Red Rose, White Rose (54 page)

He clasped my hands tightly and leaned forward to kiss my cheek. ‘No man has a truer or more loyal wife than you are to my father. I believe that if women were allowed in the House of Lords you would have raised your voice with me.’

I smiled ruefully, wondering what he would say of me if he knew the truth. ‘But women are not allowed,’ I said, ‘and I will not have the opportunity. I do believe however that your father would make an admirable king. What is he doing now?’

‘At the suggestion of the archbishop he has gone with the other lords to Blackfriars to discuss what is to be done. He told me that despite this setback he is still preparing for his coronation on All Saints Day. That is in three weeks’ time.’ He pushed back his stool and stood up, bowing and flicking back his thick dark-honey hair in a way that reminded me vividly of his father as a young man. ‘Now I must leave you, lady mother. I am to go to Blackfriars and wait to escort my father back to the palace. I am sure he will want to tell you all this himself when he returns.’

After he had gone I sat for several minutes pondering his belief that I would have joined in his acclamation of Richard as king. It did not surprise me that Edward had not raised his voice when the others did not. His silence had disappointed Edmund but then he was not his father’s heir. It would not have helped Edward’s own cause or that of his father if he had been the only one to acclaim him king. Had any of the others spoken up I was sure that he would have done so too and probably Hal and Dick as well. I would not have said so to Edmund but I thought Richard should have taken time to sound out opinion among his fellow peers before plunging in with his claim as he did. I believed that a king should rule with the sworn consent of his peers, not merely because he had the right. If his peers felt they could not swear allegiance because they had already done so to another, then he would have a job persuading them otherwise.

At this time Edward was still living in the Earl of Warwick’s household at the Erber Inn and that evening Dick and he came to Westminster Palace together with Tom Neville and his wife Maud. Dinner was just over. We had dined in our great chamber quietly with several of Richard’s household knights and their ladies who now mingled around the hearth while hippocras, mead and sweetmeats circulated.

Since our arrival in London I had found no opportunity for conversation with Edward so I was delighted when he came straight to my side and lured me off to a cushioned seat in a window embrasure. ‘I wore the beautiful silk jupon you made for me at my knighting, my lady mother,’ he said, after kissing my hand and cheek. ‘As you intended. I wish you had been there.’

I sighed. ‘You cannot wish that more than I do, Edward. Tell me where and when it was and who was your other sponsor?’

One of his heart-stopping smiles lit his face. ‘Dick was the main sponsor of course but my second was your brother Will. There – I knew that would please you. He has been Dick’s number two in Calais for the past couple of years and has been a magnificent supporter of the York cause.’

‘So I gather. Was the ceremony held in Calais castle?’ I asked.

‘Not entirely. I bathed and held my vigil in the castle chapel but the actual dubbing was done on the harbour quay before we boarded to cross to England. It was Dick’s idea. He said the men should witness it so they would know they were following a true knight into battle. I think, dear lady mother, they would have had a very clear view of your magnificent white rose embroidery when I knelt before them all for Warwick’s accolade.’

I studied his face, so mobile and expressive at that moment, although I knew he had the ability to keep his emotions well hidden if the need arose. ‘And what went through your mind when you held your vigil, Edward? I assume it to be a time for reflection and self-examination and not easy for a man of action like you.’

A shadow crossed his eyes. ‘You are right, I found it a great challenge. You may be surprised to hear that I thought a great deal about you and my brothers and sisters who were left behind when we fled. I have not told you of my sorrow when I heard of Ursula’s death. You must have been heartbroken.’

To my consternation I felt sudden tears fill my eyes and spill down my cheeks. For a minute I could not speak and Edward impulsively put his hand on my arm. ‘You have been through so much, my mother. I hope one day I can make it up to you. Was it very terrible being a prisoner?’

I nodded, took a deep breath and found my voice. ‘Ursula’s death was the worst part. But all my children are precious to me and you particularly, Edward. You have had to become a man so young. I am in awe of what you have achieved.’

He gave a dismissive shrug. ‘I have achieved nothing until I see you as queen and my father as king. And I will do it, with Dick’s help.’

