Cicely stared. ‘Never?’
‘No, child. I was never his wife, merely his mistress.’
Cicely blinked back tears. Her father fully intended his bastard son to ascend to the throne?
Elizabeth sighed. ‘Others knew, of course, but your father purchased their silence. He paid enough for them to stand by him. Gloucester did not know, of course. He and your late uncle Clarence were the last two men your father wished to have in on such a secret. Clarence because his son was in fact the rightful heir, Gloucester because Edward valued his loyalty and support, which might not be so freely given if this great lie were to be discovered.’
She paused. Speaking of it at last was both purge and greater weight. ‘All might have stayed well and hidden had your father not given offence to the Earl of Warwick, whom he taunted about me. You see, the earl—who was often called the ‘Maker of Kings’, because whoever he supported did indeed ascend to the throne—had been instructed to negotiate a French marriage for Edward. Warwick was justifiably incensed to find he’d been sent on such an empty and insulting errand. He left the court and took Clarence, by then his son-in-law, with him. Clarence was married to Warwick’s daughter Isabel, and Anne, whom Gloucester had wished to marry, was the wife of the Lancastrian heir, Edward of Westminster, Prince of Wales. Whether York or Lancaster, a daughter of Warwick was destined to be Queen of England.’
Cicely’s brows drew together. ‘So Lady Anne has had two husbands? I thought she and the Duke of Gloucester had been a love match since childhood.’
‘She certainly turned willingly from him to marry Prince Edward. She was in love with the prince, or so it was believed at the time. Edward was killed at the Battle of Tewkesbury in 1471. By then she was almost fifteen, and Richard seventeen, maybe eighteen, I do not know for certain. Anyway, Richard took her back and they have been married ever since. God help him for having such a cool marriage bed.’
Bess smothered a gasp. ‘How can you say this? It is known that the duke and his wife love each other very much!’
‘And maybe he does.’ Elizabeth’s eyes met her eldest daughter’s. ‘It is whether she has ever fully returned that love that is in question.’
Bess turned away, as if she had learned something momentous.
Elizabeth went to sit down again, and leaned her head back. ‘We wander from the point, for I was speaking of Warwick. Your uncle Clarence had been certain the Maker of Kings would turn upon your father and put him on the throne instead, but Warwick went over to the mad Lancastrian King Henry VI, to whom I and my family once adhered, but by then poor Henry did not know what day of the week it was. So Clarence, realizing Warwick was now aiming to put the House of Lancaster back on the throne, crept back to the House of York and made his peace with your father. At least, so it seemed on the surface. Clarence somehow sniffed out the truth about Lady Eleanor Boteler and tried to use it to his advantage. George was unscrupulous, tactless, foolish, faithless and much given to drinking, and believed he had discovered something that would ensure the crown passed from Edward to him, and thence to George’s own son. Not to Edward’s illegitimate son by me. He even came to taunt me in person.’ The queen smiled reflectively. ‘He said I was no better than the king’s other doxies, and he was right, as a confrontation with your father soon revealed.’
Cicely felt an odd need to offer comfort, something her mother would never have done in return. ‘But you did not know, Mother. You were tricked.’
‘Oh yes, but it was probably no better than I deserved. I thought I manipulated your father into marrying me, but in the end it was he who manipulated me. The king warned Clarence to hold his tongue or face the consequences. But Clarence either did not believe the threat or did not care, and continued to drip his poison. Your father eventually lost patience and arrested him on a charge of treason against the realm. Easy enough to do, given George’s past waywardness. That was when Richard of Gloucester came with all haste from Yorkshire, unable to believe the sorry state of affairs between his brothers.’
