by Anne O'Brien
The uncertainty aside, I take exception, Aunt, to the idea that I should need direction. Nevilles have always been quick to adopt a pragmatic approach, when they were not waving swords and uttering battle-cries.
Shall I tell you the gist of my masterpiece of a speech?
Edward, Earl of March, now Duke of York, is here in London awaiting on your pleasure and your decision. It is yours to make, my lords. Is it not true that King Henry and Queen Marguerite violated the Act of Accord, an Act of your own making, by attacking the Duke of York and his family? Can this not be read as treason? How can any man here present not accept that Henry of Lancaster is too weak to hold the throne with any authority? Is it not time that we implemented the Act of Accord and recognised a new King?
There is such a man, a man well proven on the battlefield, at this moment awaiting your decision at Baynard’s Castle. The royal blood in his veins runs thick and true. He will be a King to bring peace and stability back to this fair land.
No need to remind them that they were reluctant to make the Act of Accord in the first place. If they agree, I expect an apology from you over an excellent cup of Bordeaux. If Ned becomes King I look for further promotions. I would like to be confirmed as Chancellor of England.
When I asked the citizens of London who came to listen to my sermon if they believed Edward of York was their rightful King of England, they replied to a man:
‘Yae! Yae! King Edward.’
They clapped their hands and the soldiers drummed on their armour.
I could not have done any better, whether they hold to their enthusiasms or not. Is a man not worthy of his hire? Do I not deserve a promotion? I have in mind a more important bishopric than Exeter.
Don’t forget that I too mourn the death of a father and brother at the Battle of Wakefield. My loyalties to Plantagenet and Neville are unimpeachable.
If I fail it is not through want of trying.
George Neville, Exeter
Cecily, Dowager Duchess of York, to George Neville, Bishop of Exeter
Written from Baynard’s Castle
Nephew,
My thanks, and my apologies if you think them necessary. I do not. I leave nothing to chance where this family is concerned.
Thank you for the warning that the Lords may not comply.
I put no blame on you.
They are capricious.
I will await the outcome. I was impressed with your speech.
Cecily, Dowager Duchess of York
Cecily to Richard, Duke of York: Memento Mori: A Reflection on Mortality
To my most beloved husband,
I received your last letter written from Sandal, many days after you had fallen on the battlefield at Wakefield. Now I will reply. Even though it is a letter that I will never send and I know will never be answered, I have a compulsion to write it and place it in the records of our family.
You would be so very proud of your eldest son. His achievements fulfil all our hopes and dreams. That you could not have lived to claim the honour for yourself is the one grief I hold fast in my heart, but here is our son taking hold of the culmination of all your work for himself.
Hail to the Rose of Rouen!
That is what they called when he rode through the streets of London to attend Mass at St Paul’s. What a superb King our son Edward will make. Where had he learned such ability to draw every eye, wringing approval from every man in that crowd? His smile was a blessing, bright as the sun. Jewels glinted on his fingers. They loved his felt cap with the peacock feather that brushed his shoulders. And yet here was a warrior, come to save them from further warfare, for he had not put aside his sword.
A deputation came to Baynard’s Castle of all the great and the good. They offered him the crown. Thus it is done. I could feel your presence beside me, a ripple of air, the cast of a shadow.
I must not weep for what is lost, but rejoice for what is to come.
Ned is still to be crowned and we fear another conflagration in the north. It is essential that Ned and Warwick win a great victory against the Lancastrians that will end their claim to the throne once and for all. Only then will Ned be able to take this crown with conviction. It seems I have a role here in this new England. It will please you to know that our son will listen to advice.
I feel a need to tell you. Sometimes I recall such inconsequential details which drive me to a renewal of grief. The soft hollow below your collarbone. The hard ridges on the palm of your right hand from a surfeit of sword-wielding. The scar along your ribs from the Rouen campaigning. You are as much part of my life as you ever were. I swear you always will be. And I swear that I will not leave you interred in Pontefract for ever. I will bring you home to Fotheringhay.
Your grief-stricken wife,
Cecily
Cecily, Dowager Duchess of York, to George Neville, Bishop of Exeter
Written from Baynard’s Castle, on the third day of March 1461
Nephew,
All has worked out to perfection. Ned is here and so is the deputation from the City. It pleased me to sit and listen to their requests.
The cup of Bordeaux awaits when you have time in your busy day to claim it.
I have spoken with Ned. You will be confirmed as Lord Chancellor.
A more important bishopric? Throw your dice well, my clever nephew, and I think you might even look as high as Archbishop of York. Plantagenets are never slow to reward those who support them. Ned will be grateful to have his two Neville cousins at his side.
Cecily, Dowager Duchess of York
Richard Plantagenet to Cecily, Dowager Duchess of York
Written from Utrecht, March 1461
To my Lady Mother,
We are now well settled in Utrecht, with our books and tutors. We are told that we will not be taken to Bruges to the Court of Duke Philip of Burgundy because the fortune of our family is still in doubt. The servants say that the Duke has no desire to receive us if we are of no value to him. His merchants have good trade with England and he does not intend to put it in danger. If King Henry returns to power, the Duke will probably send us home by the first ship. It would not be in his interests to keep us. So the rumours say. We are surrounded by rumours.
