Текст книги "The Sun in Splendour"

Автор книги: Jean Plaidy

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

Her mother was often with her. He liked Jacquetta. There had always been a special friendship between them since she had been so helpful at the time of the marriage. People might say that it was her witchcraft which had made him so determined to get Elizabeth that he married her. He didn't care. If witches were like Jacquetta then he could do with them in the kingdom.

There was good news of Henry the King who had been captured in the North. He had been in hiding for some time, living in fear of capture, resting at times in monasteries so Edward had heard. A life which Henry must have found most suitable. Warwick had met him when he was brought to London by his captors and so that all should realize the depth to which he had sunk they had bound his legs under his horse with leather thongs while he was conducted to the Tower. There he was handed to his keeper.

Edward rejoiced, not only that Henry was his captive but because Warwick's actions showed that he was still the same strong and firm supporter of the Yorkist King.

They would all be relieved, of course, if Henry died, but they must not hurry him to death or he would become a martyr. Henry was perfect martyr material with all that piety. In the North some of them believed he was actually a saint. Moreover if he were to die there was still his son.

'Let matters rest as they are,' Warwick had said, and he added

looking steadily at Edward: They have a way of working out for what is right/

Warwick's mind was busy. He had stepped back into his role of chief adviser; he had made a pretence of accepting the Queen. But in truth he hated the Queen. Not because in marrying her Edward had humiliated him in a manner such a proud nobleman would never accept, but he could see that the Woodville family would become more and more important with every passing year. The leading family was the Nevilles—made so by him. And why should it not be so? Who had put the King on the throne? Should not the Kingmaker gather a little for his own family?

And if they were going to be ousted by the upstart Woodvilles this could not be tolerated.

Elizabeth and that diabolical mother of hers were putting their heads together and enriching and empowering their family by the old well tried method—which was the best in any case—of marrying into the greatest families. And they were doing very well.

Anthony was already married to the daughter of Lord Scales and had that title. Anne Woodville had become Lady Essex having married the Earl; Catherine had married the Duke of Buckingham; Mary was the wife of the Earl of Pembroke; Eleanor was married to Lord Grey of Ruthin, Earl of Kent, and the youngest, Martha, was the wife of Sir John Bromley.

Warwick seethed with rage when he thought of Elizabeth's efforts so far. Those were the Queen's sisters, already exerting a Woodville influence in the greatest and most powerful families in the country.

This is something I will not tolerate, he thought. It is a decided threat to the Nevilles. We are the leading family. I have upheld and made the King. I will not be supplanted by these upstarts. Not only will they ruin the country, but they will ruin me.

Moreover the Queen had brothers.

Elizabeth was at this time considering her brothers. She was delighted with her sisters' marriages. Her mother was right. That meeting under the great oak had been inspired. From that all their blessings had begun to flow.

She was at this time concerned about her brother John who was now nineteen years old. She wanted the best possible for him. The girls had all married well but the boys were even more important.

When Jacquetta made the suggestion to her Elizabeth could scarcely believe it for the suggested bride was the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk. True she was one of the richest women in the country, but she was almost eighty. Jacquetta however was serious.

When Elizabeth broached the subject to Edward he burst into laughter. He thought it was a joke. But Elizabeth was not given to joking on sacred matters.

T really mean it/ she said. 'John will take care of the old Duchess's estates.'

'Oh he'll take good care of them, I doubt not,' said Edward.

'Edward, my brother should be married. Please grant me this. I want it to be.'

He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed the heavy lids. He had still not discovered what this extraordinary power she had over him really meant. Perhaps he loved her; it was strange, for he had played at love so many hmes, but again that might be why he was bewildered by the real thing when he encountered it. In any case he was fiercely glad that he had married her. And if she wanted the old lady of Norfolk for her brother, she should have her.

Everyone thought it was a joke at first. How could it be otherwise—a boy of nineteen and a woman of nearly eighty. The Duchess was distressed but too old and tired to care very much. She doubted the handsome young man would bother her. In any case it was a royal command, and the Duchess had no alternative but to submit.

It was the joke of the day. People talked of it in the shops and the streets.

Some said it was a marriage of the devil. Such an old woman . . . such a young man. It was done for the money, the estates, the title. This was often the case but surely never quite so blatantly before.

