Chapter 33 #2
Jeanette nodded. ‘Send to the citizens and greet them in Richard’s name. Say he regards them in full affection and let them know that the new King, despite his great youth, has spoken to you and you have yielded to his bidding.’
John eyed her askance.
‘Your father has been on England’s throne for all our lives.
He was the country’s anchor, their North Star.
He may have lost his way of late and been influenced by others in their own interests, but he was still present.
Now they have a new king, a new anchor, sired by their beloved prince.
Richard is brave, but he is only ten years old and others must govern in his stead and be wise for his sake.
I shall do my best to be wise for him too .
. .’ She gripped his arm. ‘I hope to God, John, that he stays in my custody with the support of those he trusts and loves. We are counting on you never more than now.’
‘I know, and I shall not let you down,’ he promised, putting his hand over hers, before removing it to cross himself. ‘He was a great king,’ he said. ‘He outlived his best years, but at his zenith, he shone like the sun.’
In the morning light, Jeanette watched the senior London dignitaries enter the royal bedchamber to pay their respects to King Edward and bear witness to his passing.
Safe conducts had been issued in Richard’s name, and the men’s liberties assured.
Jeanette had made it clear it was Richard’s authority that set the stamp on everything.
Last night, she and Master Burley had schooled Richard in what he must say and do when the citizens arrived.
The dignitaries, having paid their respects, were escorted to the window where Richard waited to receive them seated on his grandsire’s golden chair, with Jeanette behind him, and his Uncle John two paces to the side.
The citizens knelt, some with the difficulty of arthritic hips and knees, and struggled to their feet again at Richard’s behest.
‘Sire,’ said the mayor, ‘may you reign in peace and justice. We are all your loyal subjects; we love and revere you, and as we do so, so do we ask you to help us establish peace and honour to yourself and to the Duke of Lancaster, that your reign might be glorious. We do beseech you to aid us in this endeavour if it please you.’
Richard squared his shoulders, and Jeanette watched him with frightened, tender pride. He gave her a swift glance, and she smiled encouragement.
‘It pleases me very much,’ Richard said. ‘And you are welcome. You and my uncle the Duke of Lancaster have had your differences in the past, but now is a time to come together in peace and cooperation.’
Jeanette imperceptibly squeezed his shoulder. He was not putting a foot wrong, and she was so proud of him.
Richard beckoned to John, who stepped forward and knelt.
‘Sire, I wish for peace and cooperation too, and I undertake on my oath to almighty God to work willingly towards those goals. This is a new beginning and a new reign for us all. I swear I shall be a friend and ally of the citizens of London from this day forth.’ He stood up, went over to the London officials and exchanged peace kisses with each one to seal his vow.
Her expression smooth, Jeanette watched the forced play-acting, but at least they were all performing their roles so thoroughly that for now it was the truth, with positive intent on both sides.
The King in death was performing a final role of unification.
Whether it would last or dry away like a summer shower remained to be seen.
For the next three weeks, King Edward lay in state at Sheen, his chamber draped in lengths of black cloth. A cast was made of his facial features, and a skilled craftsman carved a wooden effigy to lie on top of the bier, clad in magnificent robes of state.
The funeral procession wound its way from Sheen through Southwark and across London Bridge into the city.
Four hundred men bearing torches lit the path of the cortege to St Paul’s Cathedral where the body was placed under vigil overnight.
Richard was enthralled by the solemn pageantry, and although Jeanette was proud of the way he conducted himself, she was concerned at how focused he was on the rituals, steeping himself at a deep level, imprinting his soul with the high dignity of kingship.
Simon Sudbury, Archbishop of Canterbury, conducted the funeral ceremony, his round face shining like a glazed pastry.
Incense drifted over the congregation, masking a faint scent of decomposition.
Wrapped in red samite, the King’s body was placed inside a temporary tomb covered over with a double swathe of silk brocade cloth.
A knight entered bearing the heraldry of the dead monarch and offered the shield and sword for display above his tomb to remind everyone of what a great warrior King Edward III had been in his life.
Watching the ceremonies, Jeanette remembered him in his prime – young, gloriously handsome and vital, clearheaded and strong, filled with love and laughter, yet terrible in anger.
People crossed him at their peril. Now he was gone, and his eldest son before him, her beloved Edward.
She looked at Richard and thought of all that was to come for him and her heart filled with tender fear.
Eleven days later, Richard was crowned in the same abbey where his grandfather had so recently been received for burial.
If the royal funeral had been elaborate, Richard’s coronation surpassed it in magnificence.
The previous day the fountains between the Tower of London and Cheapside had run with wine, and young maidens dressed in white and gold, drawn in a mocked-up wooden castle on wheels, had showered Richard on his way to Westminster Palace with gilt scrolls lauding his future kingship and offering him wine from a golden cup.
The coronation itself was a test of endurance, and by the end of the additional processions and rituals, despite his love of ceremony, Richard was pale and drained.
The lords and barons crowded around him – powerful, selfserving men towering over a ten-year-old boy – until eventually Simon Burley picked him up and raised him on to his shoulders above the throng.
In so doing, one of Richard’s gilded shoes fell off into the press around him.
Jeanette’s son Tom quickly picked it up and restored it to his half-brother’s narrow white foot, at the same time giving him an encouraging smile.
But Jeanette knew the gossips would remark on the loss of the shoe and spread ominous portents – they always did.
A sumptuous banquet followed the coronation in the palace’s great hall, but before it began Jeanette took Richard away to change from his heavy coronation robes into more practical garments.
It was a moment to draw breath and settle down.
Undressed to his shirt and braies, the chrism oil gleaming on his chest, Richard played with the dogs for a short while and then Jeanette sat him down and cooled his brow with a cloth steeped in rose water.
He gave her a look that made her heart clench for it was all his father’s. ‘I am all right, mother.’
‘It has been a long day though, and more to come.’
‘I do not mind.’ A gleam entered his eyes. ‘It is like being at a feast when you want to eat everything, but there is too much all at once. It doesn’t stop you wanting what you see, but it makes you feel sick.’
She laughed at his comparison and stroked his hair. ‘Indeed, my love, but there comes a time when everything must slow down, and that is what we are doing now – taking a respite.’
Richard nodded.
‘It will not be easy,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t for your father, although he was never a king, and your grandsire had to make many difficult choices.
I cannot teach you this and neither can Master Burley or Uncle John or any bishop.
Just as there must eventually come a stop to the feasting, so too must you turn inside to yourself and discover who you are.
It is harder for a king because people will have their own thoughts about you, and who they want you to be, and you will have duties and obligations you may not like but must carry out nevertheless.
People will befriend you to obtain advantage rather than from honourable motives.
Always be on your guard, but open enough to allow true friendship in.
’ She grimaced at herself. ‘Hah, listen to your mother giving you all manner of advice when you have had a surfeit today. All this can wait until another time.’
He smiled at her. ‘I shall still like being a king though.’ He stroked the red and gold silk of his fresh tunic.
‘It is an exalted position, even if it comes with duty and care.’
Jeanette frowned as she spoke. Richard had always had a fascination with kingship. With ceremony and ritual, and all the trappings. He expected the best of everything, and if that expectation wasn’t fulfilled he became agitated. But she would not lecture him further today. This was enough for now.