Cicely's Second King

by Sandra Heath Wilson

  Bess’s lips compressed. ‘How amusing, to be sure. You have become mistress of the cutting rejoinder, have you not? What did you and Richard say and do in private, Cissy?’

  ‘He was our uncle. That is all.’ Cicely did not look away from her sister’s eyes, did not show anything that would have told how deceitful she was.

  ‘I wish Henry would let you go to your husband, I wish he would tell you both to go to Lincolnshire and stay there for ever. I begin to hate you, Cissy, truly I do.’

  ‘Oh, Bess . . .’

  ‘You eclipse me at every corner, Cissy, and yet look at you. You have no looks worth crowing over, you have far too much to say for yourself, and you have made a low marriage.’

  Cicely was incensed at that. ‘Low marriage? I am the wife of the king’s uncle, and that is certainly not low! Just because you think only of being queen, it does not give you the right to say such things.’

  She turned to go, but her belt caught on the corner of a table and gave way. Her purse fell to the floor and burst open among the herbs. The bloodied kerchief and Richard’s letter fell out. She bent quickly, but Bess pounced.

  ‘What are these?’ she cried, snatching them up and then staring as she recognized Richard’s writing. ‘He wrote to you, Cissy? Why?’

  ‘Please give it back, Bess. You really do not wish to read it.’

  ‘Oh, but I do.’ Bess moved away, unfolded the letter and began to read it aloud. ‘My dearest, most beloved lady, I send this because I have to put down in writing the feelings I have for you. You are all around me, every moment of every day, and there is not an hour when I do not think of you as many times as that hour has minutes.’ Bess paused, for a moment too shocked to go on, but then found her tongue again, although her voice trembled. ‘Being parted from you is to be likened to purgatory, and I am but half a man because you are not with me. I am a king, yet lack that one jewel that will make me complete. I know that I am in your heart, and for this I cannot measure the honour I feel. Your sweet, forthright nature, your voice, your touch, your constant support, all of these make a slave of me. If our love is crossed by fate, I no longer care. It is an eternal love that will carry me to whatever lies ahead.’ Tears shimmered in her eyes. ‘No spirit could ever be more true than mine is to you. Be safe, my beloved. My heart and soul are forever in your keeping. Richard.’

  His name fell into an echoing silence. Cicely stood with her eyes closed, waiting for Bess to say or do something. Anything but stand there without a sound.

  At last Bess folded the letter again, her hands shaking so much she could hardly manage to do it. ‘You – had - Richard?’ she whispered at last. ‘You had Richard? You stole the only man I will ever truly love. You comforted me, advised me, looked after me, when all the time you were lying with him yourself? Oh, how you must have laughed at me!’

  ‘No, Bess.’

  ‘You have his letter with you constantly, do you not? He spurned me because he said he could not countenance lying with his own niece . . . and then he lay with you, Cicely. You carry his child? Yes, of course it is. What a fool I have been.’ Bess closed her eyes, but her tears fell. ‘Does your husband know? Clearly he is aware the child is not his, because he was nowhere near Nottingham in June.’

  ‘He married me to protect me and give the child legitimacy. He is a good man, Bess, a man of honour who only seeks to shield me from my own folly. He knows nothing of who fathered my child, but is prepared to say it is his own. For me, he does it for me.’

  ‘Because you seem able to bewitch men to get what you want!’

  Cicely did not respond.

  Bess’s anguish overflowed again. ‘How could you, Cicely? How could you do it? How could you take him from me?’

  ‘I took him from no one. He was a free agent, Bess, a widower. I certainly did not take him from you, because you did not have him!’

  ‘So you admit that you lay with him?’

  ‘I will answer you, Bess, but if any of this goes further, I will deny it all. And my husband will stand by me. Yes, I lay with Richard.’

  ‘Is the child his?’

  ‘Yes, but my husband does not know that.’ She would shield Jon from such a suspicion.

  Bess reached for a chair and sat down weakly. ‘You did not only have more of Richard than me, you had all of him. All of him.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Bess glanced at the kerchief. ‘And this is his blood?’