Jacquetta was beside herself with glee.

'You know how to manage the King,' she said to her daughter. 'Be careful not to lose your place in his affections. Be lenient with his misdemeanours, never criticise or reproach. Accept everything and he will deny you nothing.'

So the marriage of young John Woodville and the ancient Duchess was celebrated.

Warwick said: 'This is the last insult. I cannot accept this

woman and her overbearing family. They are making the throne a laughing-stock. I made a King. I can unmake one.'

The King was in a contented mood when Thomas Fitzgerald, Earl of Desmond returned from Ireland to report on events there.

He liked Desmond. A handsome man of immense charm. As an Irishman he was a good man to govern there. Warwick had chosen him and was pleased with him. Desmond and Warwick were on the best of terms.

A few years earlier when George Duke of Clarence had been made Lord Lieutenant of Ireland—a title for the King's brother because Clarence was neither of an age nor ability to be able to conduct the affairs of that troublesome island—Desmond had been made Deputy, which meant that, in the circumstances, he was in full command.

Warwick had seen him on his return to England and had confided in him his horror and disgust at the King's marriage.

'Not only is this low-bom woman on the throne but she is now so enriching her family that we are going to find ourselves governed by Woodvilles if we do not take some action.'

'What action?' asked Desmond with a certain alarm.

'Some action,' said Warwick mysteriously. 'Edward is not so firm on the throne as he would appear to think. Do not forget that Henry, the anointed King, languishes in the Tower and across the water is a very bold and ambitious Queen with a son whom she calls the Prince of Wales and reckons to be true heir to the throne. Would you not think that a King who reigns in such circumstances should not be careless . . . particularly in his dealings with those who have put him there?'

'He should rid himself of the lady and her tiresome relations.'

'So think I,' said Warwick. 'And when I consider the humiliation I was forced to suffer to put a crown on that woman's head, it maddens me so much that I would do myself some harm if I gave way to my anger.'

'I can understand your feelings,' said Desmond. 'I know that while the King was married he allowed you to negotiate with France.'

'That is the truth,' said Warwick. 'The country cannot afford any more of these disastrous marriages. At the moment they are

amused by this diabolical match between John Woodville and the old Duchess of Norfolk. But in truth it is no laughing matter.'

Desmond was grieved to see Warwick in such a mood; and what seemed to him most disturbing was that there was a rift between him and the King.

Desmond was devoted to Warwick whom he admired more than any living man; he was well aware of the part the Earl had played in affairs, but at the same rime he was fond of the King. This was a very distressing state of affairs and he feared trouble might lie ahead.

When he presented himself to Edward the King was most affable. They discussed affairs in Ireland and Edward congratulated Desmond on what he had done.

'You must get in some hunting while you are home/ he said. 'How was the game in Ireland?'

It was very good, he was assured. But Desmond would greatly enjoy hunring with the King.

When they were riding through the forest, they found themselves apart from the rest of the company. Edward was affable and disarming. He was so friendly that Desmond quite forgot as people often did that he was the King.

Edward mentioned Warwick and asked how Desmond had found him.

'As ever,' replied Desmond. 'Full of vitality ... as clever as he ever was.'

'I have a notion that he does not like the Queen.'

This was dangerous ground and Desmond should have been prepared for it.

He was silent. He could not say that Warwick had not mentioned this to him for Warwick had made his feelings very clear. He hesitated. Then the King said: 'And what do you think of the Queen, Desmond?'

'I think she is remarkably beautiful.'

'Well, all must think that. What else?'

'She is clearly virtuous. It is amazing that she who was a widow with two children should look so . . . virginal.'

The King laughed.

'I think I have been wise in my marriage. Do you, Desmond?'

It was difficult to answer. To give the reply the King wanted would have been so false and Desmond was sure that that would have been obvious.

Edward noticed the pause and burst out laughing. 'Now, Desmond, you can be frank with me. I know you would not be the only one to think my marriage unwise, would you? You do think that, eh Desmond?'

'My lord, I cannot deny that. It would have been wiser to have chosen a bride who could bring you an alliance which the Queen, beautiful and virtuous as she is, cannot do.'

