The Rose of York: Crown of Destiny by Sandra Worth

stared at the river, seeing Warwick’s face in the rippling currents, hearing his voice in its roaring. So much of what Warwick had foretold had come to pass. Charles of Burgundy had proven as mad and useless an ally as Warwick had predicted, and had practically served up Burgundy to Louis on a silver trencher, just as Warwick had warned. If Meg had married into France, how much better would it have been for her—and for England…
    Warwick had been far too accurate about another marriage as well. The Woodvilles had proven the plague he’d feared. He recalled the prophecy Warwick had made to Edward: that his Queen was a woman so reviled throughout the land, no son of her blood would ever be permitted to mount the throne of England. A dread prophecy, for kings were not ousted without war. If only Edward hadn’t married that woman!
    But, unable to help himself, Edward had wed Bess Woodville in a secret marriage after a chance meeting in the woods where she had lain in wait for him during a hunt. Months later, he’d made the marriage public and unleashed her on the land. She was the cause of his rupture with his Neville cousins, and the cause of civil war. The image of the council chamber at Reading Abbey where Edward had announced his secret marriage flared in his mind. Once again he saw John’s ashen face, saw Warwick pounding his fist on the table.
    And so began the rift that led to civil war. Richard shook the memories away.
    “My dearest, there’s more… Two months ago, in April, George sent his men to abduct Bella’s midwife, a woman by the name of Ankarette Twynyho, from her home in Somerset. They brought her to Warwick Castle where George charged her with poisoning Bella.”
    “Tell me she didn’t do it, that it’s not so!”
    “Nay, my little bird, it’s all in George’s sick and clouded mind. Ankarette Twynyho had been sent to Bella by the Queen. No doubt she was a talebearer, but the woman would never stoop to the foul murder of a duchess. She protested her innocence to the end and George had to force the justices to condemn her. She was dragged off to the gallows, along with a doctor whom George claimed had poisoned his babe.”
    “Why would George do such a brutal thing?”
    “By taking the King’s justice into his own hands, he wants to show the land that he is rightful King… He once put out the story that Edward was the bastard son of an archer…” Richard rose abruptly from the window seat, the old doubts about his own paternity assailing him once again. As far back as he could remember, he’d been tormented by the thought that he was no true Plantagenet. The evidence had seemed overwhelming to him as a child: in a family of blonds, he was dark; where they were self-confident, he struggled to find his place in the world. His brothers were tall, powerfully-built natural warriors, while he had been born puny and of average height. Only by study and force of will had he overcome his handicaps. Even now as a grown man the dragon of his childhood nightmares appeared at times of strain to cry out that he was a bastard.
    He had always doubted himself, but only George could doubt Edward.
    “A shameful tale for it impugns our mother’s honour. Now he’s sent his servants through the land to proclaim that Edward practises the Black Arts and has ordered his followers to be ready in armour within an hour’s warning. It seems he’ll stop at nothing to gain the throne.”
    “God help us!”
    “Anne, there is more…I would keep all this from you if I could, my dear one, but I may be gone a long while and the tales that come to your ears may be more fearsome than the truth.”
    Anne jerked back her head and looked at him wide-eyed.
    “There has been a prophecy…” Richard hesitated. “…that the King will be succeeded by one whose name begins with the letter G.”
    George . Anne held her breath.
    “The prophecy has unsettled Edward. One of George’s servants was executed three days ago for