Attempting to cheer Richard, Francis had said, “But their plan has only an outside chance of succeeding. Tudor cannot have the support he needs to overthrow you—not while he has spent the last decade abroad and you are here, the anointed—and chosen—king of England.”

But Richard, in a dark mood and doubting God’s favor, had harrumphed. “Anything can happen—as I well know. Poor Bess, I warrant she had no choice in the matter. A sweet child with a witch for a mother.”

And thus, as punishment for her part in siding with the exiled Henry Tudor, Elizabeth—like Margaret Beaufort—had all her lands and titles stripped from her, relegating her to plain Dame Grey.

“’Tis fortunate for both of them that England does not execute traitors of the fair sex,” Francis remarked, “for both of them deserve it.”

The most important business to be debated in the three-week parliamentary session were the laws and reforms Richard was proposing. Thanks to his stint in the law courts and his many years meting out justice as constable of England, no one could question Richard’s ability to draw up fair and just reform, even though he must have angered some barons and merchants in the process.

The first act, however, was enthusiastically received as Catesby read: “The king, mindful that the commons of this his realm have been enslaved by intolerable charges and exactions as the result of new and unlawful inventions and inordinate covetousness, contrary to the law of this realm, and in particular by a new imposition called a benevolence…” He looked up and saw astonishment and approval on many faces. King Edward had imposed these so-called benevolences upon his people, which was nothing short of robbing the poor to feed the king’s coffers for possible use in war. Richard remembered how unpopular the collection of them was for the foolish French campaign. Unlike borrowing from bankers or the rich merchants, Edward had impoverished his subjects and pocketed a pension from King Louis into the bargain. Richard was determined to end the practice.

As Anne told him, after he had outlined his reforms to her one quiet afternoon spent in her solar, “You will be remembered for protecting the poor and the powerless. Surely many of these acts—how many are there, fifteen?—will end the many injustices inflicted on commoners that you have talked of. I am so very proud of you, my dear.” Richard was grateful for her support, but he knew he would lose favor with those corrupt officials who had benefited from these taxes. He just hoped the commoners would thank him.