'Well, 'tis done now, Desmond. 'Tis irrevocable.'

'No, my lord, not so. You could divorce her and make a match which would be more acceptable in the eyes of many of your subjects.'

Edward laughed. 'That I have no intention of doing, Desmond.'

'I am sure you have not, my lord. But you asked and I have told you what is in my mind.'

'My dear fellow, of course I respect your frankness.'

The King was in a mellow mood when he returned to the palace. It had been a good day's hunting. He went straight to the Queen who received him as always with that quiet pleasure which he found so comforting.

'You have had a good day's hunting?' she asked.

'I have. With Desmond. He's a pleasant fellow.'

'He has done well in Ireland, I hear.'

'Very well. As Warwick said, it was good to have an Irishman there. They understand their own far better than they do others, and the Irish need a bit of understanding I can tell you.'

'So you are well pleased with the man.'

'He is a good honest fellow. I like a man to speak up for himself.' Edward began to laugh.

'Something amuses you.'

'Yes. YouTl like this, Elizabeth. I asked him what he thought of you.'

'Oh?' The lids had fallen over her eyes and he could not see the expression in them.

'He thought you were beautiful and virtuous, he said. So you see he appreciates your looks.'

'That is good of him.'

'Not so good. Do you know what he told me? He said that I ought to divorce you and marry someone who could bring good to the country.'

Edward laughed loudly.

She hesitated only for a very short time before she laughed with him.

He was beside her, putting his arms about her. 'Needless to tell you I have no intention of taking his advice.'

'I am glad to hear it, my lord.'

She spoke lightly but there was a cold fury in her heart. Edward was amused now but the very idea was dangerous, and men who planted such were menacing her.

While Edward embraced her she was thinking of Desmond.

I will remember you, my lord, she thought.

The Queen was pregnant and the King was overcome with joy.

'Give me a son,' he cried, 'and we will laugh in the faces of all our critics.' He told her of what his mother had said when she had first heard of the marriage.

Elizabeth laughed with him and showed no surprise or emotion when he mentioned his own offspring. She knew of them of course. They were the children of a certain Elizabeth Lucy: Grace and Catherine. He was very fond of them and visited them now and then, taking an interest in their welfare. The relationship with Elizabeth Lucy had been one of his more enduring. There was no doubt that he had other illegitimate children, but as he had a real affection for the mother of these two he felt more tenderness towards them.

Elizabeth had discussed the matter with Jacquetta and they had come to the conclusion that when she had children of her own she might bring the Lucy girls into the royal nurseries. It would be a gesture to enrapture the King and it would bind him even closer to his tolerant, quietly loving Elizabeth. But not yet, of course. It would be an error of judgement to bring another woman's children into the nurseries while she herself had none.

But now the great day was approaching. The whole nation was delighted. Edward was popular. Even his wife was not disliked, for anyone coming after Margaret of Anjou would seem a welcome change. Moreover Elizabeth was English and if she was not so highly born as a King's wife was expected to be, at least she had great beauty and as much—if not more—dignity than a Queen was expected to have.

Jacquetta was constantly beside her daughter and everyone

was certain that the child would be a boy.

The King was even speaking of 'When my son is bom . . / and the physicians had given their opinion that the child was male.

There was one Dr Domynyk who claimed to have prophetic powers. He could tell the sex of a child in its mother's womb, he said, and he assured the King that the Queen carried a Prince.

So there could be no doubt and all preparahons for a Prince proceeded.

Elizabeth's time came. Calm as ever she retired to her apartments. The King was in an agony of impatience.

Childbearing was no new experience to Elizabeth and her mood was one of exultation for the child she bore would be royal, perhaps a King.

She endured her pains with amazing fortitude and she was rewarded it seemed by an easy birth.

The excitement was intense when the cry of the child was heard. Dr Domynyk could not contain himself. He was determined to be the first to carry the good news to the King that he had a son and to remind him of his prophecy.

Impatiently he tapped on the door which was opened by one of the Queen's women.

'I beg you ... I pray you . . .' panted Dr Domynyk, 'tell me quickly, what has the Queen?'

The woman regarded him through half-closed eyes. 'Whatever the Queen has within it is surely a fool who stands without.'

