August 1474. Westminster Castle, England.
Magdalena entered her husband’s private study with a serious face, finding Edward and his younger brother standing around his writing desk. The three sons of York turned to look at her, George and Richard bowing at their waist and her husband pulled her by the hand until she came even closer.
“Your Grace,” said Richard, “A pleasure to see you, even in these dreadful circumstances.” Magdalena offered him nothing more than a simple, turning to see look at her husband with questioning blue eyes.
“His Grace wanted to see me?” she asked, running a hand down her belly. She had gained much weight with her practically yearly pregnancies, but Magdalena could still notice the subtle changes brought about by the new babe growing inside her. The slight roundness of her stomach, the thickening around her waist characteristic of the arrival of a new prince.
And if she could notice it, surely others could as well, which only helped to increase her popularity ever since her display of English loyalty in the past month. A fertile queen was a sign of a strong monarchy, much needed in the fragile state of England since the news had come of Edward of Lancaster’s departure from the continent.
“Yes,” said Edward. He placed a hand on her shoulder as he looked from her and to his brothers, Richard and George standing together like a united front. It made her feel ill, her stomach rumbling. “I have made decisions regarding the oncoming battle with Edward of Lancaster. Decisions that regard all three of you.”
“The battle is nothing to concern a king such as yourself,” said Magdalena. “Edward of Lancaster is a child with little experience in the field, much less military support by the landed gentry.”
“Possibly,” her husband replied. “But I must prepare what must happen if I’m to die in the field, or directly after it.”
“Prince Edward is the crown’s clear successor,” said Richard, looking at his brother, “But he is only nine years old. If the King were to fall, a regency would be needed until little Ned reached the age of eighteen.”
“Quite right,” Edward murmured. He looked at her, then at George and Richard. “It’s my desire that the three of you work together to put Prince Edward on the throne. A regency council, headed by the Queen where my brothers will sit in positions of power to rule until Ned reaches the age of maturity.”
Magdalena nodded. “I will work with you, my brothers,” she said, then turned to her husband. “But you will not fall. I’m sure of it.”
Edward smiled, but he said nothing. Instead, Richard came close to Magdalena and picked up her offered hand, dropping a respectful kiss to her knuckles.
“I swear, Your Grace, to look to you for leadership if our fortunes should fail and the King falls in battle,” he said, straightening up to look at Edward, “But the Queen is right, my king. We should stay optimistic, for the future is known only to our Creator and the odds are in our favour. Edward of Lancaster has little experience in battle, whereas your victories far outweigh your defeats.”
“Thank you for your confidence, Richard,” said Edward. “It will be much needed when we meet with our great enemy.” He looked at his remaining brother, arching his eyebrows in expectation. “George?”
The face of the Duke of Clarence was flushed with rage, skin a blotchy red and Magdalena watched him patiently. “A regency council?” he gritted out. “Headed by the Queen?”
“Yes, what part of it wasn’t clear to you?” Edward murmured.
“I’m your brother,” George said. “Your most senior vassal, the brother closest to you in age!”
Edward arched an eyebrow. “And Magdalena is my wife,” he responded. “The Queen. Mother of Prince Edward and Prince Richard, who stands behind his brother in the line of succession. To them, she is their most important and senior relative.”
“But she is a woman!” George argued.
Edward rolled his eyes, straightening up as he placed one hand over Magdalena’s shoulders. “It’s my decision, George,” he said. “Make your peace with it, or leave.”
George looked at Edward then to Magdalena, eyes as wide as saucers. He grunted one final time before he turned around and left, sticking his hands into his hair as he pulled the dark locks like Dickon did when he was nervous.
Richard sighed. “I must go,” he said with a deep bow. “By your leave, Your Grace. I must return to Gloucester to gather my men.”
“We’ll see you soon, brother,” said Edward. They embraced tightly and Richard gave them another bow before he left, the door shutting behind him. When they were finally and truly alone, Magdalena turned to her husband.
“You shouldn’t worry about the battle,” she murmured, extending her hand to adjust his collar. “You are quick and lucky. I have no fear over what may happen when you finally face our great enemy.”
“Your confidence in me is astounding,” he said with a smile. “But I feel the need to be prepared either way. My imprisonment at Grafton Regis has only made me realize how short life is and how it’s a father’s duty to see their children settled and safe, even if he dies before he can reap the rewards.”
She twisted her lips. “Does that mean I must care for the King’s illegitimate children as well?”
He tilted his head slightly. “Grace is already married and Bess’ betrothal to the Earl of Worcester, but Arthur is not yet settled,” he said.
“To whom do you wish I marry him?” she asked carefully. Arthur was thirteen, soon to be able to marry according to canon law.
“Cecily Bonville,” Edward responded. “She is a rich girl close in age to Arthur and I have been negotiating with her mother and my cousin, Katherine Neville.” He shrugged. “It’s my desire that the children he may have with the Baroness bear the name Harington instead of Plantagenet, but Katherine and her husband haven’t responded to my offer yet. The oncoming battle has delayed correspondence throughout the country.”
Magdalena nodded. “Is that not dangerous?” she asked. “To marry your eldest but illegitimate son to one of the richest girls in England? Enrique de Trastámara deposed his legitimat half-brother in a bloody civil war.”
“Perhaps,” he said, “But one needs only look at the Beauforts, who were rather loyal to their Lancastrian relatives, to know a positive example where such a thing didn’t happen. Do not fret, dearest wife.” He put his two hands on her shoulders, turning her slightly to him. “Arthur has been raised to be loyal to Ned and our younger children. Marriage to Cecily Bonville will make him a wealthy man and non-dependent on Ned’s favour to live a comfortable life.”
Magdalena twisted her lips. “If you believe so,” she said. “Are you worried about the battle?”
“Not at all,” he said. “You are right. Edward of Lancaster has no experience nor knowledge of military strategy.”
“He has advisors who are though,” said Magdalena. “Jasper Tudor and his mother, Marguerite de Anjou.”
Edward smiled.
“He has them no longer,” he said, handing her a letter with a broken green seal. “The Earl of Pembroke welcomed Jasper Tudor with steel. Henry of Lancaster’s half-brother sits in chains in Wales, waiting for the result of a Lancastrian loss to be brought to London for his trial and execution.” Magdalena sighed and picked up the letter, reading it carefully. “And…”
“And Marguerite de Anjou is dead,” she completed. “Taken by the plague.”
“Exactly,” said Edward. “The Lord has shown how much he cares for the Lancasters. Westminster will be defeated without delay.”
“And when he is dead and buried,” Magdalena began, “I know what to do with Margaret Stewart and their daughter, Blanche.”
Edward nodded. “Do tell,” he said.