Jean Plaidy - The Sun in Splendour

Edward made up his mind that he could not allow him to remain there indefinitely. Questions would be asked. It was not as though Stillington was an insignificant person.

It was on a bright June day when Edward rode to the Tower and slipping in without ceremony ordered that he should be conducted to the room in which Bishop Stillington was held.

When he arrived, the Bishop hastily rose and hope shone in his eyes as he bowed low.

Robert Stillington was an ambitious man; he had chosen the Church as his profession not only because it suited his nature but because he saw means of advancing himself through it. He had shown himself to be an able man and preferment had come to him. He was now the Bishop of Bath and Wells. For a time he had been Lord Chancellor being a strong Yorkist but on the return of the Lancastrians in 1470 he had been deprived of his office. Edward had reinstated him but he had resigned from the office a few years later. Yet he and Edward had worked together on occasions. Edward had felt uneasy about the Tudors for they had made themselves prominent in the Lancastrian cause and he particularly suspected Jasper of subversive planning from Brittany. Jasper was getting old but he had with him his nephew Henry Tudor and by the way in which he kept that boy, nurtured him and trained him, suggested that he might have plans for him.

Edward had considered Henry Tudor. Unfortunately his mother was Margaret Beaufort descended from John of Gaunt and of course the Tudors said they had royal blood because of that connection with Henry the Fifth’s Queen. It was a mysterious relationship. Some were sure there had been a marriage, others said there had not. But in any case it was a very flimsy claim. Still, there was a strength about the Tudors, and Edward had decided that he would be more at peace if Jasper and his nephew Henry were in his care. He had sent Stillington to bargain with the Duke of Brittany to bring them out of that country and to England but as old Jasper discovered what was afoot and escaped with his precious nephew that had come to nothing. It was, however, no fault of Stillington.

Now the two faced each other and Edward studied the Bishop intently.

‘So, my lord Bishop,’ he said, ‘you have spent the spring in this place.’

‘It is so, my lord.’

‘It was well deserved,’ said Edward.

The Bishop bowed his head and said nothing.

‘You spoke ill-chosen words where it was most unwise to do so.’

‘That was so, my lord.’

‘My brother is now dead.’

An almost imperceptible shiver crossed Stillington’s face. By God, thought Edward, he believes I have come to murder him.

‘I am a lenient man, Bishop,’ he said quickly. ‘Do you agree with that?’

‘My lord, none could have been more so to the Duke.’

‘So because I act kindly towards men, because I understand their foibles and sometimes forgive, there are those who think it is amusing to provoke me since it will bring no punishment.’

‘I never thought that, my lord.’

‘And yet ... and yet ...’

Edward’s eyes had started to blaze. He was rarely angry but when he was he could be fierce. Stillington knew this and trembled.

He went down on his knees. ‘My lord,’ he said, ‘I ask your forgiveness. I swear nothing shall pass my lips again.’

The King was thoughtful. He looked down at the Bishop’s head and was thinking of that occasion ... so long ago now it seemed. He could see them all in the little room – Eleanor, seeming so desirable then. Worth all the trouble. Virtuous, beautiful ... the sort of woman a man had to make sacrifices for. And he had not been a king then. The Bishop had warned him, this very Bishop. Pompous old fool, he had thought. What did Bishops know of love?

And so there had been that ceremony ... that fateful ceremony which if it were brought to light could wreak what damage? His marriage to Elizabeth no marriage at all! His son ... little Edward a bastard and that would apply to all his children. Oh no, it must be stopped at all costs. At all costs. Clarence had paid with his life. The secret would never have been safe with Clarence. Once Clarence knew, once he had spoken of it, that had to be the end of him.

And now the Bishop ... But the Bishop was not Clarence. The Bishop was a man of good sense. He had babbled. He had made a fatal error. He knew it now. He had learned the bitter lesson for three long months.

He would not commit such an error again.

‘Get up,’ said Edward.

The Bishop rose and Edward looked at him steadily.

‘You have been foolish, Bishop,’ he said. ‘Do you agree with me?’

‘Indeed I do, my lord.’

‘You and I were good friends once.’

‘My lord, I trust we still are.’

‘When you seek to harm me?’

‘My lord, what I did was done through carelessness ... I whispered ... I talked ... I could cut my tongue out now.’

‘And if you had the chance over again you would be silent ... You would not talk of this matter?’

‘My lord, I swear it.’

There was a silence which seemed to the Bishop to go on for a long time.

Then the King said: ‘I believe you, Stillington. You acted foolishly and carelessly and without any thought of what this could mean. You will not do such a thing again?’

‘My lord, I promise.’

‘Then I am going to be kind to you, Stillington. You shall pay a fine and go free.’ Edward moved very close to the Bishop and seizing him by the shoulder looked down on him from his great height.

‘It would go so ill with you, my friend, if you ever did, that I know you will not. That is why I am going to send you away a free man – on payment of your fine, which indeed you owe. I trust, Bishop, that you will be of as good service to me as you were before this unfortunate incident occurred. Remember, that with a less lenient master, it could have cost you your life.’

‘My lord, you are good and great and like all truly great men you are merciful.’

‘That is so. Now I will take my leave of you, Bishop. You may prepare to leave. I will give the order.’

With that Edward left him.

