Текст книги "The Sun in Splendour"

Автор книги: Jean Plaidy

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'I will come with you,' he said. 'I will see Warwick.'

The Archbishop bowed his head. 'Then we should leave without delay.' He turned to Richard and Hastings who had taken up their stand on either side of the King.

Richard was a boy of seventeen or so and he looked younger because of his delicate stature. Warwick had said 'Let Richard go.' As for Hastings, well he was Warwick's brother-in-law. He had always thought that with a little persuasion he might win Hastings to his side. That was if he saw that Edward's cause was hopeless. So George Neville had had instructions to send Richard and Hastings away. Let them go free, find their way to where they wished to go. It was only Edward he wanted.

Sadly Richard said goodbye to his brother and rode away with

Hastings, and Edward allowed himself to be conducted to Coventry where Warwick awaited him.

Warwick was naturally triumphant.

'Here is a sorry state of affairs/ he said. 'You know, Edward, I wish you no harm.'

'Nay,' replied Edward easily, 'you only wish to make me your prisoner.'

'You and I should never have allowed a wedge to be put between us.'

'I do not put it there, Richard.'

'Oh 'twas others, 1 grant you. The merry Woodvilles. Edward, it is no use. You know what happens to kings who honour their favourites to the detriment of the realm.'

'What has the realm suffered?'

The realm has suffered because power has been placed in the hands of those incapable of handling it . . . and they are concerned only for material gain.'

'So many of us are, Richard.'

'There are some of us who love our country and would serve it asking no reward.'

'Show me such a man and I will make him my chancellor.'

'You are not in a posihon to make or unmake at this time, my lord.'

' 'Tis true. So I am your prisoner. What will you do with me? Have my head as you have that of my father-in-law?'

'It wounds me that you should even think of such a thing. I am your friend. I put you on the throne and you have spurned me for a pack of avaricious nobodies.'

'You put me up and you could put me down, is that what you mean?'

Warwick looked at him steadily and did not answer.

He is a power, thought Edward. I could not have governed in those first weeks without him. It is a pity that there should be this rift but it was either him or Elizabeth. Warwick was half resentful, half admiring of his attitude. Edward showed no fear. He could take him outside to the block and have his head as he had had those of Rivers and his son, and Edward knew it; but he sat there smiling blandly, accepting defeat which he was implying could only be temporary.

And if the tables were turned, what then? What would Warwick's fate be?

He would be forgiven, that was clear. Edward never liked dealing death. He only did it when it was expedient to do so.

'We are leaving for my castle of Warwick/ said the Earl, and within an hour the King was riding out beside the Earl, Warwick's prisoner.

There was a smile of triumph about Warwick's mouth. He had shown Edward that the King could not remain the King without the help of the Kingmaker.

For a short while it seemed as though Warwick was the ruler of England. He considered what had happened when previous kings had been desposed. In the cases of Edward the Second and Richard the Second Parliament had been called and there the fall of the King was solemnly declared.

He was not sure what should be done. The ideal action would be to put Edward back but as a puppet of the Warwick regime. Edward was the man for king—providing he followed Warwick's rule. The Woodvilles were being dismissed. That should be a beginning.

But Warwick had miscalculated somewhere. History did not necessarily repeat itself. Edward the Second and Richard the Second had been unpopular kings; Edward the Fourth was far from that. Although his favouring of the Woodvilles was similar to the action of the other two kings with their favourites, Edward had that essential masculinity, those outstanding good looks, that ability to charm his humblest subjects.

The people might not like the Woodvilles but they liked Edward very much.

Events therefore did not move to the pattern Warwick had expected. 'Where is the King? asked the people. 'The King is a prisoner,' was the answer. Then, decided the people, there was no more rule in the country. Rioting broke out in London and in some of the main cities and the country was soon in uproar.

Warwick moved the King to Middleham. Revolt was breaking out in the North; the Lancastrians started a rising of their own. This was disaster. Warwick had expected events to follow a pattern and they were making a new one of their own.

