by Anne O'Brien
Elizabeth
Duchess Cecily makes her feelings known to the Dowager Queen in Westminster Abbey, on the fourth day of May, 1483
If I knew anything of Elizabeth Woodville, this would be a confrontation, and I knew not who would emerge the victor.
At my request, and most promptly, I was escorted into the apartments put aside for sanctuary at Westminster Abbey where the Dowager Queen had fled for safety from my son Gloucester. I considered this flight entirely unnecessary. She was in no danger, other than from the consequences of her own unfortunate actions. Indeed I felt the strong grip of anger. It might well be that she had made this decision deliberately, to put my son in the wrong, and build support for her own family; it would be a simple matter to stir up fury against the Prince’s uncle who wished her ill.
My first impression as I entered was one of chaos within the stark setting, servants staggering under her chests and coffers, setting them down without plan or direction. Crowded into the room were Edward’s daughters and Richard, his younger son. Elizabeth was there, her son Dorset and her brother Bishop Lionel. And, surprisingly, the Archbishop of York, Thomas Rotherham, Edward’s Keeper of the Privy Seal, looking to my eye uneasy, trying to manoeuvre around the small children under his feet.
I exchanged cool acknowledgements with brief courtesy. I could not abide disorder.
Motionless, her hands clasped in her lap, Elizabeth was sitting on a low stool, her face a reflection of utter despair, her mourning robes spread in luxurious folds around her.
‘You wrote to me, asking for my support for the Prince,’ I said, ensuring that my voice engendered command. ‘I have come in person to assure you of it.’
Elizabeth rose to her feet, moved by a nervous energy. The shadows imprinted beneath her eyes were as dark and deep as the veils that shivered with her movements. Her knuckles were white as she clasped her hands against her bosom in a dramatic gesture. I might have discovered some pity for any other woman.
‘I did not expect to see you here, madam.’ Her eyes were distraught.
‘It is my duty to come, to right an obvious wrong. Do you fear for your life?’ I asked with a faint lift of my brows. ‘I see no threat against you. Was this flight to sanctuary necessary? It gives the wrong impression to the people of London. Was that what you intended? To smear the Duke of Gloucester’s reputation with foul implications?’
I had thought that she was weary. Instead her face blazed with emotion. ‘You are blind, madam. Your son would have me removed, so that he might have power over the young King.’
‘My Lady Mother is distressed…’ Dorset came forward to take his mother’s arm but was shaken off, the Dowager Queen’s response bitter.
‘The Duke of Gloucester will destroy the peace of this realm for his own advantage.’
‘How could casting England once more into war be to anyone’s advantage?’ I allowed my gaze to slide briefly over the Marquess of Dorset, disliking what I saw. ‘If my information is accurate, your son Dorset, with your blessing, attempted to do exactly that. Did you not collect an army, under pretence of defending yourselves and releasing the young King from what you described as malign influences?’ I kept my voice cool and low. No room for heated arguments here. ‘Would such a wayward stratagem not have brought the threat of renewed war? It was only when you were forced to accept that the name Woodville was anathema to so many of our magnates that you abandoned the scheme and fled here to take refuge. There was no threat against you from my son.’
‘The lady is in sanctuary and in fear for her life, madam.’ Bishop Lionel came to his sister’s defence. ‘She has not been allowed to see Prince Edward and so is understandably anxious. She deserves our compassion.’
‘I might have compassion,’ I agreed with the thinnest of smiles. ‘But the Duke of Gloucester has done nothing to break his oath of loyalty to his nephew. It is malice in you to suggest otherwise, sir.’ My attention returned to Elizabeth. ‘Why is all this excess emotion necessary?’
‘Whatever you say, I fear the Duke of Gloucester’s power. He has the Prince under his control.’ She gestured towards her youngest son who, in the midst of his sisters, stood silently watching the domestic drama unfold. ‘He has asked that Richard join his brother, to be with him at the coronation.’
‘And why will you not allow it?’
