Queen of Trial and Sorrow (31 page)

I didn’t entirely agree with the common opinion.  Often he was the companion of Edward’s infidelities and for that alone I couldn’t like him.  No matter what he thought of the rest of my family, he and Anthony had initially gotten along quite well – having shared the king’s exile in Burgundy and his battles – but they had quarreled over the governorship of Calais, and with the passing years the acrimony between him and our family had only increased.  I very much doubted that Edward’s deathbed request would have a lasting effect on that enmity.

One thing, however, could be said for Hastings: I was certain he would serve the son as devotedly as he had served the father.  In order to carry the council, he had to be won.

Then there was Lord Stanley, a prominent Lancashire man, blunt, coarse and erratic.  During the wars, Stanley had earned a reputation as a fence sitter who might touch a toe down on one side or the other as the mood took him but had never fully committed himself.  Edward had made him a member of the council to keep him under his eye and out of trouble.  His wife, Margaret Beaufort, was one of my ladies.  Stanley would serve his own interests first, last and always.

The influential churchmen included the chancellor, Thomas Rotherham, now Archbishop of York, another learned and worldly prelate, a particular friend of mine as I had helped elevate him; Thomas Bourchier the venerable Cardinal and Archbishop of Canterbury, with his liver spots and dewlaps sinking into the loose wattles of his neck; John Russell, honorable and distinguished Bishop of Lincoln; and Doctor John Morton, now Bishop of Ely, who had remained faithful to the house of Lancaster to the bitter end.   A doctor of canon law, Edward had made him a member of his council for his clever and cunning mind. 

There were also some commoners present, men of the law who didn’t even have the distinction of knighthood, yet represented my late husband’s proclivity for making use of men for their skills no matter their rank.  The council’s work was made easier by the inclusion of these lawyers.  Very influential among this element were my kinsman Sir John Fogge and one of my Haute cousins.

“I know the council chamber is not the province of the queen,” I began, “yet I feel it is my right and my duty as his mother to address myself to matters concerning the welfare of my dear son, the king.  I feel, and hope you will agree, that it is imperative that a stable government be established and his Grace the king brought to London and crowned with all speed.”

“Dear Madam,” said Rotherham sorrowfully, “rest assured that although we who sit here may be divided among ourselves, we hold in common our loyalty to the son of the late king whom we served for many years and who rewarded us with his favor.”

“As you see by our presence here, Madam,” said Hastings, whose pleasant face was closed like a fist, whose warm brown eyes were suddenly like polished stones, staring at me with a hostility he no longer felt the need to hide, “the kingdom’s business is not being neglected at this mournful time, nor is anything concerning the welfare of the king.  We have already sent notice to Ludlow of the death of our late sovereign lord and advised Earl Rivers to conduct the prince to London as soon as convenient.”

“A short period to allow him to grieve before he must take up his royal duties is a small act of compassion,” Canterbury said in his old, whispery voice.  Tendrils of white hair waved about his freckled and wrinkled head.

“Such matters ought not to be hurried,” the chancellor said kindly.  “We ought to await the king’s uncle.”

“Some things can be and should be decided without him.  I am sure he shares the wishes of all good and true men that the prince should succeed his father as our sovereign lord in a climate of peace and goodwill, and would agree if he were here that there is no reason the prince should not be crowned immediately and every reason why he should.  Naturally, ample time must be given for Earl Rivers to prepare him and to bring him to London, but in the meantime I suggest preparations for the coronation go ahead.”

“Why such haste, Madam?  What is it you fear?” Lord Stanley demanded.

They knew very well what I feared.  Gloucester’s ascendancy would be the ruin of my family, and yet there were many here who would rejoice to see us brought low.  I looked round at them in turn and said:  “I have been given good reason to fear ambitious men, my lords.”

“If you refer to the Duke of Gloucester,” grated Stanley, who had a voice like gravel sliding downhill, “he was the late king’s choice as the man best equipped to protect and guide your son through the years of his minority.  Your fears are nonsense and do your lord husband little credit.”