He came out into the fresh air; he was smiling. He had settled that matter. There would be nothing more from Stillington. He could put that tiresome matter out of his head for there was an end to it.

Now if only he could banish George from his thoughts he could be a happy man.

These were the good days. Edward could congratulate himself. When he had come to the throne the country had been in a state of disorder. He had brought it to prosperity. He was strong; while at the same time he was amazingly affable. His extraordinary good looks could not fail to distinguish him. Of late they had deteriorated from the golden glory of their youth. He had grown fat but his great height helped to disguise it and in some ways his immense bulk made him even more impressive than ever. He had the respect of his subjects and no matter what fines he levied he held their affection.

He looked like a king; he behaved like a king; and this was what the people wanted.

There was no doubt that the country was regaining its self-respect through him. He had a beautiful wife. True the people disliked her because of her arrogance and the fact that she was as they said ‘low-born’ but they admitted that she was very beautiful and she had done her duty in producing a fine family. There were now seven living children. George had been born within the last two years. A handsome King, a beautiful Queen and a clutch of children including Edward the Prince of Wales to follow the King – which they all hoped would not be for many years and before he was a mature man – and little Richard Duke of York who had so recently married Anne Mowbray and now little George just a year old. An unfortunate choice of name perhaps as it recalled that other George who had died so mysteriously in the Bowyer Tower but royal families stuck to certain names and so there was George.

As the months passed and the shadow of Clarence grew further away, Edward’s contentment grew. He had one great wish that was as yet unfulfilled and that was to see his eldest daughter Dauphine of France. This would be the ideal marriage. Peace would be brought about between the two countries and with an English Princess Queen of France none could complain but would realise how much wiser it was to settle these disputes through such alliances than to carry on with destructive wars. But Louis was prevaricating and there was always some reason why he could not send for the Princess. Now he was saying that he must come to some settlement of his disagreement with Burgundy before the plans for the marriage could go forward.

Edward waited content. He was more independent than an English king had been for many years. He owed this to what he considered his skilful diplomacy in France. What other king would have been shrewd enough to take a mighty army to France and come away with a pension and no bloodshed? Those fifty thousand crowns were a symbol of his shrewdness. They had bought him his independence; they had set his exchequer in order and made it possible for him not to impose heavy taxes on his people. They had enabled him to shake off the yoke the barons liked to put on their kings and usually managed to because the king had constantly to ask them for money.

He had always been something of a merchant. Perhaps that was why he had enjoyed mingling with them. He was interested in their trading as well as their wives. He had learned a great deal about the exporting of wool both raw and made into cloth, and he had sought to make English cloth the best in the world. Moreover he had succeeded.

He was at the height of his power. He was the glorious sun which the house of York depicted so well on its banner. Right at the heart of the people’s love for him was his interest in them. He loved his people. He could talk to them with ease; he could move among them dressed as a merchant so that they were not aware of his identity. He could talk to them of the difficulties of business and when they discovered that they had been in conversation with the King, they were his for ever.

He had the rare touch of being at one with his people and because he was at the same time so splendid, so magnificently attired on state occasions, and always, even now that he was so corpulent and showing the marks of a debauched existence, he was still handsome. He would keep this gift until the day he died.

Edward could look back on the last ten years since he had been restored to the throne and say: ‘I have done well. I have given them what they asked.’

But he did not stint himself. He still had his mistresses, his rich food, his fine wines and his splendid clothes. He lived like a king; and the people wanted it that way.

The Queen was quite content that it should be as he had made it. That he had his mistresses she had known for a long time. He had slipped back into his old promiscuous ways soon after their marriage. Her wise mother had taught her that that was something she must accept and she had accepted it. Her delight in her marriage did not lie in the bedchamber. Elizabeth liked to see her women kneel before her when they addressed her; she liked all of them to remember every moment of the day that she was the Queen. Her joy had been to see her family rise to be the most significant in the land. All the important posts now – or almost all – were held by Woodvilles. There were jokes about it in the Court. They said the Rivers flowed very high now. Let them! What mattered it what they said? While her brothers had grown rich and powerful the envious lords and ladies who had lost to them might look on and gnash their teeth all they wished.

Like the King, more than anything now, she wished to see the marriage of their eldest daughter to the Dauphin. Madame la Dauphine would in due course become the Queen of France. Herself a Queen, her daughter a Queen of France, what more could Elizabeth want.

The death of Clarence had brought them peace.

They owed something too to Edward’s brother Richard who was keeping order with constant efficiency in the North. Edward had often said how relieved he was to have someone up there whom he could trust. When he thought of Clarence which he still did far too frequently, he also thought of Richard. The contrast if nothing more would have brought Richard to his mind. He often said to himself: If I had but been blessed with another brother such as Richard how different life would have been. Richard he fancied had not come to Court so much since the death of Clarence. He seemed to make excuses for not coming. Was it because of George‘s death? Edward knew it was. With Richard’s strict code how would he have felt about the removal of their brother? It was hard to say. Richard had the makings of a ruler and surely one such must realise that the death of one man was a small price to pay if it was going to prevent the blood of hundreds being shed. Yes, Richard must understand that. But he had not liked it. Clarence’s execution had shocked him and Edward had to remember that Richard had been more closely brought up with him than he, Edward, had for they were nearer in age.