by Paul Doherty
‘This,’ Gloucester lifted the book of hours, ‘is cleverly and intricately done.’ He paused. ‘I will not indulge in any outburst but, believe me, Master Urswicke, I seethe at what you have told me. My brother George has impugned my father’s blessed memory as well as my brother the King, not to mention my beloved mother. And yet, at the same time, if these revelations are true, then my brother should not be King and any male heir of his has no right to succeed.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Ah well, I agree. Clarence is as treacherous as a viper.’
‘My Lord, if you are shocked, can you imagine what others would think? The Three Kings knew that. They could sell such information to any lord both within this realm and beyond.’ Urswicke paused; for a brief flicker of time he noticed a shift in Gloucester’s eyes, a tightening of the mouth, as if concealing a smile. ‘Tell me, my Lord,’ Urswicke decided to gamble, ‘did the Three Kings make an approach to you?’ Gloucester glanced away. ‘My Lord?’
‘Recently,’ he replied. ‘They began to show great friendliness to my henchman Francis Lovel. Chance meetings, or so they appeared to be, before and after Tewkesbury. Of course, I did wonder. Never mind.’ Gloucester tapped the book of hours. ‘Clarence thinks he has the only copy, yes?’
‘Of course.’
‘So where did you get this?’
‘Hidden away at St Vedast where the Barnabites sheltered.’
‘Were you responsible for the destruction of this church and the old priest’s house?’
‘Yes, along with others of Clarence’s household. Mauclerc had decided that they too had outlived their usefulness. They all had to die; that’s when I finally concluded that the deaths at The Sunne in Splendour were also their work. That’s logical isn’t it?’
‘Yes, yes,’ Gloucester replied testily. ‘But I still find it difficult to accept that my brother should silence so many faithful retainers.’
‘My Lord,’ Urswicke silently prayed that his nimble wits would protect him from stumbling into a mistake, ‘think about what has happened. Tewkesbury was a great victory. Your brother is now King triumphant. The Lancastrians are in utter disarray …’
‘Even though their proclamations appear all over the city, whilst treasonable chatter and gossip are rife throughout London and the shires? Weeds grow faster than the grass.’
‘That will pass,’ Urswicke retorted. ‘George of Clarence couldn’t care about such nonsense. He realises Tewkesbury was a decisive victory. He would like to shut the door on the past. Seal off all memories about his days with the House of Lancaster. Above all, he has the “Titulus Regius”. You know Clarence, my Lord? Once he has no need of you, then God help you. Think of all those mouths silenced. Think of the Three Kings: they nurtured scandal about your family, did this also include Clarence?’
‘I agree,’ Gloucester scratched the side of his face, ‘the Three Kings, Oudenarde and the Barnabites were all involved in the creation of the “Titulus Regius”. But why Spysin?’
‘A household courier, my Lord, sent here and there by Clarence with this message or that. Words committed to memory which Spysin would never forget.’ Urswicke schooled his features to conceal his enjoyment at this dangerous game of hazard. ‘Rumour has it that Spysin was to be despatched abroad. Was he being sent out of the way? Did Clarence change his mind and decide on a more lasting solution? Remember, Spysin was a messenger, he would know a great deal, perhaps too much for comfort. Moreover, we must not only think of Clarence but also his henchman Mauclerc. He too joined his master in deserting the House of York and entering the Lancastrian camp. Mauclerc is a killer. He would not tolerate a clacking tongue or, indeed, anyone who might prove to be a threat.’ Gloucester nodded his head in silent agreement. Urswicke decided to change the flow of conversation.
‘And the other matter, my Lord? The possible disappearance of Anne Neville. I saw your grimace as I described what the Three Kings recommended. It could prove a great blow to your ambitions.’
‘Yes, and I must deal with that, though it’s difficult. The Lady Anne lives with her sister Isobel who, of course, is Clarence’s wife. Since the death of her father, Anne clings very close to Isobel. Consequently it would be easy for Clarence to arrange matters against her and very difficult for me to offer protection.’
‘True, that is a matter for you, my Lord. I have told you what I have learnt. You know how to unlock the cipher within the book of hours and read its contents.’ Gloucester weighed the book in his hands, staring quizzically at Urswicke.
