by Livi Michael
There was still something of the other world about him, that mysterious place of his origin. His head was well shaped, she thought; almost bald except for a damp fluff at the nape. But his mouth worked a little, rooting towards her breast. Mother Cobbe was already unfastening her gown.
Elizabeth expelled a shaky breath, then looked up at her mother, and the midwife, and Lady Scrope who was standing in the shadows of the room. ‘We have a prince,’ she said. ‘My husband must know. Everyone must know.’
On 26 November a parliament began at Westminster which continued until Christmas. In this session King Edward was disinherited and all his children, and proclaimed throughout the city as usurper of the crown. The Duke of Gloucester, his younger brother, was pronounced traitor and both were attainted by the parliament.
Great Chronicle of London
King Edward came to the Duke of Burgundy at Saint-Pol [in January] and strongly urged him to assist his return, assuring him that he had much support in England, and for God’s sake not to abandon him seeing that he had married his sister and they were brothers in each other’s Order. The dukes of Somerset and Exeter advocated exactly the opposite course on King Henry’s behalf. The duke did not know which side to favour; he feared he would alienate both parties, and he already had a dangerous war [with France] on his hands. Finally he favoured the Duke of Somerset … [but] extracted from them certain promises against the Earl of Warwick whose old enemies they had been. Yet the duke, seeing that he could no longer stop King Edward going to England … pretended publicly to give him no aid and made a proclamation that no one should go to his help. But secretly he gave him 50,000 florins … and several great ships to serve him until he had crossed over to England.
Philippe de Commines
In the second week of March [1471] King Edward took ship … having with him 900 Englishmen and 300 Flemings with hand guns, and sailed towards England intending to land in Norfolk but … the Earl of Oxford with the commons of the country rose up together and put him back to sea again. And he was forced to land in Yorkshire at Ravenspur …
Warkworth’s Chronicle
[The king declared] to the mayor, aldermen and all the commons of the city [of York] that he would never claim any title nor take upon him to be king of England. Before all the people he cried A! King Harry! A! King Harry! And so he was suffered to pass [through the city] and held his way southward.
When he came towards Nottingham there came to him Sir William Stanley with 300 men and Sir William Norris and divers other men, so that he had 2,000 men and more … then he took his way to Leicester where [was] the Earl of Warwick, and sent a messenger to him that if he would come out he would fight with him.
Warkworth’s Chronicle
42
The Earl of Warwick Refuses to Fight
In his heart he knew himself defeated.
He did not acknowledge it, of course. He wrote to his brother in London, sent for reinforcements, prepared his troops for battle. Nothing was over yet.
And yet he knew.
It was less than two years since he’d captured the king; taken him in captivity to this same town. Now it seemed to him that even in his hour of triumph he had known. He had come to the limit of his capacity, which in his youth he had thought limitless.
It seemed impossible that the bright driving force that had filled him with its sweetness and fire was already passing on. Not just ambition, or desire, but life. Life itself, which he had hosted for such a short time, was preparing to leave him, but he could not afford to know this and so he did not. Or at least he continued to act as if he did not know. He gave instructions to his men to barricade the walls of the town.
He would not fight Edward but kept the gates of the town closed against him, waiting for reinforcements to arrive from his brother and from his son-in-law, Clarence. When they arrived, he told himself, his men would easily outnumber Edward’s.
And then he got the message from Clarence.
The Duke of Clarence, Edward’s brother, had been quietly reconciled to the king by the mediation of his sisters, the duchesses of Burgundy and Exeter.
Crowland Chronicle
In a fair field near Banbury the king saw his brother approaching him with a great fellowship. And when they were within a mile of each other the king left his people and went toward his brother Clarence … and there was right loving and kind language between them … The king then thought it more expedient to go to London … where his principal adversary King Henry was … The Earl of Warwick … had sent letters to those in the city ordering them to resist Edward and not to receive him. He also wrote to his brother the Archbishop of York, desiring him to do all he could to provoke the city against Edward and keep him out …
The Arrivall
To cause the citizens to bear more favour to King Henry [the king] was conveyed from the palace of St Paul’s through Cheap and Cornhill and so to his lodging again … accompanied by the Archbishop of York who held him by the hand all the way, and Lord Zouche, an old and impotent man who bore the king’s sword, and so with a small company of gentlemen … one carrying a pole with two foxtails fastened on the end, this progress was held, more like a play than the showing of a prince to win men’s hearts; for by this means he lost many but won right few …
King Edward came into the city with a fair band of men on Thursday 11th April.
Great Chronicle of London
He was joyfully received by the whole city … From what I have been told, three factors helped to make the city change its mind. First … his wife the queen who had given birth to a son; second the great debts he owed in the city which made his merchant creditors support him; thirdly several noblewomen and wives of rich citizens with whom he had been closely and secretly acquainted, won over their husbands and relations to his cause …
Philippe de Commines
The city was opened to him and he rode straight to St Paul’s and thence to the bishop’s palace, where the Archbishop of York presented himself to the king’s good grace and handed over the usurper, King Henry.
