Edward sent invitations to Warwick and Clarence to come to the Council at Westminster. At first they were wary, demanding many guarantees of safe conduct; finally these were given and they came to London where Edward received them with affection.

There was no real quarrel between them, Edward assured them. ‘Let us forget our grievances and go on as before.’


In Warwick Castle the Earl’s daughters sat together talking quietly. Every now and then Anne glanced at her sister Isabel. Isabel was heavily pregnant; she looked ill and Anne was worried about her sister. So was the Countess their mother. Isabel had never been strong – nor had Anne for that matter; their health had been a constant cause of anxiety to their parents from their birth.

‘I thank God,’ the Countess had said to her daughter Anne, ‘that Isabel will have her baby here at Warwick and I shall be here to look after her. We’ll look after her together, Anne.’

Anne nodded. ‘But she will be so happy, my lady, when her baby is born.’

‘Ah yes, and so will the Duke. We’ll hope for a boy. Your father has been so disappointed not to have a son.’

Anne put her arms about her mother’s shoulders. ‘I’m sorry, dear lady, that we were both girls.’

The Countess laughed. ‘My dear child, I would not change either of you. But I did often wish that I could give your father the son he wanted. Alas, I shall never do that.’

Anne knew that at her difficult birth her father had been told that the Countess could not bear more children and she could imagine what a great blow it must have been for such an ambitious man; but he was reconciled. When he was with them he was as near to happiness as he had ever been, Anne believed. Some might not. He was an adventurer, a leader by nature, a ruler of men. The King owed his crown to him. He had made Edward as surely as he had unmade Henry.

As Anne had said to Isabel: ‘It makes one uneasy to be the daughter of such a father. It is as though great things will be expected of us.’

‘All that will be expected of us,’ Isabel had replied, ‘is to marry where we are bidden to. And when we are married to produce sons ...’

‘Daughters too perhaps,’ added Anne, ‘for daughters have their uses.’

And they certainly had, for Isabel was soon after that married to the Duke of Clarence.

She had been a little frightened at first, but George Plantagenet had grown fond of her and she of him. It was easy to be fond of Isabel. She was pretty and very gentle and of course she had a vast fortune, or would have when her father died – a fortune she would share with Anne.

Anne remembered days which seemed so long ago now when she and Richard had ridden together through the woods or played guessing games in the schoolroom. Where was Richard now? she often wondered. There was a great deal of uneasiness throughout the country because her father and the King were in conflict, and all the time they were trying to pretend to each other and to the people that they were not. But they were, of course. She had heard such a lot of talk about the King’s marriage and she knew how much her father hated it, hated the Woodvilles and was going to be revenged on them for taking all the important posts and marrying all the rich people so that they became more important in the country than he was.

It was a frightening situation, for Clarence was Isabel’s husband and he was against his own brother and had whispered to Isabel that she might one day be a queen, for there was a scheme afoot to put him on the throne in place of his brother.

Anne was suddenly startled by the sound of galloping horses. Isabel looked up from her embroidering.

‘Visitors?’ she asked uneasily. They were always uneasy when visitors came to the castle nowadays, for they could never be certain what news they would bring.

Anne rose and went to the window where she could see the party in the distance and that the standard-bearer carried the device of the bear and the ragged staff.

‘It is someone from our father,’ she said.

Isabel murmured: ‘Dear God, I trust not bad news.’

Anne was silent. Then she said: ‘It is our father ... and sister, your husband is with him. I will go at once and find our mother.’

Anne hurried out of the room while Isabel rose and went to the window. The riders were now clattering into the courtyard. Isabel saw her young husband. He had leaped from his horse and a groom had run forward. She heard her father’s voice shouting orders.

The Countess was already in the courtyard with Anne. Warwick embraced first his wife and then his daughter.

Anne knew by the set expression of his face that something was wrong. He said: ‘Let us go in. I have much to say and there is little time.’