  ‘Yes. He carried it at Bosworth. Henry took great delight in letting me know.’

  ‘Henry knows of this?’

  ‘Of the kerchief? Yes. Of the rest, no. He suspects, but that is all. Allow me to bear Richard a child? It would be far too dangerous to him. He only knows that I love Richard as my uncle. That is all. He guessed about the kerchief because it is embroidered with sweet cicely.’

  ‘I cannot look at you, Cissy. I cannot look at you and bear to know that you had Richard’s physical love. Was it good, Cissy? Was he worth the having?’

  ‘Yes. I will never love anyone as I love him.’

  ‘How long were you lovers? When did it start?’

  ‘Just before we left Nottingham for Sheriff Hutton.’

  Bess managed to look at her. ‘I remember that leave-taking, Cissy. I should have known. How could I have failed to understand what I saw before me? The way he held you went far beyond the affection of a fond uncle.’

  ‘Yes, it did.’ Cicely fought back tears as she recalled those moments.

  ‘You have broken my heart, Cissy. You have no idea how you have crushed me.’

  ‘Bess, you are to be Henry’s queen. He is the one you must look to now. Richard has gone, and there is nothing that will bring him back. Not to you, or to me.’

  ‘You still have him, Cissy, for you carry his child within you. I really do hate you now. I hate you so much that I can scarce think of you, let alone look at you. All this time, when my tears fell and my heart broke, you were in his arms, kissing him, being loved by him, being joined to him in that way I could only dream of. You had him, Cissy. You had . . . him!’

  ‘I am sorry you are hurt, Bess. But I am not sorry for being in his heart, nor do I apologize for wanting to be there, for rejoicing in being there, or for bearing the fruit of my sin. At first I did not know how I really felt about him, Bess. Truly I did not. My affection for him had always been too great, always gone beyond common sense, but I believed it was because I adored him as his niece. He was impossible not to adore, there was something about him. You know it so well, Bess. For so slight a man he managed to stand head and shoulders above all the rest. He certainly stood above Father. There will never be another man like Richard. Never. I love him so much that sometimes I think I will die of it. But he is the one who is dead.’ She could not hold back the silent tears. She did not sob, her voice did not catch, but she wept.

  ‘How eloquent, Cicely,’ Bess said quietly. Coldly.

  ‘I only speak the truth, and there was a time when you would have agreed with every word. I did not see my feelings for their true nature until the eve of our departure for Sheriff Hutton. It was just after he had told us we were to go there. You went out of the room, but he called me back. That was when my eyes were opened at last, Bess.’

  ‘And he suddenly took you into his bed there and then? Come now, Cicely, it must have started before then.’

  ‘It did not, Bess. I was honest in my dealings with you. When I offered you comfort and tried to help you, it was not false.’

  ‘But it has been false ever since.’

  ‘I too have only my memories now, Bess. You longed for him, yearned for him, without ever having him. I long for him and yearn for him because I did have him. Believe me, it is far, far worse.’

  Bess looked at the letter and then at the fire.

  ‘Please do not do that, Bess! Please. I will go on my knees, but please give my letter back to me.’

  For a long moment Bess hung upon her decision, but then held it out. ‘Take it. Take
the kerchief as well. Take everything. Then there will be nothing left for you to take.’

  Cicely put them back in the purse, which she then made sure to fasten securely to the belt. Soon it looked as if nothing had happened, but something momentous had ruptured the closeness of Edward IV’s eldest daughters.

  Bess watched her. ‘Does John of Gloucester know?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, it will be a tasty morsel for me to place before him.’

  Cicely gazed at her. ‘You would do that?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Please, Bess, if you feel anything for him, do not do it.’

  ‘I want to hurt you as you have hurt me, Cissy.’

  ‘You would only hurt John. I am beyond hurt, Bess.’

  ‘Are you? What of your child, Cissy?’

  Cicely studied her. ‘What of it?’

  ‘Do you expect me to hold my tongue about the father?’

  ‘Yes, Bess, I do. Richard would wish it of you too.’

  ‘I do not owe Richard anything. Not now.’

