by Amy Licence
The private rooms of Fastolf and his wife (who died long before Cecily’s visit) were particularly impressive. They had three rooms each, with a bedchamber, withdrawing room and outer chamber, as well as latrines; a 1448 inventory listed that Lady Fastolf owned two little ewers of blue glass powdered with gold. The castle was unusual in having two halls, with the larger one measuring 28 feet wide. In the 1440s it was decorated with gilt copper wall plates and a cupboard with silver-gilt plate, arrows tipped with swan feathers and a multitude of cushions.18 Many of the walls were white, and accounts show that the furniture was painted red, green and yellow. Impressive arras hangings woven with gold kept out the draughts and lay across Fastolf’s bed. Cecily was probably housed in the South Tower, an independent range of buildings across the moat used for important visitors.19 No wonder the duchess fell in love with the place. She was so enamoured of it in 1456 that she tried to persuade Sir John to sell it to her, as York had lands in the area but no manor house. He wrote on 15 November that ‘my Lady of York has been here and sore moved me for the purchase’.20 On his death three years later, Fastolf intended to establish a chantry college at his home, but legal wrangling over his will ensured this never happened. Cecily was among the last guests to appreciate the place. The beautiful Caister Castle was damaged by a siege in 1469.
An inventory of Fastolf’s goods made at the time of his death paints a vivid picture of the kind of lifestyle to which the duke and duchess would have been accustomed. His collection included ewers of gold and flagons of silver, with silver chargers, plates, saucers and dishes. There was a great salt cellar shaped like a bastille, or small tower, in gilt, adorned with roses, silver pots enamelled with flowers and branches and flagons decorated with chains. He had a pair of gilt basins with a carved antelope in the middle and a spice plate, gilt with red roses and a small version of Fastolf’s helmet set in the centre.21
Among Fastolf’s extensive wardrobe there were gowns of cloth of gold, French russet lined with silk, blue and black satin and a red velvet jacket bound with red leather. He had scarlet hose, damask hoods of deep-green velvet, a hat of beaver fur lined with damask gilt and set with a girdle, buckle and pendant. He had detachable pockets embroidered with white roses and red crosses, jackets of deer leather and white linen petticoats stuffed with flocks; also among his effects were four cloaks of dark murrey (maroon), a ‘coat of armour of white silk of St George’ and a silver dagger.22 To adorn his bed, he had a choice of pillows in white with blue fleurs-de-lys, red velvet, purple and gold silk and a little green silken one stuffed with lavender. His covers were in colourful silks, embroidered with gold leaves, lined with buckram and a feather bed of pearl silk.23 His walls were draped with gold-woven tapestries, depicting bears holding spears, giants, savages holding children in their arms, women harping, archers, the Assumption of Our Lady, gentlemen holding hounds and hawks, all fringed with red, green or white silk. The list continues over many pages detailing the contents of every room, from the plain green work beds and bolsters in the ‘chamber for strangeours’, to the pipes of red wine in the cellar to the ‘kervyng knyvys’ in the buttery.24
Cecily also stayed at Fastolf’s London home, Fastolf Palace or Place, in Southwark, near the Blur Boar Inn, which he also owned. He had built this in the 1440s, and excavations in the 1980s and 1990s suggest it was a moated manor house on the site of an old manor owned by the Dunley family and the house called the Rosary, built by Edward II.25 Fastolf Place contained a counting house and had a ‘round tabull’. It was surrounded by a large, buttressed brick wall with two gatehouses and two causeways, as well as a brewery with its own river access.26 Cecily was definitely there in 1460, after Fastolf’s death the previous November, probably as a result of her connections with his cousins, the Pastons. It seems likely that Cecily and her family had been guests there in the intervening years.
Cecily was also concerned with family matters while the political situation worsened. Sometime before February 1458, the Yorks’ second daughter, Elizabeth, was married to John de la Pole, eldest son of the Duke of Suffolk. This was just before her fourteenth birthday, which fell at the end of April. The bridegroom had already been through one arranged match, at the age of seven, to the Lancastrian heiress Margaret Beaufort, but this was annulled in February 1453. The dukedom had been forfeited at the time of his father’s disgrace but it was still a good marriage for Elizabeth, with the de la Poles based at Ewelme Manor in Oxfordshire and Wingfield Castle on the Suffolk/Norfolk border. The young bride had reached the age of consent so probably went to live with her husband soon after the ceremony.
