22nd November 1469

Just as court was about to break and the waning light cowered at the cold snap outside, then entered her goddaughter in hand with her son. When the gentler lady Anne smiled all defects were said to be erased, Isabel did rarely. Each knew their strengths. This sext came and yet it was both she and her son who bore grins that flashed sharply as the clashes in their damasked cloths. Terre verte were the doublet and gown like the livery of Clarence. A fitting colour for the son that ne'er looked to his elder brother for idolation nor any forebearer of theirs. Only his saintly namesake or Gawain, tester of knights would do. Did not St Denis too, like the green knight, carry his severed head in the nook of his arm, where flowers grew beneath his feet whence he thread?

For a surety, her goddaughter appeared to think they did for her, as she long-limbed (her father's daughter indeed) gaited in large strides to match with her son. But St Denis is too French. Perchance she fancies herself Olwen from Mabinogion instead. More Briton, more Arthurian. Isabel did not roll her hips sensuously like ladies loosely did in Edward's presence, but paced with proud finesse. The Bull of Clarence was pinned centerer on George's brocaded crosses and vines than it lay in Isabel's matching brooch. Cecily's eyes caught it with the Neville Red on George's hose and the image of a target instinctively swam up before her.

She drew away, twisting her fingers on one hand while shielding it from impropriety beneath the other. My boy, sometimes I do believe you do not live in the same world as we. Where all men I know yearn to survive, you act as if that were not the fundament to living. George knelt with Isabel in unison, where a week ago he did the same with his new father of Warwick. The Bears, staffs and bulls in her hem crumpled in an indecipherable mound of colours against the Plantagenet and Neville arms emblazoned on her skirt.

After an inclination of Cecily's head towards her son, the king's brown eyes seeking her own across the room to be directed, he gathered both the Clarences in his arms. He rubbed the Duchess' small back upsetting the dense Arctic fox fur at her linings, making her wince as George let out a couch as a large hand slapped him on the back in bonhomie. 'Most gracious lady, be welcome at our court as our beloved sister of York', he glanced down at the curvature she made no effort in concealing, he said ever more quietly and coaxingly 'I see felicitations are in order, madame. Is it a niece or a nephew you are to give me?'

'I pray that when it may be born, it posses the sex your grace desire' replied Isabel politely, Cecily would have guffawed at that, if she were elsewhere and knew how. Edward, the son with a natural talent at the baleful word for the kin, where others see only an over-familiarity of manner. Chided him often and decisively Cecily did: 'do not refill the goblet of the man you call for audience more oft than thrice unless he ask', 'use a commissioner when collecting benevolences from merchants, do not write nor go yourself as if an equal', 'prithee tell me you did not marry Lady Grey'. All but the latter, to which he responded with taciturnity were accepted with a free smile and forgotten by him as quickly as they were said.

'And If what I desire is for a companion to the princesses Elizabeth, Mary and Cecily?' Cecily could see the eyes suddenly let out in that fine long face, stunned, Isabel took a step back and said flatly: 'then it be by god that your will shall be delivered, if it were up to us mothers to make that selection, in what different passes we would find ourselves in-'. The more brazen of courtiers shot a look at the much changed queen and how she clenched her fists about the throne's arms. She has become George's wife. It now matter not whether In the carrying tides of that remark, what were betokened were the same as that which were meant. The difference, if existing would affect the content of the waters, but it will not change its force. Christ have mercy on them. Wherefore she garbed herself thus?- Cecily raised her head to look at her again: her henin where rubies and emeralds whirled about its cream base and the gauze mounted on wires soared above even the queen's, where the black velvety fall broached with ex honore de clare fell as richly as any crown. Needed the court reminding of the lack of male heir? Reminding of the Clarences' power? Cecily noted John of Norfolk's interest piqued by the shifting in the room, the prolictivity in his blue eyes libidinous. Nothing can be out of the question now, not now with this cousin of Clarence who was ever more willing to help his ilk, whatever it took for him to be king.

'Today is my saint's day' thought Cecily quietly to herself, remarking how it had gone thoroughly unnoticed. She decided that after supper with George, when her will should temper his nerves like water for a heated sword fresh from the forge, they could honour St Cecilia's musical gift with a reprise of the melodies of old. When all attendants would be dismissed, she hoped he would accompany her cittern on his recorder as they once used to. It had soothed her so some ten years ago.

It was moons later that Cecily again spoke to that son in private, the ground was still hoary with what promised to be a laboriously long winter. Even the Scarlett tiles of the turrets of Baynard Castle's were steeped in true frost, darkened to a murky brown admist the wet whirling hoare outside. she felt George's hands grow clammy and was reminded of how he still hated the cold as when he was a child.

