Текст книги "The Red Rose of Anjou"
Автор книги: Jean Plaidy
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 24 страниц)
Meanwhile Margaret, secretly furious that she had been passed over as the Regent, saw clearly that if she was to keep her power it could only be done through the King. Henry was her salvation. He would do as she said. All her strength had come through him. If he remained in this state of idiocy that would be the end of her hopes to rule.
Henry must get well.
With characteristic energy she set about the task of nursing him back to health. In the first place she believed that he could never get well while he was at the centre of affairs in Westminster where there were too many people visiting him and too much talk about his condition. People would keep on talking of his grandfather and expecting him to go raving mad at any moment.
It was not Like that. She thought she was beginning to understand what might have happened. Henry had never wanted to be a king; that office on which men like York—and even Somerset—cast covetous eyes was a penance to Henry. He hated the ceremonies, the conflicts, the desire to maintain his position; even the progresses through the country which he seemed to think were the answer to all evils were not so very agreeable to him. As Margaret saw it a resentment against a fate which had made him the King had culminated in this complete collapse, this shutting off of responsibility, this rejection of a crown.
Of one thing she was certain—the potions, the syrups and the fomentations were not what was needed at all. It was Henry’s mind which had deserted him; his body was not really sick.
She had found a new doctor, a certain William Hately and he agreed with her theories.
‘Get the King away,’ he had said. ‘Take him to some quiet seat where there can be an atmosphere of peace about him. He may be susceptible to conflict around him. We cannot know that.’
‘You mean take him to some place where the people are loyal to him. Where there would be no room for his enemies. My dear doctor, it is not always easy to know who are one’s friends, who one’s enemies.’
‘There are parts of the country which are firmly loyal to the King and who tolerate the Duke of York only because he stands in the King’s place while the King is indisposed.’
‘He was always rather fond of Coventry. He has had a more loyal welcome there than anywhere. He was interested in the building of St. Mary’s Hall and took great pleasure from the tapestry there.’
‘Let us try it, my lady. It may not help but we must try everything.’
‘We will go to our castle of Coventry,’ said the Queen.
She would be glad to get away, to devote herself entirely to the needs of the King. She knew it was useless to try to fight York at this time. Somerset was in the Tower and York’s strong yet restrained government was having its effect. The fact that men like Somerset and Exeter were under restraint and had not been executed showed a tolerance in the Duke of York which pleased the people. They were already beginning to trust him.
As soon as the King is well that shall be an end of York, Margaret promised herself.
And that brought her back to the great need of the moment: the recovery of the King.
They travelled to Coventry, the King in his litter. On the Queen’s orders they took the byways and avoided the towns but they could not make a secret entry into Coventry and the people of that city came out to cheer them as they passed through. The King lay still and silent in his litter with Margaret riding beside him, gorgeously apparelled as became a Queen. She it was who acknowledged the cheers of the crowd, though she knew those cheers were for the King and not for her. Never mind. They were for the Lancastrian cause and that was what was important.
Coventry, in the county of Warwickshire, was almost in the centre of England and took its name from a convent which had once stood on the site and had been founded as long ago as the days of King Canute. It was destroyed by the traitor Edric in the year 1016 before the coming of the Normans. However Earl Leofric and his wife Lady Godiva founded a Benedictine monastery on the spot and richly endowed it. It was at that time that the town began to prosper. The castle was built and was in the possession of the Lords of Chester. The city had been walled in at the time of Edward the Second and had six gates and several strong towers. The castle had eventually passed into the hands of the Black Prince and it became one of his favourite residences.
It seemed a very suitable place to bring the King and, if it were possible, nurse him back to health there.
The days passed quietly. Margaret spent a great deal of time with the King. She talked to him although he did not hear her, but William Hately believed that there was a possibility that one day he might. The worst thing, said the doctor, was to treat him as though he were an imbecile.
‘His senses are clearly there,’ he insisted. ‘They are slumbering. It is for us to awaken them and we shall only do that by gentle methods.’
He was astonished and so were others to see how Margaret adapted herself to life at Coventry. She who had been so forceful, so ready to state her views, so determined that they should be acted on, was now playing the role of nurse and mother, dividing her time between her husband and her son, trying to arouse the shrunken mind of one and to assist the expanding one of the other.
