A Richard for All Seasons
An Autumn of York
Autumn and Winter, 1485
With Henry Tudor and a few of his supporters now dead, Richard could breathe a small sigh of relief. He yet had many enemies abroad, and certainly many influential men in England who would step up to support another invasion, and many more who were ambivalent either way, so long as their estates and properties remained untouched. But the fact remained that a major and most widely supported threat was no more.
Richard left the field of battle, to dive into the field of court. He traveled down to London soon after the battle, taking with him De la Pole, Lovell, and other courtiers, including noblemen he had captured during the battle. The brunt of the army he left under the command of Thomas Howard, newly made Duke of Norfolk, to travel around the Midlands in a show of strength. In his travels Howard also divested some of Henry Tudor's most vocal supporters of control of their lands and titles, sending the men to the king, who was inclined for the most part to be merciful...after confiscating great tracts of land, which he either kept or generously handed out to his supporters.
Richard III Plantagenet, or Richard III of York, King of England and of France and Lord of Ireland
Swooping down into London and surprising the bureaucrats who had been awaiting the outcome of the battle, Richard had a flurry of letters sent all over the country and to the continent. Most of these letters were very formulaic and lengthy, cramping the hands of many scribes, and in effect denied that Richard III had any wish or plans to wed his niece Elizabeth of York.
Other letters were not so simple. The one to his mother, like many of late, was awkward and long winded. The (for Richard) convenient disappearances of his nephews Edward and Richard remained an undiscussed but obvious topic. The one to his sister was much better. Margaret of York, widow of the late Duke Charles the Bold of Burgundy, was loved by her brother, having been great friends in their youths. She had remained in Burgundy after the death of her husband, helping her stepdaughter Mary in managing the realm and holding it together despite the independent-minded Netherlanders and the greedy French. In 1482, however, Mary died, and her widower Maximilian von Habsburg and stepmother Margaret were in dire straits indeed. The Burgundians barely tolerated Margaret and Maximilian's regency for Mary and Maximilian's son Philip von Habsburg [1], and a very disadvantageous settlement had to be reached with France, with Edward IV, Margaret and Richard III's brother, unable to help at the time. Now, with the kingdom more securely under Richard's control and about to become more secure still, he felt that he was at last able to do something to help his sister and to stir the French nest.
France...now that was a thorn in any English king's side. Richard's official style was King of England and of France and Lord of Ireland, and France ought by rights belong to him! That little twerp Charles VIII of France and his harpy sister regent Anne still housed many exiled Lancastrian malcontents, among them Edward Woodville, Lord Scales. It was he who had backed Henry Tudor most ferociously, and who still held possession of much of the treasury, in France and in Brittany. Lucky for Richard then that all was not well in France, as regency and nobles played tug of war over the king and power. Another issue that Richard had with France, specifically Anne, was the the French mercenaries who had been the core of Tudor's forces at Bosworth, and who had certainly been supplied by her.
So Richard invited his sister Margaret to visit England, to see him once again and to discuss plans for France and the downfall of Anne, hopefully. If not, they could at least flesh out a generous peace treaty. Anne had enough on her plate without interference from England, hopefully threat of force would induce her to hand over Woodville and others in exchange for peace. So another letter too went out to his trusted and loyal man Richard Boyville, whose family had attended Margaret during previous visits. On arriving in London Richard also sent a protesting Elizabeth of York north to York with Henry Percy, simply in order to send her far away in safety, to stop the insidious Lancastrian rumors that he wished to marry her. And then he set down to planning a real marriage. The last of his important letters, a true exercise in authorship, was to King John II of Portugal, to cement Richard and John's sister Joanna's contract for marriage.
In his letter he stressed the strength of his position now that Henry Tudor was dead, the mass of confiscated lands under his control which would make him a wealthy king, the need of their two great maritime realms to band together in order to dominate the seas, and more. And truly, for Richard, Joanna was a great match. Extremely devout from a young age and free of scandal, she still remained shrewd and politic, as a princess should be. Forced to return to court several times from the nunnery in which she wished to live, she nevertheless managed to outmaneuver several annoying suitors, until her father finally gave up in trying to force her to marry. Now, after all her refusals, it was telling of Richard that Joanna had been receptive to his suit even before his glorious, final victory.
