Death Be Pardoner To Me: The Life of George, Duke of Clarence (4 page)

It seemed as if all the servants, stewards and ladies were present. The hall was filled with colour and movement as they quietly walked around, speaking softly to one another. The crunching of rushes accompanied every footstep, a sound everyone lived with and ignored as part of castle life but which, in his current state of heightened emotions, sounded unnaturally loud to his ears.

His mother, Lady Cecily, was sitting by the side of the fireplace, a delicate velvet cloak draped around her shoulders, its vivid yet dark blue shade complementing the colour of her eyes. Her silver gown was tight laced; dark blue slippers peeked from beneath the hem. Her hair was caught up under an elaborate head-dress and she was wearing beautiful jewels on her fingers, in her ears and round her neck. She looked almost regal and in truth, George was in awe of her. This beautiful being was his lady mother; someone he saw rarely, someone whose word was law. This was someone who could no doubt see right through his mask of quiet obedience and observe the wild child hiding within, the one which longed to throw off all the restrictions of being a royal prince and just do what he wanted when he wanted, the one who found protocol confining and restricting, the one who wanted to say to the servants ‘just call me George, just let me do what I want!’ He knew, though, even at his young age, it could not be done. It would not be done. He was Lord George; he was of royal blood. The rest were peasants. They were beneath him. Susanna’s constant litany rang in his head: ‘you are a prince, Lord George, carrying royal blood from your ancestors. One day you will be presented at Court and you must know how to behave. One day the Yorks will hold supreme power and you must be ready to take on the responsibilities that go with that power, with being a York. Your lord father and your lady mother must be proud of you. You must-”

So many times the word ‘must’ came into the instructions, the lessons and commandments that were issued from those above him. One day I will be free, he told himself, as he stood quietly, waiting for his mother to notice him, free to live my life the way I want it. Quite how that was to happen and quite what he wanted was not clear in his young mind but he knew that when he grew up, he would be aware of precisely what he wanted from his life and vowed he would get it. If you could not do as you wanted as a royal prince, when could you do what you wanted?

He knew the answer to that: when you were the son of the blacksmith and could come and go without anyone asking where you had been and where you were going, or checking your clothes for smudges and stains, looking for tears and rips and complaining about them when they were inevitably discovered. How many times had he hung out of a window and waved to the boy, envying him his freedom? How many times had the surge of envy gone through him when the boy had waved back and raced off on some magical boy-like errand or escapade that George could never dream of doing? Times which could not be counted.

Even with the heat of the summer’s day, a fire roared in the hearth, for the hall was perpetually cold; the thick stone walls allowed no heat to penetrate. George felt the chill and hoped for a chance to sidle closer to the flames, if the dogs would let him.

Margaret was already at the duchess’s side, looking cautious and excited in turn. George hesitated, trying to read from his sister’s face whether anyone knew of the escapade but she was giving nothing away. He had to wait on his lady mother’s words to find out if he was in her disfavour or not. The waiting was an agony of apprehension.

The voices of everyone gathered in the hall were a constant buzz, counter-pointed by the susurration of silks, linens, velvets and wool and rushes as people moved around, creating eddies of cold draughts that found his exposed flesh and chilled it. Oh to be outside in the sunshine! Perhaps they wanted to be outside as well, perhaps that was why they couldn’t stand still. Perhaps they wanted the garderobe and didn’t dare leave the hall. Many thoughts tumbled through his mind and he suddenly realised he needed the garderobe. In despair he knew he had to wait, that he could not leave the hall, either. He should have said when he was with Susanna, but was too preoccupied with being disappointed at having his plans ruined.

He looked up at the nursemaid standing behind his mother’s chair. The solemn faced woman was holding his little brother Richard in her arms. The dark haired, dark eyed little boy stared at everything as if he had never seen it before, as if a sense of wonderment had taken over and he did not know what to make of it all. Hurry up and grow up, George thought suddenly, as he bowed to his mother. I know Margaret will be sent away before long and I need someone to join me in my games! But oh, he is only two, how long do I have to wait until he can come and play with me? How long before his miserable nursemaid allows him to come and play with me? If I have to wait too long, the time will be gone! I will be pushed into being too much the prince to be able to go and play!

