Текст книги "The Red Rose of Anjou"
Автор книги: Jean Plaidy
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really should have been King and that was what all the trouble was about.
Even the little ones wore their white roses and they always kept their eyes open for anyone wearing a red rose; if they saw anyone—though they rarely did in Yorkshire and anywhere near them, wherever they were—Edward and Edmund always wanted to kill them.
‘When shall we be marching down south?’ asked Edward. He would be rather sorry to go because there was a certain serving-woman in whom he was interested. She was old—by his standards—but he did not mind that any more than she minded his youth. She had so much to teach him; he enjoyed his lessons with her and did not want to break them off... even for a battle.
‘I don’t think we shall be,’ said the Duke thoughtfully.
‘You mean you are going to stand by and let that woman treat you like that?’ cried Cecily.
‘My dear, we do not want civil war.’
‘You were the victor at St. Albans. That should have been an end of it.’
‘I believe it should. But rest assured, Cis, there will be no end to conflict while the Queen holds sway over the King.’
‘What nonsense! You have shown you are more fit to rule than Henry.’
‘I think the people know that. They will remember...when the time comes. But that time is not yet.’
It was not long before Salisbury arrived. He had heard the news too.
‘What does it mean?’ he asked.
‘That the King is in better health. He must be, to have presented himself to the Parliament. He is King once more which means that I am no longer Protector.’
‘And what do you propose to do about it?’
‘Nothing,’ said York. ‘Remain here in the country...and wait.’
Salisbury was in complete agreement. ‘And wait,’ he said, but there was something ominous in the words.
###
Margaret was gratified when York made no attempt to dispute the fact that it was the King’s right to rule and that he was fit to do so.
‘He knows when he is beaten,’ she remarked to young Somerset. ‘Though he is wrong if he thinks I shall ever forget what he has done. I shall remind Henry for he is apt to forget that whatever York says, he took up arms against his King at St. Albans.’
‘We shall have the traitor’s head yet.’ Somerset promised her.
‘I am determined on it. York need not think that all is forgotten and forgiven. That shall never be. I am going to discover the mood of the country and I shall take Henry and the Prince on a long progress. I want the people to see their King, that he is well and that he is able to rule them. He is never averse to these journeys and if he can visit the churches and the monasteries, he will be happy. The people like that too. It pleases them that they have a saintly and virtuous King.’
It was agreed that such a progress would be beneficial to the Lancastrian cause and the Queen would be able to assess what subject she could rely on. She dreamed ol leading a triumphant army against York.
With characteristic energy she set about planning the tour. They would ride slowly through the country, pausing at great manor houses and castles on their way where they would stay a few days and let the people see them. I hey would make their way to Coventry which had always been a loyal city. And when the time had come...when the country was behind her she would strike.
So the progress began. The King was sincerely welcomed; the little Prince was cheered wherever they went; and if the greeting for Margaret was less exuberant, she could bear that. These people would understand in the end, she promised herself.
They came to Coventry and there held Court. The ladies of the castle worked a tapestry in honour of the visit. It was beautiful and depicted Margaret at prayer in a head-dress decorated with pearls and a yellow brocaded dress edged with ermine. The King was shown beside her and the tapestry was hung in St. Mary’s Hall as a token ol the town’s loyal regard for its sovereigns.
While they were at Coventry Margaret advised the King to send for York, Salisbury and Warwick to come to them there. They all declined, sensing trouble. How could they go, asked York, without taking an armed force with them? And if they did that it would not look as though they came in peace. Salisbury agreed with him. As for Warwick, he was too busy in Calais where his duties would not allow him to leave.
‘They are afraid to come,’ exulted Margaret, and from what was to be called the Safe Harbour of Coventry she went on with her plans.
###
Steeped as she was in plots for revenge she could still spare time for romance. She liked to discuss her plans with Henry because he always agreed and smiled at her tenderly calling her the Royal Matchmaker.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘now that dear Edmund has been murdered...’ She always referred to Somerset’s death in battle as murder and the murderer-in-chief as York—’I feel it is my duty to look to the welfare of his sons.’
‘I think you could have been said to have done that, Margaret,’ replied the King.
‘They are good boys. If Edmund had lived they would have been married by now.’
