Samuel’s heart swelled as he realized that this little man was Sally’s and Oliver’s child. And his name was John!
“Your father took a nasty bump on the head, John, but I think he’ll be all right. Do you know where your mommy is?”
“No.”
Oliver began to stir. At last, Samuel thought as he lifted his friend’s head.
“Can you hear me?” John came and stood beside him, looking down at his father. Oliver’s eyes blinked open.
“Samuel?” he asked. When he saw his son, he tried to rise, but a sharp stab of pain and a wave of nausea laid him down again.
“Don’t try to move,” scolded Samuel. “You’ve taken a blow to the head and it’s still bleeding.” He dabbed at the wound some more until it looked as if Oliver had regained some of his faculties. “Can you tell me what happened here? Where are Sally and Kate?”
“We were coming to find you…” Oliver was fighting the waves of nausea. “Two men came to the mill as we were leaving. It’s all I remember.”
Samuel was gripped by a new panic. Kate! Had the ones who attacked him in Durham caught up with her here?
“He took them, Samuel.” Emma had finally collected herself enough to speak. Perhaps hearing that Oliver was not seriously injured gave her some renewed strength. “The devil himself. The one with the scar, I saw it as plain as the horns on his head.”
“A scar?” Samuel asked in horror. “The one who killed Father?”
“The same, Samuel.” She gripped his hand with unexpected strength. “He’s the devil’s own child, and he took them both to the south.”
“Emma, where’s Christopher?” For the first time he realized that his brother was also among the missing.
“He left us, Samuel. Left his work and his children too, and we haven’t heard from him since. I imagine he joined his friends and went to fight for the Percys.”
The fool! Samuel thought. It all seemed unreal as the story became more incredible. What curse was on his family? Something Emma said came back to him.
“Emma. You said children. Where are your children?” He was almost afraid to ask.
“They’re in the back, afraid to come out,” piped John. “Do you want me to get them?”
“Could you please, John?” Samuel smiled at him. The child smiled broadly, glad to be of some service, and ran into the back room. A moment later, he returned followed by two timid little girls, one about John’s age and the other perhaps a year older.
“It’s all right, my angels,” said Emma. “This is your Uncle Samuel.” Samuel was glad that Emma seemed to be regaining some control. To Samuel she said, “This is Alice and this one is Sarah, my first-born.”
Sarah came up to him and gave him a hug. “Mommy, what’s wrong with Uncle Oliver?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” Oliver was able to reassure her himself. Samuel felt a lump in his throat as he looked at the children.
“How much I’ve missed,” he said, squeezing the tears from his eyes. “This is all my fault.”
Samuel was frantic to follow after Kate and Sally at that moment, but his family needed him. He could not leave Emma and Oliver like this. Reluctantly, he realized that little more could be accomplished that evening. He saw everybody to sleep, and although his rest came fitfully, it would be enough. He awoke finally to the comforting sounds and smells of Emma’s cooking in the kitchen, which considering her state the night before surprised him. When he entered the kitchen, a smile lit her face and they embraced long and hard. Emma blinked to hold back the tears.
“When I awoke I was afraid that you had only been a dream.”
“I did you all a great wrong to stay away so long.”
“That’s over. When you come back, it will be for good.” She had summed up what Samuel was feeling and it filled him with joy, if only for that moment.
“I have one last debt to pay, and then, I swear, I will return for good.” She put her hand on his cheek.
“I know you will.”
“It’s time we got started, my friend,” a voice came from behind. Oliver, head wrapped in a bandage, was standing in the door, the color back in his face, what little of it was normally his. Samuel looked at Emma, and she shrugged her shoulders.
“We’ll close the mill, and I’ll be all right. It’s time you realized that you are not alone.”
“But what about you, and the children?”
“We’ll get by,” she said with conviction.
Samuel hugged her again. “And what about you?” he asked Oliver. “Are you sure you’re well enough to take what will surely be a difficult journey?”
“You need not fear for me, Samuel. There’s too much at stake for me to be feeling sorry for myself.”
It felt good to be home again. “Let’s eat and be gone. The trail grows colder by the minute.”
After a hearty breakfast, they said their farewells to the children, promising them that they would return with the rest of the family soon. Emma had prepared as much dried meat and other provisions as she could find in the house and helped them pack their shoulder bags. And as she watched the last of her family disappear down the south road, she promised herself that she would not cry again until her family was reunited.
CHAPTER XIX
Edward knew that the time for reckoning was upon him, but he needed to bolster his courage before he made his announcement. It had been six months since his secret marriage to Elizabeth, and the secret had been well kept. Of those at the ceremony in Grafton Manor, he knew he could trust Sir Julian with his life, and Father Dennis was only too happy to delay the announcement and the certain wrath of the Archbishop of Canterbury, whose authority he had usurped by performing the wedding. And of course the Woodvilles would obey his wishes to delay the announcement until the time was right.
