Succession (30 page)

As soon as the news reached her that her brother-in-law, the Duke of Buckingham, was dead, the king’s army scattered and lost, Cecily knew her sister had no more authority to keep her there.

She gave the messenger a purse of silver, and told him to order a carriage, and then she put on her finest clothes. Her lady dressed her hair once, then again, to make sure that all the threads of grey were hidden in the gold, for her husband was coming back from Ireland.

No one disturbed them; the whole household was in mourning. She herself wore a dark blue gown out of respect to her brother-in-law, but the sleeves were lined with silver, because blue and silver were the colours of her house, and the feathers in her cap were peacock blue. There was no doubt that she looked younger than her forty-five years; her cheeks were pink again, her eyes shining.

Then she went to find her sister.

Anne was sitting in the garden in the rain. She looked suddenly old, entirely drained of colour, her hair and skin and eyes all of the same greyish-yellow hue. She was leaning to one side, as if the blow had knocked her sideways, or as if she were no longer capable of supporting herself. Cecily remembered that her hip was probably paining her.

She did not move or look up as Cecily approached, but remained staring at the grass with a perplexed look, as if in its complicated network of blades she might find a solution to the mysteries of life; or see in it a different world, one in which her husband still lived.

Everything that Cecily had been going to say – that she was grateful for the hospitality her sister had shown her and regretted that it
must come to an end, and hoped that one day she might return the favour – died on her lips, as she took in the baffled emptiness of her sister’s gaze.

She thought of the duke’s drinking, his sudden rages and excessive sentiment, his overly physical demonstrations towards any other women who were near – surely her sister would be better off without that? She might marry again, after all.

These words, too, died on her lips. In the end all she said was, ‘Well, sister – I am leaving now.’

I am going to meet my husband
, she did not say. Her sister, like herself, had been married all her life. And now her husband had been killed by their nephew, Warwick.

Anne did not look up. ‘Go, then,’ she replied, as though from a great distance.

Cecily hesitated, made a movement towards her, then stopped. She would not embrace her – that was not something they did, and too much had happened between them. But after a moment she sat beside her on the seat.

They did not touch or hold hands or look at one another. Above them the rain collected in the leaves in tiny trembling pools before spilling in little waterfalls to the earth.

And the same year the Duke of York came out of Ireland and landed at the Red Cliff in Lancashire … and thus he came towards London in white and blue livery embroidered with fetterlocks, and then his lady the duchess met with him, in a chariot covered in blue velvet drawn by four pure coursers …

Gregory’s Chronicle

 

He loved her for dressing like a queen, after spending the best part of the year in imprisonment. She got out of her chariot and looked at him, and he looked at her, but they did not embrace – they would not embrace in public.

Later, he clung to her, sinking to his knees and holding her round the hips. She raised him up and kissed him. ‘Richard,’ she said, and kissed him again. She cupped his face in her hands. ‘There is only one way forward now,’ she said.

He knew it. They both did. The alternative was dispossession, and death. But he did not know if the others would stand with him, if he should go to them first.

‘Warwick –’ he said, and, ‘Salisbury –’

‘No,’ she said, keeping that gentle pressure on his face. ‘You must go straight to parliament. Make your intentions clear.’

There was no time for discussion and, anyway, there was nothing to discuss. ‘I will go,’ he said.

Almost at the beginning of parliament the Duke of York suddenly arrived with great pomp and splendour and in no small exaltation of mood, for he came with
trumpets and horns, men-at-arms and a very large retinue … When he arrived, he made directly for the king’s throne, where he laid his hand on the drape or cushion as if about to take possession of what was his by right and held his hand there for a brief time. At last, withdrawing it, he turned towards the people and … looked eagerly at the assembly waiting for their acclamation …

Whethamsted’s Register

 

The duke took the king’s place claiming it for his right and inheritance and saying he would keep it to live or die, wherewith all the lords were sore dismayed …

Great Chronicle of London

 

The silence was so much more eloquent than words. He saw at once that they would never accept him; had never intended to. Almost without his consent his fingers left the throne.

Some had turned their faces from him, some could not hide their dismay, while others regarded him with a stony reproach. He, who had given his life to this land.

A look of incredulity entered his eyes. It was true, then. They would stand with their existing king, however mad and feeble. Even though that king’s claim was in no way superior to his own.

Disbelief turned to anger. He had fought for this country, bailed it out of debt, governed it in lieu of the king while he lay like a larva in his cocoon. He closed his eyes. And in that moment he envisaged clearly all the ways in which he could end this dispute once and for all. For his soldiers surrounded the palace and the king was in his power.

Had not the king’s own grandfather had the reigning king murdered?

Someone was speaking to him. He opened his eyes. Thomas Bourchier, the archbishop, was asking him a question.

‘Do you wish to speak to his majesty?’ he said. ‘I can take you to his rooms.’

‘His majesty should come to me,’ the duke replied. The abrupt tone betrayed his sense of injury. Several more lords dropped their gazes. With some difficulty he mastered himself.

‘No one is to leave this assembly,’ he said to them all, then he looked the archbishop in the eye. ‘I will go to the king,’ he said.

When the archbishop heard this reply he quickly withdrew and told the king of the duke’s response. After the archbishop had left, the duke also withdrew, went to the principal chamber of the palace [the king being in the queen’s apartments], smashed the locks and threw open the doors, in a regal rather than a ducal manner, and remained there for some time.

Whethamsted’s Register

 

[The duke] claimed the crown as his proper inheritance and right, putting in writing his title and claim to be rightful heir.

Brut Chronicle

 

This disturbance continued, albeit without killing or bloodshed, for about three weeks, during which time the whole parliament was occupied with discussion of the duke’s lineage and rights …

Crowland Chronicle

 

After much debate, it was decreed and concluded that King Henry should reign and be king during his natural life … after his death the Duke of York should be king and his heirs after him and immediately he should be proclaimed heir apparent and also protector of England during the king’s life … While the commons of the realm were assembled in the common house, debating the title of the Duke of York, the crown hanging in the midst of their house suddenly fell down; this was taken as an omen that the reign of King Henry was ended.

Brut Chronicle

 

On Saturday, the 9th day of November, the Duke of York was proclaimed through the city heir apparent to the crown and all his progeny after him …

Great Chronicle of London

 

At this time Queen Margaret, with Prince Edward, the only son of the king and herself, was staying in the north.

Crowland Chronicle

 

She could hear her own heart banging; she could hardly see.

They had dispossessed her son, for whom she had worked so tirelessly. They had annulled, by act of parliament, his right to inherit the throne.

Somehow she contained herself, gazing blindly at the wall in front of her. When she closed her eyes the words of her own pledge came to her. She had promised before God that she would not rest until her enemies were brought so low that they would never look up again.

She thought she had spoken or shouted aloud, but when she opened her eyes again the Earl of Angus was looking at her quizzically.

‘We must summon an army,’ she said.

The Duke of York, well knowing that the queen would spurn and impugn the conclusions agreed in parliament, caused her and her son to be sent for by the king, but she being a manly woman, used only to rule and not be ruled, not only refused to come but also assembled together a great army …

Hall’s Chronicle

 

The Duke of Somerset and the Earl of Devon, with many knights and gentlemen of the west parts, fully armed, came through Bath, Gloucester, Evesham and Coventry to York …

Annales Rerum Anglicarum

 

All these people were gathered and conveyed so secretly that they were assembled to the number of 15,000 before any man would believe it …

Gregory’s Chronicle