Edward noticed the pause and burst out laughing. ‘Now, Desmond, you can be frank with me. I know you would not be the only one to think my marriage unwise, would you? You do think that, eh Desmond?’

‘My lord, I cannot deny that. It would have been wiser to have chosen a bride who could bring you an alliance which the Queen, beautiful and virtuous as she is, cannot do.’

‘Well, ’tis done now, Desmond. Tis irrevocable.’

‘No, my lord, not so. You could divorce her and make a match which would be more acceptable in the eyes of many of your subjects.’

Edward laughed. ‘That I have no intention of doing, Desmond.’

‘I am sure you have not, my lord. But you asked and I have told you what is in my mind.’

‘My dear fellow, of course I respect your frankness.’

The King was in a mellow mood when he returned to the palace. It had been a good day’s hunting. He went straight to the Queen who received him as always with that quiet pleasure which he found so comforting.

‘You have had a good day’s hunting?’ she asked.

‘I have. With Desmond. He’s a pleasant fellow.’

‘He has done well in Ireland, I hear.’

‘Very well. As Warwick said, it was good to have an Irishman there. They understand their own far better than they do others, and the Irish need a bit of understanding I can tell you.’

‘So you are well pleased with the man.’

‘He is a good honest fellow. I like a man to speak up for himself.’ Edward began to laugh.

‘Something amuses you.’

‘Yes. You’ll like this, Elizabeth. I asked him what he thought of you.’

‘Oh?’ The lids had fallen over her eyes and he could not see the expression in them.

‘He thought you were beautiful and virtuous, he said. So you see he appreciates your looks.’

‘That is good of him.’

‘Not so good. Do you know what he told me? He said that I ought to divorce you and marry someone who could bring good to the country.’

Edward laughed loudly.

She hesitated only for a very short time before she laughed with him.

He was beside her, putting his arms about her. ‘Needless to tell you I have no intention of taking his advice.’

‘I am glad to hear it, my lord.’

She spoke lightly but there was a cold fury in her heart. Edward was amused now but the very idea was dangerous, and men who planted such were menacing her.

While Edward embraced her she was thinking of Desmond.

I will remember you, my lord, she thought.


The Queen was pregnant and the King was overcome with joy.

‘Give me a son,’ he cried, ‘and we will laugh in the faces of all our critics.’ He told her of what his mother had said when she had first heard of the marriage.

Elizabeth laughed with him and showed no surprise or emotion when he mentioned his own offspring. She knew of them of course. They were the children of a certain Elizabeth Lucy: Grace and Catherine. He was very fond of them and visited them now and then, taking an interest in their welfare. The relationship with Elizabeth Lucy had been one of his more enduring. There was no doubt that he had other illegitimate children, but as he had a real affection for the mother of these two he felt more tenderness towards them.

Elizabeth had discussed the matter with Jacquetta and they had come to the conclusion that when she had children of her own she might bring the Lucy girls into the royal nurseries. It would be a gesture to enrapture the King and it would bind him even closer to his tolerant, quietly loving Elizabeth. But not yet, of course. It would be an error of judgement to bring another woman’s children into the nurseries while she herself had none.

But now the great day was approaching. The whole nation was delighted. Edward was popular. Even his wife was not disliked, for anyone coming after Margaret of Anjou would seem a welcome change. Moreover Elizabeth was English and if she was not so highly born as a King’s wife was expected to be, at least she had great beauty and as much – if not more – dignity than a Queen was expected to have.

Jacquetta was constantly beside her daughter and everyone was certain that the child would be a boy.

The King was even speaking of ‘When my son is born ...’ and the physicians had given their opinion that the child was male.

There was one Dr Domynyk who claimed to have prophetic powers. He could tell the sex of a child in its mother’s womb, he said, and he assured the King that the Queen carried a Prince.

So there could be no doubt and all preparations for a Prince proceeded.

Elizabeth’s time came. Calm as ever she retired to her apartments. The King was in an agony of impatience.

Childbearing was no new experience to Elizabeth and her mood was one of exultation for the child she bore would be royal, perhaps a King.