  ‘You do! He was not false to you, Bess, he was false to himself. He did not want to love me as he should not. Jesu, do you think it was easy? We sinned, Bess, we were incestuous, and although I did not struggle with my conscience, he struggled with his.’

  ‘But he overcame his scruples, it would seem.’

  ‘Think of it that way if you wish, but you wrong him very much. You wrong yourself as well, because you still love him. You will not do anything that will hurt his child. If you do, you are not true to yourself any more than to him.’

  ‘Clever, silken words, Cissy. How talented you are with them. Jesu, when I think of how we used to be together.’

  ‘We can be again, Bess.’

  ‘No, Cissy. I do not ever wish to see you again, do you understand? I hate you so much I wish you were dead, and Richard’s child with you. I will not have you at my wedding, nor will I suffer you at my coronation. If you ever show your face before me again I will complain to Henry.’

  Much good that will do you, Cicely thought. Henry would take great delight in overruling his loathed bride’s wishes. ‘Please, Bess, do not do this. Richard is dead, and we both loved him.’

  ‘Get out.’

  ‘Do I have your word that you will hold your tongue about all of this?’

  Bess looked at her without replying.

  ‘Then remember that I will deny it all, and there is nothing you can do about it. I will swear before God, before Henry, that I am innocent of every charge you bring against me. Henry will believe me, Bess, because I can make him do so. And my husband will support me and swear that we lay together at Nottingham in June. And if you think to expose the contents of my purse for all to see, there will be nothing in it from now on. These things that I hold so precious and dear will be elsewhere, impossible to find. So, please, Bess, just think a little. I have not done such a terrible thing to you, nor do I want us to be estranged. If you ever wish us to be friends again, I will be glad of it.’

  She gazed at Bess, who looked away.

  ‘Goodbye, Bess.’

  Chapter Twelve

  It was Christmas, and there were celebrations in Westminster Hall, with music, feasting, dancing, acrobats, carolling and every other entertainment. There were men on stilts, rope dancers, morris men, fools and a colourful Lord of Misrule on a donkey. Seasonal greenery decked the walls, and there was a smell of warm spiced wine. But there was no Richard, no Queen Anne, no John of Gloucester, no Jack of Lincoln; not one of the beloved faces that had made Richard’s court so wonderful to Cicely. Now the faces were those she despised, Richard’s enemies and treacherous friends, those he should have eliminated, as her father would have done. As she herself would still do, had she been able. But then, Sir Jon Welles had been among Richard’s enemies, and she could never raise a hand against him.

  Bess, to be married on the eighteenth day of January coming, was seated on the dais with Henry, but again on a lower chair than Margaret. And lower than Jasper Tudor, now Duke of Bedford and married. Only his new duchess—lacking the precious Tudor blood, Cicely supposed—sat on a level with the future Queen of England. Cicely’s elder sister was very beautiful, in a silver gown embroidered with the white rose of York, red rose of Lancaster, and red Cadwallader dragons. It was a political gown, a Tudor gown, a statement of Henry’s ambition, and it would have been exquisitely appropriate for his new reign, had not Bess herself been so stiff, miserable and pale.

  Having decided not to rebel in any way or make trouble over the fate allotted to her, she was now in Margaret’s household at the newly refurbished Cold-harbour. Marriage to Jon had saved Cicely from the same fate. He had confirmed to her that if Bess wished to claim being abducted to her future mother-in-law’s residence, she would certainly have grounds. It was Bess herself who still chose not to. Her eyes were upon the crown, and that was all that mattered to her.

  Margaret and Bess did not like each other, but then, Bess did not like anyone very much at the moment, least of all her future husband and his mother. And Cicely, Lady Welles, to whom she had not spoken since the revelation about Richard. Bess had not done anything with her new knowledge. Perhaps she knew that Cicely could indeed sway Henry.

  He was impassive tonight, wearing black, the costliest of dyes, to which he resorted a great deal, but with much gold and ermine. His long hair fell about his shoulders, for he had yet to have it even trimmed. Cicely noticed how deliberately remote and uncaring he was towards Bess. It was a continued assertion that his claim to the crown was by right of conquest, not any union with York. And it was punishment for the way she conducted herself towards him.

