The Sun in Splendour - Plaidy Jean (электронную книгу бесплатно без регистрации .txt) 📗

There was a moment of silence. For half a second Richard wavered. He looked at Hastings. He had been fond of this man who had been Edward's greatest friend. Edward had found great pleasure in his company. But that made the remedy ever more necessary. Hastings had known that Edward had appointed him; and yet he was ready to play the traitor not only to Richard but to Edward.

There must be no softening; he must be strong. Everything depended on how he acted at this time.

He looked steadily at Hastings.

'I swear I will not dine until your head is severed from your body. You are a traitor, Hastings, and the reward of traitors should be death.'

He rapped on the table. It was the sign he had told the guards to wait for. They came in shouting: 'Treason.'

Richard looked at the guards and the ashen faces of the men about the table.

'Arrest these men,' cried Richard, indicahng Rotherham, Morton and Stanley. 'Take them away. But not my lord Hastings. No . . . not my lord Hastings. You, traitor, shall die now.'

It was the signal. The guards seized the four men. Rotherham and Morton were taken to lodgings in the Tower; Stanley went to his home under guard; but Hastings was conducted at once to the Green and a priest was found for him so that he could hastily be shriven.

Hastings, bewildered still, stood on the Green. It was so sudden. This morning he had said adieu to Jane, now his loving mistress, just as he had always wanted her to be—telling her he would soon be with her.

He had been happy. He was dabbling with conspiracy it was

true but that added a certain zest to his life. He had been reckless; he had been foolish; he had never liked the Woodvilles. He saw how foolish he had been to think of throwing in his lot with them. Gloucester was a strong man. Edward had seen that when he had named him as Protector.

And now, this was the reward of his folly. This was the end.

There was no executioner's block but men had been working at the Tower and they found a piece of wood which would serve.

The soft and balmy air caressed his face as Hashngs laid his head on the hastily improvised block and died.

The cries of Treason had been heard in the city and the apprentices had come running into the streets brandishing any weapon they could lay their hands on, while the merchants were prepared to protect their shops, and the mayor was ready to marshal his forces. If there was treason in the air, if there were to be battles then London must protect itself.

Richard immediately sent a herald into the streets who rode along sounding his trumpet and asking the people to listen to what he had to tell them. There was no cause for alarm. All that had happened was that a conspiracy had been discovered and those responsible had received their just rewards. Lord Hastings had plotted to destroy the Protector and the Duke of Buckingham and had himself been beheaded. All knew that Hastings had lured the late King to live licentiously and Hastings was at this time the lover of the late King's mistress Jane Shore—a whore and a witch; he had been with Jane Shore on the previous night and the woman was disclosed as one involved in the conspiracy.

Tut away your weapons, good citizens,' cried the herald. 'Danger has been averted by the prompt action of the Protector.'

The Londoners were delighted to do this. Trouble they did not want. But the crowds stayed in the streets to ask themselves what would happen next. It was an uneasy situation. A King who was a minor was always a source of trouble. The Queen was in Sanctuary and the Woodvilles in decline. That was good. The Londoners had never liked the rapacious Woodvilles. There was the Lord Protector who had proved himself a worthy ruler in the North to look after the country.

Tf the Lord Protector took the crown,' said some, 'it would not be a bad thing.'

There is the little King,' replied some of the women.

'Little Kings cause trouble,' was the answer.

But they were all delighted that there was to be no fighting in the streets.

Richard immediately called a meeting of the Council to explain the reason for his prompt action. It was always dangerous to execute men without trial.

There was not a man among them who did not realize the need for prompt action. Many of them knew that Hastings had deviated from his loyalty to Richard; they knew too of his association with Jane Shore and it was a fact that the goldsmith's wife visited the King and the Queen. It was all very plausible. Gloucester had done what any strong man would.

Richard was anxious to show that he bore no personal venom towards Hastings. The late King had asked that Hastings be buried beside him so Richard ordered that the body should be taken to Windsor and there buried close to Edward in that chapel of St George's which Edward had started to build and which was as yet incomplete. As for Hastings' widow, Katherine, she should not be deprived of her goods, and Richard would take her under his protection.

jane Shore, he said, was of little importance robbed of her protectors. She was a harlot and as such should do penance and be deprived of her possessions. He would pass her over to the Church which could decide what her penance should be, and when it was performed she should be forgotten. He would take no action against her. She had been loved by his brother and he would remember that. The penance and the loss of the goods his brother and others had bestowed on her would be punishment enough.

Now to more serious business.

Elizabeth Woodville must be persuaded to come out of Sanctuary. If she would do this she could reside with the King and he and the Duke of York could be together as they wished; and so could the King's daughters.

If, however, the Queen refused to leave Sanctuary—and she could not be forced to do so—then the Duke of York must be taken from her.

The Council agreed that the choice should be put to her.

There was a great deal of rumour flying round not only London but the entire country.

First there was the spectacle of Jane Shore's walking through the streets barefooted wrapped in a worsted robe, a lighted taper in her hand.

It was the ultimate degradahon. They had sought to humiliate her and this they had done indeed.

She was stricken with grief. She blamed herself for the death of Hastings. She had brought him into the conspiracy with the Queen. But for her he would be alive today.

She could see the people as she walked; they crowded about her, eyes filled with curiosity, with malice, and with pleasure! They had envied her once when she was the adored mistress of the King. They had cheered her often. She had always tried to do what she could for the people. They had known it and loved her for it. But on occasions like these it was not those people who came out to gloat; it was the malicious, the envious, those who considered themselves virtuous.

'Harlot,' they called her. Well, she supposed she was. A whore was not a better one because she was a King's whore.

No. She had loved the King; she had loved Hastings. The goldsmith ... no she had never loved him but she had been forced into that marriage by her father. The relationship with Dorset had not been a good one. She was ashamed of that. But where was Dorset now . . . plotting somewhere against the Protector.

The Protector despised her. She believed he always had. She knew he had deplored the King's fondness for her. The Protector was cold, aloof but just, she believed. He might have sentenced her to death himself instead of handing her over to the Bishop of London.

She was sure that remembering his brother's fondness for her he had been lenient.

This horror would pass.

Her feet were bleeding for the cobbles were sharp; she was aware of the eyes that followed her. Into the Cathedral she went with her taper; and then out once more to make confession at Paul's Cross.