She endured her pains with amazing fortitude and she was rewarded it seemed by an easy birth.

The excitement was intense when the cry of the child was heard. Dr Domynyk could not contain himself. He was determined to be the first to carry the good news to the King that he had a son and to remind him of his prophecy.

Impatiently he tapped on the door which was opened by one of the Queen’s women.

‘I beg you ... I pray you ...’ panted Dr Domynyk, ‘tell me quickly, what has the Queen?’

The woman regarded him through half-closed eyes. ‘Whatever the Queen has within it is surely a fool who stands without.’

Then she shut the door in the doctor’s face.

He could not believe it. A girl! It was impossible! He had prophesied ...

The stars had lied to him; his signs and portents had misled him. And he was bitterly humiliated. He hurried away. He could not face the King.

Edward was disappointed when he heard that the child was a girl, but not for long. He went immediately to Elizabeth’s bedside, and when he saw her so calmly beautiful in spite of her ordeal, with her beautiful hair in two luxuriant plaits over her shoulders, he knelt by the bed and kissed her hands.

‘Don’t fret, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘We’ll have boys yet.’

While it was a disappointment for Elizabeth it was a triumph in a way because it showed the unabating strength of Edward’s enslavement to his cool goddess for within a few hours he was delighting in the child. ‘I wouldn’t change this girl for all the boys in Christendom,’ he declared.

The words of a proud father! Edward had always been fond of children.

The Duchess of York surprised everyone by arriving at Westminster Palace. Proud Cis had kept aloof since the marriage to show her disapproval and her refusal to take second place to that upstart Woodville woman as she called her.

It was a year and nine months since the clandestine marriage and the Duchess felt that she had remained in the shadows long enough.

They could show their contrition by naming the child after her, and she herself would attend the christening of Baby Cecily.

Edward was pleased to see her; he embraced her warmly. She had been foolish, he thought, over the marriage but if she was going to behave reasonably now he was not one to remember that.

‘A beautiful healthy child, dear lady,’ he said. ‘We are delighted with her.’

‘A boy would have pleased the people,’ commented Cecily.

‘Dear Mother, I am glad you are at last concerned with pleasing the people.’ He was smiling inwardly. He had always known Cecily to be concerned with pleasing herself.

Cecily ignored the comment. ‘An heir. That is what you need. All kings need heirs. It has a settling effect.’

‘Well, I have one. My little girl.’

‘The people do not want to be ruled by women.’

Edward laughed again. ‘But they often are,’ he said, ‘without knowing it.’

‘I trust,’ said Cecily, ‘that that is not the case with our present King and Queen?’

‘Nay, Mother, Elizabeth is no meddler. In fact more and more I rejoice in my marriage. If you would only give yourself the chance to know her ...’

‘I should like to see the child.’

‘Well, come to the nursery.’

‘I wish to see ... just the child. You can have her brought to me.’

Edward lifted his shoulders. He wanted no confrontation between the two women in the lying-in chamber. Elizabeth would be calm, he knew, and he also guessed that his mother would construe that as truculence or antagonism towards her. Elizabeth and Cecily were quite dissimilar. Cecily was explosive like a volcano always threatening to send out fire; Elizabeth was calm as peaceful meadows ... where one could lie down and forget irritations, offering absolute peace.

So the Duchess went to the nurseries and there she seated herself on a throne-like chair and sent for the chief nurse. She signed for the woman to kneel before her and told her that she desired to see the baby.

The woman rose, bowed and retired and came back with the child.

Even Cecily softened as she took the baby into her arms. A healthy child indeed, with a look of Edward, she thought. She commented on this. ‘This is a Plantagenet,’ she said. ‘No hint of Woodville here, praise be to God.’

‘If she is only half as good-looking as her mother she’ll be a beauty,’ said Edward.

Cecily was silent. Foolish lover’s talk! she thought. Is he not over that yet? Now the woman has produced a child it will be more difficult to get rid of her. Still, one never knew, and Edward had always been fickle in his relationships with women.

She said: ‘I should be pleased if the child was named after me.’