Rebellion (42 page)

In certain moments a kind of forgetfulness
overtook her; a forgetfulness of who she was – wife, mother, queen. She felt cocooned,
like her child, waiting to emerge into some different world.

Even when she felt the first dragging pain
in her abdomen she did not move immediately, reluctant to disturb the torpor into which
she had sunk. She sat through successive pains, wondering briefly whether she and her
baby might not manage this business alone, without summoning the gaggle of women who
were so anxious to attend.

Finally she knew this was not an option.
With a wrenching effort, like breaking the surface of a dream, she got to her feet to
notify those in the next room that her time had come.

‘Praise be to God,' her mother said. ‘You
have a son!'

Lady Scrope withdrew a little, smiling.
Elizabeth struggled to sit up. She could feel her heart pounding all over her body.

Mother Cobbe deftly
detached the cord and rubbed the baby's back quite hard until he gave a tiny cry. Then
she passed him to Elizabeth, who sank back on her pillow. ‘He come lovely,' she said.
‘He weren't no trouble at all.'

The tiny body crumpled as she held it. There
were smears of blood on his head. He turned his face a little and squeaked again.

She saw that her mother was crying, fingers
pressed to her mouth. But Elizabeth did not cry. She lay back and held her son.

His eyes opened a little, unfocused. It was
hard to see the exact colour in the candlelight, but she thought they were the colour of
midnight. They rolled upwards and his eyelids drooped, little crescent moons of white
shining eerily between them. On the lids themselves were tiny thread-like veins.

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

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

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.