CHAPTER XIX

Edward knew that the time for reckoning was upon him, but he needed to bolster his courage before he made his announcement. It had been six months since his secret marriage to Elizabeth, and the secret had been well kept. Of those at the ceremony in Grafton Manor, he knew he could trust Sir Julian with his life, and Father Dennis was only too happy to delay the announcement and the certain wrath of the Archbishop of Canterbury, whose authority he had usurped by performing the wedding. And of course the Woodvilles would obey his wishes to delay the announcement until the time was right.

But now, he was growing tired of seeing his wife only on the rare occasions that he could contrive an excuse to travel to Grafton, and, most of all, he missed the feel of her arms around him at night. To be sure, he had not been without the wenches that Hastings brought to him, but the company of such women left him feeling empty and alone. On the rare occasions that discretion allowed a visit to Grafton, his new wife had left him fulfilled beyond anything he had ever imagined possible. Elizabeth had become everything he had hoped: a person to whom he could speak freely and share all his confidences, with whom he could be himself, not a king.

He sat at the head of the long council table in a high room of the White Tower. His cousin, the Earl of Warwick, had returned from his embassy to France with the expected offer by King Louis of his sister, the Lady Bona of Savoy. Warwick had been seduced by Louis’ flattery, Edward was sure, and now the earl would expect Edward to follow his advice and form this alliance with the French.

As Edward fidgeted and wondered how best to handle breaking the shocking news, the others were engaged in an animated discussion over how to handle the Duke of Burgundy if the English allied themselves with King Louis. Lord Hastings seemed the most upset.

“I tell you, my lords, that Burgundy, whatever his faults, has kept the French throne weak by his opposition for years. To abandon him now will only strengthen Louis’ hand, and that is why this offer is made.”

“Lord Hastings,” said Warwick, “we are no longer the divided kingdom of the House of Lancaster, and we have no need for the aid of the self-important Duke of Burgundy to fight our battles for us. I for one would rather have Louis as an ally. Burgundy has shown his disdain for us, and must be punished for his impudence. This wedding would put him in his place.”

“The French king has only one goal,” persisted Hastings, “and that is the consolidation of Burgundy under his dominion. Once he has realized that goal, he will not have any use for us, and will consider the sacrifice of his sister coinage well spent.”

“It would be a more popular decision with our own people to side with the French in this matter,” said Northumberland.

“Our people have no love for anyone who lives across the channel,” Hastings reminded him. “They want only to repossess the lands won in battle and to see our king on the French throne.”

“I fought at the side of the Duke of Bedford when those lands were won,” Lord Rivers interjected — the accusation that nobody else in the room could make such a claim apparent — “and I also wish to see His Majesty walk as monarch on the French soil that we fought so hard to possess. An alliance with Louis at this time would snuff that dream which our people hold so dear to their hearts.”

“The people’s hearts are bound by their purse strings,” responded Warwick, more than a little annoyed. “If we help Louis regain the low countries from Burgundy, we will have the freedom to reestablish our Flemish markets. That being done, the merchants will quickly forget Burgundy and his pompous arrogance.”

“Your Highness, what is my royal brother’s wish in this matter?” asked the Duke of Gloucester, who at the age of seventeen was still somewhat reluctant to bandy opinions with these great lords. Having boundless admiration for his brother, he felt that it was time for a decision to be made, lest they get the impression that the king was not in control.

Gloucester had begun to endear himself to Edward, not by worthless flattery but by clearly supporting Edward’s decisions, no matter where they led. It was the kind of support that he would have expected of Edmund had he lived. Richard was the very image of their father, dark in complexion, black hair, and much shorter than the other three brothers.

“My lords, we cannot marry the Lady Bona.”

Warwick was stunned. Never did he imagine that Edward would go against his wishes. Why had he sent him to France to negotiate the marriage?

“We have decided to marry the Lady Elizabeth Woodville, daughter of Lord Rivers.” The silence that followed reminded Edward of the time when he sat before Edmund’s casket in the dungeon of Pontefract Castle.

Warwick was the first to speak. “Your Highness is very merry to jest with us like this.” He was hoping that he was right about Edward’s amazing announcement.

“We do not jest, my lord. We have decided.”

“My Liege,” said Hastings, “the Lady Elizabeth is a fair and good woman, but she is beneath your royal dignity.” Rivers flushed with anger but said nothing. His own wife, he knew, had been told the same thing when she chose to marry him, but now he knew that he was father to the queen, and these haughty men would be forced to respect him.

“Your Highness, you must reconsider this decision,” Warwick was beside himself, realizing that his own reputation as the power behind the throne was at stake.

“It is too late for any reconsideration. We have already wed.”

Another stunned silence. The color had drained from Hastings’ face. He appeared to be angrier even than Warwick, not comprehending how the king could have made such a decision without his knowledge.

“Who performed this ceremony, My Liege?” The calm voice of the bishop of Exeter spoke for the first time that afternoon. Edward knew that the bishop was contemplating the possibilities of an annulment. He moved quickly to dash any such hopes.

“The ceremony was performed by our confessor, Father Dennis. And there will be no annulment, Your Grace, you may be certain of that. We will send letters to the French king with our thanks for his offer. Now it is time to bring our new queen to court and make arrangements for her coronation. Lord Hastings, you will see to those arrangements. Lord Rivers, we would have further words with you in our chambers.”

