Chapter 51.

The Abbey of Our Lady and Saint John the Evangelist Reading, Berkshire September 14, 1464 Knowing that my son had chosen for his motto Confort et Liesse (Comfort and Joy) should have prepared me. For Edward had one fatal flaw, he could be dangerously impulsive.

One fine September day in the Year of Our Lord 1464, I was waiting to talk with him about his forthcoming marriage to the Lady Bona of Savoy when the door to the chapter house burst open and everyone poured out. Edward hurried over.

"What's happened?" I asked, noticing the hubbub and the long faces of his councilors.

"Mother, I am married. I have just told my councilors-"

"Married!" The color drained from my face. "Who is she?"

"You do not know her, Mother. She is Dame elisabeth Grey."

"Dame Grey. You mean she was married before?"

"Yes," he replied.

My stomach lurched and I staggered.

Edward signaled to hovering servants to bring me a chair and some wine. At another signal, everyone left. I sat and sipped my wine slowly while marshaling my swirling thoughts. Eventually, I looked up at Edward. "Who are her parents?"

"Her mother is Jacquetta of Luxembourg, the daughter of the Count of St. Pol."

I knew that name-it could not be. "Her father?"

"Earl Rivers."

"You mean that jumped-up squire Sir Richard Woodville," I snapped, "Sir n.o.body."

Edward winced.

I knew who Dame elisabeth Grey was. Her mother Jacquetta had created a scandal nearly thirty years before when, as the widowed d.u.c.h.ess of Bedford and aunt-by-marriage to the king, she had married Sir Richard Woodville shortly after her husband's death. Sir Richard was far below her in rank and only had his good looks to commend him.

As for Dame Grey, that doll-like child now had gilt-gold hair, pointed features, and a sly smile. She was a year older than my beloved daughter Joan would have been, had she lived, which meant that at twenty-seven, she was five years older than Edward. She was the widow of a Lancastrian knight who'd fought against us in the recent wars-Sir John Grey of Groby. She had two boys. She was poor. She had a large number of relatives. In short, she had nothing to recommend her. Moreover, she and her mother had interfered the day of Marguerite's churching, the day I struggled to have Nan come home to me. I turned on Edward.

"How could you be such a fool?"

He flinched.

"How long have you been married?"

He flushed and the silence held. Finally he lifted his chin and looked at me squarely. "Since May."

"Since May? Edward, that cannot be so."

There was silence again.

"Are you saying you have been married for the past four months?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He hung his head. A flush crept up his neck.

I sagged in my seat. If only I'd been allowed to spend time with Edward when he was growing up. If only Richard hadn't taken him away.

"Edward," I said, "I am devoted to you, you know that. I have worked tirelessly for you all my life. Why could you not confide in me, your own mother?"

"I knew you would talk me out of it."

I looked at him steadily for a moment. He was a coward, as well as completely irresponsible. "Do you truly think she is suitable?"

"Yes."

I picked up my wine-cup. "The fact that you have been married for four months and have told no one will indicate to everyone you do not think her to be suitable."

"She is the most beautiful woman in England."

"I'm glad you think so." I put my wine-cup down. "Did the wedding occur in a church?"

He shook his head.

"Who were the witnesses?"

"elisabeth came with her mother. There was the priest."

I gazed at him. It was like his christening, that underhanded affair in a private chapel away from prying eyes.

"That was a very private ceremony," I murmured eventually. "I was planning a magnificent celebration for you, my son, something that would befit a King of England. I was hoping to meet your bride beforehand, to welcome her into the family."

Edward took my hand in his. "And you will know elisabeth," he said. "Mother, I would like you to befriend her."

I stared at him and withdrew my hand.

"How well do you know her?"

"I have been courting her for several months."

I tapped the arm of my chair to control my surging feelings. My golden boy had just crushed all my hopes and dreams. "There are many reasons to marry," I said. "If you had to marry for love, could you not have chosen someone who you had serious reason to believe would make you happy?"

"She does make me happy."

"How?"

He flushed.

I drained my cup of wine. "Remember, Edward, you have a soul to keep. Your wife will have a great deal of power over you."

