“What ordinances?” snapped Buckingham, not moved by the toast to his grandson.
“I have to reduce costs to avoid draining the exchequer.”
“You have to—poppycock. This is aimed at our lady queen.”
“Everyone will be affected,” replied York. “There is no avoiding that.”
“You must see, my lord of Buckingham, that the Crown has no money,” put in Cecylee. “No one likes reducing costs. But it must be done.”
Buckingham snorted.
“Our households are to be cut,” said Edmund Tudor, Earl of Richmond, who stood there with his brother Jasper, Earl of Pembroke.
“And we are half-brothers to the king,” put in Pembroke. “Our households will be only seven in number under my lord of York’s plan. An entourage only equal to that of the king’s confessor.”
“How can you allow that?” exclaimed Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland. “It’s a disgrace!”
“We agree with my lord of York that such reforms are in our sovereign brother’s interests,” said Richmond.
“Otherwise, he would be destitute,” said Pembroke. “Surely you’ve not forgotten the time when our sovereign king and his lady queen sat down to a feast at Epiphany only to be told by their steward there was no food to be had?”
Cecylee glanced at Richard, who was standing there silently. This cannot be easy for him, she thought. He has to be so patient.
Richard cleared his throat.
“I want you all to know that I have removed Exeter to Pontefract. He will stay there to cool his heels for a while.”
Cecylee breathed deeply and smiled. Maybe I can be with Nan after all. She drew herself up and looked around her. The lords were standing there, stony-faced. “Let us pray,” she said slowly, “that such reforms as my lord has wisely proposed be acceptable to all, for they are very necessary to the good governance of this realm.”
Chapter 33
Feast of the Christ Child
Westminster Palace, London
December 25, 1454
Richard of York rose in his seat, lifted his wine cup high and toasted the king’s health.
Duchess Cecylee and everyone else followed, saluting the king at a formal banquet that was hosted by York as part of the festivities for the Feast of the Christ Child.
Cecylee had just put her wine cup down and turned to congratulate Richard on the efforts he was making when a messenger rushed in.
“The king awakens. He awakens!”
A roar erupted as everyone rose to their feet and eyed one another. Without further ado, the entire court abandoned the Christmas feast and rushed to the stables calling for their favorite horses. Meanwhile, servants appeared with mantles of sable, fur-lined hoods, gloves, and boots to protect everyone from the winter weather.
It took the rest of the day to ride the thirty or so miles from the Palace of Westminster, where Christmas Court was held, to Windsor Castle, where the King was in residence. The entire court came in a rush upon the royal family.
The king sat in a high backed chair, smiling vaguely.
The queen knelt before him, holding her fourteen-month-old son Édouard. “See what a fine son you have, my King,” she said.
“This child is heaven-sent,” replied King Henry in a low, clear voice. “His birth must have been a miracle of the Holy Spirit.”
The queen’s face was a picture. She searched her husband’s face, her own puckered in bewilderment. The entire court exploded into laughter. Truly, King Henry had returned to the land of the living, for only he would make such a pronouncement.
There was an awkward silence, then Warwick strode up. “This so-called prince,” said he, jabbing a finger at the infant on Marguerite’s lap, “is no son of yours, Sire.” He bowed low before King Henry, then turned to face the entire court. “He’s Somerset’s son.”
A roar of noise broke. Marguerite rose, clutching the child to her, who bawled lustily. “How dare you!” she hissed, spitting at Warwick, who took a step backwards. “You slander me with your lies, with your defamation. But I fight!”
She looked around the room. “I will fight you all if I have to!” She stormed out.
Cecylee was stunned. She knew the queen and Somerset were lovers, for Richard had told her about his visit when, as the newly-made Lord Protector of England, he had shut Somerset in the Tower and banished Marguerite to Windsor. Somerset had been holding the baby as if he were his own, and Richard repeated their conversation, complete with lover’s words.