By January 1458, there had been over two years of official peace, yet tension brimmed under the surface. Several attempts were made to ambush York and Warwick as they endeavoured to attend a council at Westminster, although Londoners themselves had proved to be welcoming to the pair. The opposing factions at court contrived to make a show of unity in a bizarre event that came to be known as the Loveday, held on 24 March. Forming a procession to St Paul’s Cathedral, they walked through the streets of London hand in hand, with York leading Queen Margaret and Warwick, with Exeter and Salisbury with Somerset. ‘At Poules in London, with gret renoun, on our ladi day in lente this peas was wrought; the king, the Queen with lords many oone, to worship that virgine as they ought … in token that love was in heart and thought,’ as one surviving poem claimed. Another pro-Lancastrian verse written the same year depicted the tempestuous political situation through the metaphor of a ship tossed on the waves, while a reconciliation poem recorded in the Cotton MS Vespasian B xvi describes York, Somerset and Warwick as being full of ‘love and charity’. Much of the orchestration of this theatrical feat was achieved by the new Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Bourchier, York’s kinsman, whom he had appointed as chancellor during the first protectorate.
It is tempting to read Cecily’s influence in this event; perhaps through her friendship with Margaret she was writing letters to try to reconcile her husband with the queen, as she had in 1453. While she had no real political influence, her role as a duchess, and the connection she had forged with the young girl in Rouen, would have placed her well to have some sway over the personal aspect of their relationship. York lodged at his new London property, Baynard’s Castle, with a retinue of 140 men, so it is fairly likely that Cecily went too and visited the queen, who was staying at the Bishop of London’s palace. There, Cecily may have renewed her supplications to Margaret of Anjou and given thanks when they appeared to have borne fruit. She would have attended the Mass of celebration at St Paul’s and the jousting at the Tower in the queen’s presence.
Although those involved were all smiles in March, the peace was brief, and tension had broken out again by the autumn. The real question had remained unaddressed: that of who was to rule the country, Margaret or York. Further attacks were made on the Yorkists, including an attempt on Warwick’s life, after which he fled to Calais. The queen issued a warrant for his arrest, and, early in the new year, began to prepare for further confrontation by ordering the collection of weapons in the Tower of London, with sheaves of arrows and bows.27 An anonymous poem, ‘Take Good Heed’, warned York and his party to be careful, using their heraldic symbols as a code:
But pray we al to god that died on a spere
To save the rose [York], the lion [Norfolk], the eagle [Salisbury] and the bear [Warwick].28
This warning was very apt. Through 1459, hostility was mounting and, when a meeting of the Great Council was called at Coventry at the end of June, York was convinced that the queen was planning to pass an Act of Attainder against him and his allies. This would remove their rights to hold titles and property, which they would not be able to pass on to their heirs either. The Yorkists decided their best chance was to make a personal appeal to Henry but he was at Kenilworth Castle and they were scattered over the country, with York at Ludlow, Salisbury at Middleham in Yorkshire and Warwick still in Calais. Witnessing her family poised on the brink of
conflict again, Cecily would now have far more to worry about than her husband. At the ages of sixteen and seventeen, her two eldest sons were of an age to participate actively in politics, even to fight in battle. Yet she knew the significance of an attainder for her sons. She may have tried to intercede on their behalf by sending letters to Queen Margaret, but it is more likely that, by this point, she recognised that those weak ties had been broken. With her younger children – Margaret, aged fifteen, George, aged ten, and Richard, seven – she watched the men ride off to try to save the situation.
Marching down from Middleham Castle with a force of around 5,000 men, Salisbury intended to meet up with York’s forces. By 23 September, he had covered most of the distance to Ludlow when he was ambushed by the queen’s forces, led by Lord Audley, at Blore Heath in Staffordshire. Separated from the much larger enemy army by a brook, Salisbury pretended to withdraw. This provoked a Lancastrian charge and Salisbury was able to launch an attack while they were crossing. Several hours of close fighting followed, in which Audley was killed and the Lancastrians turned on themselves in confusion. Salisbury finally won the day, although two of his sons were captured and imprisoned in Chester Castle. Next, he headed straight for Ludlow, anticipating further conflict.