Then she shut the door in the doctor's face.

He could not believe it. A girl! It was impossible! He had prophesied. . . .

The stars had lied to him; his signs and portents had misled him. And he was bitterly humiliated. He hurried away. He could not face the King.

Edward was disappointed when he heard that the child was a girl, but not for long. He went immediately to Elizabeth's bedside, and when he saw her so calmly beautiful in spite of her ordeal, with her beautiful hair in two luxuriant plaits over her shoulders, he knelt by the bed and kissed her hands.

'Don't fret, sweetheart,' he said. 'We'll have boys yet.'

While it was a disappointment for Elizabeth it was a triumph in a way because it showed the unabating strength of Edward's enslavement to his cool goddess for within a few hours he was

delighting in the child. 'I wouldn't change this girl for all the boys in Christendom/ he declared.

The words of a proud father! Edward had always been fond of children.

The Duchess of York surprised everyone by arriving at Westminster Palace. Proud Cis had kept aloof since the marriage to show her disapproval and her refusal to take second place to that upstart Woodville woman as she called her.

It was a year and nine months since the clandestine marriage and the Duchess felt that she had remained in the shadows long enough.

They could show their contririon by naming the child after her, and she herself would attend the christening of Baby Cecily.

Edward was pleased to see her; he embraced her warmly. She had been foolish, he thought, over the marriage but if she was going to behave reasonably now he was not one to remember that.

'A beautiful healthy child, dear lady,' he said. 'We are delighted with her.'

'A boy would have pleased the people,' commented Cecily.

'Dear Mother, I am glad you are at last concerned with pleasing the people.' He was smiling inwardly. He had always known Cecily to be concerned with pleasing herself.

Cecily ignored the comment. 'An heir. That is what you need. All kings need heirs. It has a settling effect.'

'Well, I have one. My little girl.'

'The people do not want to be ruled by women.'

Edward laughed again. 'But they often are,' he said, 'without knowing it.'

'I trust,' said Cecily, 'that that is not the case with our present King and Queen?'

'Nay, Mother, Elizabeth is no meddler. In fact more and more I rejoice in my marriage. If you would only give yourself the chance to know her. . . .'

T should like to see the child.'

'Well, come to the nursery.'

'I wish to see . . . just the child. You can have her brought to me.'

Edward lifted his shoulders. He wanted no confrontation between the two women in the lying-in chamber. Elizabeth would be calm, he knew, and he also guessed that his mother

would construe that as truculence or antagonism towards her. Elizabeth and Cecily were quite dissimilar. Cecily was explosive like a volcano always threatening to send out fire; Elizabeth was calm as peaceful meadows . . . where one could lie down and forget irritations, offering absolute peace.

So the Duchess went to the nurseries and there she seated herself on a throne-like chair and sent for the chief nurse. She signed for the woman to kneel before her and told her that she desired to see the baby.

The woman rose, bowed and retired and came back with the child.

Even Cecily softened as she took the baby into her arms. A healthy child indeed, with a look of Edward, she thought. She commented on this. This is a Plantagenet,' she said. 'No hint of Woodville here, praise be to God.'

'If she is only half as good-looking as her mother she'll be a beauty,' said Edward.

Cecily was silent. Foolish lover's talk! she thought. Is he not over that yet? Now the woman has produced a child it will be more difficult to get rid of her. Shll, one never knew, and Edward had always been fickle in his relahonships with women.

She said: 'I should be pleased if the child was named after me.'

Edward bowed his head. He had said to Elizabeth only that day that he thought the child should be called after her mother and Elizabeth had smiled and said she had thought the same.

He said nothing now. He always avoided trouble. There was no point in creating scenes which might not be necessary.

The Duchess said that she would consent to be godmother to her granddaughter and Edward replied that that would give him and Elizabeth great pleasure.

Later, he sat by Elizabeth's bed. The baby was sleeping in her ornate cradle.

'So your mother came,' said Elizabeth. 'Did she not want to see me?'

'Oh, she thought you might be a little exhausted.'

Elizabeth smiled faintly. Never question unless of course there was something to be gained from it. Edward was uneasy about his mother and as Jacquetta had said her task was to set him at ease . . . always.

