Gregory’s Chronicle
He loved her for dressing like a queen, after spending the best part of the year in imprisonment. She got out of her chariot and looked at him, and he looked at her, but they did not embrace – they would not embrace in public.
Later, he clung to her, sinking to his knees and holding her round the hips. She raised him up and kissed him. ‘Richard,’ she said, and kissed him again. She cupped his face in her hands. ‘There is only one way forward now,’ she said.
He knew it. They both did. The alternative was dispossession, and death. But he did not know if the others would stand with him, if he should go to them first.
‘Warwick –’ he said, and, ‘Salisbury –’
‘No,’ she said, keeping that gentle pressure on his face. ‘You must go straight to parliament. Make your intentions clear.’
There was no time for discussion and, anyway, there was nothing to discuss. ‘I will go,’ he said.
Almost at the beginning of parliament the Duke of York suddenly arrived with great pomp and splendour and in no small exaltation of mood, for he came with trumpets and horns, men-at-arms and a very large retinue … When he arrived, he made directly for the king’s throne, where he laid his hand on the drape or cushion as if about to take possession of what was his by right and held his hand there for a brief time. At last, withdrawing it, he turned towards the people and … looked eagerly at the assembly waiting for their acclamation …
Whethamsted’s Register
The duke took the king’s place claiming it for his right and inheritance and saying he would keep it to live or die, wherewith all the lords were sore dismayed …
Great Chronicle of London
44
Richard of York Claims the Throne
The silence was so much more eloquent than words. He saw at once that they would never accept him; had never intended to. Almost without his consent his fingers left the throne.
Some had turned their faces from him, some could not hide their dismay, while others regarded him with a stony reproach. He, who had given his life to this land.
A look of incredulity entered his eyes. It was true, then. They would stand with their existing king, however mad and feeble. Even though that king’s claim was in no way superior to his own.
Disbelief turned to anger. He had fought for this country, bailed it out of debt, governed it in lieu of the king while he lay like a larva in his cocoon. He closed his eyes. And in that moment he envisaged clearly all the ways in which he could end this dispute once and for all. For his soldiers surrounded the palace and the king was in his power.
Had not the king’s own grandfather had the reigning king murdered?
Someone was speaking to him. He opened his eyes. Thomas Bourchier, the archbishop, was asking him a question.
‘Do you wish to speak to his majesty?’ he said. ‘I can take you to his rooms.’
‘His majesty should come to me,’ the duke replied. The abrupt tone betrayed his sense of injury. Several more lords dropped their gazes. With some difficulty he mastered himself.
‘No one is to leave this assembly,’ he said to them all, then he looked the archbishop in the eye. ‘I will go to the king,’ he said.
When the archbishop heard this reply he quickly withdrew and told the king of the duke’s response. After the archbishop had left, the duke also withdrew, went to the principal chamber of the palace [the king being in the queen’s apartments], smashed the locks and threw open the doors, in a regal rather than a ducal manner, and remained there for some time.
Whethamsted’s Register
[The duke] claimed the crown as his proper inheritance and right, putting in writing his title and claim to be rightful heir.
Brut Chronicle
This disturbance continued, albeit without killing or bloodshed, for about three weeks, during which time the whole parliament was occupied with discussion of the duke’s lineage and rights …
Crowland Chronicle
After much debate, it was decreed and concluded that King Henry should reign and be king during his natural life … after his death the Duke of York should be king and his heirs after him and immediately he should be proclaimed heir apparent and also protector of England during the king’s life … While the commons of the realm were assembled in the common house, debating the title of the Duke of York, the crown hanging in the midst of their house suddenly fell down; this was taken as an omen that the reign of King Henry was ended.
Brut Chronicle
On Saturday, the 9th day of November, the Duke of York was proclaimed through the city heir apparent to the crown and all his progeny after him …
Great Chronicle of London
At this time Queen Margaret, with Prince Edward, the only son of the king and herself, was staying in the north.
Crowland Chronicle
45
Margaret of Anjou Receives the News
She could hear her own heart banging; she could hardly see.
They had dispossessed her son, for whom she had worked so tirelessly. They had annulled, by act of parliament, his right to inherit the throne.
Somehow she contained herself, gazing blindly at the wall in front of her. When she closed her eyes the words of her own pledge came to her. She had promised before God that she would not rest until her enemies were brought so low that they would never look up again.
She thought she had spoken or shouted aloud, but when she opened her eyes again the Earl of Angus was looking at her quizzically.
‘We must summon an army,’ she said.
The Duke of York, well knowing that the queen would spurn and impugn the conclusions agreed in parliament, caused her and her son to be sent for by the king, but she being a manly woman, used only to rule and not be ruled, not only refused to come but also assembled together a great army …
Hall’s Chronicle
The Duke of Somerset and the Earl of Devon, with many knights and gentlemen of the west parts, fully armed, came through Bath, Gloucester, Evesham and Coventry to York …
Annales Rerum Anglicarum
All these people were gathered and conveyed so secretly that they were assembled to the number of 15,000 before any man would believe it …
Gregory’s Chronicle
46
The Queen’s Speech
By the time she reached York the numbers had swelled to twenty thousand. They had massed together in a great field outside the city and the queen stood on a raised platform to speak to them.