Edward, hearing what had happened, declared that he held nothing against the House of Neville. He knew his one-time

friend and mentor Warwick cared deeply for the country and as Edward did too their aims were as one. When this unhappy matter was over the Nevilles should lose nothing. They should keep his respect as they always had.

He was moved to York which he entered in state as the King should and he set up residence at Pontefract Castle.

No sooner did the people see the King and Warwick together as friends than men began to flock to the royal banner in order to put down the Lancastrian revolt. They wanted no more civil war in the country. They had hoped the Wars of the Roses had come to an end when Edward seemed to be safe on the throne.

Warwick now saw that Edward could bring men to his banner as he, Warwick, could not. Edward had the hearts of the people. It was Edward the people wanted; and Warwick had learned that it was the people who finally settled who was to be their King.

The Londoners were clamouring for him. There was no help for it. Edward must be free to go to London to show the people that he was no one's prisoner and that Warwick had been right when he had said that his aim was to stand beside the King and bring him to safety.

With great rejoicing the King was united with the Queen. Warwick remained in the North with Clarence. He had learned a lesson. Just as he had turned defeat into victory at St Albans, so Edward had at Edgecot.

Well, had not Edward been his pupil?

There would be another time though, Warwick promised himself, and then he would be wiser.

It should not happen like this again.

Edward was in command of London but Warwick was in the North and with him was Clarence. It was a dangerous situation.

The country was divided and it was no use expecting the peace to last. Warwick had learned that he could not gather men to his banner; he might be the kingmaker but he was no king. Edward realized too that he must make peace with Warwick if he was going to bring the country to a settled state. At the moment it was uneasy and people were ready to rise at the least provocation; there were riots in various places. Moreover Warwick had Clarence with him and Clarence could be a claimant to the throne.

Edward understood Jacquetta's grief for the loss of her husband; he knew how she and Elizabeth must hate Warwick but Elizabeth never mentioned the Earl to him.

It was pleasant to escape into the peace of her company; she was there providing just what he wanted, and she did not intrude: she did not demand this and that. She was pleased he knew when he took honours from the Warwick faction and bestowed them on the Woodvilles. Her brother Anthony was close to him now. He had become Lord Rivers, having taken his dead father's title.

Edward sent invitations to Warwick and Clarence to come to the Council at Westminster. At first they were wary, demanding many guarantees of safe conduct; finally these were given and they came to London where Edward received them with affection.

There was no real quarrel between them, Edward assured them. 'Let us forget our grievances and go on as before.'

In Warwick Castle the Earl's daughters sat together talking quietly. Every now and then Anne glanced at her sister Isabel. Isabel was heavily pregnant; she looked ill and Anne was worried about her sister. So was the Countess their mother. Isabel had never been strong—nor had Anne for that matter; their health had been a constant cause of anxiety to their parents from their birth.

'I thank God,' the Countess had said to her daughter Anne, 'that Isabel will have her baby here at Warwick and I shall be here to look after her. We'll look after her together, Anne.'

Anne nodded. 'But she will be so happy, my lady, when her baby is born.'

'Ah yes, and so will the Duke. We'll hope for a boy. Your father has been so disappointed not to have a son.'

Anne put her arms about her mother's shoulders. 'I'm sorry, dear lady, that we were both girls.'

The Countess laughed. 'My dear child, / would not change either of you. But I did often wish that I could give your father the son he wanted. Alas, I shall never do that.'

Anne knew that at her difficult birth her father had been told that the Countess could not bear more children and she could

imagine what a great blow it must have been for such an ambitious man; but he was reconciled. When he was with them he was as near to happiness as he had ever been, Anne believed. Some might not. He was an adventurer, a leader by nature, a ruler of men. The King owed his crown to him. He had made Edward as surely as he had unmade Henry.

As Anne had said to Isabel: 'It makes one uneasy to be the daughter of such a father. It is as though great things will be expected of us.'

'All that will be expected of us,' Isabel had replied, 'is to marry where we are bidden to. And when we are married to produce sons. . . .'

'Daughters too perhaps,' added Anne, 'for daughters have their uses.'

And they certainly had, for Isabel was soon after that married to the Duke of Clarence.