'She suggested that she would be pleased if the baby were called Cecily.'

This was one of those occasions when a little firmness was necessary.

'But we had decided on Elizabeth, had we not? You wanted Elizabeth.'

'There is no name which would please me more but. . . .'

'Then if it is your wish I am going to insist. The child shall be called Elizabeth.'

He kissed the lids of her eyes which gave such distinction to her face. Elizabeth used them sometimes because she feared her eyes might betray those innermost thoughts which she wished to keep from the world.

Now she did not wish Edward to see the triumph. The Duchess of York must learn that she could not insult the Queen and then condescendingly present herself and make demands.

Cecily indeed! After the Duchess who had made such an obvious show of her disapproval of the marriage.

Indeed not. The baby would be named Elizabeth after her mother.

The Princess Elizabeth was christened with a great deal of pomp and ceremony. Everyone was delighted that the King had a legitimate child. A son would have been a greater matter for rejoicing, but never mind, everyone was sure there would be a son in due course.

What was so comforting was that the baby's godmothers were the mothers of the bride and bridegroom. Jacquetta let it be known that she was of as high birth as Cecily Neville and that the Queen's mother had as much right to royal treatment as the King's had.

But the greatest relief of all was that the Earl of Warwick was her godfather. This must mean, it was said, that he was completely reconciled to the marriage. There would have been some perturbation if people could have guessed the inner feelings of the Earl of Warwick. Plans were forming in his head; and he rather welcomed this occasion for it enabled him to allay suspicions. He was not yet ready to act but he was not going to stand aside and see the Woodvilles take over the government of the country which was what they were beginning to do with so many of them placed in the greatest families in the land.

The christening was performed by George Neville, Archbishop of York. Warwick had scattered his men throughout the country which was what the Woodvilles were now attempting to do and it was maddening to contemplate that he, Warwick, was being defeated at his own game.

A few days after the christening came the churching. This should be a grand occasion, because the people must be made to realize the importance of Elizabeth the Queen; those remarks about her low birth and her unsuitability for her new role must be suppressed for ever.

The Queen looked beauhful; her pallor became her; she was exquisitely dressed and as usual she wore her magnificent hair flowing about her shoulders as she walked under an elaborate canopy and there was a grand procession from the Palace of Westminster to the Abbey with priests, ladies, nobles, trumpeters and other musicians. Jacquetta walked immediately behind her daughter, her eyes dancing with memories and anticipation of greater glories to come. Jacquetta often said to her husband that they had been right in everything they did. They had loved rashly, married even more rashly and produced the finest family that was ever granted to a man and woman. 'And it was because we were bold,' she insisted. 'We took what we wanted. We chose each other without thought of riches or greatness and you see riches and greatness are pouring into our laps.'

This marriage of her daughter's was of her making—so she believed. She had been its instigator. Oh, she was happy on that day. Her daughter Queen! All her children in high places! Oh happy happy day when she had conceived the idea of sending Elizabeth into Whittlebury Forest to meet the King ... by accident.

The ceremony over they were back in the palace for the banquet. There was a golden chair for Elizabeth. How wonderful she looked! How regal! Her ladies, her mother among them, knelt before her while she ate very sparingly, neither looking nor speaking to those who knelt so humbly before her.

In spite of the lack of a longed-for boy, Elizabeth had turned it into a triumph. And a few months later she was pregnant again.

It was August when Elizabeth gave birth to her second child.

To her disappointment—and that of the King—this was another daughter. But Edward was as deeply enamoured of Elizabeth as he had ever been. Her cool beauty was so refreshing after the hot passion of his other encounters. These were continuing, though not with the same frequency as they had in his bachelor days. He had no need to make excuses or invent lies for Elizabeth. She never asked about his extra-marital love affairs. They were unimportant. She was the Queen.

As long as he never lost his taste for her, no one could replace her. That was the only thing she need fear and it seemed very unlikely. Edward was polygamous. No one woman would ever satisfy him completely. He could not have chosen a wife more suited to him and as the years passed he became more and more devoted to her.

He quickly recovered from his initial disappointment over the second girl. The boy would come, he was sure. They were fertile both of them and they might have a girl or two perhaps before they got their boy. But the boy would surely come. Elizabeth already had two to prove it.

