Текст книги "The Sun in Splendour"

Автор книги: Jean Plaidy

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This book made available by the Internet Archive.

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1

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THE MEETING IN WHITTLEBURY FOREST

Jacquetta was watching from the topmost turret of Grafton Manor for the arrival of her daughter. She herself had made sure that Elizabeth's bedchamber was ready and that it should be as comfortable as she could make it. Poor Elizabeth would be in need of comfort, sorrowing widow that she was with two young children to provide for and an uncertain future before her.

These were indeed uncertain times. The wretched war went on and on—swaying this way and that, victory one day for York and the next for Lancaster.

A plague on their wars, thought Jacquetta, which continually took a warm-blooded woman's husband away from her and robbed her daughter of hers altogether.

At least her beloved Richard was safe and had managed to send news to her after having fled with the King somewhere up to the north, for the message had come to her from Newcastle. They were the losers again, and this rime it seemed that some conclusion might be reached for Edward of York had proclaimed himself King and the people favoured him. He was a young man of great charm, Jacquetta had to admit, although the Rivers were staunch Lancastrians. 'Every inch a King,' was what they said of Edward; and as he was almost six feet four there were a good many inches. He was a magnificent soldier, an ardent lover of women and the greatest possible contrast to poor Henry who was so saintly that he longed to be a monk and had on more than one occasion lapsed into madness.

Perhaps, thought Jacquetta, we are on the wrong side.

Her heart began to beat faster for in the distance she could make out a party of riders. Her daughter must be among them.

She would go down at once to meet her, to assure her that she was welcome, that Grafton was her home and should remain so for as long as she wished it to be.

The sight of her daughter filled her with pride. Elizabeth was as beautiful as ever—the most handsome of a very attractive family. Jacquetta had reason to be proud of the children she had borne Richard—seven sons and seven daughters, and Elizabeth, the eldest, had made a very quiet entrance into the world for their marriage had been frowned on in high places and everything connected with it had had to be conducted with the utmost secrecy.

Elizabeth had dismounted. She was as calm as her mother expected her to be. Little ruffled Elizabeth and it had always been so from nursery days. Elizabeth had taken command which was perhaps natural as she was the eldest, and her brothers, lively young boys as they had been, could never get the better of their sister Elizabeth.

'My dearest,' cried Jacquetta embracing her daughter. 'This is a sorry occasion.'

Elizabeth returned her mother's embrace with restrained affection.

'We knew you would offer us a haven,' she said. She led the boys forward. Thomas and Richard Grey were pleasant looking and about ten and eight years of age, old enough to realize that the death of their father was a very tragic event and of great consequence to them.

Jacquetta kissed her grandsons with fervour, calling them her little lambs whom she was glad to have in her keeping.

'Come in, dear child,' she went on, putting her arm through that of her daughter. 'You will be weary. Your own room is ready for you, and the boys will be next to you. Welcome to Grafton, my darlings. Your home, dear Elizabeth, as it ever was and always will be while I am here.'

'My heartfelt thanks, dear lady,' said Elizabeth. 'For we are indeed in dire circumstances.'

They went into the Manor together.

'It has been a long ride to Northamptonshire,' went on Ehzabeth.

'Never mind, my child. Now you are here.'

The boys were taken to rooms made ready for them and Jacquetta accompanied Elizabeth to hers.

There, my child, just as it used to be. You'll be happy again. I promise you.'

'Have you read the signs?'

Jacquetta hesitated. Many people thought she was a witch. She was in a way, she supposed. She had on occasions foretold the future but in her heart she was not sure whether she had wanted something to happen and had made it so by her own actions. The water nymph of the Rhine, Melusina, was said to have been an ancestress of hers. It was one of those lovely legends which became attached to some families. Supernatural beings found their way into the family history by beguiling one of its members and thus infused some strain either for good or evil which appeared in the family for generations. The House of Luxembourg had Melusina, and the serpent who was said to be a familiar of that fair enchantress had become one of the devices on the shields of the Luxembourg Princes. Because she came from the ruling Luxembourg family and had the right to the device, the suspicion that she was a sorceress had been bom; and Jacquetta found it intriguing and often useful so, while she did not exactly encourage it, she did nothing to deny it.

