Mistress To The Crown by Martyn Isolde

Author:Martyn, Isolde [Martyn, Isolde]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781460893616
Published: 2013-02-01T00:00:00+00:00

XI

The bells rang out that week to celebrate the birth of a third prince. Ned, offering his brother forgiveness, named the babe George. But the old proverb, ‘Ale in, wit out’, was proved true. When the duke heard about Burdett’s execution, he galloped down to Westminster and charged into the Star Chamber, bellowing for the King. Of course, Ned was at Windsor, and instead of taking the matter to him, the duke harangued the councillors and made them listen to the testimony of some Franciscan preacher, who claimed to have heard the condemned men’s confessions of innocence. The palace immediately sent a courier to Windsor.

Ned could be lazy as an old dog, but when he was stirred up, he could strike fast. He returned to Westminster in full Plantagenet rage, summoned the Lord Mayor, sheriffs and aldermen, and in the common hearing accused his brother of usurping royal authority, breaking the laws of England and threatening its judges.

I know his mother tried once more to mend the quarrel but George was unrepentant. In June he was taken to the Tower together with some of his advisers including Stillington, the Bishop of Bath and Wells, a former Chancellor of England.

The day following their incarceration, I received a letter from Bishop Goldwell informing me that last night Dr John Stacey had died in the Tower. His will named Goldwell his executor and all his goods and debts were left to his widow, Marion.

Ned had ordered his death.

I don’t know how long I sat alone with the bishop’s letter on my lap. For I was remembering how old King Henry had fortuitously ‘died’ in the Tower on the night of Ned’s triumphant return to London after his victory over Lancaster.

I still loved Ned. You dance while the music plays, don’t you? But in truth the shadow of the Tower cast a darkness over the entire kingdom.

George spent the remainder of the year in the Tower and then in the following January of 1478, when an icing of snow glistened on the pinnacles and turrets, the great lords rode into Westminster to witness the marriage of Ned’s five-year-old son, Dickon, to the little Mowbray heiress in St Stephen’s Chapel. A few days later they assembled in the chill of Westminster Hall to try George for high treason and Ned was the chief accuser.

For almost three weeks, the matter endured. I remember the New Palace Yard was perilous with black ice the day that Buckingham, steward of the jury, announced the sentence of death. I saw George brought out of the hall, his hands bound in front of him and his back rigid and proud. As if to rile him further, it was Rivers who was given charge of his escort back to the Tower.

During the next two weeks, while the unsigned warrant lay waiting on the royal council board, messengers carried arguments up and down the spine of England. From Middleham, Richard of Gloucester’s home in Yorkshire, to Westminster Palace, from Baynard’s Castle to Middleham, and Middleham to Westminster.

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