"She is sweet and charming."

"She wants to be Queen of England."

Edward fiddled with his ring.

"She will not make you happy. Apart from that, there are political reasons for not marrying her."

I rose and stood stiff and tall.

"When you succeeded my lord of York as head of the family, you a.s.sumed certain duties and responsibilities. You are now king, and it is the king's duty-for the sake of his family and his country-to marry into a n.o.ble or royal house from the continent to enhance his status and increase his possessions. Your cousin has traveled to France on your behalf, and negotiations for your marriage to Bona of Savoy are now far advanced."

"Cousin Warwick will accept my marriage."

I raised an eyebrow: "You didn't confide in your cousin?"

Edward was silent.

I folded my arms. "It is the height of folly to antagonize the Earl of Warwick so unnecessarily. Why he was expecting to conclude these marriage negotiations within the month."

Edward twisted his signet ring again.

"As you know, I have also been in correspondence with Isabella of Castile, in case the French marriage negotiations broke down. Either of these princesses would have been fit to be your queen."

"But I don't know them," protested Edward. "What makes you think they would have made me happy?"

"They are young," I ticked my fingers. "Bona has fifteen years, and Isabella has thirteen. They are schooled to be queens, having lived their lives in the finest courts of Europe, and it was my hope, as your mother, to train them myself. I wanted to tell them about you, I wanted to mold them to English life, and to the ways of your life. I wanted to supervise their religious instruction and to educate them in literature and the arts, the way my mother did."

"Mother!"

I glared. "I would have ensured they had your best interests at heart."

There was silence.

I had said everything I could. Was there any way of annulling this ridiculous marriage?

But Edward said nothing.

"It is wholly inappropriate," I remarked, staring at his downcast eyes and shut-in face, "for a monarch to marry his own subject where no honor or lands can be gained by it. A rich man marries his maid only for a little easy pleasure. In such marriages, folk admire the maid's good fortune, but think her master lacks judgment. And in this matter, there is no difference so great between any master and maid in this land as between you and this widow."

I paused.

Edward did not react.

"And the fact that she is a widow makes everything much worse."

Edward lifted his chin and stared at me.

I gazed back. There was a long silence. Finally I snapped, "This marriage is a blemish and a disparagement to the majesty of a prince!"

I swept out.

Chapter 52.

Westminster Palace, London Feast of Saint Lucy December 13, 1464 It was as if I'd never spoken.

Later that September at Michaelmas, Dame elisabeth Grey was escorted into Reading Abbey by Warwick and George. The Serpent was presented to the magnates and the people as their Sovereign Lady, and the whole a.s.sembly of people knelt to do her honor.

Except for myself.

I could not submit.

I made my displeasure clear by being absent.

My absence was noted by everyone.

Edward had disgraced himself with this awful marriage. In turn, I styled myself Queen by Right.

From then on, there were two queens at Edward's court. I remained in the queen's apartments, and Edward was forced to build a special wing onto one of his palaces to accommodate the Serpent and her entourage. Shortly after her elevation, she got her revenge in the most predictable way. The horde of poverty-stricken relatives descended on the court and proceeded to elbow their way into the aristocracy. I enumerate as follows.

Item: Margaret Woodville, sister to the Serpent, married October 1464 to Thomas Fitzalan, Baron Maltravers, the Earl of Arundel's heir.

Item: Catherine Woodville, sister to the Serpent, married April 1465 to Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, my sister Anne's grandson.

Item: Martha Woodville, sister, married in June 1465 to Sir John Bromley.

Item: Jacqueline Woodville, sister, married February 1466 to John le Strange, Baron Strange of Knockin.

Item: Thomas Grey, the Serpent's eldest son, married in October 1466 to Nan's daughter, Anne Holland.

Item: Mary Woodville, sister, married January 1467 to William Herbert, Lord Dunster, the Earl of Pembroke's heir.

Item: Eleanor Woodville, sister, married July 1467 to Sir Anthony Grey.

Item: Anne Woodville, sister, married in July 1467 to William, Viscount Bourchier the eldest son of Richard's sister Isabel.

What more need I say?