Текст книги "The Red Rose of Anjou"
Автор книги: Jean Plaidy
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‘There will be bloodshed if the armies clash,’ said York. ‘This will be the opening battle of a civil war. The King does not want that any more than we do.’
‘Somerset wants it. The Queen wants it.’
‘Somerset knows that we are going to ask the King to hand him over to us. He must be impeached. We have to save the country. That is all we ask. Then we shall form a Council and rule under the King.’
‘The Queen won’t give up her favourite and Somerset will certainly do everything to prevent himself falling into our hands.’
‘I want to let the King know that this is no battle against him. It is no fight for the crown. I want him to know that we are loyal subjects, devoted to the welfare of our country and because of this we cannot stand aside and allow it to be ruined.’
By the time they had reached the Hertfordshire town of Ware Richard had made up his mind that he must let the King know his true intentions. When a subject—and such a subject—set himself at the head of what could be called a small army it might well seem that he was intent on making war.
The King must understand.
He wrote to Henry. He explained clearly that he had not wavered in his loyalty to him. His grievance was that he had been excluded from the government by the Duke of Somerset who had charges to answer for. Every man who rode with him was loyal to the King.
He called one of his trusted messengers to him and gave him a letter.
‘Ride with all speed,’ he said. ‘It is imperative that the King reads this before another day has passed.’
York was confident that Henry would be only too delighted to call off any confrontation.
The messenger rode off and very shortly came to the royal camp.
He immediately disclosed the fact that he came on an urgent message from the Duke of York and he had a letter which he wished to deliver into the King’s hands.
He was immediately conducted to the royal tent. The King was sleeping but a man who was clearly a very noble lord came to ask his business.
‘I come with an important letter for the King from my master the Duke of York. It is to be delivered into the King’s hands.’
‘Give me the letter and I will make sure that it is given to the King as soon as he awakes.’
‘Thank you, my lord.’
‘And I will give orders that you are given safe conduct back to Ware.’
The messenger was grateful and retired, his duty as he thought accomplished.
He did not know that the man who had intercepted the letter was Somerset himself
A stroke of luck, thought the Duke. Who knew what the King would do on receipt of a letter like this? But perhaps one did know. He would say, ‘Welcome, my dear cousin of York. Let us forget our grievances...’ and before long York would have a place on the Council.
‘Never, while I have a say in matters!’ murmured Somerset.
He broke the seals and read the letter. So York had no quarrel with the King! He was a loyal subject! He did not want to usurp the throne. He wanted to serve under the King. But there was a note of warning however. A happy state of peace could only be achieved if certain people were delivered up for judgment.
‘Indeed I see your game, master York. You will be a good subject if the King will hand me over to you and your friends. And what for, eh? No, thank you. My head is too useful to me for me to wish to be parted from it.’
He held York’s letter in the flame of a flare.
The King should never know it had been sent.
###
So the King had ignored his letter. Very well, there was nothing more to be done but try to settle this matter by force of arms.
News came that the King had set out with an army and had halted at Watford.
‘We will try once more,’ said York. ‘If we fight we have started a war. It is worth another effort. But Henry must understand that Somerset must be delivered up to face the judgment of his peers.’
‘Deliver up those whom we accuse, my lord,’ wrote York.
‘When you have done this you will be served as our most rightful King. We cannot give way now until we have them. We shall fight and either get them or die in the attempt.’
Somerset was with the King when he received the letter for he had been unable to intercept it this time. The King grew pale.
‘What do they mean, Edmund’ They want you, of course. What can we say to them?’
‘My lord will not be dictated to by rebel subjects.’
‘I must not be. I think I had better see York. It would be easier to talk.’
‘My lord, it would be useless. Let me draft a reply for you. I will say that you resent York’s overbearing tones and perhaps that will bring him to his senses.’
‘Yes, we must bring him to his senses. Do that, Edmund.’
Edmund’s reply to York was not quite what the King had intended.
‘I shall know what traitors dare be so bold as to array my people in my own land. I shall destroy them...every mother’s son, for they are traitors to me and to England. Rather than give up any lord that is here with me, I shall this day myself live or die.’
