Текст книги "The Sun in Splendour"

Автор книги: Jean Plaidy

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'Desmond is a close friend of Warwick's and, I suspect, my lord of Warwick is not quite the good friend the King believes him to be.'

'I, too, am watchful of Warwick.'

'It is good to know the King has you to look to his interests.'

'You may rest assured I shall do that. And I shall hope to hear from you before long.'

Worcester was as good as his word. He had not been long in Ireland when there was news of an action in a court at Drogheda.

A merchant was accusing Desmond of extorting money and

livery and worse still of joining with the natives in a treasonable action against the English.

'I never trusted Desmond,' said Elizabeth.

Edward laughed. 'My dear, he has always been my good friend. You know what these Irish are. They look for trouble and if they can't find it, they invent it.'

Ts that really so?'

Her eyes were downcast; she was demure again. He must not think that she disagreed with him or bore any grudge against Desmond, for if he did, he would know it was because of that unfortunate remark and, as Jacquetta and she had decided, to have shown resentment about that would have suggested fear. Edward must not think for one moment that she doubted his satisfaction with their marriage.

Walk warily, Jacquetta had said. And Elizabeth's temperament had well equipped her to do just that.

She said no more of Desmond to Edward, but she sent warm thanks to Worcester and waited for the next step.

It was not long before it came. Desmond had been tried on the charges brought against him at Drogheda and they had been proved to be true; he was therefore sentenced to death by the court. All they needed was the King's sanction to his execution.

Edward was in a dilemma. Warwick had taught him that he must have no scruples when dealing with traitors. They must be ruthlessly destroyed. Hadn't the battle cry always been: 'Go for the leaders. Leave the common soldiers.' It was the leaders who made trouble, the leaders who were to be feared. And now Desmond. He couldn't believe it, but according to Worcester's report Desmond had tried to rouse the Irish against English rule there and that was a direct attack on the King.

But Desmond had always been his friend. He liked Desmond. Had he been overfriendly with the Irish? He was Irish himself! But had he conspired with them? Even if he had Edward would find it hard to put his seal on the death warrant.

It was typical of Edward that he shelved the matter. He put the order out of sight and forgot about it. They could not execute Desmond without his seal and if he did nothing the matter might blow over. Then he could perhaps recall Desmond and sift the matter himself. In due course Desmond could settle on his estates and Worcester could take care of Ireland.

It might be true that Desmond was a traitor. Men did turn for

the sake of gain. But it was hard to think of Desmond doing that and in any case, he could forget it. Ireland was far away.

Elizabeth had said nothing of Desmond. But she knew where the death warrant was. She also knew that all it needed was the King's seal.

Edward had other matters with which to occupy himself for he was deeply shocked when he heard that Warwick had suggested to Clarence that he marry his eldest daughter Isabel.

This was one of the matters which he did discuss with Elizabeth.

'What does Warwick mean, think you?' he asked.

'It means that my lord Warwick is an ambitious man,' said Elizabeth.

'That, my dear, is no news. I never knew any man with more ambition. Why have I not been consulted? What does it mean?'

'That Warwick believes himself to be too high and mighty for consultation with the King to be necessary.'

'By God, there shall be no marriage. I want Clarence to strengthen the Burgundy alliance. I want this match between my sister Margaret and Burgundy's heir to go forward and I thought Clarence could have the Count's daughter Mary.'

'Of course she is only a child.'

'Clarence is not old. He can wait, I daresay. But Clarence and Isabel Neville . . . never! For one thing they are second cousins. They need a dispensation from the Pope. I'll see they don't get that.'

Edward was so incensed that he completely forgot the case of Lord Desmond.

But Elizabeth had not forgotten. She had promised herself revenge for that remark of his and she would not be content until his head was parted from his body.

She awoke one morning early. The King lay beside her sleeping. She looked at him critically. He had lost a little of those outstanding good looks he had had when she had first met him. There were slight pouches under the fine eyes and a tendency to corpulence. She shrugged her shoulders. He was still a handsome man but his looks were not important as long as he retained his power and she must keep her hold on him.

She slipped off the bed. On a small table lay the King's ornaments which he had put there the previous night before disrobing.

