Queen of Trial and Sorrow (37 page)

By curfew, the swords had done their work; the citizens had retreated to their homes and the city was quiet.

Gloucester’s pre-emptive elimination of his main opposition silenced the moderate voices on the council and cowed the rest, who were now ready to do his bidding out of fear of sharing Hastings’ fate rather than hope of favor.  There was no need for more killing.  Gloucester ruled the council as if he already had kingly power.

……….

With respect to the other so-called conspirators, Gloucester was far more lenient.  Rotherham and Stanley were kept at the Tower but released after about three weeks and even restored to their seats on the council, where, you may be sure, they henceforth gave no further cause for complaint.  As for Bishop Morton – who was my informant in later years concerning the details of that council meeting – Gloucester made a rare mistake by giving him into the custody of Buckingham who sent him to his castle of Brecknock in the Welsh marches.

Poor Jane Shore suffered worse.  On the instructions of Gloucester, the Bishop of London had her brought before his tribunal, declared a harlot and ordered her to do penance.  Stripped naked to the waist, her yellow hair hacked off, she walked in a procession of chanting monks, holding a taper in one hand, the other flung across her breasts in a futile attempt to hide from the eyes of the vulgar the fruits enjoyed by such as King Edward and Lord Hastings. Bare feet trudging through the filth and detritus of the streets, she walked from St. Paul’s east to the Tower and then back again.  All along the route people paused in their busy daily lives to stand and stare at the famous courtesan, and while there were some hecklers, many more watched in sympathetic silence, recognizing in her humiliation the petty vindictiveness of the protector’s particular brand of morality.

Afterward she was given into the custody of the keeper of Newgate Gaol.  The house near Bishopsgate, given her by the king so that she need never be in want, was seized by Gloucester along with all its furnishings.  Her time in the gaol was made easier by the gifts and well-wishing of the people, but once she emerged she faced destitution.

However, I heard later that upon her release she wed one of Gloucester’s attorneys and, if it is true, I am glad of it and I hope she has found some happiness in her declining years.  

Hastings’ will regarding the disposal of his earthly remains was respected and he lies now near my husband in St. George’s chapel – a fitting place for him to spend eternity, as he gave his life in defense of our son.

……….

The very day after I learned of Hastings’ death, I was at the prie-deux, where I spent many hours of each day until my knees locked and I had to have assistance rising, when I was informed a delegation of councilors had come to see me.  I refused to receive them at first but Lionel took me to task, saying I ought not to be so high-handed as to refuse to see so eminent a man of God as the Cardinal and Archbishop of Canterbury and, in any case, there might be news, good news.  I didn’t think so – I assumed they would merely renew their efforts to persuade me to leave sanctuary – but I relented.  I ordered Bessie and Cecily to attend me, and the rest of the children into the garden, and then I went out into the hall. 

They stood in a cluster, surrounding Lionel: Cardinal Bourchier, the Duke of Buckingham and Lord Howard among them, and bowed their heads when I entered.  I was aware that I was losing my beauty.  Grief and tension were beginning to leave their mark in the lines around my eyes and a wilting of my rosebud mouth.  But my two daughters were in the full bloom of their youth, Bessie at seventeen and Cecily at fourteen.  Their situation, imprisoned in this modest house with few of the amenities that were the due of royalty, was one of such pathos that I felt even the archbishop’s aged heart and Buckingham’s stony one must surely be stirred to pity.

I was wrong about their purpose.  This time they had come only for Dickon.  They had come not with a request but with a command that I release him.  Buckingham said I was holding him against his will, for what little boy would rather be confined in sanctuary than in the Tower playing with his brother.  “Sanctuary is intended as a place of refuge for malefactors.  A child has no need of it and therefore no right to it.”

“No,” I said adamantly, “you shall not have him.”

“Your refusal, Madam, is prompted by nothing more than the stubbornness of a hysterical and unreasonable woman.  Who ever heard of sanctuary children?”

“I will not be bullied by you, my lord!  My refusal is prompted by a mother’s very real fear and dread!”

The archbishop, who was leaning heavily on a gnarled stick, said: “Madam, your fears are groundless.”

“You still say that, Eminence?  Even after Lord Hastings’ murder?”Buckingham growled something that was, thankfully, unintelligible and strode over to the window to look out at the children.  Gazing unhappily at a ring on one of his knobby fingers, the archbishop said: “Alas, we all hoped that the transition could be accomplished without violence...”

“I forgive Hastings for his offences against me and mine, for it is certain that he died for his loyalty to my son the king.  And may God forgive him for his sins also.  May he know everlasting peace,” I said, and made the sign of the cross. 

Lord Howard said: “Madam, Lord Hastings was guilty of plotting against the life of the protector.  That is why he died.”

“If there were any evidence to support that contention, he would have been tried before his peers in parliament instead of being rushed to his death with such indecorous haste. His murder was an act of tyranny in which you, all of you, and to your everlasting shame, acquiesced!”

My throat tightened with emotion and I had to look away until I had myself under control again.  It was not sorrow for Hastings that caused my distress but the absolute certainty that if he did not fear to put Hastings to death in London where he was known and loved, Gloucester wouldn’t hesitate to execute my brother and son in the unfriendly north.  Daily I entreated God to move that implacable black heart to spare them, but I knew my prayers were in vain. 

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Buckingham shouted.  “Can we stick to the point?  Madam, it is not a request.  You are commanded to release the duke.  His Grace of Gloucester was named in the late king’s will, as protector of
all
your children.”

“Gently, my lord,” the archbishop admonished.  I glanced at him and he nodded somberly.  I hadn’t known that; I still don’t know if it’s true. 