It did not occur to them at that time that this was a further indication of her character. She was bent on one purpose: to nurse the King back to health that he might take his place in affairs again and she rule through him since they would not allow her to without him.
But it was more than that. There was a tenderness in Margaret. Faithful as she was to her friends, so was she to her husband. Her affection for him was firm; he had brought her out of France where she was of little importance and had made her a Queen. He loved her; he listened to her; he adored her. She was not going to forget that. She loved him and as Margaret could never do anything by halves, she loved him deeply; during that period her devotion was entirely for her husband and son. For Henry her emotions were loving and protective; for her son something like adoration and intense possessiveness.
It was a great task she had set herself; and she was determined to do everything in her power to make it succeed.
It was galling to learn that York was making a success of his task. He had now been appointed Protector and Defender of the Realm and Church and Principal Councillor of the King.
Margaret looked ahead to a future which could be gloomy if the King continued in his present state. There was no suggestion in the declaration that York was regarded as King; and as soon as Henry recovered, or the Prince came of age, his authority would cease, but it infuriated her to think that he would have control over that precious infant in the cradle.
But not yet. The boy was too young and she was determined to bring Henry back to sanity.
The months passed. The wearisome task went on. Sometimes Henry raised a hand and that would send her hopes soaring. At others when she fed him he seemed to show a little interest in the food. Once she thought his eyes followed her as she crossed the room. That was a great advance. Then for days he would lapse into complete immobility again and she despaired.
Little Edward was her salvation. She spent a great deal of time with him. When he smiled at her a great tenderness welled up in her and she held him so tightly to her that he whimpered to be free. He was beautiful; he was her compensation; each day her maternal love seemed to strengthen. Everything...yes everything, was worthwhile...while she had her baby.
Christmas was approaching. Henry had been in this state for more than a year. It was a long time since she had brought him to Coventry. William Hately was her great comfort. I shall never forget what he has done for me...and for Henry, she promised herself. When she despaired William Hately would have some hope to offer. When he thought he detected a change in the King, they would watch for it together.
‘Sometimes I think you are as much my physician as the King’s,’ she told him.
It was a few days before Christmas. Margaret went into the King’s room. Her heart leaped for the King smiled at her.
‘Margaret,’ he said, and held out his hand.
She went on her knees by his bed. She could not bring herself to look at him. She feared she had imagined she had heard his voice. She believed that this must be some dream.
She felt his fingers on her hair.
‘Margaret,’ he said. ‘My Queen Margaret.’
She lifted her face. She could not see him clearly for her tears were blinding her.
Then she said in a small choked voice: ‘Henry...Henry, you are going to get well.’
She could not wait for more. Her emotions, which she had kept so long in check, were breaking free. She went into her room and for the first time for months she wept.
###
Margaret went to William Hately. She looked at him in bewilderment.
‘I know,’ he told her. ‘I have seen the King.’
‘He is well. He is recovered. He is himself again.’
‘My lady, let us go gently with him. His mind will be delicate as yet. It has been dormant so long.’
‘You are right,’ she said. ‘We must go carefully. What of our baby? He has not seen him yet.’
‘Wait awhile. He is as a man coming out of a long sleep. Let him awake slowly. It is best for him. Do not let us overburden his mind with any matter which could distress him.’
‘Our child would delight him.’
‘It is true but it would remind him that there is the heir to the throne. I think we should not let him think of his kingly duties as yet.’
Margaret was ready to follow the doctor’s advice.
‘At least,’ went on William Hately, ‘let us wait a few days. Let us see what this cure really means.’
So they waited. Margaret sat with him. He talked a little and then slept for long periods. Margaret was terrified when he fell into one of these long sleeps that when he awakened he would be as before.
But this was not so. He continued to improve.
He knew that it was Christmas.
‘At Christmas,’ he said, ‘it is my custom to send an offering to the shrine of St. Edward the Confessor.’
‘Yes, I know,’ said Margaret. ‘He was always your model. You always said that you would rather be like him than any of your great warrior ancestors.’
‘I did and I meant it. And I would send to Canterbury to the shrine of St. Thomas à Becket.’
‘Your wishes shall be carried out. I shall see to that.’
He took her hand and kissed it.