She went to it and immediately found what she wanted: his signet ring.

His papers were in an adjoining chamber and she had made sure that the one she wanted was among them.

It was all done in a few moments.

She had sealed the death warrant.

She hid it in a drawer and went back to the bed.

The King was still sleeping. She lay there watching him. Then she moved closer to him and he put out an arm and held her close to him.

He had no notion that she had left the bed.

The Queen was pregnant once more.

There was no question of her fertility. This time, said the King, it must be a boy.

News came that Lord Desmond had been executed—more than that, Worcester had seen fit to kill his two younger sons with him. This had shocked many people because the boys were still in the schoolroom and it was hard to see how they could have been implicated in their father's treason. There was a story that one of the boys had a sore place on his neck and he had pathetically asked the executioner to be careful of it when cutting off his head. This story was repeated and people were beginning to hate the Earl of Worcester and to say that he had learned his cruelty in Italy and it would have been better if he had stayed there and never brought his wicked ways to England.

Edward was distressed that Desmond had been executed and was especially so when he heard what had happened to the boys.

'Worcester is too harsh,' he told Elizabeth.

She did not agree nor disagree; she just sat with her eyes downcast.

'/ did not give my signature to the death warrant,' he said.

'He is dead now,' was all Elizabeth answered.

And so he deserved to be, she was thinking. How dared he advise the King that it would be a good thing for the country to rid himself of his Queen.

He had paid dearly for that remark. And so must all pay who tried to harm Elizabeth Woodville.

The King shrugged the matter aside. Whatever he did now

Desmond was dead. At least he had not been forced to make a decision.

At the end of the year Elizabeth gave birth to another child. Once more it was a girl and they called her Cecily.

Three girls in a row was disconcerting when each time they had believed there would be a boy. But the King loved his children and to the astonishment of everyone he continued to be devoted to his wife. He was perhaps straying more to other women but he always went back to her and he did not appear to regret his marriage in any way; and cool, aloof, more regal than any of royal birth, Elizabeth held sway.

IN SANCTUARY

Warwick was growing impatient. He had endured enough. He had seen the Woodvilles rise from their humble station to become the most powerful family in the land. The King had insulted him by marrying this upstart widow while he, Warwick, was actually in the process of arranging a match for him with the French King.

Nothing could have been calculated to wound him more. Yet with superhuman control he had buried his resentments. He had attended the Queen; he had not reproached the King.

But what he would endure no longer was the power of the Woodvilles.

Almost immediately after the marriage he had sounded the King's brothers. Richard was a young idealist and Warwick quickly realized that there could be no shifting him from loyalty to his brother. It was different with Clarence. Clarence was shifty, envious, grasping and it would not be difficult to make him change his allegiance; on the other hand he would be an untrustworthy ally, ready to turn his coat according to which way the wind blew. But even a momentary betrayal of his brother would be worth while.

He had tempted Clarence by offering him marriage with his elder daughter. His two girls, even dividing the vast Warwick estates between them, would be the richest in the kingdom.

Clarence thought of what marriage with Isabel would mean and he liked what he saw. Moreover he liked Isabel. Neither of the Warwick girls was as physically strong as their father would have liked them to be, but they were attractive, both of them. Anne and Richard of Gloucester were close friends; and George and Isabel had always had a fondness for each other. The girls were worthy brides for the two dukes, and before the Woodville

marriage Edward would have agreed with the Earl on this. Now he was trying to stop Isabel and George marrying. That should not be so. Warwick had decided on the match.

Moreover the King wanted marriage between his sister Margaret and Charles Count of Charolais, the eldest son and heir of the Duke of Burgundy. This of course was the last thing Louis King of France wanted because he did not want a firm alliance between England and Burgundy. Louis had been Warwick's friend and if Warwick took action against Edward, it was from Louis that he could look for help.

He had not let Edward know that he was doing all he could to prevent the Burgundy marriage. Indeed he had ceased to confide in Edward and although he kept up a show of friendship, it was nothing more than a facade. Warwick had finished with Edward. He would never forgive him for his ingratitude, and was determined that one day Edward was going to be filled with regret; he was going to see the great mistake he had made in thwarting Warwick, humiliating him, and setting up the family of Wood-ville to out-rival that of Neville. Edward would have to learn that Warwick was still a power in the land.

