Today I'm welcoming Anne O'Brien and her book - The Queen's Rival - to my blog as part of the blog tour hosted by The Coffee Pot Book Club (founded by Mary Anne Yarde)
The Queen's Rival
England, 1459.
One family united by blood. Torn apart by war…
The Wars of the Roses storm through the country, and Cecily Neville, Duchess of York, plots to topple the weak-minded King Henry VI from the throne.
But when the Yorkists are defeated at the battle of Ludford Bridge, Cecily’s family flee and abandon her to face a marauding Lancastrian army on her own.
Stripped of her lands and imprisoned in Tonbridge Castle, the Duchess begins to spin a web of deceit. One that will eventually lead to treason, to the fall of King Henry VI, and to her eldest son being crowned King Edward IV.
Publication Date: 15th April 2021(paperback) September 2020 (Hardback and ebook)
Publisher: HarperCollins
Page Length: 531 pages
Genre: Historical Fiction
You can purchase a copy via -
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Queens-Rival-Anne-OBrien/dp/0008225532
Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Queens-Rival-Anne-OBrien/dp/0008225532
Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/Queens-Rival-Anne-OBrien/dp/0008225532
Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/Queens-Rival-Anne-OBrien/dp/0008225508
Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-queens-rival-anne-obrien/1137842630
Waterstones: https://www.waterstones.com/book/the-queens-rival/anne-obrien/9780008225544
Audio: https://www.audible.co.uk/pd/The-Queens-Rival-Audiobook/0008225524
Blackwells: https://blackwells.co.uk/bookshop/product/The-Queens-Rival-by-Anne-OBrien-author/9780008225544
WHSmith: https://www.whsmith.co.uk/products/the-queens-rival/anne-obrien/hardback/9780008225544.html
Now for the excerpt -
England’s Chronicle, January 1478
As we predicted.
A Bill of Attainder is passed, signed by King Edward’s own hand.
The total destruction of the Duke of Clarence is complete.
He is convicted of treason, and so is condemned to death.
Many will say that the unfortunate Duke has paved his own path to this terrible outcome. Treachery had become a way of life for him.
It is a moment of great sadness, and we will all mourn with Duchess Cecily, that the House of York has come to this terrible pass.
Duchess Cecily visits the Duke of Clarence in the Tower of London, February 1478
I was allowed to see him once more, in his confinement in the Tower. Around him was spread all the comfort that might be expected of a royal Prince: the tapestries, the cushioned chairs, the enamelled hanap and cups. He was well groomed, with serv ants to attend to his needs, his hair neatly trimmed around his ears. The velvet and satin doublet, patterned in black and green, glorious with its extravagant sleeves that draped to the floor as he sat, proclaimed his wealth and importance. Only his face told me of his unquiet mind. Still so young and defiant, but he was worn, weary.
The door was locked behind me. Slowly he rose to his feet. He had been sitting immobile, looking out at freedom beyond the walls. The books he has been given were unopened. I could not even guess the measure of his thoughts. Was he repentant? Or merely intransigent?
He bowed, through years of long practice. He might be full of hatred but still he showed me respect, while I struggled to quench the anger that rose like bile in my throat. I had done all I could, as had his sisters. Nothing had destroyed that worm of malice and deceit and raw ambition that thrived and grew within him.
It was the defiance that spoke out.
‘I know what you have come to say, my Lady Mother. It makes no difference now. My brother will have my life. You should be grateful to him, for removing a burr that has long irritated your own flesh. Soon you will be able to forget the son who questioned the very foundations of your marriage.’
His voice croaked through lack of use in recent hours. I spoke, moved by grief and imminent loss. There was no pity for him. Pity had expired long ago.
‘I did all I could to bring about your restitution. You were given every chance by the King. You repay me by resurrecting the dishonour of my infidelity. You attacked the justice dispensed by your brother. There is nothing I can say to commend you, except that you should make your peace with God. Any pity I felt for you has been destroyed by your wilfulness.’
Clarence blinked. I had never spoken to him in such a manner, not even when I had brought him to heel at Baynard’s Castle.
‘All true,’ he said. ‘Why are you here at all?’
