Read Online To Hold the Crown: The Story of King Henry VII and Elizabeth of York by Jean Plaidy - Free Book Online
Authors: Jean Plaidy
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“I am sure my daughter, the Queen, would not wish me to leave her.”
“I think she will when she knows what you have been doing.”
“You had better explain, Countess.”
“On the contrary it is you who should explain. Of what did the priest Richard Simon speak to you when he came on the instructions of the Earl of Lincoln to visit you?”
Elizabeth turned pale. So they knew. It was inevitable. The King would have his spies everywhere. Did it matter? He would soon know when the troops landed.
Elizabeth decided to be brazen. She was the mother of the Queen, so they would not dare harm her.
The Countess was saying: “It is no use denying that Simon came here. He is now in Ireland with that foolish baker’s boy whom they have had the temerity to crown in Dublin.”
“You mean the Earl of Warwick.”
“You know the Earl of Warwick is in the Tower.”
“I know he
was
there, poor child. Put there as my own sons were because of their claim to the throne.”
“You speak treason, Elizabeth Woodville.”
“I speak truth, Margaret Beaufort.”
“The King and I have a way of dealing with traitors.”
“I know you have a way of dealing with those whose claim to the throne is greater than that of the Tudor.”
Elizabeth felt reckless now, which was rare with her. But she believed Henry Tudor was no fighter and there were many in the country who resented him; they had accepted him because they wanted an end to the war, but no one could say that his claim to the throne was very strong.
Now was the time to take sides.
“You admit that you are involved in this nonsensical conspiracy?”
“I admit that the priest came here. I admit that I know the Earl of Warwick escaped from the prison in which your son had put him—poor child, little more than a baby and his only fault being that he had a greater claim to the throne than Henry Tudor.”
“You go too far, Elizabeth Woodville.”
“Well, what is it to be? The Tower? Do you think the Queen will allow that? And what do you think the people will say when they hear that the Queen’s Mother is sent to prison merely for saying the Tudor has a very shaky claim to the throne? If you imprison people for saying that, you will have the whole country in captivity.”
“Silence,” cried the Countess. “You are to leave for the nunnery at Bermondsey without delay.”
“A nunnery! I am not ready for that.”
“You will have a choice. It is the nunnery or the Tower. If you go to the nunnery it can be said that you go for your health’s sake. The King and I give you this chance.”
“You and the King do not wish the country to know that I believe the boy Lambert to be the true Earl.”
“That matter will soon be settled. Prepare to leave for the nunnery.”
“I will see my daughter first.”
The Countess lifted her shoulders.
“You must be ready to leave before the end of the day.”
When she was alone Elizabeth felt deflated. The victory was theirs, but she was sure it was a temporary one. Power was in their hands now. It was true they could have sent her to the Tower and she was not so popular with the people that they would greatly care what became of her.
To be sent to the Tower, put in a dark cheerless cell—those places of doom in which a prisoner spent long days and nights, to be forgotten and remembered only when he or she was no longer there and none could be sure how that prisoner had died and none cared.
My little boys, where are you? she wondered. Do
your
ghosts roam the Tower by night?
And what of the Earl of Warwick? Had he really escaped? Had he gone the way of the little Princes? Who could say?
The Queen came to her. She looked disturbed. So the Countess had told her what was planned.
She went to her daughter and took her in her arms but the Queen was somewhat aloof. The Dowager Queen had never been demonstrative . . . not like King Edward, and it was not possible to become so just when the moment demanded it. It would be so easily
“I think she will when she knows what you have been doing.”
“You had better explain, Countess.”
“On the contrary it is you who should explain. Of what did the priest Richard Simon speak to you when he came on the instructions of the Earl of Lincoln to visit you?”
Elizabeth turned pale. So they knew. It was inevitable. The King would have his spies everywhere. Did it matter? He would soon know when the troops landed.
Elizabeth decided to be brazen. She was the mother of the Queen, so they would not dare harm her.
The Countess was saying: “It is no use denying that Simon came here. He is now in Ireland with that foolish baker’s boy whom they have had the temerity to crown in Dublin.”
“You mean the Earl of Warwick.”
“You know the Earl of Warwick is in the Tower.”
“I know he
was
there, poor child. Put there as my own sons were because of their claim to the throne.”
“You speak treason, Elizabeth Woodville.”
“I speak truth, Margaret Beaufort.”
“The King and I have a way of dealing with traitors.”
“I know you have a way of dealing with those whose claim to the throne is greater than that of the Tudor.”
Elizabeth felt reckless now, which was rare with her. But she believed Henry Tudor was no fighter and there were many in the country who resented him; they had accepted him because they wanted an end to the war, but no one could say that his claim to the throne was very strong.
Now was the time to take sides.
“You admit that you are involved in this nonsensical conspiracy?”
“I admit that the priest came here. I admit that I know the Earl of Warwick escaped from the prison in which your son had put him—poor child, little more than a baby and his only fault being that he had a greater claim to the throne than Henry Tudor.”
“You go too far, Elizabeth Woodville.”
“Well, what is it to be? The Tower? Do you think the Queen will allow that? And what do you think the people will say when they hear that the Queen’s Mother is sent to prison merely for saying the Tudor has a very shaky claim to the throne? If you imprison people for saying that, you will have the whole country in captivity.”
“Silence,” cried the Countess. “You are to leave for the nunnery at Bermondsey without delay.”
“A nunnery! I am not ready for that.”
“You will have a choice. It is the nunnery or the Tower. If you go to the nunnery it can be said that you go for your health’s sake. The King and I give you this chance.”
“You and the King do not wish the country to know that I believe the boy Lambert to be the true Earl.”
“That matter will soon be settled. Prepare to leave for the nunnery.”
“I will see my daughter first.”
The Countess lifted her shoulders.
“You must be ready to leave before the end of the day.”
When she was alone Elizabeth felt deflated. The victory was theirs, but she was sure it was a temporary one. Power was in their hands now. It was true they could have sent her to the Tower and she was not so popular with the people that they would greatly care what became of her.
To be sent to the Tower, put in a dark cheerless cell—those places of doom in which a prisoner spent long days and nights, to be forgotten and remembered only when he or she was no longer there and none could be sure how that prisoner had died and none cared.
My little boys, where are you? she wondered. Do
your
ghosts roam the Tower by night?
And what of the Earl of Warwick? Had he really escaped? Had he gone the way of the little Princes? Who could say?
The Queen came to her. She looked disturbed. So the Countess had told her what was planned.
She went to her daughter and took her in her arms but the Queen was somewhat aloof. The Dowager Queen had never been demonstrative . . . not like King Edward, and it was not possible to become so just when the moment demanded it. It would be so easily
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