After a moment during which they all sat in silence, Warwick signaled to his brothers. As they were leaving, Clarence also stood.

“My lords, may I join you?” Warwick looked at the bishop, then nodded, leading them out of the room.

*

Three weeks later, on Saint Michael’s Day, Elizabeth was escorted to Westminster Abbey by Clarence and Warwick. There, in the presence of the king and as many of the magnates of the realm as could be gathered, the Archbishop of Canterbury performed the coronation of the new queen of England. Her sons by her first marriage, Thomas and Richard, now eight and six years old, were present, as were her father and brother, Lords Rivers and Scales, and, of course, the dowager Duchess of Bedford. Also present were her other brothers, John and Lionel, and her seven sisters, all occupying positions and duties of honor during the ceremony. Father Dennis was also present but played no role in the mass that followed the coronation.

He had not been able to avoid the archbishop before the ceremony, and was asked calmly by His Grace whether he was aware that the right of performing holy matrimony for the king belonged to him alone. Father Dennis did his best to assure the archbishop that he had been given no choice and begged forgiveness, which his grace was not inclined to give, making it clear with his silence that should the confessor’s duties to the king ever be terminated, he had better find a quiet monastery far from His Grace’s presence to live out the rest of his life.

Unlike Edward’s coronation feast, arranged in such haste four years earlier, the new queen was treated to a gala. In the great room of Windsor Palace, the dignitaries came to pay homage and swear allegiance to the queen and to any offspring that would bless her union with the king. Edward watched as Elizabeth handled her role with ease and dignity, as if she were bred to the position. Her low-cut, intricately embroidered gown stirred his lust as he watched her receive the favors of noblemen and priests throughout the evening, and though he was anxious to have her alone in their chambers, he would not deprive her of a moment of these ceremonies.

Throughout the evening it was apparent that the old nobility did not approve of their new queen, though they tried hard not to offend the king. All, that is, except for Edward’s mother. Cecily, the dowager Duchess of York, made her entrance late, well after everyone else had given their oaths, and the room was hushed by her presence. The matriarch of the House of York, wearing a train longer than the queen’s, moved immediately to where Edward sat on a raised dais with his new wife. The king rose to greet his mother with an embrace. Elizabeth glared at her, her hatred obvious to everyone. The lords and ladies watched the proceedings waiting for the inevitable confrontation.

“I regret my tardiness, my lord,” she said at last, “but since I was not consulted regarding this evening’s plans, my preparations were delayed.” Edward was hurt that his mother would behave so poorly before the peers of the realm and was tempted to return the favor, but decided that he would be better served by ignoring her rancor.

“We are pleased to have our mother here,” he announced. Looking disappointed, she extended her hand to the queen.

“I must call you daughter. You are welcome to our family.” Her lack of sincerity was apparent, and Edward knew it was time to redirect everyone’s attention. He signaled for the musicians to play and led Cecily to the table of honor, where the dowager Duchess of Bedford was already seated. Without even acknowledging her presence, Cecily took the chair closest to the royal podium, the highest place of honor.

Elizabeth’s mother was not about to take a backseat to this great lady. The Duchess of Bedford had once been the preeminent lady of the realm and knew how to handle this self-important woman.

“I never had the chance until now to welcome Your Ladyship to our family,” she said quietly, so that no one else could hear. Cecily recognized Jaquetta’s presence for the first time.

“I will never be a part of your family,” she snarled.

Jacquetta had gained the reaction she had hoped for. “Nevertheless,” she smiled. Then casually, “Doesn’t the queen look resplendent this evening?”

“As well as one of her breeding could,” she said contemptuously.

“And yet from that breeding shall spring future kings of England.” It was her trump card. “And from yours as well, of course, my lady.” The latter was said superficially to give deference to Cecily as the king’s mother, but they both knew she was reminding this haughty lady that her breeding would soon be mingled with that of the Woodvilles.

Cecily had no answer and simply turned away. She was furious at Edward for this union but knew there was nothing she could do. She decided she would have no further part in her son’s court. If he wanted to see her again, he would have to come to her. No further words passed between the two ladies that evening.

It was well into the early morning hours when the king stood, silencing the revelers. He was giddy from too much wine, but still in control of his faculties.

“My lords and ladies,” he announced as the room waited in silence. “It is customary for the king to grant favors at such an august event. True to that custom, we have decided to advance two of our most trusted councilors and kinsmen this very evening.”

These were the words the courtiers had been waiting to hear, and they bristled with anticipation in the hopes that the king’s largesse would fall on them. “First, we have received word from His Holiness in Rome that he has approved the appointment of our cousin and Chancellor, the Bishop of Exeter, as Archbishop of York.” All eyes turned to the new archbishop and polite applause and congratulations were heard. The appointment of George Neville as archbishop elevated him to a position equal to the dukes of the realm, inferior within the hierarchy only to the king himself.

“I thank Your Highness for this honor and pledge to be equal to your trust and that of His Holiness.” The new archbishop bowed.

