With this damning disclosure Hastings knew he was doomed. He knew exactly to what Richard was referring. As Richard divulged to the others the devastating secret as reported by Bishop Stillington the night before, Hastings’ legs crumpled under him and he fell to his knees. The councilors exchanged worried glances, and Jack Howard sat down hard.

Frantic, Hastings attempted to defend himself. “I was always faithful to your brother, Richard. ’Twas his secret I held, God help me.” He appealed to the group, wringing his hands. “My lords, you know me. You know my loyalty is to the king! I implore you, speak for me now. I am no traitor.”

Either in fear that they might be the next in line to face Gloucester’s wrath or they were too stunned, no one spoke. Hastings tried again: “Richard, for the love of God—and of your brother, punish me for immorality, for lacking in judgment, but do not accuse me of disloyalty.” When Richard turned away, in desperation Hastings raised his voice. “Remember your oath, Richard of Gloucester!” he cried. “You pledged to protect your nephew’s throne. Some protector! I believe you are only serving yourself.” Now petrified and with nothing to lose, he warned the others: “Mark my words, my lords, Gloucester seeks the crown. He destroys me for no other reason.”

Richard’s fist smashed down on the table and shouted, “The reason is treason!”

At that, more guards rushed into the room causing the councilors to leap from their seats in surprise. They were even more surprised when Richard ordered the arrest of the three unsuspecting of them he believed were Hastings’ and Elizabeth’s co-conspirators: Rotherham, Morton and the loudly protesting Stanley.

Hastings, now firmly held by his guards, cried triumphantly: “You see, my lords, I was right. The lord protector has his eye on the crown.”

“Away!” Richard shouted, pointing towards the door to an outer stair. “Find a block and execute him at once.”

When the prisoners were removed and Hastings’ loud protestations could still be heard, Jack got down on his shaking knees. “Come, my lord, the least we can do is to pray for Will Hastings’ soul.” Only his long association with Richard gave him the courage to suggest this generous action. “You know in your heart he deserves our prayers.”

But Richard was in no mood. He had yet another violent death to beg God’s mercy for, and this one would surely lie as heavily on his heart. “You pray for him, Jack,” he said as he left the room. I’m beyond prayers now, he thought. I fear no prayer can bridge this chasm between me and God. Nay, I will answer to no one but England now; it is she alone in whom I must put my faith. She is my religion now.

Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

June 15–July 7, 1483