'Mome, why are you all of a sudden fussing over my hair?' he asked as she moved on to straightening a golden thread that lay askew from his cloak lining. He was the only one of her sons she did not chastise for not addressing her 'lady mother', unobservant to this hierarchy, like all that he did not agree with, then as now he was the least pliable of all her children. An honest rapport had nevertheless established itself between them, and she was never gladder of it than today.

'I have asked Edward to luncheon with us. Him only' she said sitting him beside her 'I would that you tell him what you told me. It is high time you behave as the brothers the creator made you' she could see him turning away and crossing his arms, she half-expected, a pout when she guided him back to face her. He only stared at her turbulently with his large eyes, she could detect faint worry in his voice when he said 'Have you yet not accepted my apologies, when shall my penance end, mome? I now know it was a slander but I have said my forgivenesses and you have accepted them until I saw you go blue in the face!'

'Jesus wept, I am not punishing you George! As for talk of my infidelity, I am beggining to see my troublesome nephew in all this more than you. It makes no matter now, it is god's judgement that concerns me and Parliament's judgement for the better, did not believe it, as we have all clearly seen' she said tersely enough for it to warn, but now fearing she was causing him upset. 'Let this be a lesson on the nature of the spoken word and how it hangs forever, young or old as you were when you said it'. She now looked at him expectantly.

'The one who conceals hatred has lying lips, and whoever utters slander is a fool' recited George 'Proverbs 10:18, but truly you understand-' They were interrupted by the thump of Edward's steps quickly approaching. She shot him a look she hoped he could read as affirmative.

'Brother' they offered each other through gritted teeth

They took their places on the chaises Cecily laid out facing each other, she herself was seated across them, in her front and between them the fire gurgled and spat, its amber sinews flailing desperately in heating the solar.

Edward, resting his flushed face over his fists looked intently at George with the intelligent brown eyes of their mother 'I did not think to find you here George, you have been amiss of late. Our cousin is already departed to Middleham'

Instinctively George rolled back, burying himself into the satined cushions 'I had been making preparations to return to Tutbury, I think the time fit for my lady wife to accustom herself with the runnings of my estates, when she leaves her confinement of course'

'Ha yes, the Lady Isabel, our lady mother tells me that she made an impression on Margaret. An intelligent creature she says...' Edward was trailing off. Cecily shuffled her heavy jet skirts. You have never read me quite well, but for the love of god do not speak of the marriage fine to George. She coughed and George eyed her with the suspicious attentiveness as he was wont to do. '...I'll leave to our sister, the judgement of characters, but I do not think Lady Isabel likes me much. Extend her my apologies if I have offended her in any way'

'If you are referring to your banter at Warwick Castle the summer past. Do not worry brother, she is not wroth at you, but her person is of an easily vexed nature' George lied courteously and after a moment's pause returned hopefully with, 'But brother, I should like to go to Ireland thereafter when the sea is tame'

'To Ireland George?' asked a puzzled Edward. A little smile visited Cecily when she said 'Yes Edward, George told me at length of his desire to take up his lieutenant duty in truth. Oh but how the Irish shall be reminded of your father (god rest his soul) when a son of York returns among them' The Irish Child we would jokingly call him when he was an over-enthused bairn, terrorising his nurse Joan and taking off with his horse whenever it suited him. Half-a-lifetime ago when his hair still held a runnish tinge and the land grew green with promise. 'One of us' she remembered the celts shouting as she held the swaddling brought to be christened in their churches. The great Earls of Desmond and Ormond, his godfathers, had loomed above the babe as ominous whispers of a 'son of ireland' echoed in every hollow of that Dublin Dominican Priory, around them and in her and the smiling Duke of York, king to be. 'In any case, should Worcester truly be the one granted this charge, him the butcher of England? George has grown Edward'

'George-' he started slowly as if the aforementioned were not among them 'Has still much to learn, lady mother. Do not think I give him no credit, indeed may I offer some by candidly proffering how I do see much of myself in him when I was at his youth? But, Desmond's death left too large a vacuus and I believe it a task beyond anyone but the most seasoned of men. One no charm, no matter how radiant be George's can placate'. It disdained and impressed her to see him then lay expectant of an ensuing outburst from his younger brother, brilliant eyes in a purple-capped brunette head, which now lolled at rest onto his upturned wrist.