“We know that you will, Your Grace.” Edward hoped that this appointment would ease some of the animosity his marriage had created within the Neville family. “Second,” he continued, “in honor of our new queen, and to further demonstrate our love for her and her kinsmen, we create Lord Rivers, her father and our trusted councilor, Earl Rivers, and bestow upon him all the rights and honors appurtenant to that title.” Again, polite applause from the court, but without the enthusiasm that had greeted the archbishop’s appointment, and that fact was not lost on the king, nor certainly on Elizabeth. It was clear that the old nobility of the realm had not accepted the Woodvilles as their equals, and the elevation of Lord Rivers to an earldom would not change that. Nevertheless, the newly created Earl Rivers bowed and thanked the king with all the dignity of his new rank.

Shortly after the announcements, Edward and Elizabeth left the celebration and retired to the royal quarters. Their outer garments were removed by the servants, who were then dismissed, leaving the royal couple alone for the first time in what seemed to Edward an eternity. Without a word, he took his wife in his arms and reveled in the feel of her body against his. Kissing her, he felt her passion as if it were a separate soul leave her body and enter his. They fell back onto the bed and struggled to remove the final barriers between them, his lips never leaving hers. The union of their bodies, free from worldly hindrances, brought an ecstasy that neither of them could have expected, and their love and youth gave them the stamina to sustain that moment until the early morning light broke through the windows. Only then did sleep take them both.

*

The following day, the king and queen prepared for the king’s general audience, servants of the wardrobe bringing in one opulent garment after the other until the royal couple had decided on items that pleased them. Elizabeth was trying to choose jewelry from among dozens of pieces arrayed before her on a velvet shelf, trying on several pieces and then tossing them back and selecting others.

“Did you see their faces when you elevated my father?” she spoke more to herself than to Edward, her tone more worried than angry. “I fear that we have many enemies in your court, my king.” Edward, having completed his outfit with a large emerald-encrusted gold ring, sat in a plush chair and admired his new queen.

“Come now, wife. These magnates you fear have been my loyal subjects for five years now, and I trust every one of them.”

“Surely you can see that the Nevilles have their own best interests in mind, not yours. And now, with an archbishop in their ranks, they have more power than ever, which you can be sure they’ll use without hesitation when it serves them best.”

“I am aware of my cousins’ power, but their strength is derived from supporting me, and they know it. I’ve given them much largesse and many duties that will keep them feeling important, and as long as that remains true, they will all be happy enough and I will gain the benefits of their military and financial strength, without which I need hardly remind you I would be hard-pressed to maintain my present position.”

“I am not without eyes, my husband. I know something of the royal court, despite my sex, and I know where our power lies, but you must see that we cannot allow the present situation to continue. Our marriage has caused Warwick to lose face here and especially abroad. In another man this would not be cause for concern, but in Warwick it is a clear danger. You must take steps to protect yourself.”

“And what, my clear-sighted queen, would you have me do?”

Elizabeth made her last selection of jewelry and dismissed the servants with a wave of her hand. This was her chance to unfold her plan to the king.

“We must form other alliances to offset the power of the Nevilles. Between us, we have many unwed brothers and sisters with whom we could forge alliances through marriage. The Earls of Kent, Arundel, and Huntingdon, and the Duke of Buckingham are all young and unwed, and I have an eligible sister for each of them to take as wife. None will refuse if you require that it be so, and think of the resources of all those families at our beck and call should we need them to offset the power of the Nevilles.”

“Not to mention the added prestige of the Woodville family if your sisters held all of those families captive.”

Elizabeth was not amused. “I should think that you would be pleased to put an end to the tongue-wagging about how you married beneath yourself. If members of my family are countesses and duchesses, so much the better!”

Edward knew all too well that his relationship with the Nevilles was precarious at best, and he had long wished that he could depend on others if he needed them. While his brothers would provide that someday, they were still young. If only Edmund were alive, he thought sadly.

“We had better get to our audience,” he said, rising from his chair. “Your idea has merit, my queen, and I shall consider it with care.”

“A final thing, my lord. For how long must I endure your mother’s superior looks and hateful disrespect? I am the queen and you must not permit this to continue.” Edward had dared to hope that the topic of his mother’s behavior would not come up, but he knew better.

“If I know my mother,” he said with a sigh, “we will not see much of her at court.”

“I hope not. For both of our sakes.”

As they left the room and their entourage joined them, Elizabeth felt satisfied. There was little doubt in her mind that Edward would do as she suggested. She could be very persuasive if the need arose.

*

Henry the Sixth, who forty-two years before had been crowned king of England and France at the tender age of nine months, knelt in a small chapel in Waddington Hall, the home of Sir Richard Tempest, staring at a candle he had just lit. He exhaled loudly and wondered if his wife and son were safe. He had refused to leave his kingdom and was taken instead to the Scottish court, where he stayed for two months. Margaret begged him to go with them to France, but may have been relieved when he refused. It was going to be a struggle to convince the peers of France to lend aid to her cause, but if they saw that Henry was not of sound mind, it would have been impossible. Perhaps Henry knew that.