‘What you say is logical,’ he declared, ‘and yet …?’
‘Yet what, my Lord?’
Gloucester, head back, peered under half-closed eyes at Urswicke. ‘Something is not right,’ he whispered. ‘Something is very wrong. Never mind. Not for now.’ Gloucester chewed the corner of his lip. ‘I shall ask my most trusted clerk to translate and transcribe,’ he touched the book of hours, ‘what is hidden here. Once that is completed, I shall reflect.’ He turned and spat into the darkness. ‘I shall certainly teach George a lesson. How dare he dishonour my parents!’
‘And what about my mistress, the countess? I have loyalties to her and she must see me working on her behalf?’
‘I will protect her interests from both within and without,’ Gloucester replied. ‘I shall use my influence to advance her affairs with my brother the King. You have my word on that, Urswicke.’ Gloucester, gripping the book of hours, rose and walked out of the sanctuary, through the ruined church wall to where his horse stood hobbled in the cemetery.
Urswicke listened until he was sure his visitor had truly left. He then returned to his place, picked up the lighted candle, and went to stand in the gap in the church wall. He stood holding the candle, its flame fluttering vigorously in the night breeze. He waited until he heard the three harsh calls of a night bird echoing across the desolate cemetery. He smiled in satisfaction and strode back to the apse, where he waited for Bray, all cloaked and hooded, to join him.
‘So the fish rose to the bait?’
‘Faster than I thought,’ Urswicke replied. ‘I personally took messages to Clarence and Gloucester inviting them here. Clarence now thinks he has the only copy of the “Titulus Regius” but, of course, Gloucester and ourselves know different. All we can do is wait and see what happens. Both brothers are fired with bounding ambition. Gloucester at least has honour and talent but Clarence truly is a midnight soul absorbed with himself. But listen, my friend,’ Urswicke gripped Bray’s shoulder, ‘to a possible future.’ Urswicke sat down in the enclave, Bray opposite.
‘Your story, Master Christopher?’ Bray demanded, pushing back his hood and loosening the chain on his cloak.
‘Oh, so many threads to pull. What if we abduct the Lady Anne Neville, hide her away but make it known that Clarence is responsible? We’d send Gloucester on a wild hunt through the taverns and nunneries of both this city and the kingdom. He would be furious. The rift between him and Clarence would deepen and, of course,’ Urswicke paused to laugh softly, ‘we could also be the ones who secretly find her and so enhance our relationship with my Lord of Gloucester.’
Bray rubbed his face and grinned at Urswicke. ‘The countess is correct about you, Christopher. Your mind constantly teems with mischief, most of it on her behalf – why?’
‘You know why. The debt I owe her cannot be measured. I shall never forget her kindness to my darling mother or to me. Such a memory burns like a flame within me.’
‘And where does that flame lead you now?’
‘Why, Master Reginald, to Edward of York, our warrior King. He is the vital piece in this never-ending game of chess. Clarence is dangerous but he is also a fool. He’ll make his move and he will fail. This time Edward of York will not prevaricate. Brother or not, Clarence’s head will roll, and so the stage will be cleared.’ Urswicke turned and stared into the dark. ‘Only Edward and his younger brother Gloucester will remain.’
‘They are very close. Richard adores his elder brother.’
&nbs
p; ‘Aye and so he does, but he hates the Woodvilles and they respond in kind. Now Master Reginald,’ Urswicke plucked at Bray’s sleeve, ‘imagine you are Gloucester: as long as your crowned brother lives, you are safe from the deadly malice of the Woodvilles. But what if Edward suddenly dies, what would happen then?’
‘Edward’s heirs?’
‘If he has a male issue which survives and, even if the boy does, at this moment in time, it would be a further fifteen or sixteen years before he becomes an heir in his own right.’
‘A regency?’
‘Of course, but who? As I suggested, if you were Richard of Gloucester, would you tolerate a Woodville regency, men like Earl Rivers and his host of greedy kinsmen? If cornered, if he was threatened and isolated, would Duke Richard reflect on what I have handed him today? Why should he wait for the Woodvilles to strike? Why should he accept his brother’s heirs, who, according to the “Titulus Regius”, are the offspring of an invalid marriage in the eyes of Holy Mother Church? Such children would be illegitimate bastards, as perhaps his elder brother may have been, not the offspring of Richard of York but the by-blow of some lowborn captain of archers. If that is the case, and Clarence is gone, Richard is the legitimate heir. Master Reginald, it’s just a theory like those you propose in the schools of Oxford. What if this happens …? What if that happens …?’