She had been a little frightened at first, but George Plantagenet had grown fond of her and she of him. It was easy to be fond of Isabel. She was pretty and very gentle and of course she had a vast fortune, or would have when her father died—a fortune she would share with Anne.

Anne remembered days which seemed so long ago now when she and Richard had ridden together through the woods or played guessing games in the schoolroom. Where was Richard now? she often wondered. There was a great deal of uneasiness throughout the country because her father and the King were in conflict, and all the time they were trying to pretend to each other and to the people that they were not. But they were, of course. She had heard such a lot of talk about the King's marriage and she knew how much her father hated it, hated the Woodvilles and was going to be revenged on them for taking all the important posts and marrying all the rich people so that they became more important in the country than he was.

It was a frightening situation, for Clarence was Isabel's husband and he was against his own brother and had whispered to Isabel that she might one day be a queen, for there was a scheme afoot to put him on the throne in place of his brother.

Anne was suddenly startled by the sound of galloping horses. Isabel looked up from her embroidering.

'Visitors?' she asked uneasily. They were always uneasy when visitors came to the castle nowadays, for they could never be

certain what news they would bring.

Anne rose and went to the window where she could see the party in the distance and that the standard-bearer carried the device of the bear and the ragged staff.

'It is someone from our father/ she said.

Isabel murmured: 'Dear God, I trust not bad news.'

Anne was silent. Then she said: 'It is our father . . . and sister, your husband is with him. I will go at once and find our mother.'

Anne hurried out of the room while Isabel rose and went to the window. The riders were now clattering into the courtyard. Isabel saw her young husband. He had leaped from his horse and a groom had run forward. She heard her father's voice shouhng orders.

The Countess was already in the courtyard with Anne. Warwick embraced first his wife and then his daughter.

Anne knew by the set expression of his face that something was wrong. He said: 'Let us go in. I have much to say and there is little time.'

Ominous words, she thought. Something fresh had happened. How she wished there did not have to be this trouble. It seemed so wrong that there should be a quarrel between her father and the King. They had always been such good friends. And Isabel's husband was actually the King's brother which made it all most unnatural.

But now something very important was afoot. Anne noticed that her mother was trembling slightly and it was not only due to the excitement of the unexpected arrival of her husband.

The Earl lost no time in explaining the situation for they must leave at once since there was not a moment to spare. He was being pursued by his enemies and if he were caught that would be the end of him, the end of them all. They must get to the coast with all haste and then sail for France, where his very good friend the King would give him temporary shelter and the means to get back to England.

'You cannot mean this,' cried the Countess. 'Do you know that Isabel's baby is due within a month?'

'My dear lady, I know that well and I know that even so it is dangerous for us to stay here. The King's men are marching to take me. My plans have gone wrong. I shall be at his mercy and that will be the end of me. Nothing less than my head will suit him.'

Anne said: 'I will go and prepare Isabel. She will have to be carried in a litter.'

'God help us!' cried the Countess.

'Now let us lose no time/ said the Earl; and he began giving orders.

While Warwick's messengers were making their way to the coasts of Devon and Dorset with orders for ships to be made ready, the party set out. Both Anne and her mother were deeply concerned about Isabel's condirion for she was clearly finding the travel both irksome and dangerous.

Warwick and his family safely embarked on one of the vessels he had managed to commandeer and they all sailed for Southampton where he kept several of his stoutest ships. Unfortunately for Warwick, Lord Rivers who was more energetic and astute than his father had intercepted them and a battle ensued.

Anne sat with her sister in one of the cabins and tried to interest her in talk of the coming baby but the sound of gunfire shattered the peace and Anne greatly feared what might be happening to her father's ships. After what seemed like an interminable battle, although the Earl had lost several of his ships the one in which his family were travelling managed to escape, and with a few of the other vessels which had survived, sailed out to sea.

As they neared Calais, Warwick sent out a message to his friend and ally Lord Wenloch, to ascertain what their welcome would be in that port. The answer came back that it would be hostile and that the Duke of Burgundy on one side and the Yorkists on the other were waiting for his arrival and were standing by for his capture. He would, therefore, do better to land at a French port and throw himself on the hospitality of the King of France.