Christmas was celebrated quietly at Coventry Castle but there was a great hope in Margaret’s heart. The long months of anxiety were at an end.
She and the doctor decided that the time might be ripe to present Henry with his son.
She carried the Prince into his bedchamber and held him out to Henry.
‘Henry,’ she said, ‘this is our son.’
He looked from her to the baby and memory came back to him. Yes, she had been pregnant before the darkness descended on him. That was long ago. This child was now a year old.
‘Our child, our Prince,’ he said wonderingly.
‘The same, my love,’ said Margaret, her emotion threatening once more to overcome her.
‘What did you call him?’ asked Henry.
‘Edward. 1 thought it was a good name. I thought the people would like it.’
‘I like it,’ said Henry.
Then he put the palms of his hands together and began to pray.
Young Edward looked at him wonderingly and was not sure whether he liked him. He turned to his mother and looked as though he were about to cry until the jewelled necklace she was wearing caught his eyes. He seized it and so great was his interest in that that tears were avoided on his first meeting with his father.
Afterwards Margaret sat with Henry and he told her that he remembered nothing of what had happened since his illness overtook him. He had not been aware of anyone or anything.
‘I have been with you these many months,’ she told him. ‘I have nursed you myself I did not trust anyone else.’
She did not explain what was happening immediately. On the advice of William Hately she would do so gradually.
York was in control. The people seemed to like him. He had established a certain order throughout the country. Their dear friends Somerset and Exeter were captives.
‘They must be released,’ said the King.
‘It is the first thing we shall do when we are in command again. We shall dismiss York and his friends and bring back our own.’
Henry looked a little tired and closed his eyes. William Hately said: ‘Do not talk too much of State affairs to him. Let it come gradually. He has recovered but he is still weak.’
Let him recover gradually!
Impatient as she was for action, Margaret could see the wisdom of that. For the moment the affairs of the country must remain in York’s hands, but not for long...
Bishop Waynflete and the Prior of St. John’s came to Coventry to see the King.
He was delighted to receive them and he was happy praying with them.
He has not changed, thought Margaret.
Soon we must leave Coventry. Soon we shall take over the reins of government.
###
That was a happy Christmastime. Every day Henry showed some improvement and began to take an interest in his surroundings.
The choice of Coventry had been a wise one for it had always been a favourite of his. He wanted to visit the churches of the town. There were three which had been standing there for years. Henry delighted in them, particularly that of St. Michael which had been built long ago in the reign of the first Henry and had been given to the monks of Coventry by Earl Randulph. Then there was St. Mary’s Hall which he himself had built. It had an intricately carved roof with figures which were almost grotesque, a minstrels’ gallery and an armoury. The enormous glass windows were a treasure in themselves. Henry delighted in it and his enthusiasm showed from his eyes as he talked of it with Margaret. In this hall was a tapestry which Henry had ordered to be made and which had been hung only a few years previously. It was thirty feet by ten and Henry had helped to design it. The colours, he pointed out, showed what advances had been made in dyeing and they really were exquisite.
It was wonderful to see his excitement over these things, but Margaret wished he could be equally so with regard to State matters. He did not seem to wish to discuss those. Whenever such questions were brought up, a film would come over his eyes and he would put his hand to his head as though he were tired. It was too dangerous as yet to insist for Margaret had a horror of his lapsing once more into that lethargy which bordered on idiocy.
What she would have to do was to bring his friends to him. Let him talk to them. Let him see that he was loved by many. Then they would set about ousting arrogant York from the Protectorate and bringing Somerset back.
One day there were visitors at the castle and Margaret received them warmly for she knew very well that there could not be stronger supporters of the Lancastrian cause. Their prosperity would most certainly depend on it, and that was the best reliance one could have on friends. A cynical observation, some might say, but it was nevertheless true and even if there was real regard it must be strengthened by expediency.
The visitors were brought in to the King and when he saw them his pleasure was obvious.
‘Can it really be...Owen?’ said Henry.
Owen Tudor was on his knees before the King.
‘Your servant,’ he said.
‘Owen Tudor.’ The King’s eyes were glazed with emotion. I remember you well, Owen.’
‘My lord, your mother and I talked so much of you, thought so much of you...When we were together... before they parted us we used to say how happy we could have been if you were with us.’
