My final advice: don’t come back. Not yet. To do so would be your death. Marguerite is not to be trusted.
The children are in health. My love for you needs no expression. You behold me driven by a determination to plead our cause in the face of rank hostility.
Cecily
Cecily, Duchess of York, to Richard, Duke of York
Written from St Mary’s Priory, Coventry
Following hotfoot after my previous letter. If they both arrive with you at the same time, the vagaries of travel being what they are, read this one first.
This morning I was requested to attend an audience in Henry’s private chamber, utterly relieved to discover he was alone except for a discreet body servant who retreated to some minor task. Henry walked towards me, his hands were warm around mine. I knew that he had decided. Regrettably he was at his most loquacious, intent on discussing the weather, his reading from his missal, and what he had eaten to break his fast.
And I am wasting time in not telling you the whole!
You, my dear love, and our sons, Ned and Edmund, remain disastrously attainted, because you have threatened Henry’s sovereignty too highly. I doubt it will come as much surprise to you. To raise arms against an anointed King is treason for all to see, and thus Henry has been advised that you must be punished. Our Neville relatives, also. Salisbury and Warwick are attainted, too. The pardon offered was an empty one and can never apply to you.
But I, thank God, am blessed. I and our youngest children are deemed innocent of all such treason. Henry was gracious and noble enough to grant me a pardon. And although our estates remain sequestered and in royal hands, I am granted the sum of one thousand marks paid to me yearly from those lands.
So there it is. A pardon and a more than respectable income for me, but a traitor’s reputation for you. I would not leave Coventry empty-handed; the time spent on my knees had won a specious victory. But when the King abjured me, his precious cousin, to remain a loyal subject, when I silently bent my head as if in agreement, I discovered that I could not embroil myself in such a lie. If I must take the path of traitor, too, so that we might be united, I will willingly do it. I will work steadfastly to do all in my power to smooth your return. By the by, it seems that there will be no restrictions on my movement, which loosened the tight knots of fear that I might be put under some restraint at Court and have to live out my days under Marguerite’s hostile eye. It is in my mind, if I can gain royal permission, to travel to Middleham and do what I can for our household. Our people have been granted life and limb, even if their lands and possessions have been confiscated, which is as much as I could hope for.
Oh, Richard! Was this mess truly of our own making? Was it all worth it?
And why would I not decide to settle my household at Fotheringhay? Because Henry Holland, Duke of Exeter, God rot his soul, even though I must claim him as a son by law, has been handed our forfeited castle at Fotheringhay for his own use. I hope that he falls from the battlements. You must return soon, if only to get it back from him.
I still don’t know where you are! Have pity on me, Richard! Send me word.
Your loving wife,
Cecily
Duchess Cecily faces Queen Marguerite’s retribution in St Mary’s Priory, Coventry, November 1459
‘The King is too trusting; you should not believe all that he says. I am come here to make all plain to you.’
Words to cut through the vestige of relief that had settled over me. No sooner had I dispatched my letter with another substantial bribe than the door of my chamber opened to a rustle of rich cloth, a light footstep and an intense aroma of musk from her habitual perfume. There, dominating the room with her presence, stood the Queen, accompanied by the King. With a bleak twist of her lips that masqueraded as a smile, she drew me aside towards the window, away from Henry, who picked up a well-worn book, leafing through the pages, divorced from any further communication. His shoulders were hunched, his gaze vague, his face devoid of any emotion that might indicate a knowledge of what his wife intended. I doubted that he would have understood anything that was said, even if he had been standing beside me.
Marguerite regarded me with the attention of a hungry raptor. She had grown into a handsome woman, her dark hair now covered by a beaded and embroidered roll, resting flatteringly low over her forehead, although her high-bridged nose spoke volumes of a dominant will. She was not a woman to relish being thwarted. At least she did not have the advantage of height. Neither of us could boast an impressive stature.
‘The King is generous,’ the Queen advised in the softest of cadences as if she would accept the pardon Henry had just granted me, but then the edge hardened and her lips, smiling no longer, were tight with recrimination. ‘Sometimes he is too naive in giving his trust. You are not entirely free to determine your own future, madam. We are concerned that, given your freedom, you will use it unwisely.’
‘How could I, my lady?’ I queried, instantly wary of what she was planning. ‘I have three young children to care for. I have only the grant so kindly given by the King, as you know. I have no lands, no rents. No title, even.’
I could read her hatred of the House of York in every gesture as she swept her skirts and moved to stand beside Henry as if to protect him from unseen danger. ‘Given your freedom, what would prevent you from leaving England and joining the arch traitor? The money for the comfort of your young children must not fall into your husband’s hand to be used against us. I know that you still have powerful friends, powerful families in England who would help you. There are Bourchiers and Nevilles who will flock to your banners if they should ever be raised again. It would be better for all if you remained in England, with no contact of any description with Richard Plantagenet.’
A little rush of panic forced me to stiffen my knees. To have no contact, no letters? I kept my silence as she delivered her sentence.
‘We have agreed that you will be kept under strict surveillance.’
‘Am I to be incarcerated?’
It came as a shock, although I should have expected it. I glanced at Henry who had turned away towards the window, the book held close as if he had difficulty in reading it without a stronger light.
‘The King knows what he needs to know,’ the Queen replied to my unspoken query. ‘I will make the decisions here, and inform my lord if I consider it necessary.’ Marguerite continued in the same soft accents, ‘All has been arranged. You will be sent to live in the custody of your sister, the Duchess of Buckingham. I imagine she will not be persuaded to allow you a free hand in your conspiracies against the crown. Her husband is one of our most loyal supporters.’
I remained calm. ‘Do I have a choice in this, my lady?’
‘None.’
Which was plain enough. Any hope of my aiding Richard’s return was fast dissipating like autumn mist before the rising sun.
‘And how long will it be, that I must I bear my sister company?’
‘Until we are certain of the loyalty of the House of York. It may be until death takes a hand to rob us of our traitors.’ The returning smile on her lips was not a friendly one. ‘It may be a long sojourn if the Duke of York remains alive and in exile. You must bend your mind to it, madam. We have arranged that you will travel there tomorrow.’
‘And my children?’
‘They will stay with you, of course, under your guidance. Have we not offered you mercy with a lavish hand? I would be the last woman to separate a mother from her children of such tender years. You will merely live quietly in retirement until better days.’