In the meantime the great Duke of Burgundy had died and Charles of Charolais had become the Duke. Edward declared that there was no reason why the marriage should be delayed and the Earl of Warwick should conduct his sister on the first part of her journey to France.

Still keeping his own counsel Warwick agreed and on a June day he set out for Flanders. There had been a ceremony at St Pauls and Margaret seated on the same horse with Warwick rode through the city of London.

The people were pleased, believing this was a sign that Warwick and the King were as good friends as ever. They did not know that even as he rode to the coast with Margaret Warwick's head was teeming with plans to take the crown from Edward.

Margaret said a farewell to Warwick at Margate and crossed the sea to Sluys where she was greeted by the Dowager Duchess of Burgundy and a splendid company.

The Duke met her and they were married at a place called Damme. After the ceremony the celebrations were so grand that those who partook in them declared that they had only been rivalled at the Court of King Arthur. The bride and the bridegroom appeared to be well pleased with each other and the only

incident which marred the occasion was when they were nearly burned to death in their bridal bed in the castle near Bruges.

Fortunately they escaped in hme and the fire was proved to have been started by a madman.

Edward declared that the marriage was a good piece of work, for it had strengthened the alliance between the houses of York and Burgundy.

Warwick was by no means pleased but he knew he had the friendship of one who was as powerful as the Duke of Burgundy: the King of France himself. Louis would be annoyed by the match, and he was already favouring Margaret of Anjou who was in France in exile; he would be a useful ally to his old friend the Earl of Warwick.

Ideas were teeming in Warwick's head, for the moment of action was coming nearer.

The King was at Westminster and Warwick had installed himself in his castle of Middleham where he was joined by his brother George Neville, Archbishop of York, and by the Duke of Clarence who was ready, as soon as the Pope's dispensation was received, to marry Isabel.

Warwick had made up his mind. Edward had now escaped from him; perhaps he always would have done so, for he was no puppet; he was a strong-minded man who knew how to rule and he was going to rule in his own way. He had come out in his true colours at the time of his marriage and had shown so clearly then that he would not be led. Edward was a ruler. He would have no master. Warwick had been deceived by his desire to avoid conflict—except in battle—to take the easy line, which Warwick had to admit was often the wise one to take. Edward was pleasure-loving, easy-going and not unkind by nature; these characteristics had been misleading because they had overshadowed the strong man beneath them.

Well, Warwick would have accepted that. He had wanted no weakling. It was the rising power of the Woodvilles in all key places in the country which he was going to put down.

He would do it and at the same time he was going to show Edward that though he was strong, Warwick was stronger.

From Middleham he was sounding out the North. The North

had always been for Lancaster which meant it was against York and Warwick believed that if he were going to take up arms against the King it was from the North that he would get his support.

From Middleham to his castle at Sheriff Hutton Warwick watched the effect of his carefully chosen words on those men who, he thought, would side with him against the King. He was not disappointed.

His powerful brother George was for him. He had a deep grievance against Edward for giving his support to Thomas Bourchier, the Archbishop of Canterbury, for elevation to the rank of Cardinal—an honour George had long sought for himself; and when Bourchier was elected to the College of Cardinals Edward had exacerbated the sore point by writing personally to George to tell him, and in such a way as to suggest that he was snapping his fingers at the Nevilles and reminding them that they were definitely out of favour.

It was too much to be borne, and Warwick was incensed.

T made him,' he was fond of reminding people. 'But for me he would never have reached the throne. And when I have him there, crowned, anointed, what happens? He marries that woman and the Woodvilles are everywhere. It has to be stopped.'

Well, he was going to stop it.

From Middleham he sent messengers to the Court of France. He wanted to know how far the King would support him if he took up arms against Edward.

Louis, who was alarmed by the union of Edward and Burgundy through the marriage of Margaret of York and the Duke, would be eager to see Edward defeated and Warwick thought he could be relied on. He had Clarence with him and he had half promised that ambitious young man that if Edward were deposed Clarence could step into his shoes, which Clarence believed because Warwick wanted him to marry his own daughter Isabel. It would be a glittering prospect for Warwick with a daughter Queen of England.

