Queen of Trial and Sorrow (33 page)

News has a habit of creeping under gates and through crevices in walls, and there it is, on the other side, and spreading like a fire in a hayloft.  Provoking widespread consternation, it crept through Ludgate, and sped along Fleet Street, past Temple Bar, along the Strand and King Street.  It spread tentacles all along the river from Westminster to the Tower.  By the time I had broken my fast, my chambers were crowded with well-wishers and supporters who had already heard the news. 

I had slept hardly at all and felt sluggish and deeply depressed.  Yet sometime in the night I had reached a decision.  I had to keep my youngest son out of Gloucester’s hands and I had to keep my eldest son safe.

“My children and I cannot remain here,” I said when the bishop and Dorset – bleary-eyed – attended me in the morning.  .

Lionel nodded.  Thomas frowned.

“We must flee, once again into sanctuary.  It is the only place we will be safe.”

Lionel nodded again, briskly.  “It will be a slap in the face for Gloucester that will be heard the length and breadth of the kingdom and beyond: The king’s mother and sisters and his little brother having to take refuge with the church for their safety.    It will be an eloquent statement of how little faith you have in his good intentions.” 

Dorset resisted strenuously, for he’d spent six months in sanctuary with his little half-sisters and me when my husband was in exile in Burgundy and had nothing but bad memories.  Then he’d been a boy of fifteen, now he was a man of twenty-eight and felt he could be useful to his half-brother on the outside.  But I remained obdurate.  Lionel, who had the protection of his cloth, would remain free at least for the time being to see and organize what support we still had.  If necessary, we would free the king by force.

……….

It was Mayday: a holiday of pagan origin that the church was inclined to wink at since it did not involve either barbaric rituals or drunken revels.  Being royal, my children had never taken part, but I had many youthful memories of that happy day.  It was a beloved festival, full of music and dancing and light-hearted play.  London would be crowded with gangs of laughing boys and girls, riding in carts or pushing hand barrows, laden with flowers and green boughs gathered in the fields and woods.  The streets would be abloom.  Lintels and window frames would be hung with boughs and great bunches of mayflowers.  Middens would be strewn with primroses and bluebells and every boy and girl would be wearing a crown of woven grass and flowers.  They would be singing as they flooded the streets with the bright garlands of spring: 

Be it right or be it wrong, these men among women do complain;

Affirming this, how that it is a labor spent in vain

To love them well; for never a dele they love a man again;

For let a man do what he can, their favor to attain

Yet, if a new do them pursue, their first true lover then

Labor for naught; for from her thought he is a banished man.
 

Thus it was that on that merriest of days, I ushered my children, with my sister, Anne, who would not listen to my entreaties to go home, along a narrow littered street called Thieving Lane, because thieves were led that way toward the gatehouse, and thence to the common hall, where we were enrolled, once again, as sanctuary persons.  The good Abbot Millyng of that earlier time had been translated to the bishopric of Hereford and was a member of the council of Wales.  The new abbot, John Esteney, offered his quarters for our use quite ungraciously.  We were not obliged to lodge in the Sanctuary House itself, among murderers and other assorted ruffians, but having experience of the abbot’s house, I had a hole knocked in the palace wall for ease of transporting our goods and to move in the children’s beds and my own great bed, a carved and canopied chair for my use, along with decent linen and clothing, carpets and even a bathtub, enough of the necessities of life to make our (Pray God, short) stay bearable. 

The next morning, after Nones, the first of my visitors arrived.  I sent Anne into the bedchamber to supervise the younger children and kept Thomas, Bessie and Cecily with me, arranged in a semi-circle around my chair as I received Thomas Rotherham, the Archbishop of York, who entered with an attendant holding a casket.  The chancellor was the second most important man in the government, after the king; he wielded a great deal of influence, particularly among the churchmen who comprised almost half the councilors. That he had come to me lifted my spirits a little.