When York read this he was astounded. It was so unlike the King who had always shuddered at the thought ol bloodshed and had once made his servants remove the decaying quarters of a traitor which were being displayed in the city of London. He was telling them that they were traitors and what their fate would be if they fell into his hands.
He showed the reply to Warwick.
‘There is only one course open to us,’ said Warwick. ‘We must fight.’
‘Then let us give our thoughts to the battle since the King has decided it must be. First we will show the King’s letter to every captain. He will fight the better for it since he will know what his fate will be if he is captured.’
The letter was duly shown and the whole army knew what fate would await them if they did not achieve victory. There was not a man among them who was not prepared to fight for he was not only fighting for a cause but for his own life.
York surveyed his army philosophically. It was five thousand strong, larger than that of the King, but the King had trained men among his. Victory would not come easily.
News came that the royalist army was making for the town of St. Albans so the Yorkists must get there with all speed.
Whoever was first would be able to choose the position and position was all important.
York had divided his army into three sections—one led by himself, one by Salisbury and the other by Warwick. Warwick was in the centre with Captain Robert Ogle and six hundred men.
About the town was a ditch and this was surmounted by a fence of stakes. The Lancastrians, having arrived first, had immediately taken up the best position behind these palisades and it was clear they had the advantage. Salisbury and York rushed into the attack but despite continued assaults they could not break through the fences.
The hopes of the Lancastrians were high. They were trained men of the King’s army and York’s followers were merely men with more desire to right what they considered wrongs than skill in military matters.
Seeing that his allies were in difficulties Warwick came forward to their defence but in doing so he perceived that there was one section of the palisades which was not defended. His task had been to wait and come to the aid of either York or Salisbury but he decided to ignore that. He saw an opportunity and he seized it.
He gave the order for his men to make for the undefended palisade while his archers protected them with a stream of arrows. Sir Robert Ogle led them over the ditch and the palisades and then on into the town while cries of ‘A Warwick! A Warwick!’ filled the air.
Within a short time Warwick’s standard, planted over the town, struck terror into the Lancastrians. York saw it and exulted.
He shouted to his men. They were going to join the brave Warwick.
Now Warwick could attack the Lancastrians from the rear and by this time York and Salisbury were attacking in front. Through Warwick’s prompt action the Lancastrians had lost their advantage and were sandwiched disastrously between the enemy forces.
In the streets of the city the fighting was fierce. Through Shropshire and Cock Lanes to St. Peter’s and Holwell Street the battle cries rang out.
‘Attack the lords,’ shouted Warwick. ‘Spare the commoners.’
Perhaps the warning was not necessary. It was the lords who could not elude their pursuers so encumbered were they by their armour. The foot soldiers and archers in their leather jerkins were far more mobile.
Warwick paused by the Castle Inn in St. Peter’s Street and stared at the figure there on the ground.
‘By God,’ he cried. ‘I believe it is.’
The battle was well-nigh done. A resounding victory for York. And there dead beneath the sign of the Castle Inn lay Somerset...
The matter is resolved, thought Warwick.
###
Henry was most distressed. He hated bloodshed. It was tragic that these matters could not be solved in a peaceful manner.
He knew that Somerset hated York. York had shown himself so clearly to be his enemy. York was determined to end Somerset’s rule and Somerset was determined to do the same for York. Henry was very fond of Somerset and so was Margaret. He quite liked York, too. Oh dear, why would they not resolve their differences in peace?
And here they were in St. Albans. It was most uncomfortable and his forces were all at their posts under Somerset and he was with them...leading them, he supposed. He had no heart for battles.
And upon the opposite side was York with Salisbury and Warwick. They should all be friends.
The fighting had started. York had not a chance of success, Somerset had told him.
‘I know, I know,’ said Henry, ‘but no more bloodshed than is necessary.’
‘It shall be so, my lord,’ said Somerset, the light of battle shining in his eyes.
Henry closed his. Buckingham was beside him. There was noise and shouting all about him. He hated to hear men and horses in distress. They were shouting for Warwick.
‘God help us,’ said Buckingham. ‘Warwick has broken into the town.’