Elizabeth remembered. ‘By then Gloucester was twenty-five, and in many ways more capable than his brothers put together. But he always, always supported your father. I know how Edward relied on him, and I suppose he was right to do so. I did not value Gloucester, however, because he proceeded to plead with your father to spare Clarence. That was the very last thing I wished to happen. Fortunately it was also the very last thing your father wanted. Gloucester was never told the truth, of course, and was left believing my marriage was true and Clarence a traitor.’ Elizabeth gave a short laugh. ‘Gloucester spoke well for his brother’s life. A most engaging man, your uncle, but your father stood his ground and Clarence was condemned.’
The queen glanced at her jewelled fingers, and on resuming the story, her voice sank to the merest whisper. ‘That was really when Gloucester began to despise me. He had never liked me, nor I him, but now he realized that I was in some way responsible for George’s plight.’
She got up and went to the window. ‘Your father hesitated for many days to sentence his brother Clarence to death, for it was a terrible thing to do, but in the end Clarence was secretly executed in the Tower. When Gloucester learned of it, he was shocked and distressed. Lady Eleanor Boteler was long dead by then, and as far as I knew there was no one else to speak of it. Your father and I could continue to play at man and wife, and that would be the end of it.’
She turned for a moment. ‘I was wrong, though, because there were those in Eleanor’s family, the Talbots, who knew of it but had been persuaded or rewarded to remain silent. And Robert Stillington, a priest who all those years before had known of the pre-contract, perhaps even officiated, is still alive today. He is now the Bishop of Bath and Wells. I strongly suspect him of having informed Clarence, but that cannot be proved. If he did, it would explain something of Clarence’s behaviour. Now Edward IV is dead before his time, and the good bishop has spoken up to prevent a bastard from ascending the throne of England. He has gone to Gloucester, who has chosen to believe him and is to take the throne for himself.’
Bess was immediately protective. ‘Mother, there is no chosen about it! If all that you have just said is the truth, we are illegitimate, and the Duke of Gloucester is the rightful king. Our uncle Clarence was attainted and his children barred. That only leaves Richard. Why should he discard his own son’s birthright for the sake of his brother’s illegitimate children? And if other whispers I have heard are true, Father was not legitimate either, but born of a brief dalliance between our grandmother and a mere archer!’
‘That is calumny! God’s blood, girl, you would say anything to help Gloucester’s cause! Cannot you at least pretend to think purely where he is concerned? Have you never heard the word consanguinity? That man has ruined us. He thinks nothing of maltreating his beloved brother’s widow and children, yet you harbour unclean thoughts of him.’
Bess recoiled, pale-faced. ‘He has not ruined us, Mother, you and your hated Woodvilles have done that. If I were Richard, I would do all I could to see them overthrown. His is the royal blood, not theirs! And you are not Father’s widow, are you? You are just another of his splay-legged bitches!’
Cicely scrambled to her feet. ‘Bess!’
Elizabeth went for her eldest daughter, meaning to hit her with as much force as could be mustered, but Bess ran to the door and out of the room.
Cicely tried to follow, knowing her mother would interrogate her, but she was not quick enough. Elizabeth could still be nimble when she chose, and seized her second daughter’s arm.
‘What is this between Bess and Gloucester?’
‘I know nothing, Mother. There is nothing. How can there be when it is so long since Bess last saw the duke?’ Cicely faced her squarely.
‘She saw him last Christmas, and that is not so very long ago.’ Elizabeth searched her daughter’s eyes. ‘Has he returned her feelings? Has he . . . touched her?’
‘Say what you will of him, I feel sure he w
ould be proper with her.’
‘How would you know? You have certainly not met him in a long time.’
‘Then be honest, Mother. You have known him ever since you met Father. Do you think he would?’
Elizabeth smiled. ‘No, I suppose I do not, but even a saint can fall by the wayside. Although not this saint, I fancy. But that does not make Bess’s adoration any better. She does love him, does she not?’
Cicely lowered her eyes. ‘I would only be guessing, as you do.’