But after two months, King James asked Henry to leave Scotland. Relations between the Scots and Edward’s England were improving, and James had decided that to be entertaining the deposed king at his court was no longer politically advantageous. Henry had left as he had arrived, alone and penniless, and he wandered south back into England in anonymity. He had taken shelter and food from monasteries as he wended his way into Yorkshire, and probably would never have been recognized had he continued that way. But the family of Sir Richard Tempest had always been ardent supporters of the Lancastrians — Henry had personally dubbed Sir Richard a knight many years ago. Whether from the need for a friend or the wish to be recognized as something more than a beggar, Henry had knocked on the door of Waddington Hall one night and insisted on seeing the master of the house. Sir Richard, dazed by the absurdity of seeing his former king standing at his door in such an impoverished state, invited him to stay, but hurriedly dismissed all but his most trusted servants until he could gather his wits and determine what to do.

That was one week past, and now as Henry sat in the chapel, he wondered what God had in mind for him. His fate had been odd indeed, to be a king and a beggar, and he smiled at the realization that he cherished his situation, though he would certainly not wish it on anyone else. It was far better to be a beggar than to have innocent people war with one another over his miserable carcass.

“Am I disturbing you, my lord?” a voice came from behind.

Sir Richard stood at the door. A thin man with a tightly trimmed beard and mustache, he always appeared edgy, as if he suspected everyone to be an enemy, and now with the former king in his house he was more nervous than usual.

“Not in the least, good knight,” said Henry. “Please come and sit for a while.”

“My lord…” Sir Richard was not sure exactly how to proceed. “My lord, I must know your intentions. You must realize that your presence here endangers my family, and it would go very ill with all of us were it to be discovered that I was harboring a known fugitive.”

“A known fugitive! And from the king’s justice, no doubt?” The words startled Sir Richard. “But this was a head that sat beneath a crown,” Henry said, encasing his head with both hands. “And the head still thinks, therefore, I think, it still dwells among the quick.” Henry stood and crossed himself before the altar, the meaning of his words lost on his host. He lowered his voice and checked around the room, as if to see if anyone were listening. Frightened, Sir Richard followed his example. “You wish to know my intentions, good knight? I shall tell you directly, and let there be no dissembling between us, for you have sheltered me from my own people and fed me. I intend to live until my time is called, for truly I have no choice in that matter, and it will be the dust of a beggar that you bury on that day.”

“Forgive me, my lord,” Sir Richard tried to move away from Henry, who had moved uncomfortably close to his face as he spoke, “but I do not understand these musings. Surely you know that I have done all I can for you, without placing my family in desperate danger?”

Henry walked back to the altar and knelt. “Indeed I do, brave knight. Tonight I will dine with you and then be gone at first light, if that meets with your liking.” Sir Richard quietly exhaled in relief.

“It does, my lord.”

*

That night after dinner, Henry and Sir Richard’s family sat at the long table within the great room of Waddington Hall. Conversation had been rare that evening as everyone felt the tension. Candles flickered around the room, illuminating the withdrawn faces around the former king, who thought he could see the souls of each shifting with the movement of the light.

“My lord,” Sir Richard broke the silence, “I have asked my groomsman to accompany you to your next destination, and I’ve selected a horse for your use. I trust it will serve you well.”

“I am in your debt,” said Henry with a slight bow of his head.

“Not so, my lord,” said Sir Richard with a defiant look toward his wife. “My duty would permit no less.” A servant entered, obviously frightened.

“Master, riders approach! They are already at the front gate.” Sir Richard jumped up and mustered his courage. His wife glared as if to say she had warned him.

“Go, ask their business and report back here.” The servant bowed and left the room. “Ellerton!” he called loudly at the door. In a moment a young man not out of his teens entered breathlessly, still fastening the laces on his shirt. “Get the horses ready, and be quick!” Ellerton bowed and ran from the room.

“Perhaps my time has come this evening.” Henry mused, not showing the slightest hint of concern.

“Your time will not come in my house, my lord,” said the knight angrily. Loud voices could be heard from the main door, and after a moment, the servant returned.

“My lord, a Sir Thomas Talbot demands that you surrender the person of Henry, late calling himself king.” The boy was ashen-faced.

“We are betrayed!” said Sir Richard’s wife, terrified.

Five men entered the room without any further announcement. The leader said in a loud voice “Take him!” pointing at Henry. Sir Richard noticed to his horror that one of the men was his brother, John. Before another word could be spoken, John pointed to Henry.

“You see, Sir Thomas, my brother has held the traitor here until he could be apprehended. I hope you will report us favorably to the king.”

Sir Richard had to think fast. With a quick look to his wife and then to Henry, who was waiting expectantly for his host’s response with an amused look on his face, Sir Richard confronted the intruders.

“Thank God you got here in time.”

Sir Thomas did not believe either man, knowing that the Tempest family had always been friends to the House of Lancaster, but he had instructions only to seize Henry.

“The king shall hear of your service,” he answered coldly. “Bring the prisoner to the horses.”

A guard pushed Henry roughly before him. When he moved past Sir Richard, Henry paused. “The king shall indeed remember your service, sir knight.” And with a smile on his face that chilled Sir Richard to the bone, he walked with his captors to the waiting horses without.

In the passage leading to the rear entrance of Waddington Hall, Ellerton listened to the progress of events in the great hall, angered by the treachery of the Tempest family. Taking care to remain unseen, he quietly made his way out to the back where two horses were saddled and waiting. Taking a moment to consider his next move, he jumped lightly on the nearest mare and spurred the animal toward a narrow path through the woods.