He would have moved away, except that I stepped before him so that he must look at me, take note of my words.
‘I am here because I cannot let you go to your death without a final meeting. I gave you life. I will be here in the moments before your death.’
‘I do not want your sanctimonious maternal offerings. I do not want your prayers.’
'You cannot prevent me from offering them. It is my duty. You are my son. You will always be my son, however much you wound me.’
His mouth curved in a smile that was not pleasant.
‘And am I legitimate? Perhaps I am the only one of us all?’
I felt like striking him. Even now, with death at his side, he would hold to the old well-used political lies.
‘You will believe as you wish.’
He stepped away, picking up a book, immediately flinging it onto his bed. ‘He will not execute me.’
‘No.’
‘He has given me a choice in the manner of my death.’ His smile was a death’s grimace. ‘Is he not generous in his victory over me?’
I would not ask what my son had chosen. Instead: ‘Why? Why could you not accept the power and status that he gave you?’
‘Because I think I have the right to be King.’
‘Edward is the legitimate King.’
‘How would you say other, without branding yourself as unchaste within your marriage to my glorified father? You will never brand him cuckold. You could think no wrong of him.’
‘Oh, but I did. Your father could be impetuous and misguided. He could make the wrong choices, and did so. I loved him no less.’
‘But you were unfaithful to him. What was it? A momentary whorish itch when he was away on campaign? Was there more than one archer? A servant? An ostler? Who’s to know the status of my father…’
Rising within me like a spring tide, I felt the uncontrollable urge to strike him, flat-handed against his cheek. And yet I could not.
‘Be silent!’
My voice, in my hurt, was as harsh as a magpie’s cry.
‘Your father would be ashamed to hear you speak in this manner. You will believe what you wish, but you will not so accuse me. Since there is no hope of the King’s leniency, all I ask is that you make confession and go to your end with a quiet heart.’
‘I cannot,’ Clarence hissed. ‘I will curse my brother with my final breath.’
The terrible anger in his face defeated me.
‘Farewell, my son.’
Suddenly he fell to his knees before me, lifting my hands to his brow, pressing them there against his disordered hair. I could feel him tremble, in spite of all his bold defiance. I recognised the fear that he had been determined to hide. I stooped and pressed my lips to his hair. Memories of him as the child I had loved softened my heart.
Yet as I left him I realised that not once had I called him by his given name. I should have given him that final recognition.
Recorded by the private hand of Cecily, King’s Mother
On this eighteenth day of February of the year 1478, in the Tower of London, was done to death George Plantagenet, Duke of Clarence.
My son.
For treason.
He will be interred with his wife, Isabel Neville, in Tewkesbury Abbey. The funeral, the monument, and the chantry foundation at Tewkesbury Abbey, all in the generous hands of King Edward. I hope that it is a sign of his repentance. Or perhaps it is guilt. It is said that the King bewailed his brother’s death. I do not know the truth of it.
May this be the end of the treason and turbulence that has so bedevilled my son’s reign.
I must make my own amends in the manner in which I conduct my life, for my sins of omission and commission.
There is no further role for me in this reign.
My emotions are frozen, my grief a hard knot beneath my heart.
I dedicate my life to God.
Anne O'Brien
Sunday
Times Bestselling author Anne O’Brien was born in West Yorkshire.
After gaining a BA Honours degree in History at Manchester University
and a Master’s in Education at Hull, she lived in East Yorkshire
for many years as a teacher of history.
Today she has sold over 700,000 copies of her books medieval history novels in the UK and internationally. She lives with her husband in an eighteenth-century timber-framed cottage in the depths of the Welsh Marches in Herefordshire. The area provides endless inspiration for her novels which breathe life into the forgotten women of medieval history.
You can connect with Anne O'Brien via these platforms -
Website: https://www.anneobrienbooks.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/anne_obrien
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/anneobrienbooks/?ref=bookmarks
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/anne-o-brien-89668a45/
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/thisisanneobrie/_saved/
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Anne-OBrien/e/B001HD1NHI
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You can also learn more about the book and the author by visiting the other blogs on this tour.
That's it for now.
Till the next time.
Take care Zoe
Thank you so much for hosting today's blog tour stop.
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