‘Yes, I should have been happy too. I remember being impressed by you all and feeling a certain longing and a resentment, too, because I was the son of a King. Oh, Owen, how good it is to see you and recall those days when you taught me to ride my pony. I fear I was a timid pupil.’
‘My lord, you were a good pupil. You listened to your teacher which is what few do.’
‘My mother, Owen...Oh, that was a tragedy.’
‘I think she could not endure the breaking up of our happy home.’
‘Oh, it was cruel, cruel... And you went away to Wales. How fared you, Owen?’
‘Well enough...in my native Wales. You were good to us, my lord. You never forgot us.’
‘I did very little, Owen, for my stepfather and my half-brothers. Tell me, how are they?’
‘If you would wish it you may see for yourself. Two of them are here in Coventry awaiting your permission to present themselves.’
‘Awaiting my permission! My own brothers! Let them be brought to me without delay. But there are more than two.’
‘My youngest son Owen has become a monk.’
‘Ah, fortunate man. Where is he?’
‘In Westminster.’
‘I well remember him. And your daughter?’
‘Jacina is growing up. She will be of marriageable age very soon.’
‘We will find a husband for her. The Queen loves to arrange these marriages. Do I speak truth, my love?’
‘It is a pleasure to set young people together. They should all marry young. That is my view. Then they should have children...lots of them.’
‘Yes,’ said Henry tenderly. ‘Margaret is the Court’s matchmaker.’
‘My eldest, your half-brother Edmund, will ask of you permission to marry. He is in love with the niece of the Duke of Somerset.’
‘Margaret Beaufort! She is a much sought after little girl. I remember the Duke of Suffolk wanted her for his son.’
‘I think she would be inclined to take Edmund...if you would consider it. After all, Edmund has royal blood through his mother.’
‘I have no doubt that the Queen will arrange that matter. Now send my brothers to me. I would see them.’
‘They want to assure you of their devotion. If ever you should need them, they are at your service.’
Owen knew that the Queen was watching him closely. The
King might not want to think of the possibility of war but it was there and the Queen knew exactly what he meant.
When the two young men were brought to the King he received them with emotion. His half-brothers—Edmund and Jasper Tudor. They reminded him so much of their mother– who was Henry’s mother too—and he was glad that he was related so closely to them.
They were a handsome pair – a few years younger than Henry who was at this time thirty-three years of age. Edmund must be about twenty-five and Jasper twenty-three or -four. They both had reason to be grateful to Henry who had made sure that they were adequately educated, first by the Abbess of Barking and later they had been put in the care of priests. Moreover Henry had bestowed titles on them—Edmund was the Earl of Richmond and Jasper the Earl of Pembroke. He would have given the youngest, Owen, a title if he had not gone into a monastery. The most fortunate of them all, in Henry’s opinion.
Margaret eyed the three men with approval. Firm strong supporters of Lancaster and held together by ties of kinship.
Henry was happy to drop all ceremony and to talk to his stepfather and his brothers as equals. They talked for a while of the old days, which was sad because they must think of the death ()( Katherine their mother.
‘How happy she would have been if she could be here with us thus,’ said Owen.
‘She sees us from Heaven,’ answered Henry.
‘I here is one matter which grieves us all very much,’ Edmund told him. ‘It is the .scandal which has been spoken about our mother and the slurs that are cast on us...’
‘They call us bastards,’ said Jasper.
Owen said: ‘There was a marriage, my lord. 1 assure you there was. It took place just before Edmund’s birth but when he was born I and your mother were married.’
Henry looked at Margaret, who said, ‘There could be a declaration in Parliament. Why not? It has been done before. Why, Margaret Beaufort herself comes of a line which began as a bastard sprig and it was long alter the birth ol the Beauforts that John ol Gaunt legitimized them. I see no reason why there should not be a declaration in Parliament.’
‘We shall see to it,’ said Henry.
Margaret rejoiced. It was the first time he had mentioned sitting with a Parliament.
There was no doubt that the Tudors’ visit had done some good.
When they had left after giving a firm indication of their loyalty to Henry and Lancaster, Margaret talked of them to the King.
‘They are fine men...all of them. Owen is getting old of course but you need strong men Like Edmund and Jasper.’