But the Earl was determined not to strike until he was absolutely sure of victory. He went to Calais in order to make sure of the defences and while he was there some of his supporters who were getting impatient staged uprisings.

The leaders assumed the name of Robin which was meant to imply that they were men of the people, Robin being a friendly

sort of name derived from Robin Hood. The first of these outbreaks was headed by a man calling himself Robin of Holderness. It was premature and disorganized and John Neville, whom the King had made Earl of Northumberland, had no difficulty in suppressing it. It was strange that a Neville should be siding with Edward but Warwick had been unable to convince this one of the good sense in anatagonizing Edward. Robin of Holderness had declared that he had arisen to set the wrongs of the people right and there was no mention of dissatisfaction with the King, although there were hints about his generosity to the predatory relations of the Queen.

Robin of Holderness was beheaded and that little rebellion was over. The uprising of Robin of Redesdale was of a more serious nature. Robin of Redesdale was suspected of being Sir John Conyers, a kinsman of Warwick, and that fact gave his insurrection a more sinister meaning.

Robin of Redesdale's grievances were heavy taxation, men being called away from their families to military service outside their areas, and victimization by the nobles of the land. There were also grumblings against the Woodvilles. The names of Lord Rivers and the Duchess Jacquetta were mentioned together with all those who had become so important since the King's marriage because of their alliances with great families.

Edward shrugged off accounts of these troubles. 'There is nothing that we cannot handle,' he said.

But, after a while, the murmuring of what Warwick was plotting and the continued reports of the uprisings began to alarm even him.

Robin of Redesdale was still at large. He was not the amateur Robin of Holderness had been which indicated that Warwick might have a hand in this. The King decided that if Warwick were indeed behind it, he had better get his army together without delay and go in person to see what was happening in the North.

Warwick meanwhile was watching events from Calais. His great insistence was that they must not move until they were ready. There was dissatisfachon in the North it was true. How much support would they who had always been Lancastrians be prepared to give Warwick, one of the great architects of the Yorkist success who was only now turning his back on the King he had made?

Meanwhile the King marched north but in no great haste.

pausing to make a pilgrimage at Bury St Edmunds and Walsingham. He was accompanied by his brother Richard whom he always liked to have near him now that Clarence had defected. He relished Richard's unconcealed loyalty and rejoiced in it. He was very upset by Clarence's behaviour—not that he feared his brother, whom he had always considered ineffectual and rather stupid, but because Clarence was his brother and the infidelity of a brother seemed to him a very sad thing indeed. He kept with him, besides Richard, Lord Rivers and Lord Scales, Elizabeth's father and brother whom he had first cultivated to please Elizabeth and of whom he had now grown quite fond. The Rivers did not argue, did not seek to guide as Warwick had done; they did what he wanted them to and if they were generously rewarded for it, that bothered Edward not at all.

Elizabeth was with them and the three little girls also. They would have to rest somewhere for it was not fitting that a child as young as Cecily should travel with an army. But he liked to have Elizabeth with him and therefore she came; and as he did not insist that the children remained behind they were with them too.

He was at Bury St Edmunds when messengers came from Kent. They had news from Calais. The King's brother the Duke of Clarence had been married to Warwick's daughter Isabel.

Edward was astounded. He had expressed his disapproval of the match; in fact he had forbidden it. That Warwick—and worse still his own brother—had openly defied him was impossible to believe. There must be some explanation; it could not be true. He refused to believe that Warwick held him in such contempt that he would deliberately defy him. Warwick had been his greatest friend, his hero, his mentor. George was his brother. He could not go against him. It was all some ridiculous mistake.

Elizabeth wanted to say that it was no mistake at all. It was time he realized who his enemies were. But she said nothing.

More news came. The rebel army was bigger than had first been reported and it was now clear that this was more than just a petty rebellion.

He looked at Elizabeth and thought of the children.

'I want you to go at once,' he said. 'Return to London. If there is going to be trouble this is no place for you.'

She did not protest. She would be glad to have done with the

discomfort of travel. She woiild call at Grafton and Jacquetta could return with her to London.

