1 - THWARTED QUEEN

by Cynthia Sally Haggard

  I swept out.

  Chapter 52

  Westminster Palace, London

  Feast of Saint Lucy

  December 13, 1464

  It was as if I’d never spoken.

  Later that September at Michaelmas, Dame Élisabeth Grey was escorted into Reading Abbey by Warwick and George. The Serpent was presented to the magnates and the people as their Sovereign Lady, and the whole assembly of people knelt to do her honor.

  Except for myself.

  I could not submit.

  I made my displeasure clear by being absent.

  My absence was noted by everyone.

  Edward had disgraced himself with this awful marriage. In turn, I styled myself Queen by Right.

  From then on, there were two queens at Edward’s court. I remained in the queen’s apartments, and Edward was forced to build a special wing onto one of his palaces to accommodate the Serpent and her entourage. Shortly after her elevation, she got her revenge in the most predictable way. The horde of poverty-stricken relatives descended on the court and proceeded to elbow their way into the aristocracy. I enumerate as follows.

  Item: Margaret Woodville, sister to the Serpent, married October 1464 to Thomas Fitzalan, Baron Maltravers, the Earl of Arundel’s heir.

  Item: Catherine Woodville, sister to the Serpent, married April 1465 to Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, my sister Anne’s grandson.

  Item: Martha Woodville, sister, married in June 1465 to Sir John Bromley.

  Item: Jacqueline Woodville, sister, married February 1466 to John le Strange, Baron Strange of Knockin.

  Item: Thomas Grey, the Serpent’s eldest son, married in October 1466 to Nan’s daughter, Anne Holland.

  Item: Mary Woodville, sister, married January 1467 to William Herbert, Lord Dunster, the Earl of Pembroke’s heir.

  Item: Eleanor Woodville, sister, married July 1467 to Sir Anthony Grey.

  Item: Anne Woodville, sister, married in July 1467 to William, Viscount Bourchier the eldest son of Richard’s sister Isabel.

  What more need I say?

  “Cecylee, Queen by Right, Duchess of York,” roared the herald.

  There was a stir as I lifted my chin high and sailed into the room. I dressed in my usual dark colors worn since my lord of York’s death. This time my gown was midnight-blue velvet, the neck and bodice covered in a white silken scarf, over which I wore a simple white headdress surmounted by a coronet.

  Everyone sank like a wave as I approached, the gentlemen bowing, the ladies curtseying. All except for one figure, dressed in cloth of gold brocade with a plunging neckline to set off the emeralds around her neck. The dress formed pools of gold as it flowed around her feet. This figure stood motionless with her back erect as I approached. At the end of that long hall, I found myself finally face-to-face with the Serpent, my daughter-in-law, Edward’s wife, and soon-to-be crowned Queen of England.

  We stared at each other for several minutes. In that huge hall, thronging with hundreds of people, the silence was deafening. Finally, the Serpent’s mouth curved into a smile.

  “Well met, Mother!” she cried out, louder than I would have liked, as the room rustled to life. “You are welcome, indeed, to our Christmas Court.”

  I stiffened as she took my arm, but the Serpent held me in a vice-like grip. I looked around for Edward, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  “Edward has been detained,” said the Serpent, as she led me along the corridor, followed by her ladies. “In the meantime, I wanted to invite you to my private chambers so that we could have a quiet talk.”

  As we arrived, the door shut behind us, and the Serpent signaled to her women to pour wine and bring out refreshments. She indicated a seat for me to sit in, but I shook my head.

  “As you wish,” she remarked, shrugging. And smiling, she sat down.

  Her ladies followed suit, some of them smiling behind their hands.

  How dare she to sit in my presence?

  The Serpent leaned back in her chair and sipped delicately from a crystal goblet that sparkled with gold lights reflecting the gold of her dress. She watched me for a moment. Finally, she spoke.

  “Queen by Right,” she murmured, twisting the goblet between her fingers so that the reflected colors moved hither and thither. “An interesting title, madam. Did you inherit it from someone in your family?”