‘I daresay they will in due course.’
‘They should have the best possible matches and I think I have found the answer. The King of Scotland has two daughters. I thought it would be a good idea if they were married to Henry and his brother Edmund.’
‘King’s daughters!’
‘Well, why not? The Beauforts are royal are they not? The family has been legitimized and they are in a direct line from John of Gaunt.’
‘Yes, but what will James say...?’
‘James of Scotland could, I am sure, be persuaded. We owe it to Edmund, Henry, to look after his sons.’
‘My dear Margaret, if this were acceptable to the King of Scotland I would raise no objection.’
‘I should think not,’ cried Margaret. ‘Such marriages could bring us nothing but good.’
‘I do not think the King of Scotland would agree.’
‘He certainly cannot if he does not know what is proposed.’
‘My dear, if it is your wish...’
‘It is and it should be yours. Have you thought what these marriages could mean to us? There is always trouble on the Border’ With Henry Beaufort up there and his brother with him, we should have friends, not enemies, in the Scots.’
‘If it would mean peace, my dear lady, I would give every encouragement to it.’
Margaret was pleased. The King’s approval was not necessary to her but she always felt that she liked to have it.
She set negotiations in motion. It was a disappointment that there was a lukewarm response from the King of Scots which might well mean ‘Don’t meddle in these matters and keep your matchmaking schemes within the bounds of your own country.’ If she was proposing a match with the Prince of Wales that would be another matter.
Margaret was obliged temporarily to shelve the matter. There was something of great importance with which to occupy herself, and this she determined to carry on without consultation with Henry.
She had always kept in touch with her uncle the King of France and her father the titular King of Sicily and Naples. If René was rather frivolous, the King of France was far from that. Margaret was eager to make the throne safe for Henry and she felt it could never be that while York lived. She would not be happy until she saw York’s head displayed on some prominent edifice for all to witness his defeat and humiliation. Vengeance was like a burning fire within her which could only be doused by horrible death. It did not occur to her that for the Queen of England to indulge in correspondence with an enemy of England was more than incongruous. It could be construed as treachery and in view of her unpopularity, which was already overpowering, Margaret was playing a very dangerous game.
There was one whom Margaret hated almost as intensely as she did the Duke of York and that was the Earl of Warwick. It was Warwick’s tactics which had achieved victory at St. Albans for the Yorkists. He was as dangerous as York. The only difference was that he laid no claim to the throne.
Warwick—with characteristic shrewdness—had taken over the governorship of Calais, which some said was the most important port in Europe, and if it had not been quite that before, Warwick was certainly making it so now. He was turning himself into a kind of pirate king of the Channel, and making it impossible for French ships to pass through with safety.
Margaret had already written to her uncle explaining that she did not want Warwick back in England. He was too clever, too important to the Yorkist cause and while he was in Calais he was kept out of the way. Would the King harry the port a little, making Warwick’s presence in Calais absolutely necessary to its safety. Threaten it. Make a determined set at it. At all costs keep Warwick out of England.
Again it did not occur to her that to ask an enemy of her country to attack one of its possessions was treachery of the worst |l kind. Margaret was single-minded. She wanted Henry safe on the throne and that could only be brought about by the death of York and she did not care what means she employed to bring that about.
Charles VII had changed since those days when as Dauphin he has listlessly allowed his country to slip out of his grasp. He was now reckoned to be the most astute monarch in Europe. He wanted to help his dear niece, he wrote, and he was authorizing Pierre de Brézé, the Seneschal of Normandy, who had always been one of Margaret’s devoted admirers, to prepare a fleet for the purpose of destroying Warwick’s fleet and immobilizing the port of Calais so that—so said the King of France—Warwick would be unable to use it for attacks on Margaret and Henry. He did not add that Calais was the town he most desired to get his hands on.
Margaret was delighted. Warwick would never be able to stand out against a French fleet.
It was summer when the fleet was ready. De Brézé sailed along the coast looking for Warwick’s fleet. But a heavy mist fell and visibility was poor and there was no sign of Warwick and his ships. It was a pity, thought de Brézé, for he had sixty ships manned to the strength of four thousand and he contemplated an easy victory.