Elizabeth was glad of her mother's presence but Jacquetta was uneasy. She sensed that powerful events were looming and they might be of ill omen.

'I don't trust Warwick/ she said. 'He was too powerful before your marriage. . . .'

'Life changed for him after that,' remarked Elizabeth with a smile.

'A man like Warwick does not allow himself to be pushed aside.'

'If the forces which push him are strong enough he has no help for it.'

Jacquetta was silent. At times Elizabeth was a little too complacent. However, she was glad to have her daughter safe from the armies; and the children too. Cecily not yet a year old was far too young to be carried round the country.

Warwick had landed in England and there was great rejoicing in London where he was warmly welcomed. There was trouble in the North, it was said and the King had asked Warwick and his brother George to come to his aid. Warwick had immediately responded. All was well. Warwick and the King were friends.

It was clear, Jacquetta told her daughter, from what was being said that many believed there was a rift between the King and the Earl. The people of London were really alarmed at that. It could mean civil war.

'Civil war! Never. Warwick would not dare.'

'I begin to think,' said Jacquetta, 'that Warwick would dare a great deal.'

The days were tense and spent in waiting for news. It came in frustrating briefness, so that it was not easy to piece the events together and see the picture clearly.

Warwick had been lying, it seemed, when he had said he was going to the King's aid. No such thing. He was joining the rebels.

William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke and Humphrey Stafford, Earl of Devon were marching to Banbury. They had a strong force from Wales and the West Country and they were stalwart adherents of the King. They would soon settle the rebels.

Jacquelta and Elizabeth waited for news of the battle, certain at this stage that the rebels would be crushed and peace restored.

But it was not so, for Warwick's army had joined the rebels and at Edgecot the loyal men were defeated. Pembroke and his brother were taken prisoner and in accordance with the rule of destroying the leaders were beheaded at Northampton the next day.

'Warwick has gone too far this time/ said the Queen, but now she was beginning to be alarmed. She turned to her mother. 'What is going to happen?' she demanded. 'Where will this end?'

But this time the future would not reveal itself to Jacquetta.

The situation was even worse than Jacquetta and Elizabeth in London realized, for when the news of Pembroke's defeat at Edgecot reached Edward's small army, men began to desert him and he was left with a very few followers and to his immense chagrin he realized that he had made a vital mistake. He had delayed too long; he had refused to believe the obvious. Stubbornly he had set his mind against accepting the perfidy of his brother and the furious revenge of the Kingmaker.

There was nothing for him to do but wait in the little town of Olney. Richard was with him, Hastings too.

'Well,' he said, 'we are at the mercy of our enemies.'

'Not for long,' said Richard. 'We shall give a good account of ourselves.'

'We need cunning, brother, rather than bravery. We shall have to meet whatever comes to us with skill. I do not think Warwick or George would want to harm me.'

Richard said: 'George has always wanted to take your place.'

'George wouldn't last a day as King.'

'With Warwick manipulating him?'

'George would never have the good sense to allow Warwick to do that. Richard, perhaps you should make your escape.'

'What!' cried Richard. 'Leave you here? Nay, where you go I go. If you stay I stay here too.'

'It does me good to hear you, Richard,' said Edward. 'You have always been the best brother a man ever had.'

'You have been that to me.'

'This is no time for sentiment. I doubt not that Clarence will be here to speak with me ere long. I wonder if Warwick will come?'

'I will kill him if he does.'

Edward laughed. 'You will not get a chance and I would not

no The Sun in Splendour

allow it if you could. In spite of everything I like the old warrior. He was a good friend to me . . . once.'

'And has become a bad enemy.'

'No, Richard, still a good one.'

'I do not know how you can laugh when this is happening.'

'Sometimes I think that quality in me ... or maybe fault . . . is the reason I have reached the top.' He put his head close to his brother's. 'And I shall stay there, Richard. Rest assured of that.'

Back at Baynard's Castle a messenger had come into the courtyard. Slowly he dismounted and made his way into the castle. He was dreading the moment when he must face the Queen and her mother. Every messenger longed to be the bearer of good news, for messengers were often rewarded when they brought it, which was nothing to do with their efforts, and they were spurned when it was the other way round. It was illogical, and yet understandable.

