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Authors: Susan Appleyard
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unbecoming.”
We crossed the close where a gaggle of geese were plucking at the grass and a couple of cats with their tails in the air appeared to be awaiting their chance for a feathery dinner, unnoticed by the two novices who had the geese in charge and were instead playing knucklebone.
It was a sunny morning, the air full of the darting flight of swifts and martins, and the breeze carried a hint of autumn chills to come. The abbey bells began to toll the office of Tierce Soft-footed monks in their black linen robes moved like a procession of phantoms between the buildings, making their way to the church. I took a deep breath of air spiced by wood smoke and the tang of hops from the brothers’ brewhouse. It was time to prepare for the ordeal.
“Anthony,” I said, turning to him. “I want to be a good queen, but I’m not sure I know how.”
He stopped and raised my hand to his lips. “I’m proud of you,” he said. “Many would have taken the easy way and surrendered. Many did. The bible says: a virtuous woman, her price is above rubies. Never doubt that you are worthy to be queen. If the king thinks so, who can argue with him?”
“Warwick,” I said.
……….
I chose to wear my ivory and rose silk wedding gown. A gauzy veil topped my fashionably short hennin.
“Breathtaking,” said Edward when he saw me dressed. “You will break every heart in the place.”
He was full of advice and encouraging words, but all of it was forgotten when Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick entered my chambers. I knew, even before I met him, that he was ready to hate me because I had ruined his plans, and no matter if I turned out to be a living saint his hatred would never abate. Furthermore, I was ‘low-born’ reason in itself to dislike me. He did not trouble to hide his feelings: his manner was as coldly remote as he could make it, his courtesy a mere jerk of head. In spite of what the king had said, I did not offer him my hand. I lacked the confidence, being afraid he would somehow turn it into an insult.
“Madam,” he said, gracelessly. And: “My lord,” I responded. We were like two antagonists sizing each other up, before he backed away. Even his nose looked affronted, as if detecting a bad odor.
Warwick was the greatest landowner in the kingdom and able to bring a wealth of resources to his royal cousin’s service. It was said that he couldn’t ride thirty miles in any direction without coming upon one of his manors or castles. When he rode abroad it was with two hundred retainers wearing scarlet livery with the Bear and Ragged Staff badge sewn on the shoulder. On top of his own and his wife’s inherited riches, he had also received generous grants from Edward, lucrative and influential offices and estates forfeited by the supporters of Lancaster and could hope for more of the same in the future.
I found him unimpressive; nothing about him suggested I was in the presence of a legend. He was a little under medium height, somewhat bow-legged and beginning to thicken about the middle. Everything one needed to know about him, however, was writ clearly in his face. There in the hawk-like nose, the darting restless brown eyes peering beneath a jutting brow, the strong, square jaw, was the arrogance of a man who knew his own worth, the haughtiness, the shrewdness, the ambition, the determination to succeed no matter the cost.
I hoped for better things from my other escort, the king’s fifteen year-old brother George, Duke of Clarence, but here again I was disappointed. He was bidding fair to become as handsome as Edward but there was no strength in his face, only evidence of his weaknesses. His eyes were the same sparkling blue but lacked any warmth or humor, reflecting only a prideful and self-absorbed intelligence; his lips were full and rosy, yet with a pronounced pout when immobile. Nothing came more readily to those
We crossed the close where a gaggle of geese were plucking at the grass and a couple of cats with their tails in the air appeared to be awaiting their chance for a feathery dinner, unnoticed by the two novices who had the geese in charge and were instead playing knucklebone.
It was a sunny morning, the air full of the darting flight of swifts and martins, and the breeze carried a hint of autumn chills to come. The abbey bells began to toll the office of Tierce Soft-footed monks in their black linen robes moved like a procession of phantoms between the buildings, making their way to the church. I took a deep breath of air spiced by wood smoke and the tang of hops from the brothers’ brewhouse. It was time to prepare for the ordeal.
“Anthony,” I said, turning to him. “I want to be a good queen, but I’m not sure I know how.”
He stopped and raised my hand to his lips. “I’m proud of you,” he said. “Many would have taken the easy way and surrendered. Many did. The bible says: a virtuous woman, her price is above rubies. Never doubt that you are worthy to be queen. If the king thinks so, who can argue with him?”
“Warwick,” I said.
……….
I chose to wear my ivory and rose silk wedding gown. A gauzy veil topped my fashionably short hennin.
“Breathtaking,” said Edward when he saw me dressed. “You will break every heart in the place.”
He was full of advice and encouraging words, but all of it was forgotten when Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick entered my chambers. I knew, even before I met him, that he was ready to hate me because I had ruined his plans, and no matter if I turned out to be a living saint his hatred would never abate. Furthermore, I was ‘low-born’ reason in itself to dislike me. He did not trouble to hide his feelings: his manner was as coldly remote as he could make it, his courtesy a mere jerk of head. In spite of what the king had said, I did not offer him my hand. I lacked the confidence, being afraid he would somehow turn it into an insult.
“Madam,” he said, gracelessly. And: “My lord,” I responded. We were like two antagonists sizing each other up, before he backed away. Even his nose looked affronted, as if detecting a bad odor.
Warwick was the greatest landowner in the kingdom and able to bring a wealth of resources to his royal cousin’s service. It was said that he couldn’t ride thirty miles in any direction without coming upon one of his manors or castles. When he rode abroad it was with two hundred retainers wearing scarlet livery with the Bear and Ragged Staff badge sewn on the shoulder. On top of his own and his wife’s inherited riches, he had also received generous grants from Edward, lucrative and influential offices and estates forfeited by the supporters of Lancaster and could hope for more of the same in the future.
I found him unimpressive; nothing about him suggested I was in the presence of a legend. He was a little under medium height, somewhat bow-legged and beginning to thicken about the middle. Everything one needed to know about him, however, was writ clearly in his face. There in the hawk-like nose, the darting restless brown eyes peering beneath a jutting brow, the strong, square jaw, was the arrogance of a man who knew his own worth, the haughtiness, the shrewdness, the ambition, the determination to succeed no matter the cost.
I hoped for better things from my other escort, the king’s fifteen year-old brother George, Duke of Clarence, but here again I was disappointed. He was bidding fair to become as handsome as Edward but there was no strength in his face, only evidence of his weaknesses. His eyes were the same sparkling blue but lacked any warmth or humor, reflecting only a prideful and self-absorbed intelligence; his lips were full and rosy, yet with a pronounced pout when immobile. Nothing came more readily to those
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