The Queen's Rival

by Anne O'Brien

  The Lady is buried in Tewkesbury Abbey.

  The Duke of Clarence is said to be distraught with grief.

  Some say he is out of his head with madness, with wild accusations over the cause of her death.

  We offer our condolences. May the Lady rest in peace.

  Cecily, King’s Mother, to George, Duke of Clarence

  Written from Berkhamsted, January 1477

  My son,

  I am deeply concerned by the rumours that reach me.

  Without doubt, you have all my prayers. I have instructed my priest to offer Masses for the soul of Isabel, and for the child, a son, who has since died.

  I understand your grief. What I fail to comprehend is why you are declaiming with such force that Isabel died of poisoning at the hands of one of her women. Mistress Twynyho was well loved by Isabel and most certainly trustworthy. What possible evidence do you have for such an accusation?

  I advise you to refrain from spreading such calumnies. The death of my goddaughter was more akin to a weakening of the body and spirits after the birth of the child, as the midwife will probably tell you.

  To spread such wanton misjudgements hampers the healing of your own grief. Look to your children for consolation. I can heartily recommend it.

  Cecily, King’s Mother

  George, Duke of Clarence, to Cecily, King’s Mother

  Written from Warwick Castle

  You know nothing of my wife’s illness. You did not see her in those final weeks. You did not bear witness to her distress as she was forced to live with the pain for more than two whole months.

  My household says that it is poison. I do not need evidence.

  It is my intention to seek justice on the woman involved.

  It is also my intention to seek a new wife.

  I do not need to be taken to task by my mother in this time of mourning.

  Clarence

  England’s Chronicle, spring 1477

  What’s this?

  The Duke of Clarence, who so recently lost his wife, is seeking a new bride. Who does he have in mind? He has not been short of offers, since he is the brother of our King.

  His sister Margaret, now Dowager Duchess of Burgundy after the tragic death of her husband in battle in January of this year, has put forward the name of her step-daughter Mary, the new youthful Duchess of Burgundy. It would be a strong alliance, and one which France would not regard with favour. An excellent reason for it to take place.

  The King of Scotland, King James the Third, has offered his sister Margaret Stewart.

  Both prestigious matches.

  Which bride will Clarence prefer?

  Which bride will our King allow him to take?

  Will Duchess Cecily have any commanding voice in the matter?

  Cecily, King’s Mother, to Margaret, Dowager Duchess of Burgundy

  Written from Berkhamsted, April 1477

  To my well-beloved daughter,

  There will be no Burgundian marriage celebration. Edward has put his foot down, hard enough to raise a cloud of royal dust.

  Clarence is understandably aggrieved at Edward’s high-handedness in refusing your offer of the Burgundian heiress Mary. He has also refused Clarence’s marriage to Margaret Stewart. You can imagine Clarence’s reaction. Edward says that he has no intention of allowing Clarence to remarry.

  The atmosphere at Court is redolent of an impending battle.

  Clarence claims to suspect that Isabel was poisoned, as I told you. Even without evidence that the poor girl was given some noxious substance, he is determined to take his revenge. He will not listen to sense. He has taken action which I fear will only have terrible consequences.

  What has he done? He dispatched a body of men to arrest Mistress Twynyho, the waiting-woman he suspects, at her manor in Somerset, from where he dragged her across England to Warwick Castle, and shut her in a prison cell. On the next morning she was brought out before Clarence and a jury. Clarence accused her of murdering his wife, and the jury promptly found her guilty. In no time at all she was taken through the streets of Warwick to the gallows where she was hanged.

  That is not right! Some of the jurors are already claiming they were intimidated by Clarence. This is an ugly and dangerous step my son has taken.

  I await the repercussions.

  Edward cannot keep forgiving and making excuses for Clarence’s wayward behaviour, I fear. It is my intent to keep out of this until I see which way the wind is blowing.

  My heart is still with you in your mourning, my dearest Meg. You have a stalwart spirit and I know that you will prevail over all lowering thoughts.

  Your affectionate mother,

  Cecily, King’s Mother

  Edward, King of England, to George, Duke of Clarence

  Written from the Palace of Westminster, April 1477

  I desire that you present yourself at Court.

  Edward

  Edward, King of England, to George, Duke of Clarence

  Written from the Palace of Westminster, April 1477

  I received no reply from you. I request that you come to Westminster immediately.

  Edward

  Edward, King of England, to George, Duke of Clarence

  Written from the Palace of Westminster, April 1477

  As your King I command, on the receipt of this, that you appear before me and the Royal Council at Westminster.

  Edward

  England’s Chronicle, May 1477

  Witchcraft! Sorcery!

  Involving the royal brother, the Duke of Clarence, himself.

  You will all know about this and have relished the colourful scandal.

  A certain John Stacy, known to us as the great sorcerer, along with two compatriots, have all three been arrested and charged with having attempted to predict the day of death of our King and his eldest son, Prince Edward. Brought to trial, two were hanged at Tyburn and one pardoned.

  Which would have been the end of it, except that the man Burdet, one of those hanged, was a servant of the Duke of Clarence, and so became the object of the Duke’s compassion.