I was about to ask him why he had not spoken up when Richard had claimed the throne but raised voices across the room drew our attention.

‘I hope by querying my silence today you are not suggesting that I have not supported you through thick and thin in your fight for justice, my lord duke?’ It was Warwick’s voice raised in anger. ‘Do not forget that it was Edward and I who made it possible for you to return to England when we defeated the king’s army at Northampton. It would have been more than mere courtesy to ask whether we would support your claim to the throne before you actually made it.’

Edward removed his hand from my arm and turned to look. Richard had been sitting comfortably with a cup of wine in one hand but now he stood up abruptly. ‘It was because I assumed you would want to glean maximum advantage from your glorious victory that I did not consider it necessary to seek your opinion, my lord.’His tone was hard, his expression guarded, but his temper was under control.

‘It was high-handed to assume anything of the kind, especially when it concerns deposing a king who has occupied that throne for thirty-eight years and to whom we have all vowed allegiance. I, my brother Tom and your son Edward are all agreed on this. You have over-stepped the mark, my lord duke.’ Warwick’s attitude was dangerously aggressive, his stance wide, one hand on his dagger-sheath.

Edward rose but did not move away and my eyes widened when I saw Edmund move between Dick and Richard and stoutly defend his father. ‘Calm yourself, sir, I beg you,’ he said firmly to Warwick. ‘For we all know that York has the true and only right to the crown and my father is the true and rightful king. Henry of Lancaster has not been king for thirty-eight years, he has been a usurper.’

Edward suddenly strode across the room and put his hand on Edmund’s shoulder. ‘Hold hard, little brother. Dick and Tom are our friends and cousins. We do not tell them what they do and do not know and will and will not do.’ He then swept a bow to Warwick and snatched two cups from a passing servant’s tray. ‘You have made it clear where you stand on the matter of the crown, Dick, so let us drink to the fact that our attainders are rescinded and you have Middleham Castle back again. They tell me John Neville led his garrison out of the gates Friday last.’ He placed one of the cups in Warwick’s hand and drew him away from his brother and father, arm about his shoulder.

I had drawn a kerchief from my sleeve to wipe away the remnants of my tears and now Edward’s sudden mention of John Neville made my stomach lurch. Cuthbert had told me of his meeting with him at Middleham when John had been granted tenure of the castle in return for withholding his army from York at Ludford Bridge. I had remarked that bringing his men to a confrontation and then standing aside from it seemed to be a favourite strategy of John’s. Sitting on the fence was certainly one way of ensuring you were never on the wrong side but it could hardly be considered the mark of a reliable ally. Now he was suffering the consequences – and he would suffer severely because the possession of Middleham and Sheriff Hutton had been his lifetime’s ambition.

Tucking my kerchief away, I wandered over to speak to Maud who was seated beside the buffet with Hilda. ‘Dick seems very hot-tempered these days,’ I murmured in her ear. ‘Has he lost faith in Richard, do you think?’

‘I would say that he is pinning his hopes on Edward, rather than losing faith in the duke,’ Maud replied in a whisper. ‘I think you would hear a different tune from my lord of Warwick if it was Edward claiming the throne.’

I frowned. ‘Edward? He is only eighteen.’

‘Yes but he is a man.’ Maud caught Edward’s eye over Warwick’s shoulder and blew him a kiss, which was returned with the added bonus of a wink. ‘And man enough to have notched up a significant victory on the battlefield already. He is a very popular lad your son, Cicely; especially in London. Do not underestimate the importance of popular acclaim.’

I watched the two cousins raise their cups to each other and drink. ‘I do not but I am afraid Richard has always prized obedience over adulation.’

Barons, bishops and lawyers agonized for days over Richard’s claim to the throne, while he persisted in continuing his costly and complicated arrangements for a coronation ceremony at Westminster Abbey. King Henry spent much of his time at prayer in the chapel of the bishop of London’s palace where he was lodged and four hundred miles away in Scotland Queen Margaret negotiated for arms, men and money to launch a counter attack in the name of their son, Prince Edward.