'There is a great fortune for you,' she said now. 'My daughter, your fortunes are at a low ebb but that will change. There is such a dazzling prospect before you that soon you will be looking back to this day and realizing that it was only a stepping-stone to great things. It is the little dark wood which you must traverse before you reach the pastures of prosperity.'

'Oh, dear lady, is that what you wish for me or what you prophesy?'

'Elizabeth, I would say this to none but you, but sometimes I do not know the difference.'

Elizabeth threw back her hood. Then the full blaze of her beauty struck even her mother speechless even though she had been aware of it. It was always like that after she had not seen her for a while. Elizabeth knew it and there was just a hint of the dramatic in the manner in which the hood was thrown back.

The beautiful golden hair fell loose about her shoulders to her knees. It rippled and shone where the light caught it; it softened her face which in its perfect classical features might have been a little repellingly cold without it. Her teeth were white and perfect; her eyes a greyish blue fringed with long thick golden lashes; the nose straight, neither long nor short, but perfect. Jacquetta

always thought that Elizabeth had inherited the best features from each parent; and they were two exceedingly handsome people.

Elizabeth however had inherited little of her mother's warmth. She was clever, and had been from a child, and Jacquetta had always thought: Elizabeth can take care of herself. That was why it was such a triumph to have her come home now in this time of need.

The estates have been confiscated,' Elizabeth said. 'We have nothing at all. Dear Mother, I need to get through that dark wood quickly.'

'You will. I promise you that. These are strange times/

'Warwick has made Edward of York King and he will remain so, they say. Henry has no heart for battle.'

'There is the Queen,' Jacquetta reminded her daughter. 'And the little Prince.'

'Margaret will fight to the death,' said Elizabeth. 'But Margaret is a fool.'

Tt is well that lady is not able to hear you say that.'

'She would rage against me, threaten me with all sorts of horrible punishments, and then, when I reminded her of our friendship and service to her cause, embrace me, forgive me, and tell me she would always feel affection for me. That is Margaret.'

'You should know her. You served in her bedchamber and such service is the best way to know queens intimately.'

'Mother, we are on the losing side. The sooner we face that the better.'

'Dear child, noble families cannot change sides because they are on the losing one.'

'They all say that Edward has come to stay. Warwick will see to that and it is Warwick who makes and unmakes kings.'

'Edward has the looks of a king which is just what poor Henry lacks, but kings are not chosen for their looks.'

'They have some effect surely,' said Elizabeth. 'And while the Yorkists reign I shall never regain my estates, my children will have nothing and I shall remain a widow.'

'My dearest child, you have the greatest asset of all.'

'And what is that?'

'Yourself. Your beauty ... I never saw a more lovely creature. There! How can you despair when you have such gifts!' She came nearer to her daughter, and spoke softly, mysteriously. 'Change

is coming, I promise you. Your fortunes will be reversed. Wait, Elizabeth. Be patient. Trust your mother. Trust the old serpent of the Rhine.'

Elizabeth looked at her mother eagerly, hopefully.

At least I have managed to raise her spirits, thought Jacquetta.

She left her daughter to wash and rest while she went to her own room.

It was good to have Elizabeth and the boys with her. The trouble with children was that they went away—^boys to be brought up in other noble houses and girls to the homes of their future husbands. Life was sad—and made so by absurd conventions. Famihes should be together. Jacquetta had always rebelled against doing what was expected of her. She believed that a woman of spirit should judge for herself.

She had been forced into marriage when she was sixteen years old. A very grand marriage in which her family had rejoiced. She remembered her uncle Louis of Luxembourg, Bishop Therouanne, coming to her rubbing his hands together murmuring: 'Great good fortune, niece. Such a marriage I have arranged for you.'