His thoughts were interrupted as Lady Cecily held out a hand and drew him to her side. “I am glad to see you, George. Come and stand by me. Your lord father will be here any moment, or so they tell me.”

“Yes, Mother.”

This was scary, this was a test indeed, to stand by his mother’s side and be aware of her scrutiny. Was his hair in order, had Susanna washed the dirt from his face adequately? It had been a very quick scrub, which he had welcomed at the time but now … was it enough? Was there any dust on his sleeves, had he marked his boots by kicking the walls on the way down? What would she find to comment on, what would she say if she knew how rebellious he wanted to be?

“It seems you grow taller each time I see you, George.”

“Yes, Mother, this year I have had a new wardrobe.” Polite, cautious, almost formal conversation.

“So I saw from the accounts! Well, it is good that you are developing so well. You will be as tall as your older brothers when you are full grown. I am pleased.”

A silent sigh of relief escaped George’s tight pressed lips. If Mother was pleased with him, then she had not noticed the scuffed boots and there could be no dirt anywhere. No, word was that his lady mother never missed anything, not the tiniest error, so she had probably noticed the things he was worrying about but had chosen not to say anything. Her lord, the great duke, was about to ride into Fotheringhay judging by the sound of hooves and the clattering of arms, harness and men. It was not the right time to make a fuss about anything. He chanced a look at her serene face and saw the twinkling eyes. Maybe on this occasion it would be all right. He dared a smile and noticed that her lips twitched a little as if she would actually smile back at him. It didn’t happen; her smiles were reserved for one person only, it seemed, the man at that moment striding through the doorway, hat in hand, dust clinging thickly to the riding cloak he flung to one side. A squire caught it and carried it away.

“My lord, you are safely back with us!” The duchess’s smile was radiant as she stood to welcome him. George moved back, then edged forward again, not wanting to be noticed yet wanting to be noticed, indecision causing him to stumble a little on an uneven flagstone.

“It is good to be home again.” The duke bowed, took her hand for a moment and then cast a sweeping glance over the group gathered in the hall. “It is good to see everyone here. I thank you.”

“Wine is being brought for you, sire. Would you care to wash away the dust of your journey first?”

“I will. Wait here for me.”

It was as if a gale had swept through the Great Hall at Fotheringhay. In a single moment the duke had arrived, greeted everyone, passed through, gone to his chamber to wash and to change his clothes and after that moment everyone had scattered, going about their various duties. Wine was poured ready for his return, the butler hovered, supervising the placing of the cheese, meats and fine bread on the table by the fire; minstrels were plucking their lyres and other instruments ready to play if he so wished; the duke’s Fool, Hagley, wearing his most outrageous outfit of mismatched colours, hovered in the background, reciting rhymes to himself, newly made up to welcome the duke back. Even the great wolfhounds stirred from the hearth as eddies of the duke’s powerful presence reached them. George held his breath. Would that he could grow up to be like his father! Everyone bowed down to him, everyone revered him, his word was law; his wish was the ultimate command. That’s what I want to be like, George told himself, watching from under lowered lashes as the people left in the hall murmured and moved around, attending to tasks but also gossiping together. The duchess’s ladies talked among themselves as they kept one wary eye on her, ready to fulfil her every wish. I also want to know everything, everything that goes on, George added silently. And I will; you see if I don’t!

Voices swirled around him, talk of alliances, of changing loyalties, of court rumours and facts. Some of it registered, some of it was beyond his comprehension but he listened avidly to it all, storing what he could not understand against the day it would all become clear. Experience had taught him that if you waited long enough, you found the answers to everything you needed to find out. Knowledge is power. His tutor had told him that, in an effort to get him to study. Yes, knowledge was power, but not from books. Knowledge of people, that was power. For one so young, he understood a great deal.