Now Marguerite displayed no guilt at her actions. Cecylee’s never-quite-dormant anger welled up. How dare Richard manipulate her to feel guilty for her one night of sin? How dare he make her feel like an animal in a cage? She would be taken out for a petting once in a while, but if she bit, she would be thrust back in her cage, and the door slammed shut.
Cecylee took breath, and closed her eyes. What would happen now? Richard was no longer regent. She was no longer queen.
Chapter 34
Spring 1455
Though many wept for joy and declared the king to be well mended, nevertheless he was not the same. His strange illness left him at the mercy of his domineering lady wife and quarrelsome nobles. From now on, royal authority would be in the hands of a weak king, debilitated by a long sleeping sickness that might recur at any time.
Events moved swiftly downhill after that Christmas Day. On the ninth day of February 1455, King Henry appeared in Parliament, whereupon he graciously gave thanks to all present and dismissed my lord of York from the office of protector. As soon as York relinquished his appointment, Salisbury was dismissed from his position as chancellor, and Exeter was set at liberty from his confinement at Pontefract. Naturally, the queen lost no time in setting her lover free from the Tower and restoring to him the offices of Constable and Captain of Calais.
Upon hearing the news of Somerset’s release, Richard of York and others of his affinity rode out of London to Yorkshire. York went to Sandal Castle, and Salisbury to Middleham. Somerset already filled the king’s ear with talk of how my lord of York wished to depose the king and take the throne of England for himself.
Through his numerous connections in London, Warwick learned that Somerset was planning to hold a secret conference at Westminster. Warwick urged York and Salisbury not to wait to see what Somerset might do, but instead to recruit an army. This they did without further ado, and levies were summoned to muster both at Middleham and Sandal, while Warwick began to assemble a large army of his own at Warwick Castle.
Chapter 35
Sandal Castle, Yorkshire
May 1455
Exeter’s return from Pontefract prevented Cecylee from attending her daughter’s lying-in. She later heard that Nan gave birth to a healthy daughter, whom she named Anne after herself.
Perhaps it was just as well it was too dangerous to travel, mused Cecylee, sitting beside Richard on the dais of the great hall at Sandal Castle. Her belly swelled with her latest pregnancy. Joan, Nan, Henry, Edward, Edmund, Beth, Margaret, William, John, George, Thomas, Richard. This child would be her thirteenth.
It was May, and the door to the hall had been left open to allow in the fresh breezes of spring. Cecylee half listened to the stream of petitioners filing into the hall to discuss their problems with the duke and duchess, instead idly wondering if she would survive this latest pregnancy. A royal messenger bearing the leopards of Anjou and the lilies of France finally grabbed her attention.
“I bring a summons from my lord the king!” he cried, kneeling before Richard.
Richard frowned and tore open the parchment. His face went white.
“My lord, what ails you?” whispered Cecylee. She got to her feet slowly, heavy with pregnancy.
Richard handed the parchment to her. The king had summoned York, Salisbury, and Warwick to meet him before a great council of England to be held on the twenty-first day of May in the year 1455.
Cecylee scanned the document and bit her lip. She glanced
up and signaled to the royal messenger to leave, then turned to Richard.
“My lord, you cannot go.”
He clasped her hands. “You think as I do.”
She stared into his grey-blue eyes. What will become of the children if their father is murdered? I might not survive many moons longer. “I well remember what happened to my lord of Gloucester,” she murmured under her breath.
Richard set his lips, clasping Cecylee’s hands within his own. Then he strode briskly to the door and summoned the messenger back into the room.
“Tell our sovereign lord that I am loyal to him and that I will obey the summons.”
The muscles of the young squire’s face relaxed as he nodded and bowed.
Then he left.
Cecylee smiled up at Richard. “You will strike first?”
“Exactly so.” Richard bent and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Take good care of yourself, my sweet,” he murmured, laying a hand on her belly.