Elizabeth smiled again. ‘Jesu, I know you will not appreciate this, but you, too, are like me, Cicely. Bess has Woodville tendencies, but not the quick mind to accompany them. She is swayed by foolish Plantagenet passions, whereas you . . . Well, I do not know exactly what it is about you that makes you so different. I see the way you watch and learn. You may only be fourteen, but you behave more like nineteen, a nineteen with a great deal of insight. You can analyze what you see and hear, and I suspect your judgement to be superior. You will always know the right thing to do, the right advice to give, although whether you can apply it to yourself may be another matter. You can also, without trying at all, induce others to trust you. On reflection, in your case, perhaps I did lie with Richard of Gloucester after all, but it was so unexceptional that it entirely escapes my memory. You certainly make me think of him.’
‘I am not accustomed to your praise, Mother.’
‘That is praise?’
‘I believe so, but whomever my father might be, please do not say I have your coldness.’
Elizabeth laughed. ‘Oh, dear me, no. There is a spark in you, Cicely, a light that tells me you will fight to the last for what matters to you. Here you are, standing midway between Plantagenet and Woodville, and you have the best of both. Oh yes, there are some good things about the Woodvilles. Not many, I grant.’ Elizabeth searched her daughter’s face. ‘If you put your mind to it, I dare say you could go far. You will certainly be able to influence men.’
‘I want love, not machination.’
‘You will soon learn to discard such romantic notions.’ Elizabeth gave an ironic laugh. ‘I really had not noticed how much you have matured. You are becoming a beauty. Maybe you will trump Bess.’
‘I do not think so, Mother. My looks and colouring are not the fashion.’
‘Changes of fashion have to commence somewhere. Why not with you? Which reminds me, you really must have your forehead shaved back.’
‘No.’
‘We will see about that.’ Elizabeth moved away. ‘Now, regarding, Bess, I wish I knew what it is about Richard of Gloucester that makes women want him so. Whatever it is, he has more than his fair share. You can tell your sister that if she does harbour a fleshly desire for him, and allows it to be known, I will carve her heart out with a blunt knife.’
Chapter Four
Richard’s revenge upon those who had conspired against him at the time of Edward IV’s death was astonishingly temperate. Only a few had really incurred his wrath. Cicely could not help thinking that if she had been her uncle, she would have dealt much more harshly with all his enemies. There would not be any left to cause trouble in the future!
The country willingly and gladly accepted Richard of Gloucester as King Richard III. There was still discord from Lancastrians, Woodvilles and dissatisfied Yorkist nobles, but the people knew Richard would rule justly, as he always had on his lands in the north. His fame went before him.
The day of the coronation, 22 June 1483, was one to remember, even for those seeking sanctuary. As the sun stood at its highest, an expectant hush fell over the capital, and then the first fanfare sounded in the distance followed by the cheers of the crowds. The choir music began in the great church and the cheering grew more rapturous, rising to a deafening roar as the royal procession entered the abbey itself. The singing and chanting seemed to go on forever, but after the passing of more than an hour, there was a pause in the music.
Cicely closed her eyes, imagining it all, and then the joyful carols rang out once more. Outside the crowds sensed that the moment had come and renewed their wild cheering, this time with even more enthusiasm. At length those in the abbey knew the procession was returning to the great banquet at Westminster Hall, because the cheering became more distant until it blended with the air of excitement that had enveloped London for the past week.
Bess wished to be alone, and so Cicely made her way to her mother’s apartment, there being no one else with whom to sit. It was not often she sought her mother’s company, but it seemed appropriate today. Elizabeth Woodville, now to be known as Dame Grey, as she had been on the death of her first husband, was alone, seated at her table, a quill hovering over a letter yet to be commenced.
She looked up. ‘What brings you here, Cicely?’
‘Nothing really. Bess wants to be on her own, and—’
‘And I am better than nothing?’ There was a faint smile.
‘Yes,’ Cicely replied deliberately.
Her mother chuckled. ‘Oh, what have we come to, Cicely? Not so very long ago we were the most important ladies in the land, along with Bess, of course, but now look at us. Your father has much to answer for.’
