Margaret was all for it and so was George since Mary, besides being one wealthy lady and desirable, was also the granddaughter of John of Gaunt and thus had a very nice claim to the English throne. King Edward vetoed the idea. The Queen must have really pulled George's chain when she suggested her brother Anthony, Lord Rivers as a possible bridegroom instead, but again Edward declined.
‘Actually, George had been a pain in the proverbial for some time. Having his ambitions thwarted yet again must have sent him over the edge. He started to bad mouth King Edward, spreading rumours that he was a bastard and therefore an unlawful king. George's hatred of the Queen boiled over early in 1477. Apparently, Isabel had a servant named Ankarette Twynho, a respectable widow of good family. When the Duchess died, Ankarette entered the Queen’s service. On the 14th of April, George had Ankarette arrested and imprisoned at Warwick Castle. She was accused of complicity with the Queen to poison the Duchess of Clarence. There was a trial of sorts, but everyone was so afraid of George that they did what he wanted them to do, which was to convict the lady. The poor woman was