Lord Howard said: “Madam, you must reconsider for all our sakes.  The coronation is six days away.  Everything is prepared.  Nothing now can stop it going forward.  But how can the king be crowned in the absence of his brother, whose station and nearness of blood demand that he play an important role in the ceremonies?  How can the king be crowned while his mother, brother and sisters remain in sanctuary?  It would be a travesty.”

I began to pace agitatedly, twisting my fingers together, the hem of my skirt raising dust motes in the rectangles of light cast by the window.  Well I read the threat implicit in Howard’s words.  If I remained obdurate, the coronation might have to be postponed.  But there was a greater threat. 

“No!” I said again.  “God help me, I
daren’t
place another of my sons in the hands of that false and unnatural man!”

“He is the boy’s uncle!” Buckingham said.

“Lust for a kingdom knows no kinship.”

The cardinal sighed wheezily.  “Madam, I hope you know that I bear only love toward you and your children.  But my first loyalty is to the church.  At this very moment, a cordon of troops is surrounding the sanctuary.  The protector himself is out there, waiting.  This morning the council resolved that the Duke of York is being held here by you against his will; that sanctuary is not intended as a place of detention; that it is not good for him to be kept here among women; that it is not good for the young king to be deprived of the companionship of his brother; that a blameless child has no need of sanctuary and therefore no right to it.” 

“Well, then, let the king come here to me,” I cried, snatching at straws.

The archbishop’s jowls shook.  “You know that’s not possible.  Madam, I fear the child will be removed, with or without your consent.”

“No!” I cried in despair.  “You cannot!  You, a man of God – you cannot allow them to tear him from my arms by force!”

I had always tried to maintain the dignity and composure of a queen no matter what.  But now I felt myself crumbling inside and knew I was on the point of bursting into tears, of falling on my knees before these powerful men and abjectly pleading to be allowed to keep my son, to keep him safe with me.

Uncaring of my distress, Buckingham said: “We can and will.  You leave us no other choice.” 

“My dear Madam,” said the cardinal gently, “here is the case.  The privileges of the church itself are at stake.  If sanctuary is violated, where will the oppressed find refuge?”

“I don’t care about the church and its privileges!  I care about my son!”

The cardinal’s pouched eyes were sad.  “The choice is yours, Madam.  If we do not bring the child out with us, someone will come and take him.  And then, once sanctuary is broken, what is to stop them coming back and removing you and your daughters?  I implore you to prevent such a violation.”

“You might also want to spare your children the distress of a forced removal,” Buckingham added. 

Howard said: “We are empowered to say that if you will agree, the duke will be returned to you after the coronation.”

Forcing my tears down, I put the crumbling pieces of my resolve back together and walked over to the open window.  It looked out on the abbot’s garden where the children were at play and my eyes sought my small son, who would be ten in August, and had been named for his uncle of Gloucester.  How could I let him go?  My heart told me that as long as Dickon was with me, my Ned was relatively safe.  Yet there was no decision to make here.  The only choice I was left with was whether to make it hard or easy.  I gazed at the child for a long moment, impressing his laughing face on my memory, and then turned from the window.

“Fetch the Duke of York, and bid the nurse pack his belongings,” I said to Bessie, who hurried out.  Having said the words calmly, I sat in my carved chair and sought the eyes of the cardinal.  “What will be done with him?”

“He will be taken to join his brother in the Tower and later he will play his proper part in the coronation.  It will be a great comfort to the king.”

Dickon entered holding Bessie’s hand and bowed punctiliously, first to me and then to the cardinal. 

“My dear boy, I have wonderful news,” I said, as brightly as if I believed my own words.  “You are to join your brother in the Tower.”

“Really, Mama?” he said happily.

“Yes.  Now I want you to go and say farewell to everyone.  Put on your light wool cloak and your blue bonnet.”

Clapping his hands, he skipped off, decorum forgotten.

I fastened my gaze on the cardinal’s rheumy old eyes.  “Your Eminence,” I said, “I give my child into your keeping.  You think I fear too much.  Be well aware that you do not fear too little.  As you love God and the church, I charge you to keep him safe.”

“You have made the right decision, Madam.    I assure you I and these other lords will see that his Grace will come to no harm.”

I looked away.  “Lord Hastings sent me a letter, you know,” I said, “warning me that Gloucester intends to have himself crowned in my son’s place.  And that, Reverend Father, is why he had to die.  It is also why my son’s trusted councilors are being held in the north on the flimsiest of pretexts and why they, too, will soon be executed without trial.  If they have not been so already.”

“Madam, I assure you – ”

I cut him off, rudely.  “How times have changed!  So quickly it makes one’s head spin.  Evidence of wrongdoing is no longer necessary before a man is rushed to his death. Lord Hastings was my husband’s dearest friend and was on friendly terms with Gloucester himself.  Did he not always speak on Gloucester’s behalf in council?  No proof was offered of his guilt, only the ‘protector’s’ bare assertion.  And now he will violate sanctuary to get what he wants.  I ask you:
Who is safe?”

No one answered me.  They had what they had come for and could see no point in trading words with me.  Dickon entered the room again, to be kissed and petted by his two older sisters before turning to me.  I brushed the hair from his face and give his doublet an unnecessary tweak.  Living in such close proximity, it was impossible that he hadn’t overheard things not intended for young ears or picked up certain nuances in adult conversation, but whatever fears had been transmitted to him were overcome by his excitement at the prospect of leaving this dolorous place and being with his brother. Concealing my own distress, I smiled into his upturned face.

“May God and our lord Jesus Christ and all the blessed saints watch over you, my dear child, until we shall be together again, which will be very soon.  When you see your brother, be sure to tell him that he is daily in my prayers.  And when you say your own prayers, don’t forget your sisters and me.”  Kissing him on the brow, I put my hands on his shoulders and turned him toward the cardinal.  “Go with my blessing.”