Eight months older than Richard himself, she would be the perfect ally to build his kingdom with, her fortunes inextricably bound to his own, her assets and intelligence at his disposal, her religiosity a boon to the man accused of murdering his own nephews, desiring incestuous marriage to his own niece, and worse things, surely. So the letters to Lisbon went out, and letters came back along with Portuguese noblemen and diplomats, and agreements were made and in December 1485--
--Southampton was awash in color the likes of which it had never seen before. Banners and tent cloths fluttered in the fine breeze, and Richard saw royal purple outlined with cloth of gold border and tassels, striped white and azure blue studded with sapphires, gold and forest green checkers, pink and red stripes, and many, many more. Men, women, and children stood in the streets, crouched on roofs, and crowded the walls in order to see, all talking and laughing and drinking. Above it all, hanging from Southampton's walls and anchored to the ground with the best rope, was one banner, hundreds of feet long, repeating over and over the coat of arms of the King of England. Richard turned round on the pier again, looking out to see. "Eh Francis, what do you think?" he exhaled, breath visible in the brisk, fresh air.
The King of England's coat of arms, draped along the walls of Southampton
This was the fourth time his excited sovereign had asked this, but Francis Lovell, formerly Viscount, was now the Earl of Derby, so he was even more generous with his Majesty than usual. "Absolutely magnificent Sire, if you don't mind me saying so I think it's time that a king of England had some sense of style. Eh, Thomas?"
Thomas Howard, looking his usual relaxed self and having recently been made Lord High Constable, only gave a shrug and a wink. The crowd behind and below Richard grew louder still as boats full of Portuguese lads and maidens drew up at the docks, throwing flowers into the air and up into the crowd. Soldiers lining the royal path had to use their fists and elbows to keep the crowd in line as the maneuverable caravels drew nearer. "Much better Joanna than Elizabeth, isn't it, Sire?" asked Richard Ratcliffe, newly made Lord Chancellor. William Catesby, Speaker of the Commons once more, nodded. It had been them two who most seriously and immediately saw the danger of Richard marrying Elizabeth of York when his wife Anne died earlier that year.
"Mm," Richard nodded, distracted. The two couldn't help grinning at each other, but Howard and Lovell exchanged uneasy glances. Richard was usually quite calm and remote, not as charming as his late brother Edward. Why the change, now? Now he was busy staring at the leading caravel some hundred yards away, which was finally coming to a stop as the (for once) finely dressed dock workers took hold of the ropes dropped by the Portuguese sailors above and pulled hard, getting the ship to come to a halt. There was much movement on board, all fluttering around a sea of calm on the deck with an opulent, gold-edged indigo blue figure in the middle. "There she is!"
Soon the procession was walking up toward them solemnly, the attending noblemen and guard coming first, the women behind. When the men neared the king they parted to the left and right to precede him, as was rehearsed, and then Richard laid eyes on her, now comparing her mentally to the small portrait he had been given. My, she was exquisite! Creamy white skin, hair gleaming like embers, cool grey eyes, and a small, red, full mouth, like a strawberry. Gazing directly at him, calm and interested. Her sense of style too was impeccable, even for a princess. Now that she was closer, Richard saw that the indigo blue gown was covering a black underskirt and undersleeve, both edged with cloth of gold. The fur lined cloak securely clasped about her--no doubt December in England was quite chilly for a Portuguese princess!--was thick, scarlet velvet. Over her hair was a pure white coif with pearls sewn into the hem. And pinned to her gown and around her neck were exquisite, finely made pieces of jewelry. The necklace was a masterpiece, fine golden thread crisscrossing to make a torc, with rubies and emeralds and sapphires caged within at regular intervals. Breathtaking, the wealth of Portugal!
Ahhh, here she was, but the wedding still days away!
[1] Yes, OTL father of the illustrious Charles V von Habsburg. Needless to say, Charles is butterflied away