The Arrivall
43
King Edward Speaks
The old king came towards me of his own free will. There were no constraints, no guards. Then, instead of kneeling, he embraced me. He fell upon my neck, saying:
‘My cousin of York, you are most welcome. I know that in your hands my life will not be in danger.’
What’s this? I thought. Some ploy meant to shame me out of my intent?
I put both my hands on his shoulders, feeling the fragility of them, the way the wasted flesh slid over the bones. I separated us, releasing myself from his embrace.
‘Good cousin,’ I said (for he was not the only one who could play a role), ‘you have nothing to fear from me.’
I was not looking at him, but at the statesmen present; the archbishop especially and Lord Zouche, to make sure they had heard my words. Then I glanced at his face.
He was looking up at me with something like hope. Yes, hope, though less than an hour ago, at St Paul’s, I had declared him deposed.
Hope, and something akin to adoration in that haggard face, those unearthly eyes.
It astonished me how anyone could have thought to make him king and expect the people to follow him. Only Warwick could have thought of it.
Anyone else would have put this unkingly creature out of its misery. But not Warwick.
I made myself listen to the archbishop and Lord Zouche, abasing themselves on their knees. I looked at them, not him, but all the time I could feel his unearthly gaze upon me, lifting the hairs on my arms.
When I’d had enough of it, of them, I said, ‘You may rise.’
‘You will be taken to the Tower,’ I said, enjoying the stricken look on the archbishop’s face. ‘For your safekeeping only,’ I added to the erstwhile king. ‘There may be some unrest in the city.’
And he smiled at me, yes, smiled, like an aged child.
As though I was his saviour.
I could have said more – Warwick, doubtlessly, would have made a speech – but I had other matters to attend to. So leaving my brothers to attend to the former king, I left the bishop’s palace and went straight to Westminster.
I had sent a deputation ahead of me, to escort my wife and our children from Sanctuary to the Palace of Westminster. I approached wearing the crown newly placed on my head and saw them there, surrounded by a good gathering of my people.
And my wife detached herself and came towards me, carrying in her arms my son.
For the first time that day I felt a smile breaking on my face as if nothing in the world would stop it.
But she, most proud, most beautiful, did not smile. She stopped a little distance from me and held out our son. ‘My lord, you have a prince,’ she said and, ‘I have called him Edward.’
I took him from her and held him in front of me, seeing for the first time that high, rounded forehead, creased a little in surprise, that blue, intent gaze.
This is he, I thought. This is he for whom, ten years ago, I won the kingdom.
I held him up high and everyone present cried aloud. And for the first time since this business began I felt tears coming even while I smiled.
‘God has given me a prince for this nation!’ I said, and all the people cried aloud again and cheered.
I held him closer then and kissed his wrinkled forehead. Then I clasped my wife with my other arm and kissed her on the lips while people clapped.
Then I looked at him and he at me, very serious, his eyes so sharply focussed that I laughed through my tears. He would make a better king than me.
I found the words then to say to everyone, that this child was God’s precious sending and gift and our most desired treasure.
Then I gave him back to his mother and turned to my little girls, lifting each one up and kissing them tenderly. And I told them all, told everyone, that it was my heart’s greatest joy, singular comfort and gladness, to see them all there, safe and well, after so long.
My tears kept flowing and would not stop, and all of us wept together. I looked at my wife and she was smiling through her tears. I could see how tired she was, though she had dressed in her finest clothes – her eyes were shadowed by exhaustion. So I held her close and spoke to her more intimately then, feeling the soft pressure of her breasts and belly against me. I said that we would never be separated again, and that our son, who had begun life in such inauspicious circumstances, would now have everything he could desire. He would be treated better than any prince in the world.
Then I greeted her mother, Jacquetta, and kissed her and thanked her for taking care of my wife in her confinement. I spoke to everyone once more, saying that I would go now with my family to Baynard’s Castle, where we would eat and refresh ourselves and rest for the night.
Then I moved among them, carrying my son, Edward, so that everyone present could bless and touch him. And he did not resist or cry, but submitted with more grace than is common in any infant; looking at them all with the same intelligent and knowing gaze.
Afterwards I took him to meet my mother.
She seemed smaller than I remembered her and was dressed in black with a black cap and veil over her grey hair as though for mourning. Yet as she stepped forward to greet us a little stiffly, being troubled by rheumatism, she put back her veil and I saw that she was smiling.
‘How I have prayed for this moment!’ she said, then adding, ‘So you are reconciled with your brother, George?’
I felt a prick of irritation. ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘and I have retaken the kingdom.’
But she was looking among my company for his face, and when she did not see him her disappointment was plain. ‘He will be here soon,’ I said, unable to keep the impatience from my voice. ‘Your grandchildren are here,’ I added pointedly.
‘Yes,’ she said, and my little girls clustered round her and she kissed and hugged them all. ‘How I have missed you!’ she said, and, ‘How you have grown!’
