The Queen's Rival
Page 22
If I have not made it plain, I wish to see you immediately.
Your mother,
Cecily
Edward, King of England, to Cecily, King’s Mother
Written from the Palace of Westminster
I cannot fulfil your request. I am preparing to leave London. Our conversation must wait my convenience.
I have not taken a mistress. I have not promised marriage to Elizabeth Lucy. Not that it is your concern if I had.
Edward, King of England
Cecily, King’s Mother, to Edward, King of England
Written from Baynard’s Castle
Your convenience? It appears to me that there are too many women pandering to your convenience.
Where are you going, that you cannot spend one hour with your mother?
Cecily
Edward, King of England, to Cecily, King’s Mother
Written from the Palace of Westminster
King’s business.
Cecily, King’s Mother, Duchess of York, to Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick
Written from Baynard’s Castle
My nephew of Warwick,
Since my son is lax in this matter, I look to you for aid. I need not tell you that Ned is dilatory in the affair. It is time that he was presented with a fait accompli. If she is pretty enough, well endowed enough, I doubt he’ll object.
The matter of a wife for the King. Here are the well-connected young women I have given thought to.
Mademoiselle de Bourbon is still a possibility, with all the advantages to our merchants of a Burgundian alliance. Then there is Isabella, sister and heiress of Henry of Castile. Or even Margaret, sister to the King of Scotland. The latter two are both very young, of course, but we have long held connections with Castile since the marriage of the heiress to John of Gaunt. An alliance with Scotland would solve the problem of constant treachery beyond our northern border. Any one of these would put a halt to the Lancastrian search for allies against us.
Some mischief-maker has suggested Mary of Guelders. She may be Scottish Regent and mother of King James but her reputation is almost as louche as Ned’s and her advanced age is a problem. I think it is not a serious suggestion.
An alliance with the French House of Valois, Louis, a new King looking for a new alliance, might be good policy. Critically it might prevent France from sliding into a dangerous agreement with the House of Lancaster.
I confess I am leaning towards a French bride.
Will you travel for me, and discover the sentiments at the French Court? Is there a suitable lady with impeccable and royal connections to keep my son on the straight and narrow?
But beware of this eleventh King Louis. He is not named as some species of spider for nothing. A weaver of webs and intrigue. He will not make an agreement for no advantage for himself. We also need a guarantee that he will abandon the Lancaster cause for all time.
Do not enter into any final agreement with France until you have spoken to me again.
Your aunt,
Cecily
Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, to Cecily, King’s Mother
Written from Paris, summer 1464
My illustrious aunt,
I am here at the French Court and the news is favourable.
I can think of no better Queen Consort for our King than the lady, Bona of Savoy. She is young, attractive and will shine in Court circles. King Louis is keen on the match, or so he seems, although it is difficult to read behind the wily facade. It is my plan to be present in St Omer in October to consolidate the truce between our two countries which will prevent Louis from engaging in Lancastrian plots. What better culmination than to heal the wounds between us with this fortuitous marriage?
All we have to do then is to bring Edward into the negotiations and ensure that he turns up to meet the bride and grace what would be an ostentatious diplomatic festival. He has been prevaricating for months. I am not sure why, and for once Edward has not been forthcoming with his plans. I thought it might be that he does not to wish to unsettle Burgundy, who will not be in favour of this French marriage.
I hope that my efforts on England’s behalf meet with your approval. I return home laden with extravagant gifts from King Louis. There are a number of costly books, enclosed in leather and jewels, gilded throughout, that you might enjoy.
I trust that Edward will comply and bring our efforts to glorious fruition. Do you broach it with him, or do I?
Your nephew,
Warwick
Cecily, King’s Mother, to Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick
Written from Baynard’s Castle
Warwick,
I have a concern. There is a sting in the tail of my gratitude for your efforts on my behalf.
I expect Louis will reward you handsomely, as I am sure that you deserve for all your efforts to bring my son to his true inheritance, and to bring off this alliance. I have heard as much from the couriers who come and go between Paris and London. That Louis calls you cousin and has promised to make you a sovereign Prince in your own right, with your own European Duchy. I would not begrudge it as an addition to your growing power.
Sadly, my nephew, it has come to my ears that there is a witticism much enjoyed at Court, at Edward’s expense. This is what one of the ambassadors who dined with us at Baynard’s Castle had the misfortune to chuckle over:
England has but two rulers, Monsieur de Warwick and another whose name I have forgotten.
Not said in Edward’s presence, but in mine. The dinner ended on a sour note.
Such light-hearted ripostes can become bitter thrusts and greatly damaging. Beware of self-aggrandisement. I trust you have England’s future in your heart, and that of your cousin. I would not like to think that you are overstretching yourself.
As for Edward, the time for his personal feelings or otherwise are long gone. It surely cannot be the attractions of some Court whore that distract him from this important policy. You might have a word with him, man to man, cousin to cousin. I know he values your experience and knowledge of all matters of government. I will pray for a healing in Ned’s reputation.