In the meantime, Sir Thomas and his men placed Henry on a horse and started down the path that led to the south road. One of the guard held the reins of Henry’s horse as he rode alongside. Two of Sir Thomas’ men rode behind the king, one carrying a lighted torch. The rest of the guard rode before the king, one forward rider carrying another torch to light the way. It was a damp and thickly overcast night and the path before them disappeared into a black oblivion, the forward torch illuminating only a few yards ahead. A screech owl rattled the silence, leaving the men apprehensive and jumpy, reacting to every rustle heard from the black woods. The sound of a twig snapping to his left startled the rear torch holder so that he held his light as far to that side as he could. For a fleeting moment he thought he saw the ghostly image of a face watching them from within the trees.

“Sir Thomas, there is someone… ”

At that moment, something exploded toward him and knocked the torch from his hands. His horse reared when the flame glanced over its flank, throwing the guard to the ground, where he landed heavily, too dazed to realize what had happened. Before he even recognized the danger, the second of the rear guards was hit in the head by something he never saw and fell from his horse.

By the time Sir Thomas grabbed the torch from the guard in front and returned to the rear, he saw only the two rear guards on the ground, their horses prancing nervously nearby, and no sign of Henry. From out of the darkness to his left he heard the sound of horses galloping away.

“This way. Quickly!” He shouted at the remaining two mounted guards. They forged into the woods, but it was not long before they lost any hint of where the former king and his rescuers might have gone. Sir Thomas knew that to roam the woods in the pitch black of the evening was futile.

“We’ll go back to Waddington and spend the night,” he said reluctantly, “and find the trail again in the morning. Go and fetch those two fools. I have no desire to look upon their incompetent faces again this evening.” The guards left to find their fallen comrades without saying a word, not wanting to anger the knight any further.

*

Henry had little notion of what had just happened, but he knew that he was free from the captivity of Sir Thomas and in the hands of someone else who was leading his horse through a dense thicket of low growth. There was nothing to do for the time being but to cover his face against the low branches and wait for his fate to unfold. Some time later, when it was clear even to Henry that there was no longer any pursuit, a voice came from out of the dark.

“Are you well, my lord?”

“Who asks?” Henry was still enveloped by darkness and could see nothing.

“My name is Ellerton, until this evening a servant at Waddington Hall.”

“I am well. At least, as well as a beggar may expect. May I ask your intentions toward me?”

“My lord, I wanted only to free you from those men. Having done that, I have no further plans.”

“I assume then that you do not act on orders from your master?”

“No, my lord. Though I may hang for it, I could not bear to see such treachery.”

There was a brief silence in the darkness. “Let me feel your face, Master Ellerton.” The young servant felt along the horse until he found Henry’s hand in the darkness, and let the former king feel his head and face. “It is an honest face, and one that promises only sadness. But that is the cross that I must bear. Help me from this horse, Master Ellerton. We will need to wait until first light to continue, I think you will agree.”

“I do, my lord.” Helping him from his horse, Ellerton supported Henry for a few steps until they found a tree trunk that would provide a resting place for the evening.

After securing the horses, Ellerton rejoined Henry. “My lord, what did you mean just now…when you said a face that promises sadness?”

“Have you not heard, my young savior? I am mad, and given to pronouncements that have no meaning. A beggar in my own kingdom. Do not concern yourself with such rantings, but be assured that events will unfold as God wishes.”

“Are you really mad, my lord, or do you hide your true self behind this mask?”

A short hesitation. “My state of mind has proven more formidable to rule than the ship of state. But I am content. Do you wish that you were born a king, my friend? I wish that I had been born a beggar, for then I would take pride in the begging, and the king would be content to let me beg in peace. I would have had the right to protect my soul against the wrongs of the world, and gladly shoulder the responsibility for so doing. But I was born a king and therefore I’m mad, that being the only way I could keep from selling my soul.”

Ellerton thought for a moment before responding.

“Then, for your sake, my lord, I am glad that I was born a lowly servant.”

Henry reached through the dark, found the boy’s hand, and squeezed it. “I swear that your sacrifice will not be in vain.”

Ellerton did not know of what sacrifice poor Henry was referring, but at that moment, he was certain that he had made the right choice and was at peace with himself.

They did not speak again, and rested until the first light of the new day broke. Ellerton, who was well acquainted with these woods, thought it best to bring Henry to an abbey that was isolated enough for their purposes, not more than four hours distant. They would surely grant two beggars a place to stay for at least a few days. Ellerton knew all of the trails, knowledge that had served him well the night before when he took a shortcut to catch Sir Thomas’ party and then escaped along a narrow path that could be discerned even in daylight only by one who knew of its existence.

The next day’s journey was uneventful and even enjoyable to Ellerton. He had not understood why he had taken such bold action the night before, but he was pleased at the way things turned out. He had even had time to gather some dried venison from the kitchen before he ran out of Waddington Hall, which they enjoyed eating at midday. The weather was still overcast, but it was comfortably warm and there was no rain. The sound of the woodland creatures going about their everyday activities fascinated Ellerton as they rode slowly along. Henry had said almost nothing since he awoke that morning, and looked as though he carried a great weight on his shoulders, but was pleasant enough when Ellerton spoke to him.