‘Owen did not seem to me an old man but I believe he was the same age as my mother and she was twenty-one when I was born.’
I would trust them all to serve you well,’ said Margaret, ‘and that makes me warm towards them. I will arrange a marriage for the girl and I see no reason why Edmund should not have Margaret Beaufort.’
‘Then, my love,’ said Henry, ‘if you decide it shall be so, it will be.’
###
There could no longer be any delay. Henry was weak still but Margaret insisted that he should be taken to the House of Lords and when he arrived there he dissolved Parliament.
The reign of the Duke of York was at an end. The King was returned and York had known his power was of a temporary nature.
It was unfortunate for the King and Margaret that York’s period of supremacy had been long enough to show the people that he was a good ruler. Law and order had been restored to the country and York’s rule had been seen to be just and firm.
Now it was over, but York would not lightly relinquish what he had cherished so much and for which he had an undoubted aptitude. Yet he must. He had taken on the Protectorate on the understanding that he must give it up as soon as the King was well.
The first act of the King’s—or rather Margaret’s—was to get Somerset released from the Tower. Shortly afterwards Exeter followed him.
Margaret now reinstated Somerset and he was the most important man in the country under the King.
There was of course a fierce hatred between Somerset and York. Somerset would never forgive York for imprisoning him; and York despised Somerset and wondered whether he ought
to have taken advantage of the situation and finished him altogether.
The feud between those two was irreconcilable and would only end with the death of one of them.
Meanwhile Margaret was revelling in the return to power. She indulged in her favourite pastime of matchmaking. Margaret Beaufort was married to Edmund Tudor and for Jacina she found Lord Grey de Wilton.
She was delighted with her efforts and she knew that if they were needed the Tudors would be on Henry’s side.
AT ST. ALBANS
The Duke of York was angry. Everything had been changing; events had been falling into place; he had been achieving success; he had shown the people that he had the gifts of a ruler and then…the King recovered.
‘And how far has he recovered?’ he demanded of Cecily.
‘He’s likely to go toppling over into idiocy again.’
‘Not that we wish him ill,’ added the Duke.
Cecily pressed her lips tightly together. She wished him ill. She wished he would go back to his madness.
‘But,’ went on the Duke, ‘when I had a comparatively free hand I felt I was getting things in order.’
‘You were, and if the people had any sense they would make you King.’
‘They always have such a respect for a crowned King,’ said York.
Cecily was silent seeing herself and Richard being crowned in Westminster Abbey. That was how it should be. They both had royal blood and Richard had more right to the crown than Henry.
‘What now?’ she asked.
‘Salisbury and Warwick will be with us shortly. We shall decide then.’
He was right. It was not long before Salisbury and Warwick arrived.
They were as resentful as York himself.
‘What will happen now?’ they cried.
‘Disaster for the country,’ answered York.
They were silent. The Great Seal had been taken from Salisbury and given to Bourchier, the Archbishop of Canter-, bury. The Governorship of Calais had been taken from York and given to Somerset. It was the last straw when Somerset had called a Council at Westminster which neither York, Warwick nor Salisbury were invited to attend.
‘Somerset is at the root of all the trouble,’ declared York. ‘But for him, I should have remained at my post.’
‘Do not forget that the Queen stands beside him.’
‘The Queen and Somerset are our enemies, true,’ agreed York. ‘Aye, and the enemies of England.’
‘They must be curbed,’ said Warwick.
‘How?’ asked Salisbury.
The Duke of York was thoughtful. Then he said slowly: ‘Everything we have worked for in the last year is wasted. It might never have happened. We cannot blame the King. He never wanted to take a hand in State affairs before his illness and now...it is clear that he wants to be guided. He is the figurehead but he wants a strong man to decide for him.’
‘And Somerset has taken the role,’ said Salisbury.
‘My lords,’ cried York, ‘Somerset is our enemy. We must rid ourselves of Somerset. That is all I ask. The King is King...the crowned King. I do not want to displace him. But he is unfit to rule and if we are going to save this country from its enemies and bring it prosperity we must have strong rule.’
The others were in agreement with that.
‘And how shall we enforce it?’ asked Warwick.
‘We must prepare ourselves for conflict.’
‘You mean fight? Civil war?’