  I glared at her. The sound of smothered giggles struck my ear. It was followed by shushing sounds.

  The Serpent fastened her eyes on her goblet and kept them there until the room was completely quiet. Then she looked at me.

  “Has a Queen of England ever ruled through her son?” she asked.

  “Yes,” said I, raising my chin. “Queen Alainor of Aquitaine, of blessed memory—”

  There was a splutter behind my back. I turned to glare in that general direction. When I turned back to the Serpent, she was leaning forward in her chair, her brow furrowing in concentration.

  “She was the mother of Richard, Coeur de Lion,” I explained.

  “I see.” The Serpent turned the crystal goblet in her fingers. These goblets had recently come into fashion. Edward had imported them from Venice, at great expense, for the Serpent was determined to emulate the luxury of the court of Burgundy. Even if it meant plunging the Crown into debt.

  “Was Richard, Coeur de Lion, actually married?” asked the Serpent.

  “His mother found him a suitable bride in the Princess Berengaria of Navarre,” I replied.

  The Serpent remained in her chair, leaning forward, looking up at me with one eyebrow raised. She held the exquisite goblet poised delicately between the fingers of two hands.

  “I see,” she said evenly.

  Again, there was a splutter behind me.

  The Serpent sighed, put her goblet down, rose, and beckoned to someone behind me. Everyone in the room rose also.

  A rosy-cheeked giggling child of around six or so jumped out, and after a vain attempt to stifle her giggles, sketched me a very shaky curtsey.

  The Serpent smiled. “May I present to you my sweet sister Catherine?” She turned to her sister: “Be off with you, child, for we have serious matters to discuss.”

  The child giggled and ran off, followed by her governess.

  The Serpent turned back to me. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather sit?”

  I cleared my throat. “No, I thank you.”

  The Serpent resumed her seat, and everyone in the room sat down also, leaving me standing.

  The Serpent signaled, and a servant rushed forward to refill her crystal goblet. She took a sip, turned to me.

  “Now where were we?” she remarked as the room fluttered with sounds of whispers and giggles. “Ah, yes. You were telling me of King Richard’s marriage.”

  I glared at her. “You should not be sitting there, madam. Your family is Lancastrian. You fought against us in the recent war. I lost my husband, son, and brother to Lancastrian beasts who—”

  I gulped for air, unable to bear the images that rose up. “You were damsel to the Bitch of Anjou. You are two-faced, madam. You are duplicitous.”

  “But the time has come to put that behind us.”

  “I never forget,” I replied. “And you should not. Your husband died too.”

  The Serpent glanced at me, biting her lip. She lowered her eyes and played with her crystal goblet. “Families are so interesting—”

  “Indeed,” I exclaimed. “Your family, for instance, madam. Your father is a jumped-up nobody, and I understand that you are descended, on your mother’s side, from the fay Melusine, the sorceress who vanished in a puff of smoke when forced to attend Mass.”

  I paused and jabbed my finger at her. “Your wiles, and that of your mother, have entrapped my son, bewitched him, so that he lost his reason and married you.”

  A hush fell as the Serpent stared at me, her face white. Witchcraft was a serious accusation, and she knew it.

  My head high, I turned on my heel and left.

&nb
sp; I swept into my chamber, and took breath.

  Good.

  I had made my feelings clear.

  My shoulders relaxed, the bottled-up frustration of the past several months leaking out.

  I had just crushed my mortal enemy.

  I lost no time in going to see Edward to discuss the evils of his marriage. I pointed out that since there were hardly any witnesses, it would be an easy matter to get it annulled.

  He heard me out, then turned to me and smiled. “Madam, I am well content with my lovely wife, and I pray you be content also. Both Élisabeth and I already have children. England will have heirs.”

  I stared at him, speechless with indignation. It was only then that I realized I did not know my son at all.

  Chapter 53

  Queen’s Apartments, Westminster Palace, London

  Feast of The Epiphany

  January 6, 1465

  To the Steward of Fotheringhay Castle, Northamptonshire,

  Greetings.