Ominous words, she thought. Something fresh had happened. How she wished there did not have to be this trouble. It seemed so wrong that there should be a quarrel between her father and the King. They had always been such good friends. And Isabel’s husband was actually the King’s brother which made it all most unnatural.

But now something very important was afoot. Anne noticed that her mother was trembling slightly and it was not only due to the excitement of the unexpected arrival of her husband.

The Earl lost no time in explaining the situation for they must leave at once since there was not a moment to spare. He was being pursued by his enemies and if he were caught that would be the end of him, the end of them all. They must get to the coast with all haste and then sail for France, where his very good friend the King would give him temporary shelter and the means to get back to England.

‘You cannot mean this,’ cried the Countess. ‘Do you know that Isabel’s baby is due within a month?’

‘My dear lady, I know that well and I know that even so it is dangerous for us to stay here. The King’s men are marching to take me. My plans have gone wrong. I shall be at his mercy and that will be the end of me. Nothing less than my head will suit him.’

Anne said: ‘I will go and prepare Isabel. She will have to be carried in a litter.’

‘God help us!’ cried the Countess.

‘Now let us lose no time,’ said the Earl; and he began giving orders.

While Warwick’s messengers were making their way to the coasts of Devon and Dorset with orders for ships to be made ready, the party set out. Both Anne and her mother were deeply concerned about Isabel’s condition for she was clearly finding the travel both irksome and dangerous.

Warwick and his family safely embarked on one of the vessels he had managed to commandeer and they all sailed for Southampton where he kept several of his stoutest ships. Unfortunately for Warwick, Lord Rivers who was more energetic and astute than his father had intercepted them and a battle ensued.

Anne sat with her sister in one of the cabins and tried to interest her in talk of the coming baby but the sound of gunfire shattered the peace and Anne greatly feared what might be happening to her father’s ships. After what seemed like an interminable battle, although the Earl had lost several of his ships the one in which his family were travelling managed to escape, and with a few of the other vessels which had survived, sailed out to sea.

As they neared Calais, Warwick sent out a message to his friend and ally Lord Wenloch, to ascertain what their welcome would be in that port. The answer came back that it would be hostile and that the Duke of Burgundy on one side and the Yorkists on the other were waiting for his arrival and were standing by for his capture. He would, therefore, do better to land at a French port and throw himself on the hospitality of the King of France.

Warwick, who had on more than one occasion shown himself to be master of the sea, turned from Calais. He had always been at his best against desperate odds, and he was already making plans – plans which at first might seem quite wild and impossible; but the more outrageous they were the more they stimulated the Earl.

Meanwhile Isabel was causing great anxiety, for her pains had started and it had become clear that her child was about to be born on the high seas.

‘We must get into port at once,’ cried the Countess.

Warwick was overcome with anxiety for his daughter but he knew that to go into port was impossible for if they attempted to land they would be taken into captivity.

Anne was frantic. ‘We need so much. There are no herbs, no soothing medicines, no midwife ...’

The Countess said: ‘We must do our best.’ A storm had arisen, and the wind began to howl and the boat to rock; and in the midst of the storm Isabel’s child was born.

That she lived was a miracle but the child was dead. Isabel lay delirious on a pallet while Anne and the Countess prepared the little body for burial. The child was a boy and Anne could not help reflecting that had he lived he might have been the King of England.

There was a sad little ceremony when the child’s body sewn into a sheet was slipped into the sea. Anne reflected that mercifully Isabel was spared witnessing the burial.

Afterwards she and her mother went back to Isabel. She must be their first concern. Anne knew that her mother was trying to shut out of her mind pictures of Isabel’s being wrapped in a sheet before she was dropped into the sea.

‘So,’ said Warwick, ‘I have lost my grandson. We must look forward. There will be more.’

His eyes were on Anne and there was a new speculation in them which she did not notice, so intent was she on her sister’s tragedy. If she had she would have been very uneasy indeed.