‘Would I give him control of both my royal sons? I will not.’
Accepting that this might be a lost cause, still I pursued what I believed.
‘The Duke of Gloucester is faithful to your husband’s wishes. Which you were not. Edward named him Protector of the Realm until the young King comes of age, but you brought to bear all your influence to prevent it. Nothing has been done to threaten your son, either of your sons. All that has been done is to rebalance the power in this land.’
Dorset cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps it would be possible to allow the young King to sojourn with his mother when he has arrived in London. There can be no fault found with that.’
I swung round, the jewelled reliquary on my breast moving heavily, my words a challenge. ‘Why would he not be in the company of his paternal uncle, his Protector? You found no difficulty in allowing him to be in the control of his Woodville uncle, Earl Rivers. I suggest that Gloucester deserves an apology from you for impugning his reputation.’
Elizabeth was not moved. ‘This should have been my son’s coronation day.’
‘And a new one has been designated by the Council. It was not Gloucester’s fault that the journey from Ludlow was so tardy. Look to your own family, Elizabeth.’
‘I do.’ Her face was near-white, her lips hard-pressed together. ‘Oh, I do. I fear for Rivers’s life. And that of my son, Richard Grey.’
‘They will be dealt with justly, when they have answered for their crimes.’
‘And what are their crimes?’
I did not know, but I would not admit to it. ‘We will know soon enough.’
‘I see no pity in you.’
‘I see no need for it. You and your children are safe enough here.’
‘And you can give me no hope?’
‘Hope for what?’ My patience was wearing thin. ‘The new day of the coronation is fixed. Your son will wear the crown and will be given royal powers. I can pray with you, if you will, that the Virgin will bring you peace of mind.’
Elizabeth turned away with much hand-wringing. ‘It is all so ephemeral. What proof have I that the Duke of Gloucester might not wield the power behind the throne, even if my son is crowned?’
Which was the final nail in the coffin of my long-tried patience.
‘You must trust in his good offices to his nephew.’
There was nothing to be achieved. I turned to go, except that the Archbishop of York, who had thus far taken no part in the proceedings, intervened, addressing the Queen. I thought that he appeared less than trustworthy when he refused to look in my direction.
‘I am Keeper of the Privy Seal, my lady,’ he addressed the Dowager Queen. ‘If it is something tangible that you desire, that your son will indeed keep a firm grip on his inheritance, I can leave the Great Seal in your hands, as a sign of good intent.’
‘Not so!’ I could not believe what I had heard. And spoken so openly in my presence when the cleric must know that I would oppose any such action. Had Rotherham lost what few wits he had, in a moment of panic? He would never have been my choice for Archbishop of York. George Neville might have been as poisonous as a toad but at least he did not lack for keen perception. ‘Not so!’ I repeated. ‘First and foremost you must answer to the Duke of Gloucester. The Seal must remain in your possession until Gloucester decides otherwise.’
The Archbishop’s eyes caught, then slid from mine. ‘Why would I not give it into the keeping of the King’s own mother? It will be of comfort to the lady. To prove that there is no malice intended towards her or her children.’
Reaching out, I tightened my fingers in the heavy silk of his episcopal clo
ak. ‘You are placing a potent symbol of power into Woodville hands.’
‘Yet I will do it. Kneel, my lady, and I will bless you.’
Smoothly, he detached himself from me. Elizabeth knelt as the Archbishop took the Seal in its velvet pouch from the purse at his belt. He placed it into her hands, folding her fingers over it, his head bowed in prayer.
‘God bless you and your children, my lady.’
I knew Gloucester would disapprove, but short of snatching it back I could do nothing but accept.
‘I think you have shown ill judgement here today,’ I remarked.
Bishop Lionel was expressionless; Dorset could only be described as smirkingly content; Elizabeth’s face, head still bent, was hidden in her veils.
