Edward of York--the Sunne in Splendour

This is a day late, but on February 26, 1461, Edward of York and the Earl of Warwick were given a tumultuous welcome into the city of London, the citizens having refused entry to Marguerite d’Anjou. This was one of my favorite scenes in Sunne, so here are a few passages:
Sunne in Splendour, pages 83 & 84
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It seemed as if every church bell in London was pealing. Seeing the smoke spiraling into the sky from a dozen different directions, knowing that meant the jubilant Londoners were burning bonfires in the streets as if this were the June Feast Day of St John the Baptist, Cecily breathed a brief prayer that God might mercifully spare the city from fire this noon, for there was no way the fire bells could ever be heard or heeded.
The volume of noise was increasing; she’d not have thought it possible. The shouts were audible now, shouts of “York!” and “Warwick!” But, overriding all, one name again and again, a hoarse chant that sent shivers of emotion up Cecily’s spine…Edward! Edward! Until the entire city echoed with the sound, with the name of her son.
(omission)
As another outburst of cheering rocked the churchyard, eclipsing all that had gone before, she knew even as she straightened up that her son had ridden through the gateway.
He was astride a magnificent white stallion with a silvery tail that trailed almost to the ground and he seemed to be enveloped in light, with the sun directly over his head, gilding his armour and tawny hair.
“Oh, Ma Mere!” Margaret gasped, in a voice that was strangely uncertain, unexpectedly awed. “He does look like a king!”
“Yes, he does,” Cecily said softly, forgetting that she had to shout to make herself heard. “He does, indeed.”
(omission)
Cecily clutched at her composure, smiled at her son. “Never have I seen such a welcome, Edward…never in my lifetime!”
“Welcome, Ma Mere?” he echoed and kissed her lightly on both cheeks so that his voice reached her ear alone. “I rather thought it to be a coronation.”
For a moment, their eyes held, smoke-grey met the most vivid of blues. And then Cecily nodded slowly and Edward turned back to face the crowds thronging the churchyard, raising his hand in careless salute of the continuing cheers. She watched, the faintest of smiles curving the corners of her mouth.
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