In the end the lords came to Richard with a compromise. Henry was to remain king for his lifetime and Richard was to be officially recognized as heir to the throne and appointed Protector of the Realm. This time he did not make the mistake of failing to consult anyone. He called a meeting in the great chamber. Hal had gone north to reclaim his Yorkshire estates and keep an eye on the Scottish March so he was not there but for once I was included, as was the new Chancellor, Hal’s son George Neville, bishop of Exeter who, apart from his priest’s tonsure, was a man something after the style of his brother Dick, pugnacious and with a sharp intellect.

Richard began by running through the main points of the proposed Act of Settlement and concluded with his own scathing opinion of it. ‘They call it an Act of Settlement but of course it settles nothing.’

He appeared in a remarkably buoyant mood nevertheless, striding about the room waving the scroll on which the terms of the Act were penned in a neat, clerk’s script. ‘However I am inclined to accept it, not because I like it but because it will never work. King Henry may have signed it but he will sign anything; that is why I am made protector – again! But the lady who calls herself queen will never agree to it because it disinherits her son and so she will have to be dealt with on the battlefield. Her misguided followers who were scattered after Northampton have gathered their forces in Northumberland and are waiting for the Scottish reinforcements she has acquired by giving away two of our key border strongholds, Berwick and Roxburgh, both of them vital to England’s security, but the Frenchwoman would not know or care about that. The Scots will be gloating over their prizes and doubtless supplying her with undisciplined mercenaries and faulty guns in return, like the one which recently exploded and killed their own king.

‘So as soon as we have annihilated Margaret’s sorry attempt to regain her husband’s side, it would be my intention to rescind this heinous Act and get down to the real business of returning England to peaceful unity and the rule of law. I ask for your comments.’

There was a short silence while people digested what truly was an extraordinary speech. What Richard had effectively said was that he would accept the lords’ compromise because within a few months it would have no relevance since he would have made himself king by conquest anyway.

Dick of Warwick was the first to speak. ‘As I understand it, my lord duke, what you are saying is that having failed to get there by law you will fight your way to the throne and by using the word “we” you are inviting us to assist you to do so.’ He was seated between Edward and his brother Tom and put a hand on each of their shoulders.

When Richard smiled his face lit up and he looked ten years younger than his forty-nine years. ‘Precisely, my lord of Warwick, only do not tell the House of Commons or they will never pass this piece of nonsense and we shall be delayed getting into the field as a result.’ He waved the scroll then threw it dismissively onto the table beside his empty chair and sat down.

‘It is not just the Frenchwoman and her cronies we have to dispatch though, is it my lord father?’ It was Edward’s turn to speak. ‘There is also Jasper Tudor in Wales. One of us must raise our marcher lords to stop him joining her army in the north and as Earl of March I think that is my prerogative. Will you give me the command?’

There was a tense pause, during which I sent up a prayer to St Michael to clear Richard’s paternalistic view of Edward as a youth and not a man. The future of their relationship hung on his reply but it seemed that Edmund had the matter in hand. He leaned over from his habitual position behind his father’s chair and murmured something in his ear. Richard looked up at him, frowned then gave a sharp nod in Edward’s direction.

‘You are the obvious choice for that task, Edward – and the sooner the better, then you can bring your men to confront the Lancastrians wherever we find them. As soon as Parliament passes the Act, I will march our army north to meet the Earl of Salisbury, which will leave the security of London in your capable hands, my lord of Warwick.’

For a few seconds Dick had looked as if he was going to dispute Edward’s sole command of the Welsh campaign but the mention of the London command cleared his frown. I breathed an initial sigh of relief and then the truth hit me. This was not Ludlow, when the Lancastrians had been the aggressors. This time there would be no last minute escape; the whole York affinity including my husband, three of my brothers and, worst of all, my two eldest sons were going to war – to fight for the crown of England. Their mere survival was not an option. In my heavy heart I knew that I would spend much of the next weeks and months on my knees, praying for their victory.

Sandal Magna Castle, Yorkshire, December 1460