by Anne O'Brien
Warwick
Cecily, King’s Mother, to Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick
Written from Baynard’s Castle
Treacherous nephew,
Much to be gained?
Your carefully disseminated ‘knowledge’ of my most private affairs has just branded me a whore!
Your reply does not convince me of your good intentions towards my eldest son. I see no weaknesses in Warwick Castle as a place for Edward’s incarceration. I dread that you plan to send him to Middleham. I expect that you will dispatch him at dead of night. Out of sight, out of mind.
You talk of crushing the insurrections. How will you accomplish that when the King is a prisoner? Do you expect the great lords to rush to your aid? I am not so sanguine. Nor, I think, will a parliament in York be a body over which you can ride roughshod. I presume that you think that you can win them over with your accusations of lack of government and corruption of justice. I warn you. My son has more personal following in the country than you might believe.
Edward will never give in to your demands.
Beware of hubris and conceit. They can bring a man down.
I will never forgive you. I will have much difficulty in forgiving my own son Clarence also. I think that we all need heavenly intercession in what has become a deplorably sordid tale of treachery and betrayal.
Cecily, King’s Mother
Katherine, Dowager Duchess of Norfolk, to Cecily, King’s Mother
Written from Epworth
Dearest Cecily,
You must remain strong, stronger than you have ever been in your life. You are the only firm footing in the foundation of our family when all is awry. What a conflagration of conflict this has become. Edward imprisoned, Warwick, the Archbishop and Clarence seeking the ultimate power in the country, and Gloucester still too young to make much of an impression.
You must hold fast, Cecily.
Pray that Edward will find some means of ensuring his release. It is the only hope if the country is not to fall foul of further bloodletting. Our nephew Warwick’s arrogance has become menacing. If Clarence becomes King, it will be Warwick who pipes the tune for us all to dance at his bidding. Clarence will certainly caper appropriately.
My spirits are low on my own account. Of course I knew the dangers for John and all the Woodvilles if Warwick had his way, but such manipulation of justice at Kenilworth was a disgrace to the Neville name. I know not as yet where he is buried. His head was placed beside that of his father, Earl Rivers, on the gates of Coventry. Such a terrible end to so short a life.
No, I did not love him, nor was it a marriage I sought, but this is monstrous. And at Warwick’s hand too. I always knew it would come to an inglorious end for the Woodvilles. They had just too many enemies.
Can you do nothing to gain Edward’s release? No, of course it is impossible. There is a limit to a woman’s persuasive abilities when a man of Warwick’s calibre has the bit between his teeth.
What is the Queen doing? I have no news of her. Not that she will have any power over Warwick. It behoves her to keep her head down if she values her life and those of her children.
Katherine
Queen Elizabeth to Cecily, King’s Mother
Written from the Tower of London
Madam,
I have no choice but to beg your intervention.
I was in Norwich when news arrived of the death of my father and brother. There was no justice in that execution. I have no hesitation in naming it an act of murder by Warwick.
What of me? What of the children? I know Edward is Warwick’s prisoner at Middleham Castle, while I am in the royal apartments in the Tower with my children. I am free to order my household as I choose but I am ordered by Warwick to keep scant state as if I were not Queen. I am not free to travel.
My mother has been accused of witchcraft, to achieve my marriage to Edward. It is said that she used a lead image, to bind me to the King.
I am sunk in fear and distress. Until now, no one has attacked me, but how long can my immunity last?
My fears are for Edward’s safety as much as for my own and for my daughters. For the sake of your son, can we not repair our differences? You are the only influence strong enough to weigh with Warwick or Clarence. Once you had a warm relationship with Jacquetta. Can you not resurrect memories of the good times when you were together in Rouen? I beg that you come to our aid, for the sake of your son and your granddaughters, even if you have no compassion for me.
The rumbling storm cloud over Edward’s legitimacy has reached me in my isolation. Is it true? If so, it is a disaster for all of us. It must be a burden on your soul.
Elizabeth, Queen of England
Cecily, King’s Mother, to Queen Elizabeth
Written from Baynard’s Castle
Madam,
I can do nothing. Warwick has his plans and will not be moved by me. Clarence does what Warwick tells him to do. I cannot be hopeful.
To speak plainly – for what value in dissembling? – I fear for Edward’s life.
As for the witchcraft – be afraid. There need be no truth in the accusations, merely the suspicion. How easy it is to pay men and women to bear false witness against a well-born woman, to taint her soul with witchery.
My only advice, for what it is worth, is to remain where you are. We must wait to see how this develops. If there is anything to be done in the future, then rest assured that I will do it.
I must offer my condolences on the death of your father and brother. Our past enmity does not make me cold to your loss and I have compassion for your mother’s situation.
Be assured, I will not allow Edward to go easily to a death at Warwick’s hands. Nor will I allow you and your children to suffer. I may not have rejoiced at your marriage, but I acknowledge your loyalty to my son. I will support you.
I will not discuss the state of my soul or my relationship with the Duke of York.
Cecily, King’s Mother
Duchess Cecily’s intercession to the Blessed Virgin Mary
Hail Mary, full of Grace, Our Lord is with thee.