‘Our mistress is correct,’ Bray whispered, ‘a pot of mischief is being brewed, thickened and boiled in the heat of deadly rivalries; that pot will bubble over and all this will end in blood.’
‘Aye,’ Urswicke agreed. He rose, tightening his warbelt, ‘this will end in another Tewkesbury, the horrid clash of battle.’ He stood up. ‘Pray God we have victory that day because this truly is à l’Outrance – to the death.’
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Dark Queen Rising is of course a work of fiction, but it is based on historical evidence.
The Battle of Tewkesbury is as described in the narrative. Somerset did kill Wenlock for refusing to commit his forces. The fighting in the abbey and the summary trials and bloody executions which followed did take place, Edward of England watching the proceedings from an upstairs window of the house he was sheltering in. If you visit Tewkesbury today you can still see marks of violence in the abbey and, according to local tradition, even the faded bloodstains where the Lancastrian Prince Edward was stabbed to death.
Margaret of Anjou and her son were captured. Edward, of course, was immediately killed. Margaret was imprisoned in the Tower and eventually released, returning home due to the good offices of the French King.
I believe the personalities of King Edward and his two brothers Clarence and Richard have been accurately conveyed. Richard was completely loyal to both his brother and House but Clarence seemed to be constantly attracted to treachery and betrayal.
My description of the flight of Jasper Tudor and Henry to Brittany is a work of fiction but I have never really understood the published version, that somehow or other, young Henry was allowed to slip out of Pembroke and safely journey across the Narrow Seas.
The ‘Titulus Regius’ is not a work of fiction. The scandalous stories mentioned in the narrative did eventually emerge into the public forum due to Clarence’s treacherous meddling as well as Richard of Gloucester’s attempts to protect himself in the hurling days following the sudden death of his brother, King Edward IV. Eleanor Butler, Bishop Stillington, the stories about Duchess Cecily and the disappearance of Warwick’s daughter, Anne, are mentioned by the chronicles of the time.
I have tried to faithfully convey the personality and attitude of Margaret Countess of Richmond: her three marriages, her love of her manor at Woking and her constant patronage of the arts. Cambridge University, in particular, owes a great debt to Countess Margaret. Reginald Bray and Christopher Urswicke were principal members of her household. Some people even regard Urswicke as the founder of the British Secret Service.
Finally, the murder of Henry VI, is I believe based on the evidence available. As regards the possible desecration of his corpse, I refer you to ‘The Discovery of the Remains of King Henry VI in St George’s Chapel at Windsor Castle’, a report drawn up by W. H. St John Hope and published in Volume 62 of the learned journal, Archaeologia (London, 1911). A most interesting passage from a report by a leading physician at the time reads as follows:
5 November 1910.
The following report contains all the information gathered from the skeleton which I examined yesterday.
The bones are those of a fairly strong man, aged between forty-five and fifty-five, who was at least 5ft. 9in. in height (he may have been an inch taller, but I give the minor limit).
The bones of the Head were unfortunately much broken, but as far as they could be pieced together they were thin and light, and belonged to a skull well-formed but small in proportion to the stature. Some of the roof bones (occipital and temporal, frontal and parietal) had become ossified together at the sutures. The few teeth found (second molar upper right, and first molar upper left, second bicuspid lower right) had their crowns very much worn down. The portion of the one side of the lower jaw found had lost its teeth some time before death.
There were nearly all the bones of the trunk, of both legs, and of the left arm; but I found no part of the right arm.
From the relative positions occupied by the bones, as they lay in the leaden casket when opened, it was certain that the body had been dismembered when it was put in. If the body had been buried in the earth for some time and then exhumed, it would account for their being in the condition in which we found them. It might also account for the absence of the bones of the right arm, as well as for the accidental enclosure of the left humerus of a small pig within the casket.
I am sorry that I can add nothing more. The state of the bones was so unsatisfactory that I could not make any trustworthy measurements.
© Paul Doherty OBE November 2017