We are well treated and in good health. Our tutor allows us little time to explore. George says that we should try and escape.
When can we return home?
Your obedient son,
Diccon
Cecily, Dowager Duchess of York, to Richard Plantagenet
Written from Baynard’s Castle, March 1461
My importunate son,
You may not return. Do not even think of it. It is not suitable. Your brother has been accepted as King but he is not yet crowned, so I fear there will be more battles before all is settled. Only when Ned wears the crown will I bring you home.
Apply yourselves to your lessons until the Duke decides that you are worthy of an official reception. Even if the time hangs heavy on your hands, do not disobey your governor. He knows what is good for you. I do not wish to hear that you have been disobedient.
George has not yet written to me. Tell him that I expect him to do so. On no account must you write it for him.
May the Blessed Virgin keep you in her love and care.
Your loving mother,
Cecily, Dowager Duchess of York
Richard Plantagenet to Cecily, Dowager Duchess of York
Written from Utrecht, March 1461
To my Lady Mother,
We are still here in Utrecht. We have still not yet seen the Duke.
You will be pleased that we spend time with our books. I am not so pleased. I would like to visit Bruges where the Duke lives, but there is no prospect of that.
I am told, madam, that my father was not the heroic figure who fought and died with great courage at Wakefield, as you led us to believe. Why would he have left a safe castle, to face an army so much greater? They say it was pride, that he could not bear to be subjected to humili
ation by a woman. Is this true? Did my father make a bad decision? I would be grateful if you could let me know in your next reply. We are not unhappy.
May we come home?
Diccon
Cecily, Dowager Duchess of York, to Richard Plantagenet
Written from Baynard’s Castle, March 1461
My son,
I forbid you to set foot in England. Under pain of my utmost displeasure if you disobey me. Stay where you are in safety.
The situation here is critical and all is in the hands of fate and Almighty God. Your brother has marched out of London to the north, with the Earl of Warwick, to destroy the Lancastrian threat to our family.
Pray for him. When your father and brother marched north to confront the Queen, they never returned. Pray for Ned’s success.
As for your father, there is no question of his bravery. He would never have risked his life for pure pride. Nor did he make a bad decision. He was betrayed by one of our own Neville family, a cousin of mine, who promised to support him then changed sides.
The lesson here, my son, is always to know who is your friend and who is your foe, no matter what promises they make.
Your affectionate mother,
Cecily, Dowager Duchess of York
Duchess Cecily’s intercession to the Blessed Virgin Mary
Hail Mary, full of Grace, Our Lord is with thee.
My faith is compromised. I kneel at your feet with the petition of any mother. Once again I fear for my son’s life, this time on some blood-drenched battlefield of the north.
Forgive the sad repetition of my prayers. You know the cruelty of men when they sent your son to his death. Protect Edward. Grant him victory. I am sleepless with despair.
Once again I watched my closest family ride out from London, bright with banners and confidence in their cause, whilst I was forced to accept that I might never see them again.
I cannot weep. My tears are frozen in fear.
Forgive my untruths, if such they were, in keeping the flame of Richard’s courage and leadership alive for his young son. I am certain it was the Neville betrayal that brought him to his death. That is what Diccon must believe. My lord Richard’s honour must be upheld for his sons, and I will do it.
Amen
England’s Chronicle, March 1461
It is said that York and Lancaster will face each other once again on a battlefield.
Is there no end to it?
Have we not suffered enough? It is said that the conflict will be at Towton, a village outside York that no one has ever heard of. If it occurs on Palm Sunday, when Christ rode into Jerusalem, what a terrible day that will be for both sides. The weather is not fit for battle. The Queen and her son, and Henry of Lancaster whom we may no longer call King, have taken refuge in York to await news. Here at Baynard’s Castle our Duchess Cecily will, hourly, be demanding couriers with news from her son Edward, the new but as yet uncrowned King.
Were you aware? Edward of York, soon to be crowned King if he returns with a victory in his hands, has instructed the illustrious Mayor and Aldermen of the City of London that in his absence it is his Lady Mother who is named by him as his representative? It is the Duchess who presides over our new king’s household. We swear she will do it with superb efficiency.
Such power for the lady who never wore the crown.
When will battle be? Who will come away with victory? White rose or red?
We wager it will be white. But who’s to know? We have been wrong before.
The Bishop of Elphin to Bishop Francesco Coppini of Terni, one-time Papal Legate
Written from Baynard’s Castle, Easter Monday 1461
Your Grace,
An event of some moment that may be to your advantage.
We had just heard Vespers. The Duchess has been fraught all day, and our spirits were low with lack of news from the north, although the Duchess’s demeanour was as always exemplary. She has marvellous self-control, even when racked with fear. Except when she dropped her Missal during the raising of the Host.