I bring before you the fate of my son. I am full of apprehension. What can I do but sit here in Baynard’s Castle and hope for the smallest spark of conscience in Warwick’s breast? I am powerless. Only you can intervene in this impasse.
Or if not, send me a sign that all is not lost. In God’s name, send me a sign.
I cannot bear to bury another son.
Only you know the truth of my loyalty to Richard, my lord and husband.
Amen
England’s Chronicle, September 1469
Be concerned! What terror we are facing, when we need a King to be a source of strength. We have no King.
This will be no news to you if you have suffered at the hands of the violent mobs that roam the streets of London, both in daylight and after dark. If you have been robbed and beaten, you will already be barricading your doors and sending your womenfolk to stay with family in the country.
How has this come to pass?
Lancastrian forces have invaded our realm from the north under Sir Humphrey Neville of Brancepath, a Neville who has remained loyal to the old regime. How well he has timed it, to raise once more the dusty banner of our previous King Henry the Sixth.
The country is in turmoil. Magnates are settling old feuds under the pretext of renewing the fight of York against Lancaster. No one is safe. The Duke of Clarence and the Archbishop of York are powerless to stop the collapse of law and order in London. We hear that the parliament, called so hopefully to meet in York, has been cancelled by the Earl of Warwick.
Who is King now? Edward or Henry?
Not Warwick, nothing is more certain since the lords will not obey him.
Will we see this invading force at the gates of London? Panic is building in the streets. We have had no news of our King Edward for some weeks.
Do we lose hope, and invite King Henry and Queen Marguerite to return?
; What would Duchess Cecily advise?
Duchess Cecily’s intercession to the Blessed Virgin Mary
Blessed Virgin.
Warwick and Clarence have lost control. There have been seen shooting stars in the heavens. On my knees I give grateful thanks for this sign. I know what I must do.
Guide my hand, Holy Mother, as I try to rescue my son. Guide the words I write. Give them power to drive Warwick to compromise.
Amen
Cecily, King’s Mother, to Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick
Written from Baynard’s Castle
Nephew,
I understand that things are not going to plan.
Who is King in this realm? The question I hear on every tongue, spurred by the mischievous writings of England’s Chronicle. Not you. You are neither crowned nor anointed. You cannot command the loyalty of the English people to face this Lancastrian invasion from the north. All is collapsing around you.
You must see it and accept it.
Here, after many years of experiencing war and dissention and death, is the best guidance I can give.
Release my son. Restore him to his rightful power and the people will flock to him. It is your only hope, and a man of your wit must realise it. You know Edward’s abilities. Even though he may be locked away in Middleham Castle, he will not sit by forever and allow you to take his inheritance. Unless you are prepared to kill him, which I pray fervently that you never will, you will always live in fear of his retaliation. You will spend your life looking over your shoulder.
Negotiate, nephew. Play the great statesman and return to London at Edward’s side. Before God, you have removed enough Woodvilles and their supporters to sate your bloodlust. The way open for you to redeem yourself is to appear at the King’s right hand as his friend. Your authority has crumbled. Your reputation is as dust.
Set the King free and come to terms.
And drag Clarence with you, to make amends to his brother.
One final word. However much you dislike the Woodvilles, leave the Queen alone. Allow her and the children to live in peace in the Tower. Through Edward, they have Neville blood, too.
Cecily, King’s Mother
Cecily, King’s Mother, to Richard, Duke of Gloucester
Written from Baynard’s Castle
I commend you, Diccon, on your loyalty to the King. Cleave strongly to your brother Edward. Under no circumstances must you give your allegiance to Clarence. I have no time to write more.
Where are you? What are you doing?
Cecily
Richard, Duke of Gloucester, to Cecily, King’s Mother
I have no intention of joining my star to that of Warwick and Clarence. I am in Lancashire with my Lord Hastings, stirring disaffection against Warwick. Hastings is proving, in words and deeds, to be a fervent friend of the House of York.
I will write more soon. All wobbles here on a knife-edge. All I can say is that the days of amity with my brother Clarence, when we squabbled over my father’s gift to me of a dagger, to mark the day of my birth, are long gone. The power that we now play for is far more deadly than a pretty knife, however costly the jewelled hilt.
Diccon
It will please you to know that I still keep my father’s dagger by me. It reminds me of his strong principles and his ambitions for the House of York. I will not fail him.
Cecily, King’s Mother, to Katherine, Dowager Duchess of Norfolk
Written from Baynard’s Castle
Thank you, dearest Kat, from the depths of my heart. Your letter, that Ned had been seen at liberty in York, ignited my hopes, and now I can tell you that I am reunited with him.
You will note that he is once again Ned. I am feeling kindly towards him. My antagonism over the possession of Fotheringhay is a thing of the past. In the face of war and treachery, the fate of one castle tends to fade into insignificance.
What a magnificent entry into London there was, and a full public reconciliation between King and traitors, Ned hemmed in by royal banners and much ceremony. Clearly at ease, clad in costly fabrics, his cap adorned with a jewelled clasp that rivalled the sun, there was no hint of his being captive. Lords pressed forward on all sides, intent on renewing their vows of homage.