  We hear that the Duke is coming to London to make his point in the case.

  But what will the King say to his brother? Has the royal well of patience run dry?

  Duchess Cecily’s intercession to the Blessed Virgin Mary

  Hail Mary, full of Grace, Our Lord is with thee.

  Hail Mary…

  I have no words.

  I can bear no more loss. My shoulders can carry no more weight.

  My world is breaking apart around me.

  England’s Chronicle, the tenth day of June 1477

  Sensational event!

  The Duke of Clarence is at last here in London. How many royal commands has it taken for Clarence to fall into obedience? But, once here, Clarence did not seek to meet with the King, his brother.

  What has he done?

  Only marched into a meeting of the Royal Council, in the King’s absence, it has to be said, and once there our royal Duke issued a declaration of innocence on behalf of those condemned to death for predicting the day of death of the King and his son, and instructed a friar to read it aloud to the assembled Lords. Having challenged the King’s judgement, the Duke promptly marched out. Why would our royal Duke defend a convicted traitor? How dangerous is it, calling into question the King’s justice? How hazardous is it to defend a man engaged in sorcery against the King?

  Our King and Council will not enjoy their powers over England’s justice being called into question by an apparently deranged royal brother.

  We understand from many parties there present that the exchange of words between the Duke and the Council was harsh and unforgiving.

  Surely the King’s inimitable patience is at an end.

  Oh, Duchess Cecily, our thoughts are with you on this tumultuous day.

  Edward, King of England, to George, Duke of Clarence

  Written from Windsor

  You will meet with me in Wind
sor. I command it. If you refuse to come, I will send an armed guard to fetch you. Do not mistake me.

  Edward

  England’s Chronicle, June 1477

  Royal arrest and imprisonment!

  Faced with continued defiance, the King has dispatched his brother of Clarence to the Tower of London, to be imprisoned at royal pleasure. As we predicted, it was a risky affair for the Duke to become involved in the use of sorcery to predict the King’s death.

  We further predict some harsh words between the King and his recalcitrant brother of Clarence. We anticipate hearing the raised voices all the way to Berkhamsted where the Duchess will be waiting to be informed of the outcome.

  We look for a trial before parliament before the year is out.

  We commiserate with Duchess Cecily in this family dispute.

  Will Clarence’s defiance continue?

  Edward, King of England, to Cecily, King’s Mother

  Written from Windsor

  To my Lady Mother,

  By now you will know the depths of the treason committed by your son of Clarence. His guilt is beyond question. I cannot have my brother denying the justice dispensed through my courts. For the good of the country, an attainder against him is essential.

  I regret the pain this will cause you. You and I can make no more excuses for him.

  Your dutiful son,

  Edward

  Cecily, King’s Mother, to Edward, King of England

  Written from Berkhamsted, by return

  Pain?

  I cannot quantify it, and nor can you.

  Treason?

  On what grounds do you accuse your brother of treason?

  I understand your wrath that he should dare to question your justice, but are you certain that he sought your death? Is it more perilous for you to condemn him to death than to let him live?

  I advise you to have a caution.

  Cecily, King’s Mother

  Edward, King of England, to Cecily, King’s Mother

  Written from Windsor, January 1478

  I am always cautious, Madam.

  It would be good policy for you to travel to Baynard’s Castle. We need to discuss this matter. There is also a family wedding for you to attend. It is my intent to show this realm the strength and unity of the House of York, despite the blatant disloyalty of the Duke of Clarence. As King’s Mother I expect you to be here at the centre of the festivities that will give the citizens of London something to talk about, for ten whole days, which is not riddled with treachery and scandal.

  Edward

  Duchess Cecily attends a family wedding in St Stephen’s Chapel, on the fifteenth day of January 1478

  ‘I thought I should be here. To show a united front. Although I suspect it will be like trying to unite a bag full of feral cats.’

  She might be more than a little gaunt, her shoulders bowed with age, but my sister Katherine’s tongue continued to be as acerbic as her pen. I could do nothing but laugh aloud. So many years since we had last stood in the same chamber – all of sixteen long years since she had come to strengthen me at Richard’s Year’s Mind – but here was Katherine, once again abandoning her isolation in the north to keep me company when I most had need of it. We hugged each other, veils entwining. She was worryingly thin but her spirit was as strong as ever. What signs of age did she see in me? I would not ask. I knew that beneath her flamboyant butterfly head-dress, incongruous with the age of the wearer, her hair would be as grey as mine. Her knuckles were as gnarled as the burrs on an old oak, but I clutched them with true gratitude.

  ‘You cannot imagine how grateful I am to have you with me.’ I fought against any suspicion of moisture on my cheeks.

  Katherine sniffed her derision. ‘I thought that these macabre festivities demanded my authority and dignity in the face of the Woodville victory. We will stand shoulder to shoulder for this graceless marriage.’