“Watch your mouth, Stanley!” Dorset snarled.

“Shut yours, weed,” the older man retorted.

Before the exchange could escalate, I interjected:  “Our late sovereign lord trusted Warwick, and look what misery that wrought.”

It was a mistake.  Many of them bristled at the implication.  Hastings leaned toward me.  “You have no basis for casting aspersions on the loyalty of the Duke of Gloucester, or for comparing him to a man who was twice a traitor and would have died a traitor’s death had he not had the good fortunate to die in battle!”

“My lord of Gloucester has been a tower of strength to his Grace, the late king these last years, Madam,” Rotherham said, in mild rebuke.

Lionel had warned me to say nothing overtly critical of Gloucester, who was very much favored by the bulk of the councilors.  It was revealing that they sprang to his defense with such celerity, even Rotherham.  “I do not deny it, nor do I mean any disrespect to my brother of Gloucester.  But I am not concerned with the past, only for the future.  Account my anxieties the vagaries of a mother, if you will, but I pray you, do not dismiss them.  Although my husband the king made his Grace of Gloucester protector, you – all of you – have a duty to act as his guardians.  I beseech you at least to send a substantial escort to make sure he arrives safely.  Say, three thousand?”

“That’s an army!” Stanley roared.

“Three thousand will tell everyone that the king has something to fear from his subjects,” said Hastings, rapping the table with his knuckles.  “I for one won’t countenance such a number.  Fifteen hundred would be a more than adequate escort.”

“My lord, the transition from one reign to another is a critical time, especially when the king is a child.  Three thousand is not unreasonable in the circumstances.”

“Can we compromise at two thousand?” Rotherham suggested.

“Still too many!” Hastings said unequivocally.

“We have enjoyed freedom from strife for more than a decade,” Canterbury said, gazing round with pale eyes blighted by cataracts.  “That peace will be sorely tried unless we can find a way to set personal quarrels aside and compromise with one another for the sake of the king.  Nothing must be allowed to interfere with his peaceful accession to the throne.”

This sentiment was followed by murmurs of assent.  I rose, forcing the councillors to rise also.  “Your Eminence is quite right.  And I have taken up enough of your time.  I will only ask, my lords, that you consider my requests and I’ll leave you to your deliberations.”  I wanted to say more, to beg them if need be, but I must leave the rest to Lionel and Dorset.  All of them understood that my motive in asking for an early coronation was to curtail Gloucester’s powers, and yet apart from a few, led by Hastings and Stanley, I had felt that the rest of the council were sympathetic.

The council meetings continued every day and were often heated.  Lionel put forth his objection that the late king’s wishes had no validity in law and we ought to be guided by precedent.  Hastings and his faction knew very well that it was a ploy to limit both the scope and duration of Gloucester’s power so that we could lead a minority government with a Wydeville dominated council.  At one point, Hastings lost his temper and roared to an accompaniment of nods and exclamations of agreement:  ‘You have no business being in government!  Your blood is base!’

Dorset dragged back his sleeve and thrust out his bare wrist.  ‘The blood that runs in these veins runs also in the king’s.  How dare you disparage it?’

Then Gloucester’s letters began to arrive.  To me he tendered his condolences in the most sincere and affectionate terms.  The one to the council was circulated throughout London by his supporters and was so plausible in its expressions of his loyalty and good intentions and his willingness to abide by his brother’s wishes, that we Wydevilles lost ground, not only in the council chamber but also in the city streets, where Edward’s decrees still had the force they possessed when he was alive, and in the hearts of simple people superseded any legal nicety dreamed up by my kin. 

In spite of everything, however, in a majority decision the council sought a middle ground by resolving not to confirm Gloucester as protector, but to allow him the leadership of the council; and they fixed the date of the coronation for the fourth of May, only three days after the young king was expected to arrive in London. 