When at last they arrived at the abbey, Ellerton rang the bell at the gate, greatly relieved to have arrived safely. They decided to leave the horses in a nearby glade where they would have ample forage for days. It would be hard to explain how two beggars had come to be in possession of two such fine and expensive animals. A monk answered the bell and, quickly surmising what they needed, listed to them duties and observances that would be expected while they were under the auspices of the abbey, as if he had recited them a hundred times before. They were led to the kitchen where they were fed bread and ale, and then shown a place to sleep in a large room off the barn where the sheep were brought for shearing.

After helping to feed the chickens and doing some general cleanup around the pens, they attended a mass celebrated by the abbot himself, and then ate a supper of porridge and bread. When they were finished eating, the abbot entered the kitchen, a place where the monks were not accustomed to seeing him. He allowed each of the beggars to kiss his ring. When he came to Henry, he paused.

“What is your name, my son?” he asked looking at him carefully.

“My name is but a quince to one as important as yourself, Father,” responded Henry without looking up.

“Nevertheless, I would know it.”

“I am called Henry, Father.”

The abbot looked at him for a moment longer and then moved on to bless the others.

“Do you think he recognized you?” Ellerton whispered. With a blank look, Henry shrugged his shoulders.

Sleep came easily that night to Ellerton, who fell into a slumber so deep he never knew that a king watched over him throughout the dark hours, replacing his coverlet when it fell off during a restless turn. When the cock signaled the start of the new day, Henry had not slept at all.

They were ushered into the chapel for morning mass, and then brought once again into the kitchen for the early meal of bread and ale. After eating they were given assignments around the abbey and its grounds; Henry and Ellerton were told that their help was needed in the south pasture. Led by several monks out of the main gates and down a path through the woods, they climbed slowly toward some high ground. The clouds had given way to a misty morning through which the sun felt warm on their faces, promising a pleasant day to come. Ellerton noticed that Henry had not spoken at all.

“My lord,” he said quietly, “are you well?”

Henry exhaled loudly. “Does your father yet live, Master Ellerton?”

The question took him by surprise. “Yes, my lord, he is a gentleman’s steward in southern Yorkshire. At least, he was the last time we spoke several years ago.”

“I never met my father,” Henry mused. “I was less than a year old when he died, but I heard that he was a formidable man, and beloved of his people.”

“I have heard the same, my lord.”

“Still, I always wondered why, if he was so magnificent, he could not have extended the courtesy to have at least lived long enough to teach me the ways of being a king. It would have been a simple thing for so great a man, don’t you think?”

Ellerton shrugged. “Even the greatest of kings must follow when God summons, my lord. I’m sure he would have preferred it otherwise.”

“Do you really think so?”

“It is said he was a most devout Christian, my lord, and I doubt it not that, had he the chance, he would have enjoyed teaching you what he could.” The need to comfort this poor man was compelling.

They reached a level place in the woods, near several boulders. From somewhere came the sound of a horse snorting. Henry grabbed Ellerton and pushed him up the path.

“Run, my friend, run!”

Ellerton stood in a daze, surprised by Henry’s outburst. Five soldiers stepped from behind some of the boulders. Sir Thomas stepped forward and drew his sword, pointing toward Henry. Ellerton watched as if a dream was unfolding. Without thinking, he leaped toward Sir Thomas with a scream, perhaps hoping Henry could escape during the distraction. The knight spun on him as he closed the few feet between them and impaled the boy on his sword, which protruded several feet from his back. His thick blood quickly covered the knight’s hand. Sir Thomas withdrew the sword and Ellerton fell to his knees clutching his stomach, face as pale as a lowland fog.

Henry rushed to Sir Thomas and pushed him aside. The knight hesitated for a moment, then sheathed his sword. Henry knelt before the boy, who was cold as death and shivering violently. He put his arms around him and hugged him closely, tears hot on his cheeks.

“I am truly a beggar now, my lord,” Ellerton whispered through clenched teeth. “Is it not so?”

“As true a prince as ever there will be.”

Ellerton struggled to smile, then went limp and exhaled his final breath. Henry laid him gently on the ground, closing the boy’s eyes and bringing his lifeless hands to rest on his blood-soaked shirt.

One of the monks pulled on Sir Thomas’ arm. “We were told you would wait at the pasture. It was the abbot’s specific instruction that the abbey not be defiled in this manner.”

“Express our regrets to the abbot and give him the king’s thanks,” responded Sir Thomas. Then pointing to Henry, he commanded the guards.

“Take him. And I trust he will not escape again.”

As Henry was led to a horse, he passed near a monk whose arm he took with a grip firmer than the monk had thought possible for such a feeble man.

“If God’s love still occupies some cranny of your soul, you will give him a proper resting place.”

“We will tend to his remains, my lord,” the monk said softly, shamed by what he had seen. “As God is my witness.”

Henry released him roughly. The former king was helped onto a horse and as they began their journey toward London, he watched the monks gently lift Ellerton’s body and carry him back to the abbey.

s

The news of Henry’s capture spread rapidly through the kingdom. He was quickly escorted to the outskirts of London, where the Earl of Warwick arrested him in the king’s name and led him through the streets of the city. To Warwick’s consternation, there was little of the jeering and heckling that would normally come from the crowds when a great enemy of the king was captured and paraded through town. But Henry had long ago endeared himself to the common folk with his pious nature and gentle demeanor, and the sight of such a man in so pathetic a state left few with a desire to taunt. Since his last words to the monk after his capture, Henry had not spoken and had only stared vacantly at the ground before him, even as he was brought to the Tower and left once again in his royal prison. When the iron door was closed behind him, the featureless stone walls embraced him as a mother would cradle her infant, and he was content.