Land came into sight. He was puzzled. It could only be England. He lay off the shore for a while and when the mist lifted a little he knew with certainty that he was close to the English coast.
He landed some of his men in a quiet bay and then sailed along until he came to the town of Sandwich.
He then set the rest ashore. The people of Sandwich were taken unaware. When they had first seen the ships they had thought they were Warwick’s and were prepared to give them a good welcome, for Warwick was regarded as a hero in Kent.
The raid was successful—from the French point of view, and de Brézé sailed away with booty and prisoners from whose families he hoped to collect considerable ransoms.
When it was discovered that the Queen had actually requested the help of the French—for there were spies in the royal household and Margaret, who was impulsive in her actions was also careless and some of the correspondence between her and the King of France had been intercepted—the hatred towards her intensified. She was a traitor. She was fighting for the French against the English. Their own Queen. They had never liked her. Now a wave of hatred spread through the country and nowhere was this stronger than in the county of Kent and the city of London. They blamed her for the raid on Sandwich. They blamed her for loss of trade which upset the Londoners particularly.
Margaret’s little scheme to immobilize Calais had failed dismally and had moreover harmed her reputation irreparably.
Henry was most upset and realized that Margaret, in her enthusiasm, had done a great deal of harm. He tried to explain to her and for the first time she understood that he could be firm.
He was after all the King; there were times when his royalty seemed important to him. ‘I am the King,’ he would gently remind those who sought to override him—even Margaret.
‘This warring can bring us no good,’ he declared with a certain strength. ‘I am eager to put an end to it.’
‘You never will while York lives,’ said Margaret grimly.
‘Margaret, I want no more killing, no more strife. York has a right to his opinions. He never wanted to take my place. He has said so.’
‘Said so,’ cried Margaret. ‘You would heed the word of a traitor.’
‘He is no traitor! Think of his conduct after St. Albans. He came to me, wounded as I was, and knelt before me. He could easily have killed me then.’
Margaret covered her face with her hands in exasperation.
Henry gently withdrew them. She looked into his face and saw a purpose there.
He will have to have his way, she thought; he is the King and now he is remembering it.
She listened to what he had to propose. He was going to call all the nobles to London; York, Warwick, Salisbury and with them lords like Northumberland, Egremont and Clifford who held grievances against them for the blood that was shed at St. Albans.
‘Do you want fighting in the streets of London?’
‘No,’ said Henry sternly. ‘That I shall forbid. These men are going to take each other’s hands in friendship. I shall command them to do so. I am the King.’
Margaret was astounded. She had never seen Henry look like that before.
###
Henry had realized that the path Margaret was taking would lead to civil war. She had made herself very unpopular and here were no cheers in the streets for her though they came readily enough for the Prince and Henry himself. But there was uneasy silence in the crowd when Margaret appeared. Henry feared that it could well develop into something very unpleasant and even Margaret’s life might be in danger.
He must put a stop to this conflict. He must bring about some understanding with the Yorkists. He believed in his heart that they did not want war any more than he did. It was only people who thought as Margaret did who were so thirsting for revenge that they would plunge the country into bloodshed to get it.
He decided in a desperate effort to make peace between them to summon all the leading nobles to Westminster. When they arrived they caused great consternation to the Londoners who wanted no battles fought on their precious territory. If the rival factions wanted to fight, they said, let them go somewhere else to do it.
The Yorkists were arriving in strength. Salisbury had with him five hundred men and he lodged with them in Fleet Street, and it was not long afterwards when the Duke of York came in to Baynard’s Castle with some four or five hundred.
Sir Geoffrey Boleyn, the Lord Mayor of London, was disturbed and ordered the city’s guards to watch over the property of the London merchants; he set patrols to march through the streets after dark and there was an air of tension throughout the city.
Margaret thought the King should never have attempted to call the nobles together; they would never agree; moreover the promises of the Yorkists she was sure could not be relied on. Secretly she did not want peace. She wanted revenge on York and she could not get that very easily unless there was war.
Then the loyal Lancastrians began to arrive. There were the young lords sporting their red roses led by three, all of whom had lost their fathers in the battle of St. Albans—Clifford, Egremont and Northumberland, every one of them seeking an eye for an eye. Bloodshed in their eyes could only satisfy for bloodshed.