There had had to be a certain amount of secrecy because the great Duke of Burgundy would have objected. Everybody then had been terrified of offending the great Duke of Burgundy, even the important man they had succeeded in capturing for her husband. And the reason was not only that Burgundy did not want the English to have fresh influence with Luxembourg but because the bridegroom had just become a widower his late wife having been the sister of the Great Duke himself.

An intriguing situation which had appealed to that arch intriguante Jacquetta. Her prospective husband was the mighty Duke of Bedford, the most important man in France at that time, some said, because he was the Regent and had been so since the death of his brother Henry the Fifth who had conquered France and married the French King's daughter. No wonder her family had been eager for the match. She was not averse to it herself apart from the fact that she was being forced into it and Jacquetta always liked to make up her own mind—then she saw him. He was in his forties and he seemed to her a very old man.

However the marriage took place. He was not unkind. He thought her very pretty and charming—and she did not see very much of him because he was always engaged in weighty matters and with the ceremonies over there was another important concern for him—the pacification of the mighty Burgundy.

The marriage did not last long. Poor old man, he died worn out by his troubles and deeply depressed because he saw that the English were losing their grip on France.

And Jacquetta had been free. She had been seventeen when she saw the most handsome man in England. He was not so only in her eyes because she had heard him called that by others. Richard Woodville of the Mote Maidstone until his elder brother died and he inherited Grafton in Northamptonshire.

Richard had served Jacquetta's late husband well and had been knighted by Henry the Sixth at Leicester about ten years before they met. Of course even with his knighthood he was only a humble squire and she was the daughter of the Count St Pol of the reigning House of Luxembourg, jacquetta had known that if she had made known her desire to marry Richard Woodville there would be protests from her family. Protests?—More than that. It would be strictly forbidden and attempts would be made to hustle her into marriage with someone of high rank and very likely no physical attractions for her whatsoever. The fact was that after she had seen Richard Woodville no one else would do for her, so with what her uncle called a wanton lack of consideration for her rank she had married the handsomest man in England in secret, consummated the marriage with such ver^e that before her irate brother and her uncle knew of it she was enceinte with Elizabeth, which made any annulling of the marriage impossible.

Jacquetta had been ecstatically happy and had fourteen children one after the other and looked scarcely a day older than she had been when she had married her beautiful Richard. She knew it was whispered that she was a sorceress, for none but a witch could continue to look so young and beautiful and full of vitality after so much childbearing.

Jacquetta could and did. There were powders and concoctions besides lotions to help the hair retain its colour. She was knowledgeable in such arts and if that was witchcraft, then she was a witch. But she enjoyed her life, except when her husband and sons were torn from their homes to fight these wretched wars of

the roses. But her nature was such that she knew the reunions could not have been so glorious but for the partings. There were great compensations in life.

Secretly she was glad that Edward now seemed firmly on the throne. He might be the enemy but the acceptance of him as king would stop the wars, and more than anything she wanted her family to be safe and with her whenever possible.

T am proud of my Woodvilles/ she would say, 'every one of them.' And once more she would congratulate herself on her wisdom in snapping her fingers at convention and following the path of romance. It was an unwritten law that when a woman married once for state reasons, the next time—if there was a next time—she should choose for herself. And that was exactly what she had done. Poor Richard, he had been bewildered, a little fearful, but she had swept him off his feet, and he had been no match for the demanding determined Duchess of Bedford.

He had been right of course to fear there would be trouble. Her brother the Count of St Pol and her uncle, Louis of Luxembourg and Bishop of Therouanne, had sent bitter reproaches and declared they did not want to see her again. She snapped her fingers at them. She could endure the separation, she declared. They were naturally not the only ones who were angry. There was also the English royal house for in marrying the Duke of Bedford she had become a member of that.

Henry was lenient though and all that had been demanded was a fine of a thousand pounds. It was not easy to find that money of course for Richard was only a poor knight, but they had managed and very soon were forgiven for Richard was firm in his allegiance to the House of Lancaster and he had been raised to the peerage for his services and was now Lord Rivers, a name they had chosen from the old family one of Red vers. Happy years they had been saddened only by separation and the fear of what might be happening to him in those stupid wars. In common with many women Jacquetta did not greatly care which side was successful as long as there could be an end to the senseless killing.