  Henry also wore a new, very rich livery collar that was much more extravagant than his predecessor would have worn. Richard was no idler in such matters, but had more taste, style and discrimination, Cicely thought. In her opinion the new collar was pretentious, especially given Henry’s rather closed manner and character. And his evident parsimony. Clearly he had not paid for it! At the same time she was surprised by the collar, because it really seemed out of character for a man as naturally elegant as Henry Tudor.

  Cicely herself wore light-brown velvet, trimmed with cream fur, and her hair was concealed beneath an attractive but cumbersome headdress. Well, not entirely concealed, for her natural hairline was revealed. Oh, how she disliked headdresses, and longed to wear her hair free again. But she was married now. That she was with child could no longer be doubted by anyone, and she felt as if she lumbered, rather than walked. She sat with Jon, well away from the dais, and was glad of it.

  The thought of speaking with Henry again was daunting, although she would do it if he left her no option. So far he had not given an indication of any such intention. She had not encountered him since that night at the Tower, nor had he sent for her, even though she had given him reason to by petitioning him to let her see John, Jack and Warwick. She might as well have not bothered, for he declined her polite entreaties, and she imagined he took great glee in doing so.

  Holding Jon’s hand, she observed the scene, in particular a strange little man—almost resembling an imp—standing just behind Henry, who every so often indicated certain people in the hall. Always a group, never someone alone, and always where there was earnest conversation. There was something about the way the little man proceeded to watch whoever it was. His lips moved as if he repeated something, and then he would presume to touch the king’s arm, and Henry sat back to hear whatever he had to say.

  Something Mary had once said now slipped unbidden into Cicely’s mind. ‘I have an aunt who is deaf, my lady. She was not always so, and can speak as well as you and me, but she cannot hear at all. She watches people’s lips when they speak, and knows exactly what they say.’

  The imp was like Mary Kymbe’s aunt! Henry was using him to spy on the entire hall, right in front of everyone, and she, Cicely, might be the only person present who realized it! The sudden knowledge struck through her like
a clarion. ‘Jon?’ She leaned closer to him, and made sure her lips were not visible to the imp. ‘Lean closer, and keep your face turned away from Henry.’

  ‘Why?’ But he did as she asked.

  Using her goblet as a screen, she told him what she had observed, and reminded him of Mary’s aunt. ‘Do not say a single word you would not say to Henry himself, because that little imp behind him will repeat everything.’

  He was silent for a moment, watching the man surreptitiously, although without appearing to do so. ‘Henry must be seeing murder in every shadow.’

  ‘Good. I hope he finds it.’

  He looked at her. ‘Do you wish to leave? You have only to say you feel unwell.’

  ‘Well, I would, but Henry would be very displeased.’

  ‘Cicely, he is always displeased,’ he replied, his head still turned from the imp.

  ‘I am sorry to be of such interest to the king, and such anathema to Bess. It all makes your position so difficult.’

  ‘At least I now know what I deal with. Do I take it your sister is aware of the nature of Henry’s attention to you?’

  ‘She only has a vague suspicion.’ Cicely had not told him the real reason for her falling out with Bess. How could she? He did not know she kept mementos of Richard, and had even carried them in her purse at their wedding. She no longer did so, of course, for fear of Bess, but they were safe. To tell Jon would hurt and anger him. She did not want to cause him either.

  He saw how she glanced at her sister. ‘Do not fret over her, Cicely. She is not worth it.’

  ‘She is still my sister.’

  He made sure his lips could not be read. ‘Aye, and a remarkably selfish one. She and my nephew deserve each other. My sister will remain the realm’s most important and influential lady, Cicely, because Bess has not the wit to court Henry’s affection. Richard would never have loved her, even had she not been his niece. He had the discernment to love you,’ he added, and then spoke of Henry again. ‘I have been watching him, and Jasper. The latter looks most unsettled, more so than usual. He hates occasions such as this, but tonight he seems particularly bothered. Henry looks like the cat about to claw the largest pike from the river, so I have the distinct feeling he has something momentous set to happen tonight, and that Jasper knows but thoroughly disapproves.’