Read Online Death Be Pardoner To Me: The Life of George, Duke of Clarence by Dorothy Davies - Free Book Online
Authors: Dorothy Davies
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The captain continued: “Are there no men here?”
“There are no men here. Only myself and my small sons, together with my ladies who have stayed to comfort me in my time of tribulation.”
“I am bidden to place any who are in this castle under arrest as traitors to our King and country.”
“I throw myself upon the King’s mercy and beg him to take pity on a poor woman and her two small children.”
“York brats!” someone snarled from the mob surveying the hall. “They should be put to the sword, not allowed to live!”
“Silence!” the captain roared, startling George so much that he stepped back. His mother pulled him forward again to stand beside her. “Speak not of royal princes in that way, or I will deprive you of your ears, dog!” He turned back to the duchess. “Of a surety, madam, you give me many problems. I did not expect to find you here. I shall be forced to send a messenger to His Grace and find out if mercy can be extended to Your Grace and Your Grace’s sons. Until then, you are under arrest as wife to a traitor. I must ask that you return to your room and stay there until the answer is brought to us.”
“Come.” The duchess swung round on her elegant heels and ushered her sons before her toward the stairs. “Come!” She indicated two of her ladies who hurried after them. George shuddered as he saw the soldiers grab some of the others and drag them into nearby rooms, hearing their pitiful screams for mercy, knowing there was nothing he could do or say to prevent them being hurt.
“I shall not forgive easily and I will not forgive this!” The duchess waved an imperious hand at the men already stripping the walls and removing the fine furniture even as she walked away. They ignored her, taking her words as empty threats.
Once in the sanctuary of her room, however, Lady Cecily gave way to her emotions, holding her head in her hands and weeping softly, almost silently. Richard clung to her arm, as if pleading with her to stop her tears. George hung back, almost embarrassed to see his proud mother in such distress. One of the ladies tried to console her.
“My lady, the King will grant the pardon, we will all be safe.”
“I know that, Helena, but oh the women here, the men who are dying, the thefts, the-” The tears began to flow again freely and Lady Cecily rocked back and forth in her chair, making a high pitched keening cry. George’s emotions snapped and he suddenly threw himself at her, pounding her with his clenched fists.
“Mother, Mother, stop it!”
She opened her eyes and looked at her son in complete astonishment. The tears stopped and she managed a shaky smile.
“Forgive me, my sons, I am sorry. For a moment I managed to forget who I was.” She fumbled for a handkerchief and dried her face. The regal demeanour was back. “On this occasion I forgive you for your assault, George!”
He stood back, scared, ashamed, scuffing his boots on the floor. “My apologies, Mother.”
She reached for him, held him close to her bosom, cradling his head, something she had never done in all his ten years of life.
“My dear son, you brought me back from a moment of sheer madness. There is nothing to forgive.” She let him go and held Richard instead. His lips trembled as if he was on the verge of tears. “Helena, if you can, arrange for some coverlets, furs, anything, to be brought to us. If we are to stay here until the king’s pardon arrives, we at least need some degree of comfort. And arrange for us to have some food and ale or wine. Olivia,” she gestured to her other lady, “I would have warm water with which to wash my face and hands. See if it can be arranged, I beg you.”
Then she fell silent and for the first time the clamour of the looting soldiers could be heard clearly throughout the castle, coupled with the screams of women and the groans of men, wounded, dying under the swords and daggers of the king’s army.
“Proud they were,” the duchess said
“There are no men here. Only myself and my small sons, together with my ladies who have stayed to comfort me in my time of tribulation.”
“I am bidden to place any who are in this castle under arrest as traitors to our King and country.”
“I throw myself upon the King’s mercy and beg him to take pity on a poor woman and her two small children.”
“York brats!” someone snarled from the mob surveying the hall. “They should be put to the sword, not allowed to live!”
“Silence!” the captain roared, startling George so much that he stepped back. His mother pulled him forward again to stand beside her. “Speak not of royal princes in that way, or I will deprive you of your ears, dog!” He turned back to the duchess. “Of a surety, madam, you give me many problems. I did not expect to find you here. I shall be forced to send a messenger to His Grace and find out if mercy can be extended to Your Grace and Your Grace’s sons. Until then, you are under arrest as wife to a traitor. I must ask that you return to your room and stay there until the answer is brought to us.”
“Come.” The duchess swung round on her elegant heels and ushered her sons before her toward the stairs. “Come!” She indicated two of her ladies who hurried after them. George shuddered as he saw the soldiers grab some of the others and drag them into nearby rooms, hearing their pitiful screams for mercy, knowing there was nothing he could do or say to prevent them being hurt.
“I shall not forgive easily and I will not forgive this!” The duchess waved an imperious hand at the men already stripping the walls and removing the fine furniture even as she walked away. They ignored her, taking her words as empty threats.
Once in the sanctuary of her room, however, Lady Cecily gave way to her emotions, holding her head in her hands and weeping softly, almost silently. Richard clung to her arm, as if pleading with her to stop her tears. George hung back, almost embarrassed to see his proud mother in such distress. One of the ladies tried to console her.
“My lady, the King will grant the pardon, we will all be safe.”
“I know that, Helena, but oh the women here, the men who are dying, the thefts, the-” The tears began to flow again freely and Lady Cecily rocked back and forth in her chair, making a high pitched keening cry. George’s emotions snapped and he suddenly threw himself at her, pounding her with his clenched fists.
“Mother, Mother, stop it!”
She opened her eyes and looked at her son in complete astonishment. The tears stopped and she managed a shaky smile.
“Forgive me, my sons, I am sorry. For a moment I managed to forget who I was.” She fumbled for a handkerchief and dried her face. The regal demeanour was back. “On this occasion I forgive you for your assault, George!”
He stood back, scared, ashamed, scuffing his boots on the floor. “My apologies, Mother.”
She reached for him, held him close to her bosom, cradling his head, something she had never done in all his ten years of life.
“My dear son, you brought me back from a moment of sheer madness. There is nothing to forgive.” She let him go and held Richard instead. His lips trembled as if he was on the verge of tears. “Helena, if you can, arrange for some coverlets, furs, anything, to be brought to us. If we are to stay here until the king’s pardon arrives, we at least need some degree of comfort. And arrange for us to have some food and ale or wine. Olivia,” she gestured to her other lady, “I would have warm water with which to wash my face and hands. See if it can be arranged, I beg you.”
Then she fell silent and for the first time the clamour of the looting soldiers could be heard clearly throughout the castle, coupled with the screams of women and the groans of men, wounded, dying under the swords and daggers of the king’s army.
“Proud they were,” the duchess said
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