Warwick, who had on more than one occasion shown himself to be master of the sea, turned from Calais. He had always been at his best against desperate odds, and he was already making plans—plans which at first might seem quite wild and impossible; but the more outrageous they were the more they stimulated the Eari.

Meanwhile Isabel was causing great anxiety, for her pains had started and it had become clear that her child was about to be bom on the high seas.

'We must get into port at once,' cried the Countess.

Warwick was overcome with anxiety for his daughter but he

knew that to go into port was impossible for if they attempted to land they would be taken into captivity.

Anne was frantic. 'We need so much. There are no herbs, no soothing medicines, no midwife. . . .'

The Countess said: 'We must do our best.' A storm had arisen, and the wind began to howl and the boat to rock; and in the midst of the storm Isabel's child was born.

That she lived was a miracle but the child was dead. Isabel lay delirious on a pallet while Anne and the Countess prepared the little body for burial. The child was a boy and Anne could not help reflecting that had he lived he might have been the King of England.

There was a sad little ceremony when the child's body sewn into a sheet was slipped into the sea. Anne reflected that mercifully Isabel was spared witnessing the burial.

Afterwards she and her mother went back to Isabel. She must be their first concern. Anne knew that her mother was trying to shut out of her mind pictures of Isabel's being wrapped in a sheet before she was dropped into the sea.

'So,' said Warwick, 'I have lost my grandson. We must look forward. There will be more.'

His eyes were on Anne and there was a new speculation in them which she did not notice, so intent was she on her sister's tragedy. If she had she would have been very uneasy indeed.

Isabel began to get a little better and the weather had become much calmer. They were still at sea. Warwick had turned pirate; he had captured several Burgundian vessels and his men were reminded of the great days when he had made his name as Captain of Calais and they had believed that Warwick was invincible.

Warwick's belief in himself may have faltered a little, but only a little, and had returned in full force. He was going to recapture all he had lost. He could do that with the help of a king and that king was the King of France. It was Warwick's destiny to work through kings. He did not possess the necessary titles to stand on his own as ruler. He was the manipulator. He made the rules but someone else must appear to carry them out.

He had grandiose ideas as he sailed to the mouth of the Seine and reached the port of Harfleur.

Isabel's health improved and with land in sight, Anne and her

mother rejoiced. The nightmare journey was over.

The party was made welcome in France. King Edward was the enemy of Louis and Louis was Warwick's hiend. The King of France had flattered Warwick by his show of affection and the common enemies were Edward and Burgundy. Therefore there was hope for the Earl in France for his good friend Louis was ready to receive him and listen to his plans.

It was in the castle of Amboise that Anne learned how deeply she was involved in those plans.

They had arrived on a beautiful afternoon in May and the chateau set upon a plateau was a beautiful sight with its massive buttresses and cylindrical towers mounted by their sharp conical points.

The women were always glad when they came to a hospitable castle, for the days of travelling were exhausting to all three of them and particularly to Isabel.

It was at Amboise where the party was entertained with great ceremony by the King of France who seemed determined to make them welcome and imply that he was ready to help.

The King expressed great interest in the young ladies and particularly in Anne who gained the impression that she was the subject of conversation between her father and the King. She wondered then if they had some marriage in mind for her which was usually the case when interest was focussed on young girls.

She was fifteen years of age and therefore becoming marriageable she supposed, and the prospect was one to cause her some apprehension.

In those days which now seemed so long ago, she and Richard had loved to be together. They had talked of many things; they had loved books; they were more serious than Isabel and George had been. They had never discussed marrying but Anne had on one or two occasions heard the servants mention it. They had said what a nice pair they made, how fond they were of each other and how pleasant it would be for young people who had spent their early life in each other's company and got to know each other's ways to be together in their later life.

She had known what they meant and somewhere at the back of

her mind there had been the thought that one day she would marry Richard.