The tension increased when Warwick, the hero of Calais, arrived in the city with six hundred trained soldiers.
Henry arranged a meeting which was to be presided over by Bishop Waynflete and Thomas Bourchier, the Archbishop of Canterbury.
The King had previously had a meeting with York, Salisbury and Warwick and was pleased to find how conciliatory they were. York insisted that civil war was the last thing he wanted. He had felt it necessary that the late Duke of Somerset should be removed from his post and it was for this reason that he had been marching to London when the affray at St. Albans had broken out. It was unfortunate that the King had been wounded and that Somerset had been killed. He was sorry too for those young lords whose fathers had been slain and could understand their grief and anger at their losses.
‘Perhaps it would be well if you showed that you truly regretted this affray,’ suggested Henry. ‘How would you feel about building a chapel at St. Albans...on the site of the battle. Masses could be said there for the souls of those men who had died there.’
The three men considered this and said they would be delighted to build a chapel for such purpose.
‘Then I think we are making some progress,’ said Henry delightedly. ‘But a little more may be demanded.’
‘What do you suggest, my lord?’ asked York.
‘I think if there was financial recompense to those families who have suffered we might get them to agree to keep the peace. Certain sums are due to you—to you, my lord Warwick, for the governorship of Calais and to you, my lord Duke, for your services as Protector. Suppose these sums were diverted to the Duchess of Somerset, to young Clifford and Egremont and others who have suffered losses.’
York, Warwick and Salisbury said that they would like a little time to consider this.
‘Not too long,’ Henry warned them. ‘The people are restive and want a declaration of peace between you all as soon as it can be arranged.’
York laughed when he was alone with his friends.
‘The chapel...yes, we can do that,’ he said. ‘That is a small matter. The money...? Well, when were you last paid, Warwick?’
‘I never have received a groat.’
‘Nor have I. So let us most magnanimously offer to these families that which would most likely never have come to us. Let us have our wages diverted to them. They can wait for them...just as we did...and I doubt they ever see the colour of the money.’
Henry was delighted. ‘You see,’ he said to Margaret, ‘how simple it is when you make the right approach. People are at heart good, but they get carried away by their passions. If only they would pause and commune with God.’
With the Yorkists being so ready to agree to a peace there was nothing the Lancastrians could do but accept.
‘There shall be a thanksgiving service at St. Paul’s,’ announced Henry with gratification.
‘And do you believe these Yorkists?’ asked Margaret with scorn in her voice.
‘I believe they want peace. York is a good man. I know him well. He is a close kinsman, remember. He really wants what is best for this country.’
‘Not forgetting the House of York,’ added Margaret.
‘We all want to see our families well cared for.’
‘But fortunately all do not want to wear the crown.’
‘York does not think of that. He is a good man, I swear, Margaret.’
‘Oh, Henry, you are so easily deceived. And Warwick. He is the most dangerous of them all. He is the sly one. He has wormed his way into the people’s affections. They cheer him wherever he goes. They think he is wonderful because he performs piracy on the high seas.’
‘He attacks only the French who are making things uncomfortable for him in Calais.’
‘He should never be at Calais. He should be removed from that post. Henry, you could give it to young Somerset. It would show how sorry we are that his father was killed in our service.’
‘Somerset is too young for the task.’
‘How old is Warwick?’
‘He must be nearly thirty.’
‘Not so much older than Somerset.’
‘It is not only a question of age, my dear. Warwick has shown himself to be a great leader.’
‘He has shown himself to be a pirate. But I know the English love pirates.’
‘The English love law and order as do all sensible people. No, it would be wrong to take the governorship of Calais away from Warwick. The people would be angry. They idolize him in the south-east. They say when he rides up from Sandwich to London they run out to cheer him and throw flowers at him.’
‘All the more reason why he should be deprived of that post.’
‘But he has excelled in it, and you know how the people feel about de Brézé’s raid on Sandwich.’
It was dangerous ground. She had erred badly over that, they said. They blamed her, although she had never asked that the English mainland should be attacked.