York led his army southwards to London with the intention of intercepting the king, the queen, and Somerset before they left for Leicester. With him were Salisbury, Viscount Bourchier, and others, which numbered some six thousand men with their affinities. At the same time, Warwick led an army of one thousand across England from Warwick Castle to meet up with York and Salisbury on Ermine Street.
On the twentieth of May, York’s army, now numbering seven thousand men, arrived at the village of Royston in Hertfordshire. While there, York learned that the royal army was about to leave London without the queen, who had taken the baby prince to Greenwich. On the twenty-first day of May, the Yorkist army marched into the nearby village of Ware. By the early hours of May 22, York’s scouts advised him that the king was making for Saint Albans, and so York swung his army around and, just outside that town, drew it up into three parts to be commanded by York, Salisbury, and Warwick.
The royal army, numbering some two or three thousand and commanded by Humphrey Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, arrived in Saint Albans early on the morning of May 22. For three hours, York delayed starting the battle, making every effort to induce the king to listen to his complaints about Somerset’s misgovernment. To no avail. The king sent back an uncharacteristically harsh reply.
“He refuses to accede to any of your demands,” exclaimed Warwick.
“Somerset is behind this,” muttered Salisbury.
York rose. “Let the battle begin.”
So saying, he mounted his charger, put on his helmet, and ordered the trumpeters to sound the alarms. He rode in front of his troops and spoke.
“Today we stand at a turning point. Either we retreat to the misgovernment of the past, or we advance into the future, rid of all the traitors who would bleed the land white for their own gain.”
“A York! A York! A York!” roared the troops.
“We have a hard fight ahead of us,” shouted Richard. “I represent Job, and our Sovereign King is like King David, and together we will overcome Somerset.”
The troops cheered, and the Battle of Saint Albans began.
York and Salisbury lead the charge from the East, along Saint Peter’s Street, Sopwell Street, and other roads leading to the marketplace in an effort to storm the barricades the Lancastrian commanders put up to defend the town.
Many of the Lancastrian persuasion suffered that day. Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland, husband to Cecylee’s sister Alainor, perished in battle. Both Buckingham and his son and heir Humphrey Stafford was grievously wounded. But the big prizes were the death of Somerset and the capture of King Henry.
On May 23, 1455, York and Salisbury, preceded by Warwick bearing the king’s sword, escorted our sovereign King Henry VI back to London, whereupon my lord of York assumed a new role as chief advisor to the king. He was immediately appointed to the position of Constable of England.
In the next week, the various members of the Court Party—Buckingham, Wiltshire, Shrewsbury, Richmond, Pembroke and some others—made peace with Richard of York. Pembroke was especially anxious to devise a way of reconciling all parties, and during the long hot summer months of 1455—while Cecylee waited for her youngest child to be born—he spent many hours with Richard discussing how best to achieve such a reconciliation.
But though Somerset was dead, his faction remained, and there was considerable bitterness amongst those who had lost their loved ones at Saint Albans.
Chapter 36
July 1455 to January 1458
By the beginning of July 1455, Richard of York had established himself as the effective ruler of England. As a mark of his newfound power, he gave Salisbury the influential office of Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster. Around this time, Cecylee gave birth to a daughter. Though she survived the birthing of her thirteenth child, the baby died soon after. Cecylee named her Ursula, in honor of Saint Ursula and her eleven thousand virgins.
Richard could not spare the time to grieve with his wife, for the king experienced another episode of his strange illness, and he assumed complete control of the governance of the country on the nineteenth day of November in the year 1455. Richard was once again appointed Protector and Defender of the Realm.
For the rest of the year, York and his allies formulated a radical program of reforms to bring order to the royal finances and the patronage of Crown lands. These ideas did not make him popular with the magnates. When King Henry regained his senses, these magnates surrounded him with complaints. In February of the year 1456, King Henry appeared in Parliament and—in a manner very similar to that of the year before—revoked my lord of York’s appointment. He then ordered substantial changes to York’s Act of Resumption. Despite this blow, York and his followers cooperated with the Court Party, and York himself remained a dominant voice on the king’s council.