No one was safe—but when had they ever been? At any moment a man could offend someone in a high place and some pretext would be found for taking off his head. The best life was in the country, away from the Court and dangerous affairs, and that was where Jacquetta liked to be with her family about her.

And now here was Elizabeth come home in her trouble:

beautiful Elizabeth with her long golden hair and face that resembled a Greek statue, tall, willowy, still with a figure unimpaired by the bearing of children.

Jacquetta fingered the serpent's device on the brooch she was wearing.

She was certain that her beautiful daughter would find a way out of her troubles. Of all her children, Elizabeth was the one who knew best how to take care of herself.

–4^

* * * 1^^

During the months that followed Elizabeth had plenty of time to brood on her fate. It seemed worse to her because she had planned it all so differently. Being exceptionally beautiful for as long as she could remember she had expected to reap benefits from her outstanding physical perfections. She had been aware of admiration from the cradle; and although she knew that her father was not one of the powerful nobles of England, she had expected a good marriage.

Perhaps she would have been wiser to have accepted Sir Hugh Johnes. He was, it was true, of no great significance but he had been under the patronage of the great Earl of Warwick and might have risen. But she had declined, and it was only now that this calamity had befallen her that she was wondering whether she should have taken him.

Elizabeth had always felt that some special fate was in store for her. Her mother had hinted at it more than once and whether Jacquetta really could see into the future was not certain, but like most people Elizabeth liked to believe auguries that were good and only doubted when they were not.

To have been bom the daughter of a mesalliance was in itself dramatic. Of course they had been poor and there were so many brothers and sisters; Jacquetta had dominated the family for their father was away a great deal and in any case was completely under the spell of his exciting wife. Warm-hearted, lively Jacquetta about whom there was an aura of mystery because of the serpent of Melusina, had formed close family ties and Elizabeth in spite of the calculating streak in her nature, was one of them and could never forget that she was a Woodville.

Woodvilles stand together, Jacquetta had said. The good fortune of one of us is the good fortune of all and so shall it be if

troubles are to come. It was the code of the family and none would ever forget it.

She remembered with excitement the day she left for Windsor there to play her part of lady of the bedchamber to the Queen.

Margaret of Anjou had liked her even though there could not have been two women less alike. Margaret was impulsive, fiercely vindictive to her enemies and as fiercely faithful to her friends. Elizabeth was cool, and rarely acted on impulse; she was always looking for the advantage to herself as she must, being born without the means to buy a rich and powerful husband. But marriages were rarely arranged by the young people concerned; they were not the result of demanding passion, devoted love. Oh no, lands, possession, titles came into it; and the least physically desirable parti had far greater chance if possessed of a fortune than the most beautiful woman on earth who was without one.

Such knowledge rankled; and Elizabeth was wary. If her father was a humble knight who had managed to get into the peerage for service to a cause which was now out of favour, her mother though disowned was of the reigning House of Luxembourg. Elizabeth had decided that she was not going to throw away her chances lightly.

Margaret had become quite fond of her. Elizabeth knew how to please her, and that was to listen to her tirades against the Duke of York, to murmur sympathetically, to admire the Prince of Wales as the most perfect baby that ever had been bom, and to show an interest in Margaret's gowns which was not difficult for Elizabeth herself liked splendour. We are of a kind in one way, she thought. We have both had impoverished childhoods, but she has become a queen. What a triumph—and yet now Margaret had lost her crown ... or not exactly lost it. Margaret would never agree to that. But she was in exile and the young godlike Edward, who had so caught the people's fancy was on the throne. To stay, some said.

And that brought her back to the ever recurring theme. And we are on the wrong side.