However, with unaccustomed firmness Henry made it clear that the governorship of Calais should not be taken away from Warwick, and the citizens of London, who shortly before had been apprehensive, were delighted that there was to be a ceremony. The King had decided on the Feast of the Annunciation and it was to be a day of public thanksgiving. Enemies would enter the cathedral as friends—hand in hand—and they would all give thanks to God for this day.
There was a grand procession through the streets. The Duke of Somerset and the Earl of Salisbury—sworn enemies until this day—headed the procession; and behind them came the Duke of Exeter with Warwick. Henry followed in all his royal robes which he so hated to wear but he had his hair shirt underneath them and hoped that the discomfort would offset the extravagant splendour in the eyes of the Almighty. Behind the King was Margaret with the Duke of York. They held hands as they walked. She found it very hard to hide her disgust at the procedure. To walk thus with her greatest enemy, holding his hand when it was his head she wanted and that on a pike—was nauseating. She had almost refused to do it but remembering what had happened at Sandwich and the new mood of the King, she felt she could hardly refuse. But she was not York’s friend and never would be.
York however was pretending to be on terms of great friendship. Could he really want peace? Had he really given up his ambitions to wear the crown?
She could not believe it.
The whole thing was a farce.
It pleased Henry, though. Poor simple soul, he believed these people when they said there should be peace. He used himself as a pattern and seemed to think that everyone had the same motives, and was as direct and honest as himself. Poor foolish Henry! How he needed a woman to look after him. And this new mood was faintly alarming.
So they went into the cathedral and the service began.
Afterwards there were bonfires in the streets and the people danced merrily round them. Troubles were all over, they believed. The enemies were now friends. Recompense had been made to those who had suffered.
It was called Love Day. The day when the wearers of the red and white roses became friends.
THE KING-MAKER
Henry was delighted to receive Jasper Tudor, the Earl of Pembroke, who was in good spirits. His brother Edmund, Earl of Richmond – a title, like that of Jasper, owed to the goodwill of the King, for if he had not recognized them they would have no titles and very few possessions – was unable to attend.
He had not been well of late. If he had he would have hastened to tell the King of his good fortune. His wife, Margaret Beaufort, whom the King had so obligingly arranged for him to marry, was pregnant and there was great joy in the family.
‘It is wonderful news,’ cried Henry, always delighted in other people’s good fortune. ‘And how is Margaret?’
‘Margaret is well and so much looking forward to the event.’
‘She is a little young to bear a child.’
‘She is not quite fourteen,’ said Jasper. ‘Young, yes, but she is mature enough. They are very happy together and this child will bless their union. My father, I and our sister are full of delight. We hope for a boy, of course.’
‘I understand that but I doubt not you will be grateful for whatever the Lord sends you.’
‘Indeed yes. Margaret is young. It is good that she has proved so soon that she is fruitful.’
When Jasper had left, Henry told the Queen the good news. Margaret could understand their delight in the coming of a child. She herself had waited a long time and now her boy was the joy of her life. She was a little irritated by the Tudors though because some of the titles Henry had bestowed on them had been taken from her. The Pembroke estates in particular had at first been assigned to her and she had not at all liked giving them up for Jasper. Having had little in her youth and been the daughter of a man who was constantly in debt she cherished her possessions with something like fanaticism. Still, the Lancastrian cause needed men like the Tudors. All their blessings came from Henry, their benefactor as well as their half-brother, and so she did not openly show her resentment over the Pembroke estates, but welcomed the Tudors whenever they came to Court. She showed an interest in their affairs, and now rejoiced with Henry in their good fortune.
I trust all will go well with Margaret,’ said Henry, ‘She is really nothing but a child herself
‘She will be all right,’ said Margaret lightly. Other people’s difficulties were always light-weight in her opinion.
Henry said: I have asked to have news of the birth as soon as it happens.’
‘Well, we shall expect messengers from Wales with the good news.’
It was a grey November day when the messengers came. They clearly did not bring good news.
When Henry heard they had arrived he was filled with apprehension. It was not yet time for the birth, for he had understood it was to be in January.
It was Owen Tudor himself who came. Bad news indeed.
‘My dear Owen,’ cried the King, ‘what is it? Not Margaret? Oh, I feared she was too young.’
‘Margaret is sick with sorrow, my lord.’ Owen seemed unable to go on.