  May it please you to know that Cecylee, Duchess of York, Queen By Right, has come to the end of her stay in London and will be arriving in Fotheringhay in ten days. See to it that all necessary provisions are made against her return.

  Given, this sixth day of January, in the Year of Our Lord 1465.

  I took this document from my scribe, read it through, and smiled. I intended to use my new title until I could persuade Edward to find another wife. As I congratulated myself on putting the Serpent in her place, the door to my chamber burst open. It was Cath.

  “Cis, dearest: I wanted you to be the first to know. I am to marry Sir John Woodville.”

  Cath was no longer young, for she was sixty-seven years old. Still she was a handsome woman, who would have looked younger had she not lost most of her teeth. Every time she smiled, she drooled.

  I handed her my handkerchief and signaled for the scribe to leave. “You mean to tell me, sister, the Serpent has commanded you to marry her brother John?”

  Cath threw back her head and laughed: “Fancy calling Edward’s queen The Serpent. What has she done to you to deserve that name?”

  “She has wormed her way into the House of York like a canker eating at an apple. Now she is commanding you to marry her brother.”

  “He’s a lovely young man.”

  “How old is he?”

  “He’s—nineteen, I believe she said.”

  “Cath!”

  Cath flushed.

  “You know how this is going to look.”

  “But I’m lonely.”

  “A lady of your years matched to a callow youth of nineteen.”

  “But you know how much I like male company—”

  “How could you agree to it?”

  “—and I’ve had three husbands taken from me.”

  “You know folk will not be kind.”

  “I don’t see why I shouldn’t marry this charming young man.”

  “She’s trying to humiliate you. The Serpent wants your money. After burying three husbands, she knows you to be wealthy.”

  “But he’s sweet!”

  “I’m going to see her now.”

  “But Cis—” Cath plucked at my sleeve.

  I brushed her off. “This isn’t about you, Cath. She’s trying to humiliate the Nevilles, the House of York, and me. I must put a stop to it.”

  I came upon the Serpent seated on a gilded chair with her ladies around her. She was embroidering a magnificent altar cloth made of cloth of gold and purple velvet. She wore a silver dress that reflected the blood-red rubies at her throat and on her fingers. She looked up as I entered, but did not rise.

  “Good Morrow, Mother.” She signaled to her ladies to put the altar cloth away and bring out refreshments in the form of oranges, figs, nuts, and warm spiced wine.

  “I wish to talk to you.”

  “About your sister’s forthcoming nuptials?” The Serpent leaned back in her chair as she peeled an orange with a bejeweled dagger. While she talked, the blade flashed as it went in and out, separating the peel from the sweet, luscious fruit within.

  “I cannot allow it to happen.”

  “And what does your sister say?”

  I hesitated. The room rustled with the sounds of the ladies’ heavy skirts dragging across the Turkish carpets as they went about their duties. Finally, they took up position around their mistress. A sea of staring eyes met mine.

  The Serpent paused, holding the dagger balanced between thumb and finger, and studied me for a moment. “Your sister is older than you, is she not? Surely old enough to decide her own fate.”

  A murmur of laughter ran around the room.

  “When I told her of my plans, she seemed delighted. As I remember, she called my brother John a sweet boy. So I made the old dame happy. What’s wrong with that?”

  “You know what’s wrong.”

  The Serpent put her dagger down and stared: “My sweet brother is delighted to make your sister happy. Your sister is happy with my choice of bridegroom, so what could your objection be?” She paused for a moment, put her hand to her head, and frowned in concentration as her ladies tittered behind their hands.

  “It couldn’t be my brother’s—bloodlines, now could it?”

  I glared.

  “I believe that the last time I had the pleasure of your company, you described my father as ‘jumped up.’”

  “I did. I also said—”

  “Perhaps it would help, good mother, if I told you more about Maman, my mother.”

  “Your mother? She was the cause of a great scandal. She was the king’s aunt, and she married well beneath her.”