And then, after Vespers, her control deserted her completely.
The Lord Treasurer, waiting for us in the Great Hall, carried a letter to our blessed Duchess of York. She read the letter. Her face paled. Her hand trembled as she passed the misused Missal to me, her other hand clenched like a claw around the document. It had taken her naught but a moment to read the news, fair or foul. Her face was as white as the snow falling outside the window. Or as colourless as a death-mask. I might have thought there were tears on her cheeks, if I did not know her better.
I feared the worst and took her arm, offering my assistance in what I considered to be her overwhelming grief. She clung, fingers digging into my sleeve, but only for a fraction of time, before she turned on her heel, climbed the staircase to re-enter her chapel, beckoning for me and her two chaplains to follow. There she fell to her knees before the image of the Blessed Virgin and buried her face in her hands.
I did not know whether I should begin a Requiem Mass or start to sing a Te Deum, so silently distressed was the Duchess.
You will know the answer by now, I expect.
I imagine that you are praying hard for a Yorkist victory. The family is close to your heart and you will have your eye on the papal legate’s promotion again. You should also pray that your enemies (Queen Marguerite and France) do not speak out against you.
Elphin
England’s Chronicle, April 1461
The Battle of Towton was fought on Easter Eve.
The longest and bloodiest battle on English soil, the conflict bitter and vicious, repaying old scores.
Fought through a snow-storm, impossible to see friend from foe. The snow and Cock Brook ran red with blood.
How many lost? Hundreds. Nay, thousands. Enough to need mass graves where all were tumbled.
Who claimed the victory?
The House of York.
Anne, Dowager Duchess of Buckingham, to Katherine, Dowager Duchess of Norfolk
Written from the Palace of Westminster
My dear sister,
Do I mourn or do I rejoice?
I fear that Cecily will become unbearable in her pride for the achievements of her son. As if in imitation of the brave and noble heroes of old who fill my books, Ned has asserted his hold on England’s crown on the battlefield of Towton.
Cecily already acts the role of Dowager Queen. She has set about making preparations for the coronation. I wish you would come and give me strength to support it.
A Queen does not need to be crowned in order to rule, Cecily says if I dare to take her to task for her peremptory commands throughout her household.
I am pleased for her, of course, but I cannot help but remember my husband and son, dead on battlefields or in the aftermath. Nor can Cecily be cold to the onslaught of death on both sides. We have lost nephews in the terrible carnage at Towton. Lord John Neville and Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland, add to the number of our family dead.
I feel wrung out with mourning.
Perhaps the outward jollity of a coronation will do us all some good!
Anne
Cecily, Dowager Duchess of York, to Edward, Duke of York, King in Waiting
Written from Baynard’s Castle
To my well-beloved son,
This is why I write to you.
I would commission you with a task before you leave the north.
Have the heads, those terrible mementoes of Wakefield, removed from Micklegate Bar. Have them carried to Pontefract to be reunited with those we love. It would be a double humiliation to leave them longer for public view and despoliation from time and weather.
You will be feted in York, of that I am certain. It is your task to tighten the bonds of friendship with this important northern base.
I will ensure that all is prepared for your return to London.
Your affectionate mother,
Cecily, Dowager Duchess of York
Richard Plantagenet
to Cecily, Dowager Duchess of York
Written from Bruges
To my Lady Mother,
At last! We have been escorted to Bruges to the Court of Duke Philip. We knew there had been a battle which Ned won.
You are now deemed worthy of recognition, we were informed by one of the Duke’s household, who bowed to us. Few servants have bowed to us before.
It would be good to be worthy of recognition for our own sakes, George says. Are we not sons of the Duke of York? Why have we been shuffled off to a garret in Utrecht in the first place?
The Duke came to visit us in Bruges because Ned won, and now life has become very exciting. We have seen his library with more books than I could count. We were not allowed to touch them because of the gilding and the fine leather. Did you know? We have been allowed to go to a fete at the castle of Hesdin. I liked the fountains and waterfalls, and the hunting is good too.
May we come home?
George says that he is too busy to write, but that I should say that he is well too.
Your obedient son,
Diccon
Cecily, Dowager Duchess of York, to Richard Plantagenet
Written from Baynard’s Castle
To my obedient son,
Still not yet.
Ned is not crowned. There are uprisings in the north that he must deal with first. I promise that you will be here in London when the celebrations begin and you will play a part in them at his side.
Inform George that I will personally supervise the progress he has made in his education on his return to England.
Your affectionate mother,
Cecily, Dowager Duchess of York
George Plantagenet to Cecily, Dowager Duchess of York
Written from Bruges
To my Lady Mother,
I am well and minding our governor.
We have visited the Duke’s estate at Hesdin. What a marvellous place it is. It has lots of tricks and traps for those who are unwary. There are secret trap-doors to fall through, and sacks full of feathers that burst over our heads. Corridors sprinkle you with rain and snow and statues spray paint on you as you pass.