But now Pochard was far away, their circumstances had done a turnabout so that now they were on different sides and she feared that she might never see him again. She guessed that he must hate her father because Richard had always believed that his brother Edward was the most wonderful being on Earth and he would naturally hate anyone who was Edward's enemy. Oh, it was all so difficult to understand, so depressing and alarming now to consider that there might be some marriage prospect for her which did not include her childhood friend.

Soon after that her father went away and she with her mother and sister was left at Amboise, there to stay until she was sent for.

It seemed a long time that they were there. Perhaps that was because after the King and the Earl had left there was a quietness about the days, and they might have been at home at Warwick or Middleham; Isabel was still recuperating from her confinement and was often pale and listless.

Once she said to Anne: 'We are only daughters, and the purpose of a daughter is to make a marriage which will be advantageous to her family.'

'Did you not love George then?'

Isabel was thoughtful. 'Yes, I love George in a way. . . . But you know why he married me. It was to spite his brother and because that was our father's price for helping him to the throne. That is what George wants, you know. He has always wanted it.'

Anne knew it was true.

'Isabel,' she said, 'we are very rich, or when our father dies we shall be. We both shall have a great fortune to bring to our husbands. Perhaps it would have been better if we had been the daughters of a poor man.'

'Then we could not have had part, could we, in this battle for a throne,' agreed Isabel.

'Poor Isabel!'

'If my baby had lived I should have thought it worth while.'

'I daresay you will have more. That is what we are for is it not? To have babies . . . preferably sons. . . and to bring wealth to our husbands.'

'Dear Anne, you are becoming cynical. I always thought you were meant for Richard.'

'Yes, I thought so too.'

'And you would have been but for this quarrel. Our father married me to one of the King's brothers, but of course the King did not want the marriage.'

'He has always had to do what our father wished.'

'Even now. . . .'

'Even now there is this trouble because he turned from our father to the Woodvilles. I wonder what will be the outcome of it.'

They did not speak for some time. They were both wondering about the future.

Messengers came back and forth from the castle, for the Earl kept his Countess informed of those matters over which he thought he should need her help. That was why he left it to her to break the news to Anne.

The Earl loved his daughters. He would expect them to obey him, of course, and do everything they could to forward the interests of the House of Warwick, but he wanted to make it as easy for them as possible.

He did not want his gentle daughter Anne presented with a prospect to which he believed she would need a little time to adjust herself. So he asked the Countess to give her an inkling of what was in store for her.

The Countess herself read her husband's letter several times wondering whether she had read correctly, for what he wrote astounded her. But finally she saw the reasoning behind his actions and realized that it was exactly what she should have expected him to do. If he could not impose his will in one way he would in another. She should have been accustomed to such surprises by now.

Poor Anne, she thought. What will she think of this? But Richard was right to want her to be prepared.

She sent for her daughter.

Anne came apprehensively, certain that she was going to be made the victim of some match which would be necessary to her father's schemes. So she was half prepared.

Her mother after kissing her tenderly bade her be seated.

'You know your father has been away some time. He and the King have been to Angers where they have visited the Queen.'

'The Queen. 1 thought. . . .'

'No, no child, not the Queen of France. The Queen of England.'

'Queen Elizabeth is in England, I thought.'

The Countess realized she was being deliberately obtuse to give herself time. She decided to come straight to the point. 'No, my dear, I mean Queen Margaret, who has been in exile here in France for so long.'

'My father . . . visiting Margaret of Anjou! She will not receive him surely?'

'She was reluctant to. But you know your father. He is the most persistent man in the world. Now he has succeeded in making an agreement with her and you are to marry her son, the Prince of Wales.'

Anne stared at her mother in amazement.

'Yes,' went on the Countess, 'I know it is hard to believe but it is true. Your father is determined to drive Edward from the throne and put Henry back on it. My child, do you realize what this means? If he succeeds, and your father always succeeds, you will be Queen of England . . . when Henry dies and his son comes to the throne.'

'I see,' said Anne, 'that my father is determined to have both his daughters contenders for the throne.'

They regarded each other a little sadly. Both had been used to further Richard Neville's greatness. He had been the son of the Earl of Salisbury but without great prospects until he married the Earl of Warwick's daughter and through her acquired the great title of Warwick and the vast estates that went with it. The Countess had served her husband well. Now it was Anne's turn.