She was not used to addressing so many people and all that morning she had felt as though her nerves were strained to breaking point; not because of the size of the crowd but because she might fail to move them – say the words wrong, or not loudly enough to be heard, fail to communicate the urgency and desperate nature of their cause.
Yet once she stood on the wooden platform and saw the great sea of armed men stretching in all directions, she felt a sudden, fierce exultation. She opened her mouth, trusting the wind to carry her words.
‘My loyal men,’ she cried. ‘True subjects of your king. You have gathered here today to fight for a true cause – the greatest cause there could be – to save this realm. Which has for so long been divided, and brought to ruin and decay by the premeditated and malicious actions of certain traitors.’
She could hear a low growling murmur from the crowd.
‘Yes,’ she said, nodding. ‘You know well who those traitors are. As you know – all of you – what damage they have done – what crimes they have perpetrated – what murders and robberies – what cruel slaughter of the king’s own people. Ask yourselves,’ she said, gazing round the wide arc of the field, ‘what is the true cause of the poverty and misery of this land? Why has it been brought so low? Because of the greed, malice and impious savagery of the Duke of York and his associates.’
The growling murmur rose to a low roar.
‘Who have gathered together large numbers of the king’s people an
d stirred them to unlawful rebellion. Contrary –’
She had to pause as the roar increased in volume.
‘Contrary to the many oaths of allegiance freely sworn by them to their most merciful king, who of his great clemency has freely and repeatedly forgiven them and offered them pardon. And they – as freely and repeatedly – have broken their oaths. The Duke of York has repeatedly and without conscience broken his many oaths!’
Now she had to pause for several moments as a great cry went up against the perjured Duke of York.
‘These men – these rebels and traitors – have plotted against their king and against you. They have taken your king into their custody!’
Cries of ‘Shame!’
‘And this is the true cause of the destruction and decline of this land. For no Christian land may long endure where the prince is robbed of his rule – his laws overthrown and all justice exiled out of it! I say to you that this treacherous usurping of power is more harmful to this nation than any foreign war, famine or sickness. I say to you that by their cruel and unpardonable actions these, your enemies, work irreparable harm upon you, your children and your land. Therefore, I command and beg you, as you have any pride or love left in you for your country and your king, to exercise all rigour against them – and against the Duke of York – before he destroys you all!’
Once again she could not be heard.
‘You do not stand alone. You follow a queen. And I will either conquer or be conquered with you. I have often broken their battle line. I have mowed down ranks far more stubborn than theirs are now, and by God’s grace, and with your help, I will do so again. I will do anything in my power to prevent them. I will not rest until they are utterly destroyed. Because now they pursue their intent to its most damnable conclusion – to promote the false claim of the Duke of York to the realm and crown of England.’
More cries of ‘Shame! Shame!’
‘And to this end they have drawn up an heretical act – a so-called Act of Accord – proposing to utterly disinherit and dispossess my son the prince – your prince – of his birthright and inheritance.’
Here she picked up the little prince and held him before them all, so that the roars of enmity changed to acclamation.
‘You see before you my son – who is the king’s son – and your prince. Who will be KING!’
This last word came out in a kind of howl, which was drowned by the cries of ‘God Save the Prince! God save Prince Edward!’ She stared round at them all shaken, exhausted, but ecstatic, as thundering waves of approval broke from the sea of the crowd.
She had agreed, reluctantly, that she would proceed no further than York, but return to the Scottish queen who had invited her to stay at Edinburgh Castle for the Christmas season. She would rather have stayed with her men. But now at least she knew she could go. For this vast army would march south in her son’s name, against the Duke of York.
All marvelled at such boldness in a woman, at a man’s courage in a woman’s breast, and at her reasonable arguments. They said that the spirit of the Maid [of Orleans] who had raised Charles VII of France to the throne was renewed in the queen.
Commentaries of Pope Pius II
Eventually the lords in London learned the truth and, on 9th December, the Duke of York, the Earl of Salisbury, the Earl of Rutland [who was the Duke of York’s second son, one of the best disposed lords in this land] and many more knights, squires and numerous people with them, set off from London towards York.
Gregory’s Chronicle
On 21st December the Duke of York and the Earl of Salisbury, with 6,000 fighting men, came to Sandal Castle, where they spent Christmas, while the Duke of Somerset and the Earl of Northumberland with the opposite party lay at Pontefract.
Annales Rerum Anglicarum
The Battle of Wakefield: 30 December 1460
At Wakefield, while the Duke of York’s men were roaming about the countryside in search of victuals, a fierce battle was fought between the Duke of Somerset, the Earl of Northumberland and Lord Neville with a great army and the other party …
Annales Rerum Anglicarum
When [the Duke of York] was on the plain between his castle and the town of Wakefield, he was surrounded on every side like a fish in a net.