An arrow struck Buckingham at that moment and he fell to the ground. The King turned to him in consternation and as he did so an arrow caught him in the neck. He fell from his horse and lay on the ground bleeding profusely.
He saw that Buckingham’s face was covered in blood.
‘My poor friend,’ he murmured; and then realized that his garments were soaked in his own blood.
Someone was standing over him.
‘My lord...’
‘York. Is it York?’
‘You are wounded, my lord.’ There was real consternation in his voice.
‘Forsooth and forsooth,’ said Henry.
York knelt down beside him.
‘We are your loyal servants,’ he said.
‘Then stop this slaughter of my subjects.’
‘It shall be done,’ said York. ‘The battle is over. Victory to the King’s loyal subjects. This affray was necessary. My lord, we crave your forgiveness for any inconvenience caused to you.’
‘War is senseless,’ said the King.
‘ ‘Tis so, my lord; we would have preferred to have settled in peaceful talk.’
‘I bear you no ill will,’ said the King. ‘But stop this fighting. Attend to the wounded. Let us have done with war.’
Henry was aware of others surrounding him and he allowed himself to be lifted into a litter. He was escorted to the Abbey by York, Salisbury and Warwick and there his wound was dressed. It was an ugly one but not likely to be fatal.
When he learned of Somerset’s death he was overcome by grief He was further grieved when he heard how many of his friends had died. Lord Clifford, Lord Northumberland, and Buckingham’s son. The Earl of Dorset, son and heir of Somerset, was so badly wounded that he had to be carried away in a cart.
‘Forsooth and forsooth,’ muttered the King.
It was necessary for him to ride with them to London, York told him, that the people might see that there was no rift between them.
What could Henry do?
The victory was York’s.
###
In great suspense Margaret waited at Greenwich for news of the Battle of St. Albans.
When she saw messengers approaching she hurried down to meet them demanding: ‘What news?’
She did not have to wait to be told. She could see it in their faces.
Somerset slain. The King wounded!
That frightened her. How? Where? How badly?
An arrow in his neck! Oh, the traitors. What she would do to them if ever they came into her hands!
But the King. How ill? This was enough to send him into a stupor again.
They were marching to London. The King with York, Salisbury and Warwick, that trio of traitors. He came as their prisoner, did he? No. They treated him as their King. They were most insistent. They had no quarrel with the King. Somerset was dead. Their mission was achieved.
How sad it was to lose friends. She thought of good Suffolk and poor Alice’s suffering. And now Edmund was slain too. And his son taken away, that beautiful young man nothing but a wreck now to be carried away in a cart. She could not have borne it but for the burning anger within her. It was only the thought that one day she would take such fearful revenge that they would wish they had never been born.
Hatred superseded grief. She would fight them. She would turn their victories into bitter humiliating defeat.
She went to the royal nursery. Little Edward was sleeping peacefully, but she picked him up and held him tightly to her.
One day, my love, you will be a King. Pray God you are a stronger one than your father.
The child began to whimper, angry at being disturbed in his sleep. But she would not let him go. She sat on a stool and rocked him to and fro.
He was her hope. She was going to fight for him, and one day...one day she would have York’s head on a pike.
She put the baby into his cradle. Then she went to her apartments. She would eat nothing. She sat staring straight ahead; and thus she remained for several hours during which none of her women dared approach her.
###
There was a Parliament of course, attended by the King with York in command.
Margaret considered she was publicly insulted, for it was stated that the government as managed by the Queen, the Duke of Somerset and their party had been an oppression and injustice to the country.
At Greenwich Margaret gave vent to her fury, but to what avail? The King was petitioned to appoint the Duke of York as Protector of the Realm and Henry agreed.
He could do nothing else, Margaret knew. York had him in his power. Oh, but one day...one day...
At least they had not made a prisoner of him. They continued to pay lip-service to him. They declared that he was the true t I King and that they had no wish but to serve him and the ^ I country.
Fools, to believe them, thought Margaret. There is one thing York wants and that is the crown.
Then she heard that she, with the Prince, was to go to Hertford where the King would join her. There were signs that his distressing malady was returning.