Under his silvery brows, his eyes held a suspicion of tears, as he came forward and kissed my hand and those of my royal children.  “Your Highnesses, my lord,” he said in a voice that shook, “I cannot tell you how much it grieves me to see you in such dire circumstances.” His eyes went round the hall, taking everything in and cringing visibly.  There was Bessie’s lute and the tub I had brought for our bathing, which was now filled with a jumble of children’s toys.  There, two chests stacked one on top of the other because there wasn’t sufficient room for them to stand side by side, and Thomas’s bedroll piled on top.  Over there, sacks stuffed with extra clothes, cloaks and shoes.  Small windows, bare walls, rush-strewn floor.  To this had the proud lady come, who was wife to one king, mother to another.   

“Thank you, my lord bishop.  What news?”

“Ah, Madam, these are anxious days and we can only pray that all things will go well and your Highnesses’ stay in this desolate place will be of short duration.  As for news, the duke has sent Lord Lovel to the city.  He has already been to see me and Lord Hastings.”

Francis, Viscount Lovel was to Gloucester what Hastings had been to Edward: chamberlain, confidant and close friend.  I guessed that Gloucester wanted to test the temper of the city before hazarding his person.

“What does he say?”

“His message is that the duke is as faithful to the son as he was to the father and has done nothing but fulfill his brother’s wishes.  That he did so without bloodshed speaks well for his integrity, I think.”

Integrity! 
Which duke was he referring to?  I knew of no duke with integrity, unless it was one long dead.  My mother’s Bedford perhaps?  Beside me, Dorset growled: “I doubt our late king wished for the arrest of my brother and uncle.”  

I said: “My lord bishop, this was not an occasion when bloodshed might have been anticipated – it was simply the new king coming to his capital.  Therefore, I can hardly bring myself to rejoice that bloodshed was averted.  Rather I am outraged at what did happen.  The arrest of the king’s councilors cannot be construed even by the duke’s most fervent partisans as being in his interests.”

“These are the very men the late king – may God look upon him with mercy – ” Dorset said, crossing himself  “ – entrusted with the well-being of his son, a task they carried out with the utmost diligence and to the entire satisfaction of King Edward.  What was their crime?”

“Lord Lovel assured me the prisoners will be given a fair trial.”

“Oh, I’ll sleep easier for knowing that!” Dorset said, so scathingly that the chancellor seemed to shrink inside his scarlet robe.

I said: “It is clear to me that Gloucester’s intention was to part the king from all those who would protect him from the duke’s evil scheming.  The removal of my son’s personal attendants was an unnecessary cruelty.  Even Bishop Alcock, his tutor, was not allowed to remain with him.  Did Gloucester not, then, dismiss the king’s guard, as if the common archers and men-at-arms of the marches are not to be trusted?  Only his own men are now about the king, whose sad bereavement and young age ought to make him the object of the tenderest care and utmost consideration.  In seizing his person, my lord of Gloucester has acted arbitrarily and illegally. Furthermore, in this and particularly in dismissing the king’s attendants and replacing them with his own men, he has given notice of a tendency toward tyranny!”

The chancellor, who only moments ago had spoken of Gloucester’s integrity, now inclined his head.  “I fear so, Madam.” 

I turned my face away, encountering nothing but whitewashed walls, bruised and gouged by centuries of living.  I began to fear that the archbishop would not prove to be the strong leader that was needed at this time.  How I wished Hastings were on our side.  

I said: “What else did Lord Lovel have to say?”     

“That the duke acted as he did in order to ensure his own safety, for he has uncovered plots both to deprive him of the protectorship and to murder him on the road.”

“Did he name the plotters?” Dorset sneered.  “As if I can’t guess.”

The chancellor tactfully ignored the question.  “He begged me to keep calm and speak with moderation.  He said my lord of Gloucester’s only desire now is to bring our sovereign lord to London for his coronation, and he urged me, for the sake of the young king to do all in my power to keep the peace in the city.”

“Is there trouble in the city?” 

“ Not as yet,” he said, wrinkling his brow, “but the people gather in the streets and there is a great commotion among them.  Some of the lords have collected their forces here at Westminster and others are in the city in support of Lord Hastings.  Many men are sending for their harness.” 