A fortnight later, the decisive clash occurred. York, Warwick and Salisbury were denounced as traitors, although the Parliamentary Rolls record that Henry offered pardons to the first two, if they were to submit to him within six days. York wrote to Henry twice, restating his loyalty and offering complete submission if he could be guaranteed safe passage to the king’s person; however, according to Whethamsted’s Chronicle, he refused the pardon as meaningless and degrading given that the king’s relatives acted as they pleased. The trio then signed an indenture and swore an oath in Worcester Cathedral that they were the true liegemen of the king and taking up arms only against his councillors. Although it is possible to read other motives into these actions, they do have the appearance of earnestness and represent the real divide they experienced in attempting to serve their king while recognising that the queen was now their enemy. Significantly, on 9 October, Warwick’s position as Captain of Calais was given to the young Henry, Duke of Somerset. It was the king’s armies who advanced on York’s position on 12 October. This was dangerously close to home, at Ludford Bridge, over the River Nene on the edge of Ludlow. The castle containing his wife and younger children was only a few minutes’ walk away. Perhaps it was this that caused York to panic and possibly led to him making a mistake.
A rumour circulated among York’s troops that the king was dead. Stowe’s Chronicle states that York brought forth witnesses to swear to this effect and Masses were said for his soul.29 This may well have originated with the duke himself, aware that his men were reluctant to fight against an army which was flying the royal standard. Did York actually believe it, or was it a ploy to dispel his men’s fears of being charged with treason? The misunderstanding, or deception, was swiftly unravelled. That very evening, Henry was visible among his troops, with the royal standard still flying above him, which had a devastating effect on morale. Under cover of night, a number of Warwick’s forces defected, including those under Andrew, Lord Trollope, who had travelled with him from Calais. It seemed pointless to embark upon a fight under such conditions, when defeat, death and the attainder of titles and properties, preventing the inheritance of heirs, seemed inevitable. Self-preservation must have underpinned their decision to abandon the field. Leaving their banners where they lay,30 York, his elder sons, Warwick and Salisbury withdrew into the darkness. York fled to Ireland with the sixteen-year-old Edmund. His elder brother Edward headed for Calais with his Warwick uncle and cousin.
The next day, King Henry’s army realised their opposition had fled and rampaged through the streets of Ludlow. Despite romantic legends to the contrary, which depict a heroic Cecily standing at the Market Cross to meet her enemies, only two contemporary sources place her in Ludlow. Hearne’s Fragment, a chronicle written by a servant of Edward IV, recorded that the troops ‘burnt and pillaged the [town]; and the Duchess of York, residing there, had her wardrobe rifled and her furniture spoiled’.31 Whethamsted states that ‘the toune of Ludlow longyng thane to the duk of York, was robbed to the bare walles and the noble duches of York unmanly and cruelly was entreted and spoyled’.32 Sheltering with her three young children, it must have been a terrifying experience, if it happened. Codes of chivalric conduct were designed to protect women from physical harm. However, the recent wars had seen an escalation in violence and many of those old chivalric boundaries had been breached. The looters would have been common soldiers and while, theoretically, still bound to respect their social superiors, the unpredictable mentality of a mob, coupled with the absence of the duke, would have made the duchess an easy target. Even so, the suggestion that she was spoiled, or despoiled in a physical sense, being subject to a violence or rape, seems unlikely. Nor is there any evidence to support the romantic theory that she stood in the Market Cross to meet her enemies. Once the moment had passed, the duchess would certainly have been vocal as she sought reprisal and her subsequent treatment by the king suggests he would have been more than prepared to punish the culprits. Even when warring among themselves, the aristocracy represented a narrow clique of interconnected families. Cecily, York and Henry VI shared common ancestors; she was of royal blood and such a slur against her would have constituted a crime against them all.