So he came to her to be nursed back to health. The arrow wound was not serious and was healing now. But he was ill, there was no doubt of that. He did not sink into a complete torpor as he had before. He would talk a little and read a good deal. But there was no doubt that his mind was failing.
‘There is nowhere he would rather be than in the Queen’s loving hands,’ said York.
So they were together; and she was touched by the sight of him. He was delighted to be with her and his son.
‘This is peace,’ he said.
LOVE DAY
Margaret had a strong purpose now. Revenge on her enemies. She was going to destroy those three men. York, Salisbury and Warwick. They were her enemies as Gloucester had never been, and she would not rest until she had had her revenge on them. This was something she could not do alone. She realized this. If the King lost his reason completely or died she would be desperately alone with a son to fight for and without adequate means to do so. She needed Henry, a sane Henry, but not too strong because he must be guided by her.
She was going to make the crown safe for her son.
Henry’s state of health gave her great cause for alarm. He must not be allowed to drift into that torpor which amounted to idiocy. She was prepared now. She would recall William Hately and together they would bring Henry back to health, for Hately’s sensible advice had worked wonders before and it still would, she was sure.
She sought to interest Henry in their child. The little boy was very useful. His charming ways enchanted all, and Margaret was more passionately devoted to him every day, loving him with all the fierceness of her nature. Nobody was going to take the crown away from him.
So she needed Henry, a live, sane Henry.
Once more she devoted her days to the care of these two. She discussed with William Hately the best course of action and because of Henry’s passionate love of music, on the doctor’s advice she sent her sheriffs out into the country to look for musicians. She thought young ones would interest the King because he so much enjoyed encouraging the young.
‘Go into the villages and hamlets,’ she said, ‘Search out boys with talent. Let them know that if they want to become musicians there is a place for them at Court. They will be paid good wages and will never want.’
When the boys began to arrive Henry showed an interest in them and their studies. He had always believed in teaching and bringing out the abilities of any who possessed them. There was J no doubt that this had been an excellent idea.
There were some who wanted to go into the Church. Henry had a special interest in these. He promised to advance them and did so, and took a great interest in their progress. Margaret moved to Greenwich to be nearer London—but not too near for the Londoners were ardent Yorkists, and she was anxious not to attract too much attention to herself and the King at this stage. It was important, she felt, to lull the Yorkists into a sense of security. Let them think they were in command. So they were, but not for long, she promised herself.
She rejoiced in Henry’s definite recovery, slow though it was: People were drifting to Greenwich. There were the sons of fathers who had been slain at St. Albans. They thirsted for revenge with a passion which almost matched Margaret’s. She encouraged them. One day it will be a different story, she told them in fervour. It will be for us to command them. And then it will be to the Tower in preparation for the scaffold for some.
York, Warwick and Salisbury, they haunted her dreams.
The day will come, she promised herself And then no mercy. She found pleasure in inventing torments for them. Henry would have been horrified if he knew what was in her mind. He had always been squeamish. Perhaps that was why he had all but lost his throne.
Never mind. He was a good and loving man. He would obey his wife. And then when her son was of age he would be a fine strong King, for she would bring him up to be just that.
In the meantime it was a matter of treading warily—which was very difficult for a woman of her temperament. But she was doing well.
In Greenwich they talked constantly of the day when they would be strong enough to defeat York.
‘We’ll have his head on London Bridge, never fear,’ said Margaret. ‘But not a word of this before the King. The King
is a saint. He would die himself rather than shed anyone’s blood. That is why he needs us...to help him govern.’
They were beginning to see in Margaret a leader. It was incongruous that this small woman with the dainty hands and the long fair hair and the eyes which flashed blue fire when she talked of what was in store for her enemies, should be the one to lead them. But such was the power of her resolution, such her eloquence, such her burning determination that they were beginning to accept her.
Henry the new Duke of Somerset had recovered from his wounds and was constantly at her side. She was going to put him in his father’s place as soon as possible. It was the least she could do for dear Edmund; but apart from that she loved the new Duke for himself. He was her ardent supporter and like her he thirsted for revenge.