At Windsor Castle, Edward received the news of Henry’s safe imprisonment in the Tower with relief. While he held no ill feelings toward the wretched former king, he knew that his own position on the throne was now much more secure. Even if it were true that rebellion could still be fomented in his name, Henry’s presence in the Tower under Edward’s close control made that possibility much less likely, especially since Margaret and the former Prince of Wales were hopelessly exiled in France.

When Warwick arrived at Windsor Castle with the official news of Henry’s disposition, he found the king already in the company of Gloucester and Clarence, Hastings, Rivers, and Warwick’s brothers, the Archbishop of York and the Earl of Northumberland. While they were gathered in the throne room, it was an informal meeting without all of the usual courtiers and other servants and guards.

“My lord of Warwick, we thank you for these glad tidings,” said Edward after Warwick had made his formal report. “It is a day to be remembered not only for the safe dispensing of the former king, but we have also been informed that the queen will give birth within the week, news that we hope will gladden the hearts of all Englishmen.”

The announcement of the impending birth of a royal heir was always cause for celebration, as it gave hope for stability in the royal lineage.

After the congratulations and blessings, Clarence, who alone did not seem thrilled by the news, took a step forward and addressed the king.

“Your Highness, allow me also to express my pleasure at this blessed news. May God grant that it be a male heir. But if I may be so bold, now seeming a good time, may I ask a boon of Your Highness?”

Edward looked at his brother, wondering why he would choose this time to ask for a favor. He would have expected his brother to wait until they had more privacy.

“Ask your boon.”

“Thank you, Sire. I ask that you grant me permission to marry. The Earl of Warwick has graciously offered the hand of his eldest daughter, Isabel, and the offer likes me greatly.”

Edward was stunned by the request, as it confirmed his worst suspicions that his brother had formed an alliance with the Nevilles. Isabel was one of only two children, both daughters, fathered by the Earl of Warwick. As such, Warwick was in effect offering Clarence half of his immense wealth. It was a rich inducement for a brother to turn away from his own. The king glared at his brother. Before he could respond, the herald entered and announced that a messenger had arrived with urgent news. Edward signaled for the messenger to enter. A man who seemed too old and frail for his duties entered.

“Your Majesty, I bring news of two great souls who have parted with their mortal bodies. The first, the noble Duke of Norfolk, so quickly follows his father to his reward, and the second being the Duke of Burgundy, who a fortnight past gave up the ghost at Bruges.”

The news of the death of two great allies was disconcerting to the king, and taken together with his suspicions regarding his brother had left him feeling vulnerable. Norfolk had only two years ago come to the title at the death of his father, who had served Edward at the battles of St. Albans and Towton. As for Burgundy, his death had been expected for some time, and Edward was convinced that Burgundy’s son, Charles, would continue the old duke’s animosity toward the French king and maintain the alliance with the English, but nothing was ever certain when great titles passed into new hands. Feeling overwhelmed by all the turns of the past day, Edward decided that some discretion would be advisable.

“My lords, we wish to withdraw and weigh these matters within ourselves. You will all attend us again in the morning.”

Feeling the need to confide in someone, he walked quickly to a seldom-used wing of the royal quarters where an elaborate suite had been prepared for the queen’s confinement in anticipation of the birth of their first child. He found Elizabeth in her large bed, attended by several women who went to their knees as the king entered. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he ordered them all out.

“How does my queen?” he asked, stroking her long, disheveled golden hair.

“I am tired of this condition, my lord, but I am content. I have prayed all day that God will deliver you a son.” Edward did not seem to react to her words. “What news have you that creases your face so sternly?”

Edward did not at first wish to burden her, but he needed to air his thoughts. He took a deep breath and unfolded to her the events of the morning. After finishing, Edward found himself pacing while his queen chose her words carefully.

“This marriage must not be permitted, my husband. Forgive me, but your brother has been seduced by the Nevilles and would be a dangerous tool in their hands.”

“I cannot believe that he would betray me.” Edward was agitated. He knew she was right, but resented that she would assume the worst anyway. “The death of Norfolk leaves us with no other friends of significant strength with which to balance the power of the Nevilles.”

“Give my father and brothers more authority. They will be your strength, my lord.”

“Perhaps, but it will be a while before they would be a match for the Nevilles.”

“The wealth of the Duke of Norfolk would speed that process.”

“What are you saying?”

“The duke left only an infant daughter to be his heir. The dowager duchess of Norfolk needs a husband, and my brother John needs a wife. Our course seems clear enough.”

“But she’s twice two times his age!”

“We do not need fruit from her withered womb, only access to her wealth.”

Edward was about to dismiss the idea out of hand, but instead turned and looked out the window slit. It was a fair day and the gardens of Windsor Castle were alive with blooms of every color, made more brilliant by the afternoon sun. Could it be that even now that his greatest enemy had been imprisoned, the threat to his throne was greater than ever? Such tactics as suggested by his wife seemed beneath his dignity. But the truth in her logic was undeniable. She put his hand on her stomach.