He then produced a letter from Gloucester that had been sent to the council.  I read it to myself and then handed it to Dorset.  In it the duke stated that he had taken possession of his nephew to rescue him and the realm from the hands of those who had sullied the honor and glorious reign of the father and therefore could not be expected to have any better regard for the son; that no one had more careful thought for the welfare of king and kingdom than he, and he intended very soon to bring the king to London for his coronation.

“What is Lord Hastings’ position?” I asked the chancellor.

“Madam, I received a brief message from him this morning, in which he assured me that all that’s happened is for the best, as I should soon see.”

“No doubt he is pleased at the turn of events.  Like Gloucester, he would like to destroy me and those of my blood.  I marvel at him – truly I do.  This letter is clearly aimed at my family and me, yet it could more truthfully refer to him when it speaks of those who have sullied the late king’s reign.  Lord Hastings ought to be very careful.  I cannot see a self-righteous prude like Gloucester and the man he has apostrophized as a lecher working together for very long.” 

“And him with two bastards,” Dorset scoffed.  “Fornication is fornication.”

“But what of the other lords of the council?  Are they not outraged by the events at Stony Stratford?” 

The chancellor lifted his shoulders resignedly.  Choosing his words with care, he said: “I believe all reasonable men wish to see the king assume his royal rights in a climate of peace and goodwill.  Your Highness’s partisans on the council are still claiming that precedent must be our guide.  But they’re accused of self-interest.  Lord Hastings believes your family is trying to create a crisis for your own ends, that there is no crisis.  However, your withdrawal to sanctuary, along with the episode at Stony Stratford, has undoubtedly caused a shift in public opinion away from my lord of Gloucester.”

“Can you not ask the king’s attorneys and sergeants-at-law to settle the matter of precedent?”

“I have spoken with them myself.  They refuse to commit themselves on a matter pertaining to the government, which they claim is outside their purview and can only be resolved by parliament.  They have a point, of course.  It is not a legal matter.”

“He won’t be pleased that the council hasn’t seen fit to confirm his appointment.”

“That’s unfortunate,” he said with some asperity.  “We are doing the best we can here to contain a precarious situation that he created!  He must not expect to have things go all his own way.  Madam, the council will meet shortly to discuss these matters and I must away.  Before I depart, I have a gift for you.” He turned to beckon the chaplain, who came forward and placed a carved oak casket in his hands.  He looked down at it for a moment and then held it out to me.  “A token, my dear lady, of my loyalty and regard.  That great prince your husband entrusted it to me and now I entrust it to you, for the use of none but your son.”

Bowing to each of us in turn, he backed away three steps and left the hall, and as soon as he had gone Dorset gave a shout of triumph.  He had recognized the coffer.  In it was the Great Seal.  I held the government of England in my hands.

……….

Almost in tears, the chancellor returned the following day toward evening.  His loyalty and regard had diminished rapidly when the council received an angry letter from Gloucester demanding his resignation and that the Great Seal be taken back and given to the Archbishop of Canterbury for safekeeping.  So shame-faced was he that he hurried from my presence and I had no opportunity to ask him about the previous day’s council meeting.

“You should not have given it back!” Dorset scolded me when he had gone.  “The government cannot function without it.”

“Precisely.  Please try to bear in mind that it is your brother’s government now and the Great Seal belongs to him.  To have kept it would have turned public opinion against us.”

My son entered London on the day after the Feasts of Saints Philip and James.  It ought to have been Ned’s coronation day, but Gloucester had kept him from the city long enough to make sure he missed that appointment.  With his uncles of Gloucester and Buckingham and accompanied by six hundred men, many of them dressed in black and himself dressed in the dark blue of royal mourning, he arrived outside the walls of London, where he was met and officially welcomed by the mayor, aldermen and sheriffs, all wearing scarlet, and four hundred of the chief men from the livery companies, dressed in gowns of violet.  I wish I could have been there to see him.  How proud I would have been