There were three who were very welcome at Greenwich; Henry’s stepfather, Owen Tudor, and his half-brothers, Edmund and Jasper. Henry was always delighted to see them and would be happy recalling the days when he was a little boy and Owen Tudor had taught him to ride.
But the Tudors did not come merely to talk of old times with Henry. They were staunchly for the Lancastrian cause. They were strong men—all three of them, ready to face hardship, ready to risk their lives; and for the sake of Katherine, beloved wife to one and mother to the other two, they were firmly behind Henry.
They were pleasant days for Henry who was ignorant of the revengeful plans. He did not want to think of that fearful time in St. Albans. The wound on his neck had proved to be slight and he could not bear to think of poor dear Somerset lying dead under that inn sign. He never wanted to go near St. Albans again. He just wanted to forget the horrible sounds and sights of war.
Forsooth and forsooth,’ he muttered to himself. ‘Why do men make war when all know we are always better off without it?’
Let York be protector of the realm. Why not? It was what York wanted; it stopped war. A number of the people wanted it. They said York managed very well and as long as he went on doing so there need be no trouble. York had been most respectful to him and he had stressed the fact that he regarded him as the sole King of the realm. It was only because he needed to recover from his illness—which had been aggravated by events in St. Albans—that York was installed as Protector. It was only a temporary measure.
But Henry was very happy for it to continue.
So he listened to the music played by the boys who had been brought in to be taught and gently remonstrated with them when they did not play correctly. He loved to hear them and they loved to play for him.
Then there were those who wanted to go on pilgrimages to holy shrines. They came and discussed their projects with the King. He delighted to hear them. He himself would like to go on a pilgrimage.
‘That might be an excellent idea,’ said Margaret. They would travel through the country and the people would be delighted to see them, particularly if they had the little Prince with them—their gentle King who wished no ill to any and their charming Prince who could always captivate with his innocent manners. And her .. . well, they might not like her so much. There was a good deal of prejudice to overcome. But they must applaud her devotion to her family.
This was not the time though. Margaret had other plans...just at first.
‘When you are well enough,’ she told Henry, ‘we will make our pilgrimage.’
‘I feel well now,’ said Henry. ‘Well enough to make a short journey.’
‘We will see,’ said Margaret.
Not yet, she thought secretly. Not until the people can see you as their ruler. Not until York is no longer Protector. In a little while perhaps, but not yet.
The visitors continued to come. Margaret held her secret meetings and the King listened to his music, discussed possible pilgrimages, spent a great deal of time with his confessor, prayed and meditated.
Alchemists came to him who believed that they could discover the philosopher’s stone by which they could turn base metals into gold. ‘It would be a miraculous discovery,’ said Henry, thinking sadly of his depleted exchequer and how wonderful it would be if the country did not have to inflict such heavy taxation on its subjects.
He would visit the royal laboratories and spend hours with the alchemists. They arrived at Greenwich from all over the country. They were all on the verge of discovering the secret formula; but none of them ever found it.
And so the King’s days passed pleasantly, while the Queen gathered about her a formidable force.
The King’s health was greatly improved but he was easily tired and there was no doubt that the battle of St. Albans had had some effect on him. However he was well enough to take to the saddle; his mind was clear; and although he would never be robust, he was in good health.
The time had come, thought Margaret.
She did not discuss the next step with Henry. She wanted to present it to him as the considered opinion not only of herself but his friends.
Young Henry Beaufort, son of Edmund and now himself Duke of Somerset, was a bright young man of about nineteen or twenty. Understandably, he hated York with a venom equalling that of the Queen.
‘It is York’s contention that he is only Protector of the Realm during the King’s indisposition,’ said young Somerset. 'If the King is no longer indisposed there is now no need for York to hold that position. It seems, my lady, that all we have to do is announce that the King is well.’
Margaret was thoughtful. That was as it might be. But there would be fierce opposition, she knew. York, Warwick and Salisbury had gathered their troops and come to oppose Henry.
‘It was done with speed and shrewdness,’ she reminded them.
With the Lancastrian lords they discussed how the desired effect should be brought about. York was not in London at the time. He must be kept in the dark as to the King’s progress. If he knew that Henry was recovering he would be on the spot.