But now, he was growing tired of seeing his wife only on the rare occasions that he could contrive an excuse to travel to Grafton, and, most of all, he missed the feel of her arms around him at night. To be sure, he had not been without the wenches that Hastings brought to him, but the company of such women left him feeling empty and alone. On the rare occasions that discretion allowed a visit to Grafton, his new wife had left him fulfilled beyond anything he had ever imagined possible. Elizabeth had become everything he had hoped: a person to whom he could speak freely and share all his confidences, with whom he could be himself, not a king.
He sat at the head of the long council table in a high room of the White Tower. His cousin, the Earl of Warwick, had returned from his embassy to France with the expected offer by King Louis of his sister, the Lady Bona of Savoy. Warwick had been seduced by Louis’ flattery, Edward was sure, and now the earl would expect Edward to follow his advice and form this alliance with the French.
As Edward fidgeted and wondered how best to handle breaking the shocking news, the others were engaged in an animated discussion over how to handle the Duke of Burgundy if the English allied themselves with King Louis. Lord Hastings seemed the most upset.
“I tell you, my lords, that Burgundy, whatever his faults, has kept the French throne weak by his opposition for years. To abandon him now will only strengthen Louis’ hand, and that is why this offer is made.”
“Lord Hastings,” said Warwick, “we are no longer the divided kingdom of the House of Lancaster, and we have no need for the aid of the self-important Duke of Burgundy to fight our battles for us. I for one would rather have Louis as an ally. Burgundy has shown his disdain for us, and must be punished for his impudence. This wedding would put him in his place.”
“The French king has only one goal,” persisted Hastings, “and that is the consolidation of Burgundy under his dominion. Once he has realized that goal, he will not have any use for us, and will consider the sacrifice of his sister coinage well
spent.”
“It would be a more popular decision with our own people to side with the French in this matter,” said Northumberland.
“Our people have no love for anyone who lives across the channel,” Hastings reminded him. “They want only to repossess the lands won in battle and to see our king on the French throne.”
“I fought at the side of the Duke of Bedford when those lands were won,” Lord Rivers interjected — the accusation that nobody else in the room could make such a claim apparent — “and I also wish to see His Majesty walk as monarch on the French soil that we fought so hard to possess. An alliance with Louis at this time would snuff that dream which our people hold so dear to their hearts.”
“The people’s hearts are bound by their purse strings,” responded Warwick, more than a little annoyed. “If we help Louis regain the low countries from Burgundy, we will have the freedom to reestablish our Flemish markets. That being done, the merchants will quickly forget Burgundy and his pompous arrogance.”
“Your Highness, what is my royal brother’s wish in this matter?” asked the Duke of Gloucester, who at the age of seventeen was still somewhat reluctant to bandy opinions with these great lords. Having boundless admiration for his brother, he felt that it was time for a decision to be made, lest they get the impression that the king was not in control.
Gloucester had begun to endear himself to Edward, not by worthless flattery but by clearly supporting Edward’s decisions, no matter where they led. It was the kind of support that he would have expected of Edmund had he lived. Richard was the very image of their father, dark in complexion, black hair, and much shorter than the other three brothers.
“My lords, we cannot marry the Lady Bona.”
Warwick was stunned. Never did he imagine that Edward would go against his wishes. Why had he sent him to France to negotiate the marriage?
“We have decided to marry the Lady Elizabeth Woodville, daughter of Lord Rivers.” The silence that followed reminded Edward of the time when he sat before Edmund’s casket in the dungeon of Pontefract Castle.
Warwick was the first to speak. “Your Highness is very merry to jest with us like this.” He was hoping that he was right about Edward’s amazing announcement.
“We do not jest, my lord. We have decided.”
“My Liege,” said Hastings, “the Lady Elizabeth is a fair and good woman, but she is beneath your royal dignity.” Rivers flushed with anger but said nothing. His own wife, he knew, had been told the same thing when she chose to marry him, but now he knew that he was father to the queen, and these haughty men would be forced to respect him.
“Your Highness, you must reconsider this decision,” Warwick was beside himself, realizing that his own reputation as the power behind the throne was at stake.
“It is too late for any reconsideration. We have already wed.”
Another stunned silence. The color had drained from Hastings’ face. He appeared to be angrier even than Warwick, not comprehending how the king could have made such a decision without his knowledge.
“Who performed this ceremony, My Liege?” The calm voice of the bishop of Exeter spoke for the first time that afternoon. Edward knew that the bishop was contemplating the possibilities of an annulment. He moved quickly to dash any such hopes.
“The ceremony was performed by our confessor, Father Dennis. And there will be no annulment, Your Grace, you may be certain of that. We will send letters to the French king with our thanks for his offer. Now it is time to bring our new queen to court and make arrangements for her coronation. Lord Hastings, you will see to those arrangements. Lord Rivers, we would have further words with you in our chambers.”
After a moment during which they all sat in silence, Warwick signaled to his brothers. As they were leaving, Clarence also stood.
“My lords, may I join you?” Warwick looked at the bishop, then nodded, leading them out of the room.