‘My dear Owen,’ began the King, ‘she is young...There will be more.’
Owen shook his head. ‘It is my son, your half-brother...Edmund.’
‘Edmund? What of Edmund?’
‘He is dead, my lord.’
‘Dead? Edmund? But how...? Killed...? Murdered?’
‘Nay, my lord. It was some malady. It attacked him suddenly and...’
‘But he is so young.’
‘Twenty-six, my lord.’ Owen turned away. He was remembering the day Katherine had told him that she was going to have a child and how their delight had mingled with their apprehension when they had arranged for the reluctant priest to marry them. It was all long ago...twenty-six years... those happy days which he often looked back to. He remembered so much of them...the quietness of life at Hadham; the peace of the gardens...the happiness of obscurity. What fools they had been—what idyllic fools, to think that a Queen could ever be left in peace.
‘My dear Owen, this is such sorrow. I will pray for his soul. Poor Edmund. And poor Margaret.’
‘The child is due in two months’ time.’
‘Yes, I know. I trust this will do no damage.’
‘Jasper has taken charge of her. That is why he is not here with me. He has taken her to Pembroke Castle. He will keep her there until the child is born.’
‘Jasper is a good man.’
‘He was devoted to his brother. We are a devoted family, my lord.’
‘I thank God for it.’
‘There is nothing we can do now but wait for the birth of the child.’
‘Go back now to Pembroke, Owen. Convey my regrets to Margaret. Tell her my thoughts are with her and I shall remember her in my prayers.’
‘That will comfort her, I know.’
After Owen had left Henry thought a great deal about the sad young girl who was about to become a mother. He mentioned her in his prayers whenever he prayed and as he was constantly engaged in prayer that meant very frequently.
Poor young girl, he thought. But Jasper is a good man. He will look after the child for the sake of his brother if nothing else.
It was January when the news came from Pembroke.
It was good news this time. Margaret had been safely delivered of a boy.
Owen himself rode over soon after the messenger had brought the news and Henry received him with open arms and embraced him warmly.
‘So you are a grandfather, eh, Owen?’
‘I am proud to be,’ said Owen.
‘It is the best news. Margaret has come through safely in spite of her youth and the terrible shock she has suffered.’
‘And the child is a fine healthy boy.’
‘God has sent him to comfort her.’
‘She is happy in the child, and she has been most touched by your concern for her. I have given her all your tender loving messages and I am sure they were of great help. She wanted only one name for the child. It is Henry.’
The King laughed. ‘So he is my namesake. God bless little Henry Tudor.’
###
Ever since the Love Day celebration Margaret had been very restive. Considering her present situation and consulting with her closest adherents, those nobles whom she thought of as the leaders of the Court party such as young Somerset. Egremont, Clifford, Northumberland, Exeter and Rivers, she had come to the conclusion that Warwick was an even greater enemy than York.
There was some charismatic aura about Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick. He was the sort of man whom nature seemed to have destined to play an important part in the affairs of a nation. Who was he? In the first place son of the Earl of Salisbury, and he would have been of no great importance while his father lived. But what should he do but marry Anne Beauchamp, daughter of the Earl of Warwick. Yet at the time of the marriage two lives stood between him and possession of the Warwick title and the vast estates that went with it. Nature conveniently removed those obstacles and on the death of the Earl, Richard Neville took the title.
It was not only good fortune that he possessed. He had not only strength, ruthlessness, love of adventure; he was a man to mould affairs. It was a pity that he had allied himself with York instead of standing by his King.
Since he had taken the governorship of Calais he had become a menace to the French; and while he was in possession of Calais, it was considerably to York’s advantage.
Margaret was angry. She had wanted young Somerset to have Calais. She had pleaded with Henry to give it to him, but Henry, in this new found strength of his, was stubbornly refusing to accede to her wishes.
‘It would never do, Margaret,’ he said. ‘The people have a fondness for Warwick. They think of him as a hero in the southeast of the country.’
‘He is nothing but a pirate. He brings us into disrepute with the French.’
‘My dear, the French are not exactly friendly with us, are they? Oh, I know they are your people and you love them, which is natural. I would not expect that to be otherwise. But you must remember that you are English now and it is in our successes that you must rejoice.’