  “I would like to tell you about Maman’s family,” said the Serpent, handing her cup to one of her ladies and rising. She took my arm.

  “My mother has many interesting people she can claim relation with. Surely you know that my mother’s father, the Count of St. Pol, was related to the Holy Roman Emperor. Or that my mother’s mother was an Italian princess, descended from the Orsinis?”

  She turned to look at me. “You look surprised, good mother,” she cooed. “I see you did not know that.”

  The candles flickered as my vision narrowed. I knew her mother Jacquetta, Duchess of Bedford, was of a higher social station than her father, for I remembered well how she would constantly talk of her family in France. But I’d never really believed her connections were so illustrious. Perhaps because it seemed obvious she would exaggerate in an effort to cover up her husband’s humble origins.

  “Are you not descended from Queen Alainor of Aquitaine?” said the Serpent.

  “Indeed I am.”

  “And would you have been happy if your son, the king, had married one of Queen Alainor’s descendants?”

  I gripped the back of a chair. If he’d done that, wouldn’t everything have been different?

  The Serpent turned slightly, the silver dress fanning out across the floor in a curling wave. She smiled.

  “You see, Mother, your son was dutiful after all. I also am descended from Queen Alainor.”

  I glared at her. How like her mother, to exaggerate her claims.

  “That’s not true.”

  “Indeed it is. I am descended, by my mother, from Simon de Montfort and his wife, the Lady Eleanor, one of Queen Alainor’s granddaughters.”

  I shook my head, but could not rid myself of a pounding headache.

  “So you need have no further worry about allying yourself with the Woodvilles.” The Serpent drew her arm through mine and ushered me out of the room. “We are truly blue-blooded. Your sister will be safe with us.”

  The door closed shut and I was left in a dark corridor. I shivered with cold. The Serpent’s family had fought against the House of York in the war. She was responsible for the murder of Richard, of Salisbury, and of Rutland. Her people were the ones who’d put their heads on top of pikes at Micklegate Bar. She should not be Queen of England.

  Within the month, Cath was married to the Serpent’s brother John
. Much sport was had at poor Cath’s expense. One wit described her as a slip of a girl. Another referred to this sham arrangement as the Diabolical Marriage. I was forced to attend the wedding ceremony, which I found humiliating in the extreme. Just as the Serpent had intended.

  Chapter 54

  Greenwich Palace, London

  Feast of Saints Philip & James

  May 3, 1465

  At nineteen, Margaret was the most beautiful lady at Edward’s court. She greatly resembled her dead sister Joan, with her flawless lily-and-rose complexion and chestnut brown tresses. On this birthday, Edward held a feast followed by dancing to celebrate. Margaret stood in a circle with other young folk, following the beat of the drum first left, then right, that accompanied the recorder and dulcimer, while the dancing-master instructed them on the latest dance steps.

  I stood in the garden, enjoying the music while I gave directions to Edward’s head steward, having taken in hand the lavish preparations for Margaret’s feast.

  An unpleasantly shrill voice made me turn.

  “Nineteen, is she not? ‘Tis full time she was married.”

  As soon as my eyes met the Serpent’s, she took my arm. She chose her moment well, for she was in front of hangers-on and had a vice-like grip that was not easy to dislodge.

  “My brother Ned would be the perfect match for Margaret,” she remarked. “Why, the king, your son, thinks highly of him.”

  My cheeks warmed as my stomach turned over. Ned Woodville was one of those gentlemen who seem always to be underfoot, dicing, singing, and not doing anything in particular. Why the king had made him Admiral of the Fleet, heaven only knew. Doubtless it had something to do with the Serpent, for he had no qualifications that I could see, having never fought a sea battle in his life. His bleary eyes and late risings rather told me that he led a life given over to debauchery and drink. Unfortunately, Edward seemed to attract many such followers to his court.

  “No need to gape, good mother: You have been remiss. Why haven’t you married her off before?”

  Why indeed? Margaret was my youngest daughter. I could not bear to part with her. Of course, I must one day. But only to someone who was worthy.