‘We shall not be fighting against the King. I want to make that understood. We shall march. Show our strength and demand the removal of Somerset.’
Warwick was watching York steadily. ‘It is the only way,’ he said. ‘This has been brewing since that scene in Temple Gardens. It had to come to a head. It could be war.’
‘It must not come to that,’ insisted York.
‘A war of the red and white roses,’ said Salisbury.
‘I want no war,’ went on York. ‘I want Somerset removed from power, the Queen to realize that she cannot rule us, and a good strong government to take over until the King recovers full sanity or the Prince of Wales is old enough to rule.’
‘It shall be our task to bring about that happy state,’ said Salisbury.
###
At Westminster the King and Margaret heard that York had gathered together an army, that he had been joined by Warwick and Salisbury, and was preparing to march south.
Somerset had hurried to them to tell them the news. The light of battle was in his eyes. He was thinking that perhaps here was the opportunity to settle for ever with his enemy of York.
The King was distressed. ‘Marching!’ he cried. ‘What does he want to march for?’
The Queen tried to hide her exasperation. When would Henry realize that everyone was not kind and gentle like himself?
She burst out: ‘Because he sees himself as King. He wants to put you from the throne and take it for himself.’
‘No, no, my dear lady, York does not mean that. He is angry because he was not asked to the Council. Perhaps, my dear Edmund, we should have included him.’
‘Nay, nay, my lord,’ soothed Somerset. ‘The Queen knows that we have to be watchful of your enemies.’
‘So he is marching south,’ said Margaret.
‘I daresay he hopes to reach London.’
Margaret understood. York was popular in London. During his Protectorate trade had flourished. Trade was all these merchants thought about. London would be for York and she knew what the Londoners could be like when aroused. They were an army in themselves.
‘What we shall have to do,’ said Somerset, ‘is march north to meet them.’
Henry frowned but he was too tired to raise objections, and readily Margaret agreed with Somerset.
‘My lord,’ said Somerset, ‘you should march with your army.’
Henry was very sorrowful but he made no protests.
‘Oh God,’ thought Margaret, ‘I would I were a man. I would be there at the head of my army. I would bring this traitor York to justice.’
She realized she could not march with the army.
She said quietly: ‘I will take the Prince to Greenwich.’ She turned to Somerset. ‘There I shall eagerly await the news. I must know at once when the traitor York is in your hands.’
‘You shall hear with all speed, my lady,’ Somerset promised.
‘I trust it may be soon.’
Her mouth had hardened, and she clenched her hands as she thought what punishment she would inflict on this man who had dared to challenge the crown.
###
Beside the Duke of York rode his eldest son Edward. The boy was thirteen, young perhaps to ride out in what could well become a battle, but Edward was a precocious boy and had been from his early childhood. A son to be proud of, thought York—with a great deal of his mother in him. And best of all he had those fair, handsome Plantagenet looks. He was a Little wild, but only as boys should be, even at his age casting a speculative eye on the women and his father had heard that he had already indulged in a few adventures. Over young, perhaps. But in such times a boy must grow up quickly.
He was proud of young Edward. He wanted him to understand the position. He talked to him as they rode along.
He trusted there would be no conflict, he said. What they really wanted to do was show strength and by so doing remind their enemies that they could be a force to be reckoned with. ‘If we can drive that home without bloodshed, so much the better,’ he said.
Edward listened. He believed his father should be King. His mother had said so often enough. Edward admired his father almost to idolatry, and to be riding beside him on an occasion like this filled him with pride. Secretly he hoped there would be a battle. He wanted to distinguish himself, to make his father proud of him.
‘The King is ill advised,’ went on York. ‘The Queen is against us and she works with the Duke of Somerset who has done great harm to this country.’
Edward listened avidly. He hoped he would come face to face with the Duke of Somerset. He would cut off his head with his sword and present that head to his father.
‘Always remember,’ said the Duke, ‘never to indulge in battle unless it is the last resort.’
‘Yes, my lord,’ said Edward, still dreaming of Somerset’s head.
The Duke was dismayed when he heard that the King was marching north at the head of an army to meet him. This was the doing of Somerset and the Queen. Henry would never willingly have ridden out to battle.
The Duke discussed with Warwick and Salisbury what should be done.
