A Tapestry of Treason

While Richard flung away from me to hammer his fist on the stonework of the window surround, I considered an answer to his question. What gave a man, a subject, the right to keep a King imprisoned? In this case the power of the sword. The support of the great magnates of the realm. Henry had the power to do as he pleased.

‘Why are you here?’ Richard was facing me again, eyes wild with displeasure. ‘Are you here to argue Cousin Henry’s cause? Do you like him more than you like me?’

It was the accusation of a child. ‘No, I am not. I am here to give you company. Are you well treated? You have food, I see.’ The muscles in his face twitched under the strain, but he had been well accommodated in the King’s Great Chamber in St Thomas’s Tower. No sparsely furnished dungeon here, but a room with every comfort. The walls, smoothly plastered, were painted with leaves and flowers, candle-sconces aplenty offered light in the darkest corners, and, on a carved and polished coffer, books had been left to help him pass the interminable hours. They were still unopened.

‘Will you take a cup of wine, my lord?’ I asked.

But he waved it away. ‘I will not. I will not be won over by food and fine cloth.’ He tugged at the furred collar. ‘I demand my freedom.’ His eyes narrowed on my face as he beckoned imperiously: ‘Come and talk with me.’

He sank onto a stool and pointed at one beside him. I sat in obedience.

‘I am afraid,’ he said.

‘There is no need. Our cousin will treat you fairly.’

‘Is it fair to take what is not his, what is mine and beyond his taking?’ He leaned close to speak in almost a whisper. ‘He will make me abdicate,’ Richard fretted. ‘How can I? How can a King abandon his sacred anointing at his coronation, in the sight of God and his subjects? I cannot renounce it.’

As he suddenly gripped my hand, crushing my fingers, I felt the weight of sadness that bore him down.

‘They will say that I must give my power into hands stronger than mine, Constance.’ He looked at me, a world of suspicion in his gaze. ‘Your royal father, my uncle of York, is my designated heir. Not Henry of Lancaster. Will your father take the throne from me? Is that why you are here? To plead his cause so I will hand it over, weak as a kitten? Your family always had ambition above its position.’

So we had become the accused also. How easy it was to slide into the pool of Richard’s enmity.

‘I am not here to persuade you to give up your crown, Richard. My father does not seek the crown.’

But Richard was on his feet again, driven by unknown terrors, his fingers tugging his hair into disarray before covering his face.

‘I trust no one. My people do not love me, I am told. They cry out for my blood, my head. I must believe it. I heard them.’ And then, voice still muffled: ‘What do I do if I am not King?’

I allowed myself to reply cautiously to his irrationality. ‘What do you wish to do?’

He thought about it, hands falling away so that his reply came clearly. ‘If I were not King? I would live in a place of my choosing. With friends and servants and enough resources to maintain myself in an honourable state.’

Rising, I gathered his hands, more gently than he had gripped mine. ‘You must not give up hope, Richard.’

His answering smile was wan. ‘Will you have your family speak for me? We were always friends. Aumale and Gloucester, Exeter and Surrey. And my uncle of York.’ He had forgotten that they had done nothing to prevent his falling into Lancaster’s hands.

The minutes were passing. ‘Do you need anything? I cannot stay long.’

‘Better you here than the guard who watches my every step.’ The anger had gone, replaced by desolation. ‘Will you give my dear wife Isabelle this from me?’ He made to take a ring from his hand, as if he expected to see the great ruby gleaming in the sunlight, only to find his hands naked of jewels. ‘Where is my ring? They have taken it from me.’ It was almost a sob. ‘I can do nothing. They have taken all my treasure. And Mathes.’

I knew that they had confiscated all of Richard’s wealth, all the forty thousand pounds of it hidden away in Holt Castle so that he was stripped down to a man of absolute poverty. Again there were tears in his eyes, which coated my compassion with irritation, not for the first time. It was important now for me to give counsel.