When it was safe, Cecily went to the parliament at Coventry and deferred to the king. This is agreed by most sources, including Fabyan and the English Chronicle, and there is a very real possibility that she was not at Ludlow at all, given its proximity to the fighting, but that reports of rampaging troops despoiling her property were exaggerated. Her submission may have been in response to Henry’s offer on 30 November to pardon all those who submitted within eight days. It was the wisest thing to do under the circumstances and reinforced York’s previous stance of loyalty. A witness there, John Bocking, wrote to John Paston on 7 December that ‘the Duchesse of York come yester-even late, as the bringer hereof shall more plainly declare yow’. It can only be imagined how the bearer of the letter described Cecily’s plight. Fortunately, she was shown mercy. On 20 December, she received an annual grant of 1,000 marks ‘for the relief of her and her infants who had not offended against the king’,33 although all York’s other lands and estates reverted to ownership of the crown. The Fotheringhay account rolls for 1459 would remain blank. At Coventry, Cecily may also have interceded for many of the duke’s followers, thus lessening the penalties they suffered.34 However, it was deemed likely that she would attempt to contact York, so she was sent to the custody of her sister Anne, Duchess of Buckingham, at Tonbridge Castle in Kent. Had she attempted to flee the country and join York in Ireland, her fate would have been considerably worse. Her sister-in-law, Alice, Countess of Salisbury, fled with her husband to Calais and was subsequently included in the Act of Attainder that was passed against the rebels that autumn.
What were Cecily’s feelings towards York while she stood her ground and protected her children at Ludlow? She probably had imperfect news of his flight at that moment; while the castle was being sacked, he was probably still heading for the coast. The retreat has the appearance of a last-minute decision but, if there was time for him to get a message of warning to her, she was unable, or unwilling, to flee. Perhaps neither she nor York predicted the rampage of the Lancastrian troops, even given the proximity of the castle. Perhaps it was a strategy the pair discussed before the duke departed for battle. There may have been moments when she felt alone, abandoned even, but her actions in October 1459 show courage and determination.
10
Fickle Fortune
1459–1460
Her tears will pierce into a marble heart;
The tiger will be mild, whiles she does mourn1
Tonbridge Castle, in West Kent, is a Norman motte-and-bailey construction, of which little now rema
ins. In the mid-fifteenth century, it was in the hands of Humphrey Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, who was a loyal Lancastrian. Even though he had fought against York at St Albans, he had been reluctant to do so, with marital ties placing him in a difficult position; his wife, Anne, was Cecily’s closest sibling in age, but their eldest son, Humphrey, was married to Somerset’s daughter Margaret. The castle was considered strong and secure, with its great towers connected by massive curtain walls, its solid keep and double gatehouse. Even when it had fallen into disrepair in the 1520s, Henry VIII was able to describe it as ‘the strongest forteres and moste like unto a castell of any other that the Duke had in England or Wales’.2 In 1451, it had been the location for the court that had been held in judgement upon Richard Lennard, who confessed to being one of those who had killed the Duke of Suffolk.3 It was there that Cecily and her three children found refuge at the end of 1459, until such time as their luck changed again. In the new year, word arrived that York and Edmund had reached Dublin, and that Edward was safe in Calais. It was then a matter of waiting for them to make their next move.
There has been some suggestion that Cecily and her children were kept at Maxstoke Castle in Warwickshire, also in the possession of the Stafford family. This may have been the case briefly, but a detail in the Paston Letters makes it seem more likely that she was at Tonbridge. Initially, she was kept closely guarded – ‘fulle strayte and many a grete rebuke’4 – but very early in 1460, a letter from William Botoner to John Berney records that ‘my Lady Duchesse ys stille ayen receved’ in Kent, which suggests she had been given permission to make visits in the vicinity of the castle. As she remained in her sister’s custody until June, this would have been impossible were she based in Warwickshire. Having been the hostess in Rouen, where she dressed in jewels to welcome the young Margaret of Anjou, Cecily now found herself suffering the slings and arrows of fortune, dispossessed of her home, estates and titles. Most of her sister Anne’s children had been born in the 1430s and 1440s, so there was no nursery or schoolroom for Cecily’s children to join. A new tutor may have been hired to continue to teach George, then ten, and Richard, aged seven, while Cecily herself may have taken responsibility for her thirteen-year-old daughter Margaret. There was precious little else for her to do, deprived as she was of all her previous duties.