As I turned to go, leaving them to their achievement, anger hot in my throat, the little girls took my eye, pretty things with the fair colouring of Edward and his wife, sitting together on a window seat. Silent, too young to know the full portent of what was unfolding around them. I had nothing to say to them, even though I stood godmother to more than one. My battle was not with them. I knew not what their future would be.
Elizabeth’s voice followed me as the door was almost closed behind me.
‘I hoped for some level of understanding from you, but you will do whatever your son Gloucester asks of you. He is clever and manipulative. He will have his own way and you will allow it.’
I looked over my shoulder. ‘I will not, I will support justice. I think, madam, that you might regret opposing my son in this manner.’
I believed what I had said. Justice was everything.
Cecily, Dowager Duchess of York, to Thomas Rotherham, Archbishop of York and Lord Chancellor of England
Written from Baynard’s Castle
Your Grace,
Here is a matter for you to consider. When my son the Duke of Gloucester is once more in London, he will advise the young Prince, when he is crowned King, whether to leave that post of Keeper of the Privy Seal in your hands, or not. He may very well choose not to do so, if he feels you have been perfunctory in your task. I made my thoughts plain enough yesterday, in the absence of the Lord Protector and the Prince, but you chose to reject my advice. If you value your position you may wish to reconsider.
I understand the conflict between your past and present allegiances, but it was imprudent of you to give the Great Seal into the hands of the Dowager Queen. Particularly as it might well now fall into the hands of the Marquess of Dorset, her son. That would not be a popular move to many who despise the ambitions of the Woodville family. I suggest a night of reflection, your grace. Send one of your household with a suitable letter and request that the Seal be restored to you, as Keeper of the Privy Seal, appointed by my son the previous King. Send your apologies that you made an error which you must remedy.
Furthermore I advise you to remain open in your loyalties. The young Prince is under no threat. Nor is the Dowager Queen, however persuasive her fears might be. The Duke of Gloucester is merely fulfilling the last wishes of his brother, King Edward the Fourth.
Cecily, Dowager Duchess of York
Thomas Rotherham, Archbishop of York, to Cecily, Dowager Duchess of York
Written from the Palace of Westminster
Madam,
I now see the error of my ways. Such dismay and desolation at the death of the old King quite undermined my good sense. I was wrong.
I have duly requested that the Privy Seal be restored to me.
I trust that the Duke of Gloucester will approve, and you also, my lady.
York
Chapter Thirty-Three
The Wheel of Fortune Spins Again
England’s Chronicle, the fourth day of May 1483
Rejoice and raise your voices in loud acclaim.
Our fears were premature. The rumours abounding in the City were indubitably false.
On this day, our young Prince of Wales, as yet uncrowned, has ridden into London to an outpouring of public acclaim. At his side, his uncle the Duke of Gloucester. Our Prince was clad in rich blue velvet, bidding to become as tall and fair and as gracious as his father our late King. The bells rang, an oath of loyalty was taken. We are pleased to announce to all loyal subjects that a new coronation date has been set for the twenty-second day of June.
We see nothing but good in the arrival of our young Prince with his highly esteemed royal uncle.
We believe that the Dowager Queen, anticipating her role as the new King’s Mother, should emerge from sanctuary and take her place in the celebrations. There is no threat to her or her children. The Duke of Gloucester is equable enough to settle the ongoing clash of will and temperament between Lord Hastings and the Woodvilles over who should guide the new King. We believe that the new King’s reign will be a time of great blessing for England, and that the Duke of Gloucester will guide him effectively into adulthood.
One question that we would ask the Duke of Gloucester:
What is to be the fate of Earl Rivers and Sir Richard Grey and Sir Thomas Vaughan? Are they guilty? Would they have used their heavily armed escort to gain control of London in the young King’s name, to rule for their own benefit?
The Duke of Gloucester is not saying.
We hope to hear of their release. Clemency for any past treachery, which may or may not exist, will provide an excellent start to the new reign of King Edward the Fifth. Or does the Duke of Gloucester not believe in clemency, when its name is Woodville?