Hall’s Chronicle
47
The Duke of York is Surrounded
He fought on, of course, with the methodical, dogged power for which he was justly famous: hips braced, left arm raised to parry the thrusts, right arm swinging rhythmically back and forth. His feet knew where to place themselves, as though the knowledge was etched into their calloused soles. His trained eye remained focussed even when there were too many opponents for him to see. It sought out undefended flesh, the moment of imbalance. The men who surrounded him were grunting with the heft of their blows. And despite the cold and the thin needles of freezing rain, sweat ran into his eyes, blinding them.
Yet there was something in his peripheral vision, winking out of sight; something he did not wish to see. The shutter of his eye flickered once, then something dark occluded it and there was a glancing blow to the side of his skull.
And then he saw them, standing in a group, both on and not on the battlefield.
He faltered long enough to receive a further blow between his shoulder and neck, and then another to his thigh. He swung round, driving his axe into a man’s arm, and received in turn a blow that drove his helmet into his skull.
He could see them clearly now, though his eyes were full of blood. He tried to speak to them through his broken teeth, but there were no words for what he had to say. And then he was on his knees, the blade of an axe swinging towards him; blotting out his view.
There fell in the field the Duke of York, Thomas Neville, son of the Earl of Salisbury, Thomas Harrington, many other knights and squires and 2,000 of the common people. And in the flight after the battle Lord Clifford killed Edmund, Earl of Rutland, son of the Duke of York, on the bridge at Wakefield. And the same night the Earl of Salisbury was taken by a servant of Andrew Trollope. And the next day the Bastard of Exeter slew the Earl of Salisbury at Pontefract …
By the counsel of the lords they beheaded the dead bodies of the Duke of York, the Earls of Salisbury and Rutland, Thomas Neville, Thomas Harrington [and four others] and placed their heads on various gateways at York.
And in contempt they crowned the head of the Duke of York with a paper crown.
Annales Rerum Anglicarum
48
The Paper Crown
There is no silence like the silence of a battlefield when the battle is over. Nothing equals that deadly calm. Rain falls on abandoned flesh, on contorted limbs and broken armour. And on the three heads over the Micklegate, plastering wet hair into sightless eyes, causing the paper crown to slip then cling to one ear. In the shimmer of rain the lips appear to move …
My first child was called Joan. I held her when she was born, red and angry, and wondered if she looked like my mother. And then I held her again when she was pale and still, her little fingers stiffened, and marvelled at the thing that life is; delicate enough to be drawn in on a breath, powerful enough to shape the world.
And so for my first son Henry, and later William, then John, then Thomas, then Ursula.
Ursula, who would break your heart, with her moon-face, her wobbling limbs.
And now Edmund, of course.
They follow you, these dead children. They never left, like the living ones. They sat with us at table or stood with us at church. They were there at the wedding of my eldest living daughter, Anne. And they had grown quite tall.
When your children die part of you dies with them; you join them, piece by piece. Each time I went into battle I knew I might be returning to them, rejoining the pieces of myself. And so it wasn’t hard, not really.
I recognized the moment just before it came, because they were there. I felt the hard embrace of the ground, the swift kiss of the axe, and knew that the moment had co
me, and it was time. I was father, at last, to my dead children.
When the death of these lords was known, there was great sorrow for them.
An English Chronicle
EPITAPH FOR RICHARD DUKE OF YORK
Let it be remembered by all noble hearts that here lies the flower of all gentility, the mighty Duke of York, Richard by name, Prince royal, gentleman of renown. Wise, valiant, virtuous in his life, who loved well, loyally without envy; the right heir proved in many lands of the crowns of England and France. Normandy he guarded from danger; in Ireland he established such government that he ruled all the country peaceably. Of England he was long protector – he loved the people and was their defender … This noble duke died at Wakefield while treating of sweet peace, forces overcame him – the year ’60, the 30th day of December, he was fifty years old as people remember. Pray to God and to the most fair Lady that his soul may repose in Paradise, Amen.
49
The Queen Hears the News
She felt an intense, frightening joy.
It threatened to rip her open, burst her apart.
She walked to the window and stood with her hands clasped as though praying, but she was not praying. Her heart was pounding quite irregularly, pummelling the inside of her chest. But by the time she turned back to the messenger and to Mary of Gueldres, widow of the Scottish king, she had established a degree of control.
‘God has done this,’ she said, nodding, and there was only a small catch in her voice. ‘God would not permit my son to be disinherited and dispossessed.’ She advanced towards them, still nodding. ‘He would not have my line destroyed – my son murdered in his bed. He has granted me this victory.’
Mary of Gueldres, who had learned to be more circumspect about the will of God, did not say that to her knowledge no one had threatened to murder the prince.
‘You will be leaving us then,’ she said as a beatific smile spread over the Queen of England’s face.
Succession Page 25