‘We must choose our time with care,’ said Owen Tudor.
Jasper thought that the King should go unexpectedly to one of the sessions of Parliament over which York and his immediate cronies did not preside, and make the announcement that he was now well and capable of taking over the government of the country.
‘It is the way,’ said Margaret. ‘Now we have to persuade the
That was not quite so easy. Henry enjoyed his life at Greenwich. He loved his music, his conversations with those who were almost as religious as himself; he loved the company of his son and he was grateful that he had a Queen who could care for him and keep unpleasant business away from him.
She reminded him gently that he was the son of a King; he had been a King since he was nine months old and the people wanted him. It was time now to take on his duties. She would be beside him, always ready to help him. He need have no fear.
It was a cold February day; the Duke of York was in the North and Warwick was in Calais for he had been given the important Governorship of that town when York had become Protector. As for the chief members of the York faction, they were all on their estates in various parts of the country.
The King rode up from Greenwich to Westminster, Margaret beside him.
He went into the House of Lords.
The assembled company, not knowing that he had left Greenwich, was astounded to see him enter thus ceremoniously.
The King stood before them, seeming in amazingly good health.
‘My lords,’ he said, as they had decided he should, ‘you see me, by the blessing of God, in good health. I do not think my kingdom now needs a Protector. I request your permission to resume the reins of government.’
The Lords rose as one and cheered him.
He was well. He was the King. It was his place to govern.
###
It had been completely successful. Margaret was gleeful. ‘You see, all we need is a firm hand. Our first act must be to notify the Duke of York that he is no longer Protector of this realm as it was unanimously agreed by the Lords that he cease to hold this office.’
Now they could get to work. York could do nothing. His men were scattered and the same applied to Salisbury. Warwick was in Calais so was not of immediate concern.
The Parliament had agreed that York’s services were no longer required. The King could not be turned out of his office. He claimed it. He was well now.
Henry was King again.
The King’s chief adviser should be the young Duke of Somerset. There were raised eyebrows at that. Henry Beaufort was loyal enough, but he lacked experience and his father could hardly have been called a success in the later years of his life. It was the conflict between York and Somerset which was at the root of the trouble. But Margaret, fierce in her loyalties, was scarcely shrewd in her judgment. She wanted to show this young man her compassion for the death of his beloved father;
she wanted to reward him for his friendship to her. Her emotions told her that this should be his reward; she did not pause to consider the wisdom of the move.
Henry wanted to bestow the seals on his good friend William Waynflete, Bishop of Winchester and Margaret saw no reason why Henry should not be indulged in this. Waynflete was a good Lancastrian—not fiercely against the Duke of York it was true, but believing firmly that Henry was the rightful King and should be supported for this reason. He and Henry had had many a happy hour together, discussing theology and architecture. Waynflete had often accompanied the King to Eton and King’s College and had a great interest in them.
Yes, Waynflete was the man.
The changes were completed before York could do anything about it and there was consternation in Sandal Castle near Wakefield when the news was brought to York.
His resignation demanded! It was hardly necessary. He was already deprived of his post. The King was now well enough to resume his duties.
It was a complete surprise.
The family clustered round him. Edward wanted his father to tell him exactly what had happened. He wanted to set out right away and force another battle on the King. Edmund, his brother and younger by a year, was eager to hear more of the details. George was trying to imitate Edward and talking of battle and little Richard toddled up to try and understand what all the excitement was about. Even the little girls were listening.
Cecily was furious. ‘This is that woman’s doing,’ she said.
Edward nodded. All the children knew that ‘that woman’ was the Queen and that she was very wicked. George said that she had come from France riding on a broomstick and it was only because she was a witch that she had been able to marry the King. When Elizabeth had asked Edward if this were true he had shrugged it aside impatiently.
‘When they say she’s a witch,’ he explained, ‘that just means that she’s artful and wicked and cruel and ought to be destroyed.’
The Duke of York said: ‘Of course it is her doing. Henry never has the wit to do anything alone.’
The children were overawed. Their father was speaking of the King and only their father could speak thus of the King. Everyone else had to be very careful. This was because their father