Cicely sat on the window seat and poked idly at a cobweb that hung against the lattice.
‘Is Bess still eulogizing her confounded uncle?’ Dame Grey asked.
Cicely did not answer.
‘We have spoken of it before, Cicely, but I have to ask you if you know any more now than you did then. Just how far does this go with her? I may not have been a warm mother, but I do not like to think of her in such pain.’
Cicely could not hide her astonishment. Had her mother really just said something kind and thoughtful? She stood, wishing she had never come here. ‘Even though she was Father’s favourite, Bess does think more highly of Richard.’
Elizabeth leaned back in the chair and picked up the quill again, to stroke the tip. ‘Why, of all men, did she have to pick him? If the wiles of Jane Shore leave him cold I cannot imagine that the inexperience of his own niece will have any effect. I fear Bess will discover him to be far less than she imagines, for he is completely and utterly devoted to Anne Neville. Although I suppose I should now call her Queen Anne.’
‘I have heard that he has a son and a daughter by other women.’
‘Ah, yes. The girl is named Katherine, but I know no more. The boy is John of Gloucester, and he was born shortly before you, Cicely. And before Richard of Gloucester married his Anne, should you wonder otherwise. I believe John of Gloucester is to be knighted in September, and our new king’s only legitimate son, Edward of Middleham, will become Prince of Wales at the same time.’ Elizabeth drew a long breath. ‘But this takes us away from the matter of Bess’s feelings for her uncle, and indeed, if they are reciprocated.’
A voice from the door startled them. ‘Rest assured they are not, Mother. I am the evildoer, not him.’ Bess stood there, her face scarlet with humiliation and anger, and they knew that she had been listening to them. Then she left again, the heavy door swinging to behind her.
Cicely ran after her, but once in the refuge of their own room, Bess turned on her like a tigress, and slapped her with all her might. The force made Cicely stumble back, her cheek marked red by Bess’s ring. She lost her balance and fell to the rushes. Bess stood over her, her hands clenching and unclenching with the violence of her emotion.
‘You little bitch! You little maggot!’
‘Bess . . .’ Cicely whispered through a haze of pain and misery.
‘Do not make excuses, for Jesu’s sake do not make excuses—I heard what you said!’
Cicely felt a hard knot of anger in her stomach, and struggled defiantly to her feet. ‘Very well, if you are so eager to believe the worst of me.’
‘Of course I believe the worst, I heard you!’
‘What did you hear, Bess? Tell me. If I said so much, perhaps you will enlighten me, for to be sure I do not remember.’ Cicely’s voice was very like their m
other then, the same ice-cold crispness belying the inner fury.
Bess faltered and the first doubt crept into her face. This was a side of Cicely she had not seen. ‘Well, you and Mother spoke of . . .’ She bit her lip and her voice sank to a barely audible whisper. ‘You were discussing the way I feel about our uncle.’ Having said it aloud at last, she sank to the bed, trembling. ‘Oh, Cissy, I have never known such misery and shame.’ She put her hand out blindly to her sister, and with a rush of feeling Cicely took it and sat to put a comforting arm around her.
‘Bess, dearest Bess, you know that I was not tittle-tattling to Mother. And believe it or not, she is sad to see you so unhappy. And she would have known nothing at all had you not betrayed yourself by shielding him so often and so violently. Your feelings are written so large that even I can recognize them for what they are.’
‘I am so ashamed of myself, so disgusted, and yet I cannot conquer it. The very sound of his name sends my pulses racing. He is my uncle and yet I crave him.’ Bess began to shake, her eyes pleading with her sister to forgive such iniquity.
‘My poor Bess.’
‘Cissy, I tell you if he were to beckon his finger to me I would willingly give myself to him.’ Bess hung her head once more. ‘Have you any notion of how I felt today? He was so near, in the same abbey, but I could not even look upon him. He is enshrined in my heart, every detail, every flaw. I love him so much,’ she breathed.
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