*
Three weeks later, on Saint Michael’s Day, Elizabeth was escorted to Westminster Abbey by Clarence and Warwick. There, in the presence of the king and as many of the magnates of the realm as could be gathered, the Archbishop of Canterbury performed the coronation of the new queen of England. Her sons by her first marriage, Thomas and Richard, now eight and six years old, were present, as were her father and brother, Lords Rivers and Scales, and, of course, the dowager Duchess of Bedford. Also present were her other brothers, John and Lionel, and her seven sisters, all occupying positions and duties of honor during the ceremony. Father Dennis was also present but played no role in the mass that followed the coronation.
He had not been able to avoid the archbishop before the ceremony, and was asked calmly by His Grace whether he was aware that the right of performing holy matrimony for the king belonged to him alone. Father Dennis did his best to assure the archbishop that he had been given no choice and begged forgiveness, which his grace was not inclined to give, making it clear with his silence that should the confessor’s duties to the king ever be terminated, he had better find a quiet monastery far from His Grace’s presence to live out the rest of his life.
Unlike Edward’s coronation feast, arranged in such haste four years earlier, the new queen was treated to a gala. In the great room of Windsor Palace, the dignitaries came to pay homage and swear allegiance to the queen and to any offspring that would bless her union with the king. Edward watched as Elizabeth handled her role with ease and dignity, as if she were bred to the position. Her low-cut, intricately embroidered gown stirred his lust as he watched her receive the favors of noblemen and priests throughout the evening, and though he was anxious to have her alone in their chambers, he would not deprive her of a moment of these ceremonies.
Throughout the evening it was apparent that the old nobility did not approve of their new queen, though they tried hard not to offend the king. All, that is, except for Edward’s mother. Cecily, the dowager Duchess of York, made her entrance late, well after everyone else had given their oaths, and the room was hushed by her presence. The matriarch of the House of York, wearing a train longer than the queen’s, moved immediately to where Edward sat on a raised dais with his new wife. The king rose to greet his mother with an embrace. Elizabeth glared at her, her hatred obvious to everyone. The lords and ladies watched the proceedings waiting for the inevitable confrontation.
“I regret my tardiness, my lord,” she said at last, “but since I was not consulted regarding this evening’s plans, my preparations were delayed.” Edward was hurt that his mother would behave so poorly before the peers of the realm and was tempted to return the favor, but decided that he would be better served by ignoring her rancor.
“We are pleased to have our mother here,” he announced. Looking disappointed, she extended her hand to the queen.
“I must call you daughter. You are welcome to our family.” Her lack of sincerity was apparent, and Edward knew it was time to redirect everyone’s attention. He signaled for the musicians to play and led Cecily to the table of honor, where the dowager Duchess of Bedford was already seated. Without even acknowledging her presence, Cecily took the chair closest to the royal podium, the highest place of honor.
Elizabeth’s mother was not about to take a backseat to this great lady. The Duchess of Bedford had once been the preeminent lady of the realm and knew how to handle this self-important woman.
“I never had the chance until now to welcome Your Ladyship to our family,” she said quietly, so that no one else could hear. Cecily recognized Jaquetta’s presence for the first time.
“I will never be a part of your family,” she snarled.
Jacquetta had gained the reaction she had hoped for. “Nevertheless,” she smiled. Then casually, “Doesn’t the queen look resplendent this evening?”
“As well as one of her breeding could,” she said contemptuously.
Cecily had no answer and simply turned away. She was furious at Edward for this union but knew there was nothing she could do. She decided she would have no further part in her son’s court. If he wanted to see her again, he would have to come to her. No further words passed between the two ladies that evening.
It was well into the early morning hours when the king stood, silencing the revelers. He was giddy from too much wine, but still in control of his faculties.
“My lords and ladies,” he announced as the room waited in silence. “It is customary for the king to grant favors at such an august event. True to that custom, we have decided to advance two of our most trusted councilors and kinsmen this very evening.”
These were the words the courtiers had been waiting to hear, and they bristled with anticipation in the hopes that the king’s largesse would fall on them. “First, we have received word from His Holiness in Rome that he has approved the appointment of our cousin and Chancellor, the Bishop of Exeter, as Archbishop of York.” All eyes turned to the new archbishop and polite applause and congratulations were heard. The appointment of George Neville as archbishop elevated him to a position equal to the dukes of the realm, inferior within the hierarchy only to the king himself.
“I thank Your Highness for this honor and pledge to be equal to your trust and that of His Holiness.” The new archbishop bowed.
“We know that you will, Your Grace.” Edward hoped that this appointment would ease some of the animosity his marriage had created within the Neville family. “Second,” he continued, “in honor of our new queen, and to further demonstrate our love for her and her kinsmen, we create Lord Rivers, her father and our trusted councilor, Earl Rivers, and bestow upon him all the rights and honors appurtenant to that title.” Again, polite applause from the court, but without the enthusiasm that had greeted the archbishop’s appointment, and that fact was not lost on the king, nor certainly on Elizabeth. It was clear that the old nobility of the realm had not accepted the Woodvilles as their equals, and the elevation of Lord Rivers to an earldom would not change that. Nevertheless, the newly created Earl Rivers bowed and thanked the king with all the dignity of his new rank.
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