And where was our treacherous Neville nephew during all this?
Warwick was riding at Ned’s side, as if they were the best of friends. They were both smiling in greeting to those who came forward. Even so, I could feel the rancour shivering in the air as they exchanged hand clasps. It cannot all be wiped away as the dairy maid cleans the debris from within the churn when the cheese is made. The taint of treachery will always be there between them.
There was strain in Warwick’s eyes and more lines on his brow than I recalled. He looked as if he expected a charge of treason to be levelled against him at any moment. Clarence, too, I expect, and our needy Archbishop. And so they should be afraid. Humphrey Neville, our distant and unfortunate cousin who led the Lancastrian forces, has had his head separated from his body here in York, in Ned’s presence. Thus a traitor is punished.
Attempts have been made to bind up the wounds. It is suggested that little Elizabeth of York, Ned’s eldest daughter, should wed Warwick’s nephew, so in the event of Edward not having a son of his own, the crown would pass to the Neville nephew through the royal blood of the little Princess. Rather than to Clarence, of course. Clarence said nothing but the cloud on his brow was of torrential proportions. He will never accept such an eventuality, but for now, Ned, Warwick and Clarence are reunited. It is Ned’s intention to call a Great Council to thrash out pertinent matters.
I need not tell you that Ned will never forget the rough handling of his sacred person. One day he will have his revenge.
At least for the moment the ship is on an even keel.
I pray that the Queen will still surprise us all and produce a male heir now that she and Edward are restored to marital bliss.
By the by, Queen Marguerite, as she continues to style herself, has been invited to the French Court. What will be the outcome of that? I wonder. It worries me. It should worry Ned and Warwick too.
It is my intention to arrange a family gathering, to bring about a rapprochement if that is at all possible. If you will not come, I will write and tell you of my success. Or failure. These days it is impossible to take anything for granted. I am merely reassured that throughout all that has happened, Diccon has remained steadfastly loyal to Edward. It gives me some hope for the future.
I should tell you that Earl Rivers has been buried in the Church of All Saints in Maidstone. I think John Woodville has been taken there with him, which I suppose is some consolation for you.
Cecily
Chapter Twenty-Six
The House of York Is Wrenched Apart
England’s Chronicle, March 1470
A celebration is mooted at Baynard’s Castle at the behest of Duchess Cecily.
A magnificent banquet to soften the antagonisms of the Duchess’s sons. We do not need to allude to the fact that it is still Lent and feasting much frowned upon. We anticipate much confessing of sins after the event. Gluttony will be one of the foremost. And perhaps Pride.
Do we presume that there will be reconciliation, sweetened by the tasting of such extravagant morsels as the Duchess is preparing? Will binding promises be made?
We cannot possibly predict.
Banquet at Baynard’s Castle
Held at the Invitation of Cecily, King’s Mother.
In the presence of the King, his brothers the Dukes of Clarence and Gloucester.
Also present her two daughters, Anne, Duchess of Exeter, and Elizabeth, Duchess of Suffolk.
To celebrate the Feast day of St Matilda.
A Saxon lady who had many disputes with her sons but was noted for her works of piety and charity.
First Course
Fylettys in Galentyne
Capon in High Grease
Cygnets
Chawettys Fryidde
> Second Course
Venison with Frumenty
Jelly
Rabbits
Stuffed Pullets
Braun
Third Course
Crème of Almonds
Pears in Syrup
Roasted Venison
Woodcock
Sturgeoun
Quail
Pig in Sage
A Subtlety
A fantasy of gilded sugar, sculpted and decorated with the Falcon and Fetterlock, Symbol of the House of York
Duchess Cecily attempts a family reconciliation at Baynard’s Castle, early March 1470
‘Welcome, my son. It pleases me to see you here with your brothers and sisters.’
I placed my hands on his shoulders, reaching up to formally salute his cheeks. Trying hard not to dwell on the pain he had caused me, the blow he had dealt to my pride. George was as comely and genial as ever, marvellously garbed in a short doublet of figured silk, thighs smoothly encased in fine hose, shoes extravagantly pointed. Was this handsome, fashionable, young man George of Clarence, the two-faced monster I had created?
‘Greetings, madam. I could not refuse the invitation, could I?’ He allowed his gaze to drift around those present in my hall. ‘How could I resist becoming part of this happy reunion? Although I am unsure why we are holding a celebration…’
With a smile that appeared genuine, he handed me a packet wrapped in leather.
‘My thanks, George. I needed no gift. Just to see you here.’
There he was, surrounded by the family I had summoned for this purpose. To lure him back into the fold with the promise of fair words and rich food and memories of past loyalties. Now the banquet was over, the remnants removed, my daughters sent to hover outside the doors. On the whole it had been a more amicable occasion than I could have hoped for, my daughters carrying the flow of conversation. Thus my attempt to heal a quarrel as if my children were still young and innocent of the meaning of power. But they were no longer young, and this was no childish quarrel. As if released from the formality of good manners, Ned and George eyed each other like a pair of fighting cocks.