The rebuttal: 'The exactions were most unwise. Come now brother, would you suppress their rights to their names and fishing rights and not expect opposition from below? This is the making of martyrs'. Though obvious, this remarks had lain undetected for unimplicating the Queen's name. Edward was growing weary against the acclamaitions still held by many of how it was his Elizabeth that procured the execution of Clarence's god-brother, the beloved and iconic Desmond. They many and small fell upon like flurries of snow on his patience, which like a bowed branch, would snap the mound in halves if tested again.

This was not to be the day, for Cecily made certain that her younger son had shed the urge to push his conspiracies, in having made herself the sole and patient recipient to them all already. She had asked him how much of this he told to Warwick's daughter, 'for she seems ever a doting daughter to her sire' she had cautioned him last they met. 'Mome, when you Neville married Plantagenet, did your allegiance not lie with the latter? Why would it be different with the Lady Belle?'. He is warry still of my having tried to dissuade him at Sandwich before he sailed to his wedding. I pray my goddaughter was not made to believe I did not want her for a daughter by marriage. Two women more different have never been. But by Jove, the ripples of that marriage are every bit as malignant as the ones set by Jacquetta's girl.

'I was not happy with those reforms, perhaps it is Ulster and our De Burgh blood that makes me too carry some love for the Gaels. Nevertheless George..' he said with lazy confidence 'You remain green. Youth is a delicate flower, and when touched stunted, wholly confined as a thing forgone to what we call childhood. I confess I was never one to relish the haggardly responsibility of rulership, my birthright sat on me the crowns and sceptres of kingship not any desire of my own. Richard and you, you both ever so call for this burden, now the former is a boy no longer. As for you, withdrawn these years past, must count your spirit spared' his warm eyes squinted at George's for a semblance of understanding, where it was apparent broiled only restlessness. Cecily could see him too glance at her before he spoke 'Or perhaps, I mark you wrong. Come then brother, if you are determined to harden like Richard I promise to involve you in matters of state, a chamberlaincy perhaps'

Cecily noted how George looked noticeably crestfallen, a sullen face amidst the gold embroidery about his cloaks, caps and tresses. 'Some advice too perhaps' she heard Edward then say 'I would not have handled that affair with Caister Castle and Norfolk as you did when I was under your custody. It was so apparent that the siege was naught but a desperate attempt of Mowbray to save himself from his frayed finances'

'Not honourable?, I had written back to Margaret Paston, and to Norfolk ordering that their retainers are to leave Caister unmolested' protested George 'We owe our kinsmen repayement for their loyalties'

'Daubenay, their loyal servant was still slain. Your good intentions notwithstanding' The jittering of the oriel windows grew into an incessant rattle as icy winds ran with the tension raising into the room, from the shadowed corner where she previously believed them she banished them.

'Enough you two' she wanted to snap, but instead said calmly, reaching for their hands as if in a congregation 'It is both a mother's blessing and curse to be endowed with such intelligent boys' she turned to each when addressing them 'Edward, no son of York, less your father, could possibly resign himself to a mere ornament. You are surely now satisfied that George is possessed of some talents. Perchance if they were directed for good, it would benefit the realm, think you not hmm? George, the opportunity has come for you to show yourself a man for peace, for some it is the harder task, it is nevertheless the more important mark of kingship. If you find my utterance of this truism insulting to your intelligence, then make sure my nephew of Warwick also understands this'

Her pout, that age made lovelier into a semblance of a rose, formed into 'that secret motherly smile' (as her sons liked to call it), it was such a rare sight that the boys' free hands reached across to each other's arms in a show of conciliation. George was the first 'Peace, lady mother, it would sadden me to see your efforts unhonoured. Pardie brother'

'See your apology as accepted. I also beg your forgiveness for any trespasses I may have made against you' Edward followed with his famed magnanimousity.

'Say, I hear the rings for Compline. How about we go yonder to St Paul's to pray for your success against the Lincolnshire rebels. An offering, if you will, dear brother' said George saccharinely. Edward nodded amiably and uplifted by his brother's equally famed winning smile accepted his hand. The hands reunited after they drew their fur-trimmed cloaks tighter about them in preparation for a combatting wind.

Not insulted, but pleased Cecily was, that they did not extend the invitation to her. I shall leave them to each other to do the rest, my work is done. She was once more served a cruel reminder of her own foregone youth when she bent with some difficulty for her book of hours. As her shrinking figure paced underneath the countless inverted vaults to her chapel she recalled a conversation she had long buried with her husband regarding the complexities of conflict and the unseen historical forces at play. ' This is not a tale of fate you loveable fool. It is one of a king's neglect for a cousin and brother who react like hurt children when they feel unloved' she thought, and would rephrase and repeat to herself in the coming weeks until it brought some comfort.