There was an agony of waiting for his father to return, in the hope he would at least notice the existence of the smallest Yorks. Richard, fretful at being restrained, was struggling in the nursemaid’s arms. At a nod from the duchess he was set down on the floor where he immediately ran to one of the wolfhounds. The dog licked his face and then settled down again in front of the fire. George watched his younger brother climb onto the dog, which didn’t move. Once again his thoughts ran in many directions. How he did he do that? Last time, no, the only time I tried it, the dog bit me! The scar on the calf of his left leg ached as if memory had revitalised it. Perhaps I was too big; he’s only a little bit of a boy. But he’s a York, too, I must remember that. I must look out for him, I am his older brother; I am –

Just then his father returned to the hall, taking his place before the fire, his overwhelming presence seemingly filling the huge cavernous space. The dogs moved out of his way. Richard followed his favourite dog and lay down on the floor by its side, resting his head on the warm body. The duke looked only at his wife as he talked lightly of his journey, of his discussions, of the people he had met. Wine was drunk; bread and meat disappeared almost like magic as he hardly stopped speaking. George watched, his stomach rumbling and protesting. How long before the summons to dinner? If my lord Father eats too much now, dinner will be long delayed for the rest of us! And I am bored! This is not real talk!

As if sensing his thoughts, Lady Cecily gestured to the butler to arrange for the table to be cleared ready for the meal. “Forgive me, my lord,” she said carefully, “but we must make preparations for the household to eat.”

“Of course!” He glanced at George and Margaret, standing patiently by their mother’s side and gave them a quick, approving smile. “You grow well, both of you. Where is Richard?”

“Playing with the dog, sire, as you might expect.”

A different smile, a softer one, revealed itself as the duke turned and looked at his youngest son. “Ah, so he is. Well, he grows too, despite everything. Come, my dear, let us go to my study whilst we await dinner. There is much I need to discuss with you.”

He walked away without another look at any of his children, as if they did not exist. That, too, George felt was right; who need worry about mere children when there were matters of great importance to discuss?

The men bowed and the ladies curtsied as the duke and duchess walked past them. George watched impatiently. The moment the duchess was out of sight, he raced out of the hall, heading for the stables. There was still time to see the litter, if he was careful not to get dirty. He could only hope it wasn’t too late to see the puppies with their eyes still closed. In a sudden flash of adult intuition, he found himself thinking what a shame it was that you had to live with your eyes open and see the world. With eyes closed you could imagine it to be so much nicer than it really was. Sadly, you could not close your ears; people’s harsh words would still get through.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the unwelcome thoughts, George hurried across the bailey and entered the stables.

The puppies awaited him.

Chapter 4

I did not go near the battlements for a whole year. I did not dare.

I was wrong when I assumed my lady mother had not noticed the scuffed boots; she had and she mentioned it to Susanna, who was not pleased with me at all. Then someone said he had seen me in the stables – I recall I went to bed in tears that night. It wasn’t the first time; it would not be the last, either. I was always getting into trouble and being whipped for it. Sometimes it was almost worth it.

Much as I longed to climb those steps again and look out across the countryside, it was absolutely forbidden by direct command from my lord father. Someone had told him about that – there seemed no end to the people prepared to get me into trouble!

But one year later I was six, bigger than most at that age, strong enough to tackle just about anything and I was deeply upset that Margaret was leaving for Kent. I was off my food, not sleeping well, unable to study and showed no interest in the dogs or the new litters born anywhere in the castle grounds. All this was unheard of for me. So for once my lady mother showed concern and asked what I would like to make me feel better. I didn’t have to think about it, the desire had been there for the whole year, the need to be above everyone, to look down on them all. The adult George knows precisely why the desire was there, I doubt that the six year old did but he knew one thing, that was where he wanted to be when his sister rode out so he could watch her go, watch her diminish in size and finally disappear from his life. When he saw her again, she and he would be different people.