‘You must listen to me, Richard.’ And when he nodded, seeking any consolation, still holding fast to my hands: ‘You must be strong. Do not give in to Lancaster. Offer to negotiate with him, but do not agree to relinquish your crown without promises for your safety and your future.’

‘Will he listen?’

I thought not, but I must give this man hope. ‘You have friends. Friends who will not desert you. I am your friend.’

‘What can you do? I am deserted. I think he will have my head. Henry was always my rival.’

‘He will not.’ How difficult it was to implant into this man a backbone that would carry him through the next days and weeks. ‘Listen to me, Richard. Be strong. Tell Lancaster that you will discuss terms. He is a fair man. He does not desire your blood.’

‘If I offer to reinstate his land and inheritance, will he allow me to go free?’

‘Yes, that might do it.’

Oh, Richard. Lancaster wanted far more than his inheritance. By taking up arms against the King, Henry had proved that he desired more than the reinstatement of his title of Duke of Lancaster and the Lancaster acres. I could see no glory for Richard, but he should be allowed to keep his dignity.

‘Don’t forget. The family of York will not abandon you. Do not sign any document that robs you of your royal authority. You must not abdicate unless Lancaster listens to your conditions.’

‘But what are my conditions?’

I tried not to sigh.

‘Your freedom is the main one. Demand that you be set free.’ Then I delivered the most vital piece of advice, for all of us. ‘Demand a guarantee of a pardon for all your counsellors, so that Lancaster cannot punish them for any perceived fault in your reign. You must think of the men who supported you, advised you. They must not be threatened by Lancaster. Do you understand me?’

‘Yes, yes, I can do that.’

‘Promise me that you won’t forget. Otherwise Henry will have his revenge on all of us.’

‘I promise. You will not suffer for your friendship to your King.’

He was smiling at me, although a watery affair as I saluted him on his cheeks and walked to knock on the door to summon the guard to release me. I had done all I could, for Richard and for my family’s uncertain future, but Richard’s utter weakness appalled me.

‘How can I live, if I am not King?’

His final despairing words as I left him standing at the window, looking out on the realm that was indeed no longer his, remained with me as I returned to the barge, the oarsmen who would need to flex their muscles against the drag of the Thames, aiding their wait with leather jugs of ale. My family and the Hollands owed so much to Richard, our present Dukedoms of Aumale and Surrey and Exeter a precious gift after our support in his campaign to punish the Lords Appellant. We could not abandon the giver of such costly patronage. We had been the jewels in Richard’s crown, but it was clear to me that Henry might prise those jewels out and replace them with new. And then where would we be? I had no confidence in Richard’s promise to win Henry’s compliance, that we would be free from any revenge if Henry decided to take it.

Thomas said we should wait.

It seemed to me too dangerous to wait.

‘You’ve company, mistress.’ The captain broke into my thoughts, nodding towards the gilded prow where a familiar figure sprawled on the cushions, regaling the rowers with some tale that had them laughing.

‘How did you get here?’ I asked as I stepped aboard and the oarsmen took their positions.

Dickon pointed at a wherry that was heading towards the opposite bank. He came to sit beside me.

‘What does the King say?’

I shrugged. ‘He’s concerned about his ruby ring and his hound.’ I caught the slide of my brother’s eye. ‘What is it?’

‘A man might wonder whether you came here for Richard’s sake or for ours.’

How true. I had not been completely altruistic, but I would not deny my loyalty to Richard. Equally I would not reveal to my brother the content of my advice to him. ‘A man should keep his inquisitive nose out of my affairs,’ I said, and turned my face towards Westminster, where all was to play for.

A little time after dawn on the following day I met with my family in my father’s private chamber at Westminster, summoned by him with unaccustomed stringency. Even the timing was unusual. My father, ageing rapidly week by week, rarely broke his fast before the day was well advanced. There were six of us all told. It had, I decided, although I would never have been allowed to attend such a meeting, the semblance of a council of war. The room might be familiar with its solid stonework and hunting tapestries, but the atmosphere was as sharp as that first sip of newly brewed ale.