  I turned to look over towards the bride, all of six years old, nobly clad in silk and velvet, her hair neat beneath a fine linen coif. Clutching the hand of her nurse, she was unaware of the path that was to unfold for the future. I pitied her. The little bride was Katherine’s great-granddaughter, the Norfolk heiress. She and her wealth would now be absorbed into the Woodville ranks with her marriage to my royal grandson Richard of Shrewsbury, Duke of York.

  ‘Then come and we will make our presence felt,’ I said. ‘And we will pretend that we do not see Clarence’s life hanging, thick and noxious as a plague cloud, as these children take their vows.’

  We tried. Oh, we tried.

  We stood beside Edward and the Queen and the two children, beneath the golden canopy. No one would say that there was any rift between us on this auspicious occasion, even though our smiles were as rigid as a lizard’s grin. St Stephen’s Chapel at Westminster was the appropriate setting for the glittering ranks of guests, most of them Woodvilles and their connections. Our own family has become sadly short of numbers of late. It was only at events like this that we realised the effect of Death. It was a relief to know that Diccon was here, to remind me how he had grown into a great magnate and the King’s staunchest supporter.

  And there, hovering in the shadows, throughout all Edward’s majestic organising, the splendour and celebration, feasts and pageants, was the malign presence of the one absent brother.

  ‘How is Clarence?’ Katherine asked when the clerics had done their work and we regrouped to drink wine as if there was nought amiss.

  ‘I know not,’ I admitted. ‘He is imprisoned.’

  We pretended, as we toasted the children, wishing them long and happy lives, not to notice that the assembled nobles were there for quite another purpose: to sit in judgement on my son of Clarence.

  ‘What an unsettling day,’ Katherine said, expressing the thoughts that dominated my mind. ‘A child marriage, Clarence in the Tower since June, and the fatal session of parliament looming over all.’

  ‘I cannot bear to think of it.’

  ‘Well, you must. Do smile at Edward, Cis, even if it is like a crack in thin ice. What will be the charge against your son?’

  With that question, I must face the truth behind what Edward was planning.

  ‘High treason.’ An accusation to whisper, in secret, in corners. I never thought to hear it used against Clarence in parliament, even when he raised his standard with Warwick against the King. I swallowed, my throat dry despite the wine poured by the King’s servants. ‘If an attainder is passed, my son Clarence will die.’

  ‘Will Edward go that far?’

  ‘He can see no other means of controlling a brother he cannot trust. How have we come to this? Death on a battlefield is one thing, by execution at the wish of his brother is worse.’ Desolation washed over me. ‘I will not merely accept it, Kat. I will face the wolf at the door. All I need is the courage to resist its teeth.’

  ‘But if an attainder is passed, what can you do?’

  ‘I will do what I have always done.’

  There was no need for me to explain. Katherine knew me well and the years had not sullied her mind.

  ‘Do I come with you?’ she asked, tucking her hand within my arm.

  ‘No. It is not necessary. But for the first time in my life, Kat, I think that I fear my son the King.’

  England’s Chronicle, the sixteenth day of January 1478

  Do we have an attainder?

  Today we must report the happenings in the Painted Chamber at Westminster where the King has called his parliament to meet. After all the junketings of the royal marriage between two innocent children, parliament turns its mind to the crimes of the less than innocent Duke of Clarence.

  And what a piece of drama has been carried out by the King himself as he faced his errant brother.

  Only one voice was raised to deliver an accusation against the Duke. Only one voice. That of the King himself. No one made a reply to the King except the Duke. It was a moment of the highest tension between the royal pair, as if they were alo
ne in the room, one desiring the destruction of the other.

  And the cause? An accusation of high treason, presented by King Edward himself.

  Here for your information are the crimes listed against the Duke. What an all-encompassing litany of political sins they are.

  He conspired against the King, the Queen, their son and heir, and the nobility of England.

  He forced the King into exile, persuading parliament to exclude him and his heirs from the throne, so that Clarence might take it for himself.

  He continued to conspire, attacking royal justice in the sorcery case of Thomas Burdet.

  He accused the King of attempting his destruction.

  He conspired to raise war against the King within England.

  Worst of all, the Duke of Clarence accused King Edward of being a bastard and not fit to reign. We will say no more on this count, in honour of the Duchess, but we doubt it will be the last time that this accusation raises its ugly head.

  All of which amounts to high treason.

  Can our King pardon such an array of crimes? Surely to release the errant Duke of Clarence would be a threat to the peace of the realm and undermine his own sacred position.

  We see a Bill of Attainder fast approaching for the Duke of Clarence.

  There are few who will argue for the Duke’s innocence. Not even the Duchess whose honour – or lack thereof – has once more been brought into the open by this unsavoury case. The Duke has much to answer for.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  A Desperate Loss

  Duchess Cecily petitions for the life of her son in a chamber in the Palace of Westminster, January 1478

  ‘My son will die. You will condemn your brother to death.’

  It was a statement of what I knew, not a question. I could read it in Edward’s face, in the flat depth of his eyes that could so often shine in merriment or mischief. Today they were as lethal as a new-honed blade, while spread on the table was the death warrant. The pen. The pot of ink. All it lacked was the damning signature.