'Your father did not wish you to be hurried. ... He wanted you to have time ... to get used to the idea of marriage.'

'But I shall be married to this Prince all the same.'

'My dear child, your father has made up his mind. The King of France agrees that it is an ideal match and at last they have persuaded Margaret of Anjou that it is the only way to regain her throne.'

'She has surely never agreed to ally herself with my father. They have been the greatest enemies.'

'She sees this as a way back to the throne. Oh Anne, my dear daughter, if it comes to pass, if we could go home . . . if we could be happy again . . .'

'Happy. Do you think we shall be happy? First my father has to fight. Do you think Edward will stand by and calmly let him put Henry on the throne? Will Richard . . . ?'

'Your father makes and unmakes kings. Edward would never

have been on the throne but for him. He will put Henry back, you will see.'

'But Henry is little more than an imbecile.'

'He is the anointed king.'

'So is Edward.'

'But your father has decided that Edward must go.'

'And Edward will no doubt decide he will stay.'

'My dear, we know nothing of these matters. You must prepare yourself to be married to the Prince of Wales.'

'To a man I have been brought up to believe was our enemy, the son of a mad king and a mother who is. . . .'

'Hush child. You must not say such things. They are our friends now.'

'Shall we ever be allowed to choose our own friends, 1 wonder.'

'Come now. This will be a brilliant marriage for you. A Prince! Why most girls would be overcome with joy. It is your father's plan that you shall one day be Queen of England.'

'Isabel was promised that.'

'Your father no longer trusts Clarence. Besides Henry is the true King and his son is naturally the heir. Your father is of the opinion that the people will welcome his return and that will be the end of Edward.'

'Edward has many friends.' She was thinking again of Richard: his fervent adoration of his brother, his intense and burning loyalty.

Oh Richard, she thought, we shall be on different sides.

'Your father thinks that Henry has always had the affection of the people.'

'So has Edward.'

'You are talking of matters of which you know very little, my dear. Your task is to make yourself charming so that the Prince is pleased to make you his wife. Now you may go. You should start preparing yourself at once for we shall be leaving for Angers in a few days' rime.' She looked at her daughter sadly.

Poor child, she thought. She is bewildered. She always thought she was meant for Richard of Gloucester and so did we all. But the fortunes of women sway with the fortunes of war.

Anne knelt before the haughty woman whose face showed

signs of great beauty now ravaged by grief, rage, frustration– emotions felt so intensely that they had left their mark on her.

Margaret of Anjou was a most unhappy woman. She had come to England with dreams of greatness; she had ruled her weak-minded husband and loved him in a way; and she had suffered the bitter hopelessness of exile, going from place to place, relying on others for even the means to live and for a woman of her nature that was perhaps the greatest ordeal of all.

Now her greatest enemy who, she believed, was responsible for her woes had come offering the olive branch. What an effort it had taken to accept it. She had wanted to fling it back in his face; and indeed had submitted him to some humiliation before she would accept. Warwick was a man of ambition and he was ready to kneel in humility if necessary to achieve his ends. And he had done so, for at last she had subdued her pride because her only hope lay in this man and what he could do for her.

She had made him swear upon the true cross in Angers Cathedral that Henry VI was the only King of England and that he would bring him back to the throne. He was to be a figurehead for all knew that he was too far gone in senility to rule. The Prince should be the Regent. And she knew who would be the power behind the Regency. That was inevitable. Why should Warwick fight for her unless he was going to get something out of it?

And that was not all. His daughter was to marry the Prince. So Anne Neville would be Queen of England.

It was a big price to ask. But what a reward it would be if they were successful. It was worth the price. To be back there, to be Queen again. Naturally she must pay highly for that.

Warwick's daughter, her daughter-in-law! It was ironical; it was comical. But she said fiercely, the marriage shall not take place until Warwick has recovered the throne for Henry.

There would have to be a betrothal, of course. But she was agreeable to that and she would quite happily give her son to this girl, though he was worthy of the most high-born princess—in exchange for Warwick's help in recovering the throne.