Then she kissed the air to either side of my wife’s face, and took my son from his nurse. ‘Oh, he is like you, Edward,’ she said, ‘he will be a great king just like you.’ And she looked up at me smiling so that I was almost mollified. She touched her finger to my son’s lips and he sucked on it at once and everyone laughed.
Then she gave him back to his nurse and said that food was prepared and she hoped we were hungry. She picked up little Cecily, her namesake, and my other daughters clung to her skirts as she led the way, saying that they were all getting too big for grandmamma to carry – soon they would have to carry her.
I took my wife’s hand and followed my mother, unable to suppress the thought that she had not embraced me at all, though she had not seen me for so long.
We didn’t wait for my brothers but began the meal and I had eaten my way through several courses before they arrived. When they were announced my mother rose at once, flushing pink so that she looked quite young again. She kissed Richard then turned to Clarence and held on to him for a long time.
I exchanged a glance with my wife. She was asking me without words not to do or say anything to spoil this homecoming. I stared at my plate and pushed the food down along with my thoughts.
She is getting old, I told myself.
My daughters were taken to their room and after the meal we withdrew to my mother’s private chamber, because there was much to say; although we did not talk about certain subjects at all. Clarence kept very quiet about his part in the great rebellion, and I did not mention my plans for the former king.
But we discussed my plans for battle. I would leave in the morning, I said, to intercept Warwick before he arrived in London. If he had the greater force, as I had heard, then surprise would be the best strategy. I hoped the earl would not expect an attack at Easter.
And we remembered, all of us, how Towton had been won at Easter. This time, too, I was fighting for my kingdom. But that time, of course, Warwick had been with me.
Clarence said he hoped he would be the one to strike the earl, and his face had darkened to the colour of the wine he was drinking. But we did not dwell on this. My mother said we should all give thanks in the chapel for my safe return and pray for the success of my undertaking.
‘And then,’ she said, looking at me, ‘you will need to rest.’
I did not rest immediately, but spent some time rediscovering the pleasure of my wife; made new by absence yet flavoured by familiarity that was in its own way as compelling as the novelty of successive conquest.
When towards morning I fell asleep, it was to dreams that were a curious mixture of the day’s events; my mother’s reticence, me gathering my daughters in my arms, and my son the prince looking at me, though in the dreams he was always in someone else’s hands.
And through it all the face of the old king, Henry, shining with surprise and joy. He knelt with me in the abbey as Archbishop Bourchier placed the crown on my head and patted my arm as if to comfort me. It will not be long now, he said.
I woke disturbed, not knowing what he meant. Not long until the battle? The end of his reign? Or mine?
I lay in the early light, chilled by the look he had given me: joy, yes, adoration, maybe, but also sympathy, or pity.
As if I were the prisoner.
But I could not afford to think of this now, on the morning of what would be my greatest battle since Towton. I looked at my wife, who was sleeping heavily, marvelling that I felt so separate from her, wanting something from her if only warmth, but I did not wake her. I lay awake, alone, as everyone who must ride to battle lies alone.
44
Henry Stafford Makes a Choice
Henry woke alone, in his London house. He kept his eyes closed in order to retain the dream he’d had, the sensation of touch on his naked belly, the voice whispering in his ear, No one will know.
Even without opening his eyes he knew that morning had come, though it was not yet light. His body had woken before him, aching and y
earning. His mouth retained the sensation of that other mouth; the smell of a different body was still lodged somewhere behind the bridge of his nose.
There was a powerful ache in his groin.
Hesitantly he moved his own fingers downwards and attended to his urgent need, as he had done most of the days of his married life.
No one will know.
It was not the same, of course. Even as he finished, his eyes filled with the loneliness of it, although keeping them closed prevented the tears from spilling. And retained the memory of his presence – the young man whose name he did not know, who’d said that Henry could call him Joachim.
He’d wanted money, of course, and Henry had paid him, would have been willing to go on paying him, but in fact that had been the last time he’d seen him. He’d left, just after the harvest.
So there was only memory, which Henry had never quite trusted. Was there not something slightly different each time he remembered it? The young man’s eyes were blue, or green; there was a branded mark on one shoulder then the other.
What he actually remembered was the amazement of that moment when the young man, who was so beautiful that Henry had found a different reason each time to watch him in the fields, had understood; had apparently wanted what Henry wanted.
He had taken Henry, who was so fat and clumsy, so terminally awkward, to the side of the barn and told him that no one would know.
If he opened his eyes, right now, he would return to the loneliness of his life.
But that wasn’t true either; he was not alone, he was married. Thirteen years ago he had married the tiny, difficult, complicated woman for whom he had come to have the greatest respect.
Not only respect; she was his companion. They worked well together, had many of the same attitudes and beliefs. They read to one another in the evenings.
They acknowledged one another’s loneliness.
It was his wife he had to consider now. He had sent her a message to say that he had reached a decision, but was inadequately equipped. Everything had happened so rapidly – she would need to send him some equipment and supplies.