Now this messenger knew that what he had to tell could not be more woeful.

As soon as Jacquetta heard that a messenger had arrived she sent for him and he came to her and Elizabeth.

He bowed low and hesitated.

'Come,' said the Queen imperiously, 'what news?'

'My lady . . . my ladies . . . I. . .'

'Speak up!' cried Elizabeth peremptorily.

Jacquetta laid a hand on her arm. 'The man hesitates because he fears what he has to say will grieve us.' She spoke gently. 'Pray tell us. Take your time. We know how you hate to be the bearer of this news.'

'My ladies, forgive me . . . but my Lord Rivers . . .'

Jacquetta put her hand to her heart. She did not speak. She kept her eyes fixed on the messenger's face.

He stared at her appealingly as though begging her not to ask him to proceed.

'He is dead,' said Jacquetta in a blank voice.

'He was captured with his son Sir John when they were making their way back to London after the defeat at Edgecot.'

'How. . .'began Jacquetta.

They were beheaded at Kenilworth, my lady.'

Jacquetta put her hands over her face. Elizabeth sat staring in front of her.

It was Elizabeth who spoke first. 'Who ordered this . . . murder?'

It was the Earl of Warwick, my lady.'

Elizabeth nodded her head.

'Go down to the kitchens and refresh yourself/ she said.

When he had gone Jacquetta lowered her hands and looked at her daughter. Elizabeth thought she had never seen such desolation in anyone's face before.

Jacquetta said nothing. She was thinking of the day she had met her husband, of his good looks and his charm, their romance which had swept her, a not unambitious young woman, off her feet. Their marriage had been an idyll. He had been everything she had known he would be. And now he was dead. She thought of that dear head which she had loved so well, being placed on a block and wantonly and so cruelly severed from his body. And John too. Her beloved son! She loved her children none the less because of the great affection she had for her husband. They were a clan the Woodvilles, the triumph of one was the triumph of them all as they had seen on the marriage of their sister. The Queen of England had applied herself assiduously to the betterment of her family from the moment she was able to do so. This dear John who had been with his father when they were murdered had recently married the old Dowager Duchess of Norfolk and become one of the richest men in the country. Now it was of no avail. All that money, all those vast possessions which had gone with the poor old lady bride were nothing to him now.

The sorrows of one were the sorrows of all as with the triumphs and she knew that Elizabeth, sitting there so quiet, so restrained, was fighting an emotion as bitter as her own.

It was Elizabeth who spoke first: 'Curse Warwick,' she said. 'I shall not rest until his head is parted from his body. He shall answer for this. Every time I see him I shall see my beloved father and mv brother and remember what he did to them.'

George Neville Archbishop of York had arrived at Olney close to Coventry and presented himself to the King.

He was most respectful. He came, he said, on behalf of his brother the Earl of Warwick and wished to conduct the King to him. With the Earl was the Duke of Clarence, both the King's

faithful lieges. They were concerned for his safety and had come to guard him.

Edward laughed. 'Not long ago they were fighhng against me.'

'Nay, my lord/ said the suave Archbishop, 'you are mistaken. My brother's great concern was for your safety. He told the people of London that he was riding to your aid. Your brother the Duke of Clarence joins him in this.'

Richard who was with the King said: 'You are traitors all of you.'

Edward laid a hand on his arm.

'I see/ he said, 'that you are determined to make me your prisoner.'

Richard stepped towards the Archbishop and again Edward restrained him.

'What would you have of me?' he asked.

'That you accompany me to my brother.'

Edward knew that he was in their power. He had been foolish and foolishness could be disastrous. He had been dilatory; he had refused to see danger when it stared him in the face. Well, now he must answer for his folly. It was a temporary set-back. He was sure of that. Warwick was not a great general. Edward had little respect for his performance in the field. It was cunning strategy at which Warwick excelled. He had the ability to turn defeat into victory by some acrton which was totally unexpected by the other side. He must try to imitate Warwick's strategy. Therefore he would go along with him. He would pretend to believe in his fidelity even though his betrayal was clearly obvious.