If only her father had sported the white rose instead of the red! He might have known that Henry was not going to prevail over York. York had had everything on his side. He was energetic while Henry was lethargic as far as war was concerned; Henry wanted to read his books, listen to music, plan buildings and pray. Oh those prayers! They went on interminably. Elizabeth

was grateful that Margaret had become a little impatient with them. York was a ruler; he even declared he had a greater claim to the throne and some agreed with him. The usurpation of Henry's grandfather was a constant topic, and York's having descended from two branches of the royal tree was true enough. York had the greater claim; he was more fitted to be the king. Moreover he had the Earl of Warwick on his side. It should have been obvious to any that York was going to succeed. A clever man would have arranged something to enable him to change sides but her father had not done it; nor had her husband.

She sighed. Yes perhaps it would have been wise to have taken Hugh Johnes.

She often thought of Hugh, though she had had no deep feelings for him; nor had she a great deal for John Grey. One must, she was sure, remain calm in these matters. Her mother had been so different. She had thrown away rank and power possibly for the sake of Richard Woodville, and never regretted it. But Jacquetta was different from others. She had been a member of the royal House of Luxembourg; she had made one brilliant marriage and had been the Duchess of Bedford, a member of the royal family, before she married Richard Woodville for love. Jacquetta had had a wonderful life, she always said. She may have had. But what of her poor penniless offspring?

Margaret had said when Elizabeth arrived to be a lady of her bedchamber: 'Ah you are beautiful. I shall have no difficulty in finding a husband for you.'

Margaret's matchmaking had been something of a joke at Court. She took time off from meddling in state matters to get her ladies as she said 'settled'.

Nothing had pleased her more than to pair off people; to get them married, to watch for the children and bestow gifts on them. A strange trait in such an ambitious fiery little Queen.

It was of course not long before Hugh appeared and no sooner had he set eyes on Elizabeth than he had wanted to marry her. Elizabeth had known what was in his mind and had not been very excited. He was reputed to be a brave knight; he had distinguished himself in the service of the great Earl of Warwick, but he was without a fortune.

This had happened during one of the periods of Henry's madness when the Duke of York—the present King's father– was Protector of the Realm and there was peace—although an

uneasy one—between the houses of York and Lancaster.

The Queen, being immersed in lookmg after her husband, had not nohced what was happening to her maid of honour. So it was that Elizabeth was made an offer of marriage. Not by Hugh himself. He was of a timid nature and he must have sensed that Elizabeth had a high opinion of herself for he arranged that others should seek her hand for him. And whom did he ask but the two most important men in the Kingdom at that time—the Duke of York himself and one who was perhaps even greater: Warwick the Kingmaker.

She remembered now the letters she had had from those two men and she marvelled at their friendship for Hugh and that they should take time to plead for him.

'He hath informed me that he hath great love and affection for

your person. ... I write to you at this time and pray you that

you will (at this my request and prayer) condescend and apply

you unto his lawful and honest desire . . . and cause me to

show you such good patronage as shall hold you content and

pleased. . . .'

There was something about the letter which irritated her. He was telling her that he favoured her marriage with this poor knight as being worthy of her and offered his patronage in a lordly condescending manner. This was the great Warwick, friend of the Duke of York whom Margaret regarded as her great enemy.

The Duke of York had written less pompously urging the match which Hugh Johnes so desired and hinting more tactfully than Warwick had done that he would be pleased by the match.

She supposed that Hugh believed she would find requests from such men irresistible. He did not know Elizabeth.

When she had told Jacquetta about the offer Jacquetta had laughed. T like a man to do his own wooing,' was her comment.

And so do I, thought Elizabeth.

Margaret was pleased when she refused the match.

'Warwick's protege!' she had cried. 'And the Duke of York's! How I hate those two. They are responsible for all our troubles ... for the King's illness . . . everything. . . . They try to snatch our crown from us. They shall never do that. So you are refusing this man they want to force on you, eh. Good. That is very good. My beautiful Elizabeth, I will find a better match for you.'

And then there had been that staunch Lancastrian.

'John Grey is a good man/ said the Queen. 'He has served us well. The King is fond of him. I have always liked him myself, and he is the heir of Ferrers of Groby. Do you know, my dear, he has a fine place at Bradgate and he is descended from the Norman nobility.'

'I am in no hurry to marry, my lady,' said Elizabeth.

