With the Lady Eleanor’s demise, there seemed no further need to resurrect the past. But now, after his father’s recent unfortunate death, the eldest son had become heir to the throne, as yet uncrowned but accepted as King Edward V. At present regally housed in the royal apartments within the Tower, the young king awaited his coronation. But, as a bastard, although unknown to himself, he was not his father’s legal heir.
Robert Stillington, Bishop of Bath and Wells, stood once again, and confessed that he had kept his silence for many long years in obedience to his king. At first, he had been imprisoned for some months as a warning, but on accepting his sovereign’s assurances had eventually been rewarded with promotion within the church. But on the late king’s demise the bishop had spoken with the Protector and admitted the calamitous truth. Now, on the duke’s instructions, he wished to make a full statement to all the lords of the realm. And it would be they, after long deliberation, who would finally decide what the consequences must be. They would need to come to a momentous decision and agree between them whether a bastard child should be crowned King of England – or be set aside for another, more deserving heir to inherit the throne.
The Bishop of Lincoln stood. ‘My lords. Must we consecrate this bastard child as sovereign, anointing him in God’s name, when in our Heavenly Lord’s merciful eyes this boy’s birth is the result of wickedness and sin?’
A great silence rested over the chamber. Each man, leaning forwards in agitated breathlessness, or stretching back in amazement, stared at those around him, awaiting the next astonishing development. No one spoke for some minutes. Finally the Duke of Gloucester moved his heavy chair back and stood to address the chamber. ‘It is for you, my lords, to make a decision that will affect this country for many years into the future. I will not personally deliberate on this, for there are numerous experts on the laws of royal inheritance amongst you. I leave the matter in your wise and honourable hands.’
‘There is time to decide at length,’ frowned the bishop, ‘since the coronation has already been delayed until late June in order to resolve the sensitive matter of the dowager queen’s refusal to leave sanctuary, and her elder son’s determination to behave as a criminal on the run.’
The Duke of Buckingham smiled. ‘But this is a matter that demands conclusion, or political sensitivity will quickly become political chaos.’
It was some hours later that Andrew crossed out of London and approached a narrow house in Snore Hill south of Smithfield, overlooking the Fleet. With one hand to the hilt of his sword, he knocked loudly on the door. It was opened by a servant, bent and elderly, who appeared to recognise the visitor immediately, and announced, ‘Mister Bray is not at home, my lord. Nor do I know when to expect his return. And I am not at liberty to invite your lordship within to await his return, since my master may well be travelling aboard and gone some days.’
Andrew smiled. ‘To Brittany, perhaps?’
The servant attempted to close the door. ‘I have no such information, my lord. My apologies, and good day to you.’
Mister Cobham began to head north towards Cow Lane, but he stopped and turned once, scanning the two upper windows of the house he had just left. There was neither light nor movement visible. Andrew sighed, dodged from Cow Lane into Chicken Lane and turned west across the fields.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
‘Turn the girl? Will she betray her lover so quickly, or will she dissemble, saying one thing to us, and another to him?’
‘Begging your pardon sir,’ said the other man, ‘but I’ve spent half the night interrogating the wench. I’ll grant she’s clever but there’s no trollop can best me. I can break a female’s spirit easy enough.’
‘A simple man underestimates a clever woman at his own cost, Piggot,’ Reginald Bray informed him. ‘As the relative and close associate of the Countess of Richmond, I can assure you there are females in this country that could out-manoeuvre the devil himself. I will not trust this Mistress Blessop without further evidence.’
Piggot nodded. ‘I promise you, I’ve threatened and cajoled for hours, and afterwards she’s slept a short miserable night locked upstairs without food or drink. She’s well broke, and now she’ll do what we tell her.’
‘I know Lord Feayton.’ Mister Bray shook his head. ‘Not a handsome man certainly, but he charms the females when he wants to. If this wench thinks she’s in love with him, then she’ll do his bidding and try to trick us.’
‘In love?’ sniggered Piggot. ‘A whore? In love?’
Mister Bray pursed his lips. ‘As soon as Hetchcomb gets back, send him up. He’s gone to scout the Tower boundaries looking for the best way to get at the little king in secret, but in the meantime, I’m telling you, the girl’s deceptive – or deluded.’
‘But females aren’t ever in their right minds,’ Piggot pointed out. ‘And his lordship’s furious, so something must be done.’
Andrew Cobham stood silently beneath the trees, keeping to the long shadows, and regarded the narrow house across the fields. The place was neither large nor grand enough for pretentious living. Some years ago it had been a small farmhouse but now, according to Andrew’s investigations, it was rented in the name of someone who, he was quite sure, stood in place of someone else entirely, ensuring anonymity. Now, a man answering Lord Marrott’s description and others of surprising importance had been seen to enter, to leave, and to return. Andrew knew that a solitary attempt at admittance would gain him no benefit. Even an aggressive arrival in the company of Casper Wallop would surely lead to a useless fight and little else. His intended bride’s interrogation of Mistress Shore followed by Lacy’s death had led to his own true affiliations becoming known. Quiet watchfulness was now Andrew’s only option. It brought results.
Before curfew, Andrew returned to the city and on entering his own quarters in the annexe at Crosby’s was informed that he was required at the main hall. After noting that Tyballis had still not returned, he crossed briskly and reported to the chief steward, was asked to wait, and was then granted entry.
His grace nodded as Andrew bowed. ‘Mister Cobham, I expect information, in particular regarding the Lord Hastings. I have little time and must return directly to The Tower, but the matter of Hastings is of some urgency. Do you bring questions, or answers?’
‘Both, your grace.’
The duke sighed. ‘I shall answer your questions first, since I know exactly what they are. The meeting lasted much of the day, and involved, as you have certainly guessed, the disclosure of his late highness’s clandestine marriage to the Lady Eleanor Butler. Discussion continued as to the validity of the king’s son as heir to the throne, since Edward is now proved the child of a bigamous marriage.’ Andrew, standing tall at the other side of the great table, smiled. ‘Sit, sit,’ the duke ordered. ‘You’ve some right to know the outcome of these matters, Cobham, since the initial compromising information originated with you, and no doubt you can serve me better if you understand the relevant details. So, I will tell you that discussions went as I expected. Had the young Edward been a grown man of experience in warfare and politics, the result might have been different. But a twelve-years boy, long isolated from court and educated principally by his Uncle Rivers who is now held in the north on my command accused of treason, is sadly not the monarch our England surely needs. Now the child’s illegitimacy is acknowledged, he is no longer his father’s legal heir and will be set aside. That leaves two clear candidates. First possibility in line, my brother’s child, young Warwick, Clarence’s son. But the boy is younger still, and inexperienced in everything beyond reciting his prayers at bedtime. Besides, he is the child of an attainted father, which legally precludes him. I would be pleased to see Clarence’s attainder absolved, but this is in the hands of parliament. Clarence’s boy is not the king we need.’