Elizabeth was already thinking of Thomas, the elder of her two sons by John Grey, because for him she wanted Anne, the heiress of the Duke of Exeter. Warwick had already decided on the girl for one of his nephews but Elizabeth had won the day. Warwick was annoyed about this, but he was still not showing what was in his mind.

The new baby was sent to the Palace of Shene to be in the nursery there with her sister Elizabeth who was her senior only by sixteen months. The Queen was determined that they should have a household worthy of Princesses who were heiresses to the throne. Therefore the babies' nursery was conducted in the utmost state and presided over by Margaret, Lady Bemers, the governess their mother had appointed.

There must be more children and most of all there must be a son, and Elizabeth was as confident as the King was, that in due course they would have that boy.

Elizabeth never forgot old scores which she had decided should be settled; and as she rarely acted in haste she was always prepared to wait for revenge.

There was one remark which had been repeated to her by the King himself which she had never forgotten. It was Lord Desmond who had made it before the birth of the Princess Elizabeth, when he had suggested to the King that he should divorce Elizabeth and make a more suitable marriage. Edward had laughed the idea to scorn, but Elizabeth did not forgive it for that reason. He had planted a bad seed in the King's mind and who knew in what dark spot it was sprouting. A little ill fortune, a suggestion which to an ambitious man would be irresistible . . . and before she and her mother could do anything about it, her enemies would be descending on her.

Therefore she was interested when she heard a criticism of Lord Desmond's rule in Ireland. It came from John Tiptoft, Earl of Worcester. Worcester said that Desmond's rule appeared to be succeeding because he favoured the Irish. It was natural that the Irish should like him. Of course they did, he was an Irishman himself and Worcester believed that none could be so great a friend of the Irish without being a traitor to the English.

Worcester had always been a staunch supporter of the King. There was a family connection for his wife was the niece of Cecily, Duchess of York. Worcester's character appealed to Elizabeth. He was a man who would calculate long before he struck. In fact, he had a reputation for inflicting unnecessary cruelty on enemies who fell into his power.

He had been a deputy in Ireland and therefore knew what he was talking about. Later he had been sent out to see the Pope on a mission for the King and had stayed for a while in Italy, and his sojourn had had a great effect on him. He was said to have imbibed a great many Italian ways and was as much Italian as English now.

Sure of his loyalty Edward had honoured him, and since there had been criticism of Desmond, the King was considering sending Worcester out to Ireland again.

When the Queen heard this she cultivated Worcester. She invited him to one of the banquets she so enjoyed giving and during it kept him at her side. But it was private conversation that she wished to have and when the opportunity arose she wasted no time in coming to the matter which was of utmost interest to her.

'I am so glad you are going to Ireland,' she told him. 'I know

there are great needs tor reform there. The King has a fondness for Desmond, but I never trusted him.'

Worcester was only too pleased to hear his rival in Ireland denigrated. Any failure which could be attached to Desmond would enhance his own successes. He lent a ready ear to the conduct of Desmond and added something of his own.

'Such men are a danger to the King,' said Elizabeth. 'They should not be allowed to live.'

Worcester was interested. For some reason the Queen wanted Desmond out of the way, and it would certainly suit Worcester's purpose well to remove his rival.

'When I am in Ireland I will discover what traitorous action Desmond may be engaged in', he promised.

'And if you discover. . . .'

'My dear lady, if I discover treachery I will wipe it out. There is only one price that should be asked of a traitor. His life.'

The Queen nodded.

'I fear for the King. He is so easy-going, so blind sometimes to danger. He does not like to hear ill of those for whom he has some regard.

'If he were presented with the accounts of infamy. . . .'

'Even then. . . .'

'Well, my lady, we shall see. I am leaving for Ireland shortly and I swear to you my first duty will be to rout out the traitors.'

'I shall look forward to hearing from you, my lord.'

'It would not surprise me if I soon have news for you. My lady, you are alert to danger, and we say this in no disloyalty to the King but I agree that he is apt to believe the best of people. This gives his enemies the chance thev need. I am speaking too boldlv.'

'My lord, you could not speak too boldly where the King's safety is in question.'