Cecily, King’s Mother
Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, to Cecily, King’s Mother
Written from Paris
To my most conscientious aunt,
I assure you that although I value Louis’ offers of recompense – and what ambitious man would not? – my loyalties lie wholeheartedly with my cousin Edward and this kingdom.
I have worked hard for this alliance. I will take pride in its completion. I do not deny that I have a love of finery, of display and personal grandeur. It behoves an English magnate, of old and illustrious lineage, to advertise his power and prestige, particularly when negotiating with European Princes. I doubt you will disagree with me here.
I am no threat to your son’s authority as King of England.
Warwick
England’s Chronicle, summer 1464
All is peaceful in this realm of England.
But we are given to understand that a storm of much ferocity is about to break over the heads of the House of York.
What might be contained in these storm clouds we have as yet no knowledge.
The return of the exiled House of Lancaster with a French army? A sudden death? Our King’s predilection for the company of women, whether fair or dark?
We have not yet got to the bottom of it, but the whispers are becoming louder. A name has been mentioned. Such delicious scandal.
Chapter Nineteen
Take Heed What Love May Do!
Cecily, King’s Mother, to Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, at Reading
Written from Baynard’s Castle, September 1464
Warwick,
I cannot believe my reading of your recent letter, just received from a sweating courier who was himself agog with the news. I thought it was to be further warning of plague rampaging through London, two hundred or more dead every day at the last count, which might forc
e me to move my household to Fotheringhay. This is far worse.
Tell my son that I wish to see him in person.
Tell my son that I have no wish to receive a list of written excuses or trite explanation.
Why did I know nothing of this appalling development?
This is a command from the King’s Mother, not a request.
I can barely believe what you have written to me. How could this happen and I not know of it?
Cecily
Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, to Cecily, King’s Mother
Written from Reading, September 1464
My aunt,
I have delivered your command.
It was received with a thin smile and a dismissive tilt of the chin and I see no likelihood of the King responding. He no longer takes kindly to orders and, besides, the damage is now done.
You may claim not to believe it, but it is the truth.
The King seems to have no appreciation of the disaster he has wilfully contrived, not least to me. I find that I have been humiliated beyond bearing. I have had to make my excuses to the King of France that all our plans for an alliance culminating in a marriage between Edward and the Lady Bona are now detritus in the dust. Cast there by Edward himself.
Why did you not know of it? Because it was all accomplished, quite deliberately, under a cloak of desperate secrecy.
The Lords of the Council, met here in Reading, are ablaze with ire.
Edward is now fully engaged in preparing a ceremony for the end of the month in Reading Abbey, where The Woman will be presented to the Court.
I am trying to preserve some vestige of good humour, for the sake of all our past friendships. It is difficult.
Warwick
Cecily, King’s Mother, to Edward, King of England
Written from Fotheringhay, September 1464
Edward,
You are refusing to communicate with me.
What possessed you to become involved in this outrageous scheme?
Are you so lacking in political sense? This marriage is a travesty of your birth and your inheritance.
I swear, you are not your father’s son.
Cecily
Cecily, King’s Mother, to Katherine, Dowager Duchess of Norfolk
Written from Fotheringhay, September 1464
My dear Katherine,
You behold me enveloped in rage. How do I write it?
My son the King has been married for at least five months.
In secret!
It still takes my breath away that he would engage in an act so reprehensible. I expect you have heard by now. The whole country is talking of it. A scandal to dwarf all others.
I need to unburden myself. I must be careful to whom I speak.
This is the gist of how it all came to public knowledge, when the Council was called for the first week of September in the Abbey Church at Reading. Warwick was hoping to finalise everything for a meeting with the French King at St Omer, long in the planning but now almost complete. Ned was difficult to pin down. Warwick kept up a relentless pressure. It all ended in Ned announcing to the Council that he could not agree to marry the French woman. He was already married, and had been since May.
Edward’s complicity in this shameful deceit is beyond my tolerating.
‘And who is she?’ I hear you ask.
She is no virgin. She is a widow in her middle twenties with two sons by a recently deceased member of the lower nobility. Even worse, from a notoriously Lancastrian family.
She is Elizabeth Woodville, daughter of Jacquetta, once Duchess of Bedford, and her Lancastrian husband Sir Richard Woodville, now Lord Rivers. None of them unknown to either of us.
An appalling misalliance.
So much for my plans. So much for strengthening England’s position in Europe, for raising Edward above the struggle for power of our English magnates. A pre-eminent foreign alliance would have been perfect. All obliterated by one thoughtless vow.
Does it have to be said that I have seen neither hide nor hair of my son, nor had any written correspondence? Here are the unfortunate details, according to Warwick. It happened at the Woodville house at Grafton in Northamptonshire, possibly on the first day of May, arranged by her mother Jacquetta, witnessed by two waiting-women, a priest and a boy to help the priest sing the responses. I suppose I should say that at least there was a priest to invest the diabolical proceedings with some sanctity, but that means there is less ground for annulment.