We congratulated ourselves that we had won.  At least the opening engagement.

……….

Earl Rivers had delayed the day of departure from Ludlow until after St. George’s day, to allow him time to raise the men for the escort and because the prince wanted to use the ceremonies to honor his father.  He wrote that he had received a letter from Gloucester asking when he planned to leave Ludlow, if he intended to take Watling Street, and suggesting that they meet somewhere on the road and conduct the king into his capital together.  Anthony agreed.  

Dorset cursed at this news.  “Why would he do that?” he demanded of Lionel and me.  “Why?  He’s putting the king into Gloucester’s hands!”

“He had already made plans to celebrate St. George’s Day at Ludlow and could see no reason to change them.  There is really no urgency, providing the prince is in London in time for the coronation,” I said, worrying at my lip. 

Where Gloucester was concerned I was still very ambivalent.  Was he to be trusted or not?  In York, he had summoned all the chief men of the shire and received them in the great hall of the castle where, after being first to swear, he administered the oath of allegiance in the name of Edward V to every man present.  But did it mean anything?  By now he must have learned that the supreme power would be denied him; he was to head the council, one voice among many.

After some reflection, Lionel said: “Remember, the king has an escort of two thousand men, while Gloucester has confined himself to three hundred or so.  Once – ”

Dorset interrupted: “And what about Buckingham, eh?”

“Yes, what about Buckingham?” I said.  “What’s he up to?”

We had heard that Buckingham had offered to bring a thousand men to join with Gloucester, as if mustering for war, but Gloucester had restricted him to three hundred.  To approach the king with a large body of men was to invite censure; a reasonable escort spoke eloquently of his good intentions.  But what was Buckingham up to?  They had never been particular friends.  Why was he of a sudden thrusting himself forward?

“Edward never liked him, did he?” Lionel mused.  “In spite of their close kinship he was never granted the kind of high office a man of his birth might expect.”

“The only thing he was asked to do was the distasteful business of passing sentence on Clarence – which he managed adequately.”

Here was a man I knew to be full of jealous spite.  He hated me for forcing him into a detested marriage with my sister.  For a long time he refused to consummate the marriage.  He had told Katherine often that he despised her and the breed she sprang from, that he was besmirched by their union.  He also told her that he wouldn’t touch her with a six-foot long broomstick, but that if he ever needed such an object he could borrow it from her mother, as she was known to fly around on one.  He said the truth was his prick shriveled at the prospect of inserting itself into the hole of such a lowbred and vulgar shrew. Katherine complained to me and I complained to the king, who ordered him to do his duty like it or not.  Some common ground must have been found between them in time for now she was the mother of his three children.

He was descended from the loins of Edward III; his grandmother and the Duchess of York were sisters, making him as close to the royal house as anyone in England and a very important nobleman.  He was also very rich, being in possession of estates worth over five thousand pounds a year, and ought to have been able to look forward to a future that included a career spent in the highest circles of power.  That had not happened, and he hated my family, particularly my two sons for being preferred before him.  He also hated Earl Rivers because he had so much power in the marches of Wales and he, who was the greatest landowner in that region, felt that power ought to be his.

He even had a quarrel with Edward. His ancestor Humphrey de Bohun, Earl of Hereford, upon his death, divided his wide estates between his two daughters.  Eleanor married a Stafford and thus her share of the inheritance came into Buckingham’s family.  Mary married Henry of Bolingbrook who later became Henry IV and ever since that half of the inheritance had been part of the royal demesne.  But since the male line of the house of Lancaster had been extinguished, Buckingham claimed those estates ought to have come to him by reversion.  Needless to say, Edward disagreed.

“He spoke too often and too candidly of his disdain for Katherine and the rest of us.  He seemed to believe that what was good enough for our sovereign lord was not good enough for a Stafford.  In any case, Edward regarded him as feckless and lacking in judgment.  He is also outrageously proud and vain.”