England’s Chronicle, the seventh day of May 1483
A meeting of some importance.
Held at Baynard’s Castle, and not one of the powerful men there present bearing the name Woodville.
The Duke of Gloucester, his firm ally and friend Lord Hastings, his cousin the Duke of Buckingham, Lord Stanley, Bishop Morton of Ely. Nine bishops all told. All executors of the late King Edward’s will.
But not the Dowager Queen, the principal executor.
What will be the outcome? Can they execute the will of the late King if the Queen is not present? It seems that they can. Gloucester has already confiscated all the goods, seals and jewels of his brother.
Since Gloucester has made his base at Baynard’s Castle, and since we understand that Duchess Cecily is in residence, we can only presume that she is in agreement with whatever policy is decided for the new King. Gloucester could equally have remained at his own impressive house of Crosby Place on Bishopsgate. Instead he has chosen the traditional base of the House of York.
Do we read something into this?
The young King, for his own safety, is now lodged in the Tower of London until his coronation because the Bishop of London’s Palace is far too unaccommodating for a full royal retinue. It is thought that the Queen will be persuaded to allow her younger son, Richard, Duke of York, to join his brother there. And perhaps also the son of the late Duke of Clarence, Edward of Warwick, who is now eight years old, might join them.
All the younger generation of the House of York together under one roof.
What will Gloucester do next? Here’s what we predict:
Seize the title Protector of the Realm for himself, as his late father had done.
Confiscate the lands and offices of the Woodvilles and their friends.
Employ the servants of his brother, the late King, to serve him.
Dismiss Rotherham, Archbishop of York, from his post as Chancellor of England.
The fate of Earl Rivers and his son is still unknown.
Cecily, Dowager Duchess of York, to Katherine, Dowager Duchess of Norfolk
Written from Baynard’s Castle
My dear sister,
I think that I have been appallingly, unforgivably, naive.
What do I make of my son, Richard of Gloucester?
In all his life Gloucester was a loyal brother to Edward. He stood by him in the difficult years, joining him in exile, remaining a formidable support in the north to rule England in the King’s name with a fair and stalwart right arm
. When Clarence turned against Edward, Gloucester remained true.
I thought that I knew him well. I thought that as Protector of the Realm he would fulfil Edward’s wishes and ensure the tranquil passing of power from father to son.
Yet now I sense in my son an antagonism. A hardness. An ambition that is as firmly engrained, if not more so, than that of his father. From where did this emerge? Perhaps it is always a truth that a mother underestimates the abilities and ambition of her youngest son.
Why should it surprise you? you would say. Why would he not have ambition?
And it should not surprise me. A young man of no more than thirty years who has been a successful Constable of England must have a will of iron. It is just the direction of his ambition that worries me enough to send me to my knees at my prie-dieu.
It was always Buckingham who disliked the Woodvilles worse than death itself, from so many years ago when he was forced into marriage with the Woodville girl. And so does Lord Hastings despise them. Perhaps this deep-seated hatred is the source of Gloucester’s unease, that the Woodvilles will grasp ultimate power unless he takes steps to stop them.
What has he done?
Nothing that I would not support wholeheartedly, securing the right to act as Protector of the Realm from the Council, punishing the Woodvilles by confiscating their lands. Oh, I have no fears for Elizabeth or her children behind locked doors in the care of the clergy at Westminster Abbey, but there are rumours that render me restless and unsettled. If Gloucester will make his permanent headquarters at Baynard’s Castle, I might glean more than common gossip. All I can trust is that the Prince will be crowned as planned on the twenty-second day of June. Then the country may breathe easily and return to celebrating the joyous occasion with a surfeit of ale and food.
But I may never breathe easily again. I have to say, there is always an anxiety attached to a realm under a child King. Am I foolish to be concerned about this? You will probably say that I am, but it niggles like a summer fever which cannot be dislodged by frequent and unpleasant dosings of Devil’s Bit.