Where did they meet? All is in some doubt, but since her father has been drawn back into the Yorkist fold and became a member of Ned’s Council last year it would not be difficult for their paths to cross.
The Council informed Edward that she was not a suitable match, however good and fair she might be, and he must know that she was no wife for a Prince such as himself.
At present that is as much as I can tell you.
I burn with anger that my eldest son should be guilty of such wretched misjudgement. What’s more, he is avoiding me.
Your furious sister,
Cecily
Katherine, Dowager Duchess of Norfolk, to Cecily, King’s Mother
Written from Epworth
Is she beautiful? Is it a love match, sweeping Ned off his feet at last? I suppose I have met her but cannot bring her to mind. Not that I have any experience of such an uncomfortable position, of being swept off my feet.
Or is she pregnant? Is that the sticking place? That he was forced into this marriage by an ambitious family to make her child legitimate and heir to the crown?
What a pity that there was a priest. If it was a simple marriage per verba de praesenti at least there would be a chance of an annulment, although a slim one.
It seems to me that you will be forced to accept it, Cis.
Do keep me up to date.
I love a good scandal, even though this one appals me.
Katherine
Cecily, King’s Mother, to Katherine, Dowager Duchess of Norfolk
Written from Fotheringhay
Sister,
As I recall, Jacquetta and her Woodville husband escorted Marguerite to England as a young bride. It may be that this daughter was taken into the new Queen’s household, although I am uncertain. Why should I have taken any note of the girl? Her mother might be from European nobility, but her father is a minor knight, of no importance.
Pregnant? It seems not. The story I hear is that Edward had promised to marry her, to get the woman into his bed. Don’t tell me – it is not the first time that my son has used such means. I am not deaf to what goes on at Court. The Woodville widow – she was wed to Sir John Grey of Groby who was killed in the Lancastrian army at St Albans – refused him, it seems. She attempted to defend her honour by threatening Edward with his own dagger, before succumbing to his wiles and charm. As he apparently succumbed to hers.
And before you ask me if I intend to be there when she is presented to the Court as the new Queen of England, and they all bow their knee, no, I will not. It is all a bitter taste in my throat. I will find it hard to be polite to my son, much less his wife.
Yes, yes, I know that I must behave with dignity. Well, I will, but it will be as cold as hoarfrost.
Your beleaguered sister,
Cecily
Anne, Dowager Duchess of Buckingham, to Cecily, King’s Mother
Written from Tonbridge Castle
Cis!
So what’s the truth of it? The stories are creations of fantasy. Secret ceremonies in a forest on the day of Beltane. Mystery meetings on the side of the road when Edward was hunting in the forest of Wychwood near Grafton. Or beneath an oak tree in Whittlebury Forest, wherever that is, where the widow was standing with a petition, begging to be granted the lands owed to her for her dowry, accompanied by her two little sons, determined to catch Edward’s notice.
Why could he not just have made her his concubine?
At least we have proof that she is fecund and will present England with
an heir.
Your only hope is that he is already regretting his foolish choice and will pack her off to a nunnery with an annulment and a purse of gold before any more damage is done.
If he does not, you will have to bow before her, as Queen of England.
Oh, dear!
Anne
Cecily, King’s Mother, to Anne, Dowager Duchess of Buckingham
Written from Fotheringhay
Dear Sister,
To put you fully in possession of the detail appertaining to my son’s terrible misalliance.
She is five years older than Edward.
She is fertile with two sons.
She is inordinately beautiful, by God!
She is not Queen of England yet.
Cecily
England’s Chronicle, September 1464
We are aware that Cecily, King’s Mother, is travelling from Fotheringhay to Reading.
Now why would that be?
We did not think that she would see a need to be there at the meeting of the Royal Council. Perhaps there is another reason.
The Duchess is intending to impress, travelling with jaw-dropping pretension, accompanied by servants, boxes, a train of laden pack animals and a ruffled popinjay chained to a travelling perch.
Does it not remind you of her momentous journey to be reunited with the now dead Duke of York in Hereford? This journey we wager will not end in so pleasurable an event.
Our courier is pleased to inform us of his opinion of the Duchess. All the beauty of her youth is now fading, but she still has a reputation for wit and temper as keen as that finely chiselled nose. Her mind is clearly razor-sharp. Now nearing her fiftieth year, the passage of time has had little more effect on her than to silver her dark hair (so we are told by those privileged to see the Duchess with her hair uncovered) and engrave lines beside eyes and mouth. Spare of flesh she might be, but she possesses a fine-boned elegance. Our informant’s eyes were drawn to her slender wrists, her small hands, the jewelled fingers that held tight to her missal.
What will she have to say to her most royal son?
Nothing that he would wish us to hear, I warrant.
We wonder if she is travelling with her new seal, safely cushioned in its velvet pouch. Now there’s a symbol of regal power, if ever there was one. Gone are the days when she used the small personal seal, the York arms impaled with the Neville saltire. Now she makes use of a great seal of some size, which includes the royal arms of England.