The Sun in Splendour

'We come on the orders of the Duke of Clarence,' answered the Captain.

Ankarette said: 'It is such nonsense. I shall be able to prove my i

'My dear Mother,' said Ankarette's daughter, 'I think you should refuse to go until you know more of this ridiculous matter.'

The Captain of the guard had called in his men. 'It would be better not to resist,' he said.

They all saw the wisdom of this. What chance had three of them against eighty?

Ankarette said: 'I will come peacefully and I shall want a very good explanation of this violation of my hon}e, I warn you.'

'So be it,' said the Captain of the guard.

'We are coming with you. Mother,' said Ankarette's daughter.

So the three of them were taken to Warwick Castle where Clarence was waiting for them in a fever of impatience. He had worked himself to even greater fury convincing himself that Isabel and his child had been murdered at the instigation of the Queen. This was not so much a case against Ankarette Twynhoe as against Elizabeth Woodville. He had been thinking a great deal. This was going to be the first step on his journey to the throne. He was going to expose these Woodvilles as jealous murderers and people would see how foolish the King was to have given them the power they had. He had been drinking heavily of his favourite malmsey wine while he awaited the arrival of the party from Somerset, and he was intoxicated not only with the wine but with dreams of the great triumphs which lay ahead.

First he must deal with this woman—the Queen's woman as he thought of her, the Woodvilles' assassin.

He was down at the gates of the castle when the party arrived.

They had the woman, he gleefully noticed. She looked truculent, very sure of herself. And who was this with her? he demanded to know.

Her daughter. Her son-in-law. But he had not wished to see them. They came uninvited. The man was subservient as became him in the presence of the great Duke of Clarence.

'My mother-in-law is no longer young, my lord. We do not care for her to travel alone.'

Clarence laughed. 'She is not too old to do the bidding of her masters and mistresses, it seems. Take the woman into the castle and send the others away.'

'My lord . . . .'It was the daughter.

'Take this woman,' cried Clarence, 'and remove her from my castle. It is only Ankarette Twynhoe that I am going to bring to justice. Of course if these people want to make trouble they will be arrested without delay.'

Ankarette was now begi

She turned to her daughter. 'Go at once,' she said. 'I see his mood is ugly. I shall be all right. There is nothing of which he can accuse me.'

'Stop this whispering,' cried Clarence. 'Take the woman into the castle.'

Ankarette turned to smile reassuringly at her daughter and the younger woman, after hesitating for a moment, went off with her husband. They would have to find their way to the nearest town to see if they could find a night's shelter.

Ankarette meantime was conducted into the hall of the castle.

Clarence had seated himself at a table and he signed to the guards to bring her to him. He looked at her angrily and said: 'You will stand trial tomorrow.'

'Trial, my lord ... for what?'

'Your pose of i

'My lord, I beg you, tell me what it is you think I have done?'

'You know. You murdered my wife, as your mistress instructed you to.'

'Murdered! The Duchess! My lord, how could you possibly have thought such a thing!'

'I know it/ said Clarence. The Queen gave you instructions. You are her woman, are you not?'

'I served the Queen.'

'Most effectively I see.'

'You are very mistaken, my lord. The Queen wished nothing but good to the Duchess and she sent me to help her. I loved my lady.'

'I see through lies, madam. Do not imagine that you can outwit me.'

'My lord .... This is monstrous . . . this is . . . .'

'Take the woman away.'

Ankarette lay on a pallet in one of the small rooms of the castle. This was like a nightmare. What could it mean? The poor Duchess had been weak before her confinement. She had never been a strong woman. The doctors had shaken their heads over her condition and Ankarette knew that they feared that she might not come safely through. And now she was accused of murdering her! It was such nonsense.

And yet . . . there was a wildness in the Duke of Clarence, a determination to prove her guilty. Why? Why select her? What harm had she ever done him?

She tossed on her pallet. Sleep was impossible. A glimmer of understanding was coming to her. This was not an attack by Clarence on her . . . but on the Queen.

It must be solved. It was nonsensical. The Duke was intoxicated. He often was. In the light of morning he would have recovered and realized the ridiculousness of this accusation.

It was a relief when dawn came. The guards came to her. They were losing no time and were taking her to the court without delay.

The proceedings were quickly over. The Duke of Clarence accused Ankarette Twynhoe of murder. She had come ostensibly to serve the Duchess but in fact to bring about her death. The Duchess had sickened from the moment Ankarette entered the household and all knew that she had died. Her death had been brought about by poison which had been administered by Ankarette Twynhoe.

That was Clarence's case against her. He ordered the jury to find her guilty and they did.

'This woman deserves a fearful death,' said Clarence, 'but we will be merciful and let her die by hanging.'

Ankarette protested her i

There was no point in delay, Clarence said. Let the hanging take place at once. Everything was in readiness. They would leave the hall and the deed should be done.

They took her out. She stood for a few moments looking up at the blue April sky. Suddenly she heard the song of a chaffinch and the realization came to her that she would never hear that again.

One of the jury who had condemned her was standing close by looking at her.

'Forgive me/ he said.

She bowed her head; she was amazed that the anguished look in his eyes could touch her at such a moment.

He went on: 'You are i

'I understand,' she said.

A man was at her side. 'They are waiting,' he said. And he led her to the hangman.

It was impossible for Edward not to hear of what had happened to Elizabeth's one-time serving woman Ankarette Twynhoe.

He did not discuss the matter with Elizabeth although he knew that this was meant to be a blow at her because she had actually recommended Ankarette to the Duchess of Clarence. He did however speak to Hastings about it for it was very much on his mind.

'What do you think of my brother's latest exploit?' he asked his friend.

'He has usurped your powers in arresting that woman and in hanging her immediately after the trial.'

'And we know the trial was no real one. The jury are saying that they believed the woman i

'There will be trouble with Clarence, Edward.'

'There has always been trouble with Clarence. But this is a