'Of course you are not, but you are wise enough to see a good chance when it comes before you, eh? I believe that in life it is unwise to miss good opportunities hoping for better that may never come.'

So the Queen was in favour of the match, and she was apt to grow impatient with those who did not fall in with her wishes.

Elizabeth had thought about a match with John Grey and Jacquetta had agreed with the Queen that it would be a good one. John Grey was young, good-looking and very much in love with the beautiful Elizabeth.

So they were married and she spent several years at Bradgate. She grew to love the place which was about two miles from Groby castle and only four from Leicester. There her two boys were bom and, as she had taken quite a liking to the quiet life, the marriage turned out to be quite a happy one. She would ride in the beautiful grounds enjoying the pleasaunces and the fish ponds and the well kept gardens. It was thrilling to ride over the bridge across the moat and look up at the two towers and the battlements with their quoins and corbels; and to say to herself: This beautiful place belongs to us. . . .It will be my son's in time and Groby castle as well.

She had thought at that fime that she had done well on her marriage.

All went smoothly until the fighting started. More battles were fought again. Northampton and then Wakefield where the Duke of York had met his death after which his head, adorned by a paper crown, had been stuck up on the walls of the city of York. How Margaret had rejoiced then. Poor Margaret, she should have learned that she was one of those women whom Fate loved to mock. Her triumphs were short-lived and her defeats were very often of her own making.

The brilliant tactics of the Earl of Warwick turned the tables after the Yorkist defeat at St Albans, which was a fateful battle for her for in it her husband had perished and everything had changed. The wife with two boys whose future had seemed

secure—or as secure as anything could be in this changing world—had become the widow.

Even then she would have been rich and able to care for her boys. How foolish Margaret could be! The Lancastrians had won the battle of St Albans for her and it was that sly strategist Warwick who had turned it into victory for York by simply taking London and setting up Edward of York as king. The Londoners had always been Yorkists. They were only interested in trading, and the good stable government offered by Edward of York– with the Kingmaker behind him—was what they wanted. They had done with mad Henry; they hated Margaret who was tactless and foreign and had never made any attempt to understand them.

And so Margaret and Henry had become fugitives and Edward of York was King; and because John Grey had fought for the Lancastrians his possessions were confiscated and his widow was forced to fall back on her parents with her two fatherless boys.

And so the months passed and there was no sign of the people's wavering from their adherence to the new King. They liked Edward. He had a charm which Henry had lacked; he was taller than everyone around him which a king should be; he was more handsome than any of his courtiers; wherever he went the women smiled on him. He had a host of mistresses and, although several marriages had been arranged for him, so far he had remained a bachelor. There were some in the country who feared his way of living was not chaste but the majority of the people laughed at his amorous adventurings and it was said that a smile from him could win even the flinhest heart.

He made his progresses through the country and wherever he went he was welcome. The country was prospering from a peaceful period. Henry was somewhere in the north—in exile or in hiding and Margaret, it was said, had gone to France to seek help.

Let her stay there, said the people. Let Edward continue to reign over them.

It so happened that at this time the King came to Northamptonshire. He very much enjoyed the chase and it seemed certain, said Jacquetta, that he would be hunting in Whittlebury Forest.

That,' commented Elizabeth, 'is very near us. We can be sure however that he will not be calling at Grafton. We are in disgrace.'

'Outs will not be one of the houses honoured by the King, I grant you. But. . . .'

Elizabeth looked sharply at her mother. She could see an idea forming in her mind. She was touching the serpent on her brooch as she often did when she was brooding thus.

'Weir? asked Elizabeth gently.

'I think, my dear, that you should try to see the King.'

'He would never see me. The widow of a Lancastrian and one who served the red rose as John did. Think how many white roses he must have plucked before their time.'

'I know, 1 know . . . but feuds don't go on for ever and they say that the King has a forgiving nature particularly where a beautiful woman is concerned.'

'Are you proposing that I give favour for favour. . . .'

'I suggest no such thing! But something tells me that you should attempt to see Edward of York.'