Queen Marguerite—who disliked Londoners—spent the spring of 1456 traveling around the country. While she was away, the king heeded York’s advice and appointed Warwick to be Captain of Calais. This appointment was the most important military command within the king’s gift. York was anxious that it should be given to Warwick to reward him for his crucial support at the Battle of Saint Albans. The queen had wanted to bestow this gift on Somerset’s son and heir. By taking advantage of the queen’s absence, York prevailed over the king.
With this coup, York allowed his guard to slip. He let the king go on royal progress around the country while he departed for Fotheringhay to spend time with his wife. The king went to Chester to reunite with the queen. With the king in her clutches, the queen prevailed upon him to dismiss persons of York’s affinity from the government. Her plan was to throw York into the Tower and have him executed. But Buckingham persuaded her to banish him to Dublin instead.
Cecylee never forgot the way Richard looked when he came to her with news of this latest reprieve. Grey with fatigue, his expression made her bury any irritation. She sent him to Ireland with a kiss, promising that she would arrive soon. Then she went through the whole turmoil of packing up and organizing their trip across country from Fotheringhay, in Nottinghamshire, to Wales, where they took ship to Dublin. With her were fourteen-year-old Beth, twelve-year-old Margaret, eight-year-old George, and five-year-old Richard. At least the Irish had been right glad to see the Duke and Duchess of York return to Dublin, and so their sojourn provided some respite for poor Richard.
In January 1458, Richard of York was recalled to England by the king, who commanded all magnates to attend a peace conference at Westminster. Richard used the opportunity to forge new alliances.
“The time has come to marry Beth off.”
“Couldn’t she stay awhile longer? She is still young.”
“Cis, we’ve had this conversation before. This is a splendid match. Beth will be Duchess of Suffolk.”
“But first she will be the Duchess of Suffolk’s daughter-in-law. Alice Chaucer, the present Duchess, is of hardy stock. She might last a long time.”
“Beth will be with her kinswoman then, for you are related to the Chaucer
s too, my sweet.” He put his arm around her waist.
Cecylee let him hold her for a moment, then pulled away.
“But I may not see her again,” she said, trying not to sound too shrill. “I never see nor hear from Nan. She sent me no word when her daughter was born.” She knelt. “Please, Dickon, I ask only for a few more years. Surely you could grant me that?”
Richard gently pulled her to her feet. “I cannot grant your wish. The marriage documents have already been drawn up, everything has been signed and sealed.”
“Without my knowledge?” she flashed out.
Richard stiffened and his eyes went the color of steel.
“But why John de la Pole?” she asked, seeking to soften his gaze. “He is the son of your great enemy Suffolk.”
“True,” he replied, allowing the muscles of his face to relax. “But the son is made of different mettle than the father. Sir John has been loyal to the House of York.” He clasped her hands within his own. “I nearly lost my life last year. I must use what time I have left to build affinities to protect our family. Surely you see that?”
Beth was married to John de la Pole within the month.
Chapter 37
1458 to1459
The next move in this game of chess came from Queen Marguerite. Naturally, she wanted to oust Warwick from the Captaincy of Calais, so she summoned him to appear before the king’s council to answer charges of piracy.
Her complaint stemmed from an incident in which Warwick sent a small flotilla of ships across the channel, into the Thames estuary to capture three Italian ships loaded with English wool. The king himself had allowed the Italian merchants to do this, but Warwick, ever attuned to the feelings of the Londoners, sent his ships to get the wool back. The king was unable to stop him, for he had but one ship.
This exploit earned Warwick tremendous popularity, for the London merchants, the source of so much of England’s wealth, were ignored and slighted by the government. Warwick used his position as Captain of Calais to put together a fleet of ten ships used to intercept Burgundian, Hanseatic and French ships and to further London’s wealth. The Londoners regarded these deeds as nothing less than heroic, but the queen was not best pleased.
1 - THWARTED QUEEN Page 20