“This is our future, my husband. Do you want him to wander hopelessly through life like Margaret’s son?”

Her words stung. “Lest you forget, it was I who put them there.”

“I remember well, my husband. I was her lady-in-waiting, and I know exactly how she felt when your father claimed the throne. I will not permit that to happen to this child, though the effort take my last breath.”

Edward took her in his arms. “Do not fear my love, I would never let that happen.” The Tower has no room for another mad king.

s

The next morning, the Lords of the Privy Council were assembled once again in the throne room of Windsor Castle. Edward kept them waiting while he carried on a lengthy conversation with Lord Hastings. Finally, he nodded and Hastings withdrew to his place among the other peers. Edward knew he would need all his wits about him in the next few moments.

“Our brother of Clarence, we have carefully considered your request of marriage to the Lady Isabel, daughter to our cousin of Warwick, and regret that we cannot grant our permission.”

“May I ask why, Your Highness?” He was seething.

“We have decided that it would not be in the best interest of the realm. Be content, my brother. We shall see that you are well bestowed.” Clarence was not satisfied, but nothing could be done at the moment. The king’s word was final.

“We have also decided that Lord Hastings and Earl Rivers shall be dispatched with haste to the new Duke of Burgundy for the purpose of offering him the hand of our sister, Maggy, to solidify our pact of friendship.”

It was Warwick’s turn to flush with anger. “Sire, this hasty act is ill advised! The French king will consider it an act of war.”

“With Burgundy at our side, Louis will not dare to defy us,” Edward said.

Warwick spoke in tightly controlled words. “I must protest that the negotiations that were so carefully crafted with the French are to be dismissed without further consideration.”

“My lord of Warwick, we have recognized your efforts and granted you great privileges in return. Be content that you will always be close to our heart, but in this matter, we have decided to go another way, which should not be taken to mean that we value your advice less.”

“I thank Your Highness for those words, but they ring empty in the face of your actions.”

“We have made our decision, my lord. Do not presume more than you should.”

The tension in the room was palpable as the two men stared at each other like gamecocks in the fighting pit. But in the end, Warwick was intelligent enough to know that this was not the time to challenge the king.

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” he said with a smile. “I am a passionate man when honor is at stake.”

“You are a valued advisor, my lord,” said Edward. “And always will be, if it is your will to be so.”

s

In the courtyard of Windsor Castle, the three Nevilles and Clarence stood in a cluster. Nearby, several pages held their horses. The morning brought another in a long string of fair days. Warwick tugged on his thick beard.

“My lords, the king has been ill advised in these matters. The Woodville family has taken possession of his wits, and I cannot sit idly by and allow them to warp his mind.”

“You are too cross, Richard,” Northumberland chided. “It may be that the Woodvilles have overstepped themselves, but the king has good cause for his decisions and has followed a reasonable course, even if we disagree with it.”

“Our reputation is at stake,” said Warwick. “We have been the very pillars of his throne and are therefore owed deference in these matters.”

The archbishop had been watching Clarence carefully during the conversation.

“What is your feel for these matters, Your Grace? The king is your brother, and we would therefore be ruled by your judgment.”

“You saw how he rejected my request for marriage without discussing it with me. The queen bears no love for me, and it was surely her envenomed advice that has ruled the king. The same fate awaits you all if we do not act now.”

“And what would you have us do?” The archbishop was clearly testing the young duke. Clarence hesitated, looking back and forth between the Neville brothers.

“I…have no plan, but you have my pledge that you can count on me, whatever is decided.” There was a moment of tight silence, then Warwick clapped him on the back.

“Perhaps the wrong brother of York sits on the throne. Come, we will talk more on these matters.”

“Richard,” Northumberland took Warwick’s arm as he turned toward his horse. “I warn you that a move against the king would be foolhardy. He is popular and has treated us well, and this talk is treasonous on its face.”

Warwick regarded him sternly. “No one said anything about moving against the king, my brother.”

“I know you better than that, Richard. We have fought many battles together and I have no wish to oppose you, but be warned, I will not be part of any conspiracy against the king.”

“Nor would I want to see you on the wrong end of my sword, John,” smiled Richard. Then he said, more sternly, “But I cannot stand by and do nothing while our honor is impugned and the realm is led astray by the upstart Woodvilles. We put the House of York on the throne to save our country from poor government, and now we see that the same mistakes are being made again. Our course must be corrected before it’s too late. Can’t you see that?”

“I see only that your pride is injured, Richard, and you have allowed that to poison your mind. And as for you,” he said to Clarence as he mounted his horse, “the time has come for you to learn the meaning of honor.” Without another word, he spurred his horse and left them where they stood. After a moment’s thought, Warwick slapped the duke on the back again.

“Pay him no mind, Your Grace. He has become complacent and too satisfied. It remains to us who have the courage of our convictions to risk the present for the future of our kingdom.” Not sure if he had convinced the young duke, he added, “And remember, my daughter will be yours if we succeed.” Clarence smiled and nervously nodded his head. “Good, then we understand each other.” Warwick had regained his mood.

“Without John our course will be more arduous, Richard. You must at least convince him to remain away from court for a while.” The archbishop could not hide his concern.

“I will see to John, you needn’t be concerned. He will not oppose me.”

I wish I could be sure, thought the archbishop.