Текст книги "The Red Rose of Anjou"
Автор книги: Jean Plaidy
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Текущая страница: 22 (всего у книги 24 страниц)
Swallowing his rage, suppressing his rancour Warwick did it but it needed iron control of his feelings to perform the exercise with a good grace.
###
To keep up this attitude was easier to contemplate than to put into practice.
Elizabeth Woodville was an ambitious lady and she was surrounded by impecunious members of her family. She was determined to advance them and such was her power over the King that she had little difficulty in doing this.
Warwick was glad to see that many of the nobles were growing more and more disgruntled by the elevation of the Woodville family. The Queen married her sister Margaret to Lord Maltravers, son of the Earl of Arundel; her sister Mary was married to the son of Lord Herbert who was heir (o the Pembroke title; and there was outraged indignation when her brother John, aged twenty, became betrothed to the Duchess of Norfolk who was nearly eighty years old.
It was easy to see the motives behind these marriages. No one could realize the tremendous importance of the right marriage more than Warwick. He owed his vast wealth and titles to his. He could see that in a short time the Woodvilles would be of greater importance than the Nevilles through these advantageous marriages.
The people did not like it. They deplored the marriage. Even the most humble in the land criticized the low birth old Elizabeth Woodville—which was amusing if it were not so very useful.
It began to dawn on Warwick that if he were not careful he would be ousted from the realms of power. All that he had clone would be forgotten; there would be a new ruling family in the country—that of the Woodvilles.
The time had come (or him to do some deep thinking. What did a King-Maker do when his puppet refused to respond to the strings? He found a new puppet.
It was an exciting project. There’ was another. At the moment he was a poor neglected prisoner in the Tower.
‘This needed a great deal of thought.
There came a day when he found himself face to face with Edward and because his plans were now taking real shape in his mind he no longer felt the need to cloak his feelings.
Edward noticed the strange brooding expression on his face and when he asked what ailed him, Warwick’s rage broke out.
‘Need you ask, my lord? I am suffering from a surfeit of disloyalty. I have given my life to what I believed was a good cause. I have squandered men and money in giving England a ruler whom I thought would serve her well. And what does he do? He makes a marriage which is suicide to his political advantage. He has destroyed the hope of an alliance with France. As for myself I have had indignity heaped upon me. While I was negotiating with the King of France you, my lord, were making a mockery of those negotiations...of not only your faithful friend but the King of a powerful country. Do you wonder I am sick at heart?’
Edward expressed no surprise that he should be addressed in this manner by a subject. He had always recognized Warwick as a specially favoured one. He laid an arm about his shoulders.
‘You distress yourself unnecessarily,’ he said. ‘I know the people don’t like my marriage. But Elizabeth is different from all other women I have ever known...and I speak of one who knows the sex well. It was the only way, Richard. It was marriage or nothing...’
‘And you were duped by that tale?’
‘Oh come, she meant it. She was a virtuous widow.’
Warwick threw off the King’s arm. ‘It was an act of folly and I promise you it is one you will regret.’
He did not wait for more. He had made the break now. Affable as he was, Edward would not forget that scene in a hurry.
Now he would have to act, Warwick had decided, and he knew what he was going to do.
###
Warwick rode north to his castle of Middleham, his head teeming with plans. At Middleham were the King’s brothers George and Richard. He had always been on very good terms with them. There could not be two brothers less alike. George, Duke of Clarence was vain, avaricious and selfish; he was easily swayed and Warwick had been able to win his friendship. The other, Richard Duke of Gloucester was a quiet, studious boy, rather delicate, and he had been brought up at Middleham and had formed a close friendship with Warwick’s younger daughter Anne.
Therefore Warwick had the two Princes as he thought in his power. Clarence would be malleable; he was not so sure of Richard. The younger boy was passionately devoted to his brother Edward, and would not be easily persuaded that his own advantage might lie elsewhere. In fact Warwick was certain that Richard would stand by his brother no matter what happened.
Clarence on the other hand was disgruntled. He was old enough to see that the Woodvilles were fast becoming the most important family in the land and that was something he was not prepared to tolerate, for there was an arrogance about the new Queen’s family which extended even to the King’s brother.
So to Middleham where his two daughters, Isabel and Anne, with his wife were waiting to greet him.
Richard was there too, in the courtyard. The boy had grown since he had last seen him, though he was delicate still and one shoulder was higher than the other, though slightly so and almost imperceptible. Poor Richard, he lacked the outstanding good looks and physique of Edward, but that had not prevented his partaking in all the manly pastimes which were necessary for boys of his rank.
The Duke of Clarence was on his way, the Countess told him. He had sent heralds ahead to announce his coming as the Earl had expressed an urgent desire to see him.
Warwick embraced his family. He loved them with as much affection as he could spare from his ambitions. Naturally he had spent little time with them. He could never prevent himself regretting that he had no son; but the girls were pretty, charming and obedient. He must therefore be grateful for what he had.
Clarence arrived in rather flamboyant style, eager that none should forget he was brother to the King. Warwick greeted him with such respect that even Clarence was satisfied. He sat on the Earl’s right hand at table. Warwick intimated that he wished to speak to the two Dukes alone as soon as the meal was concluded.
When the three of them were together in a small but private room Warwick looked very seriously from George to Richard and said that he had no doubt that they were as worried as he was by the manner in which the Woodvilles were behaving.
‘Indeed yes I am!’ cried Clarence. ‘These marriages...this taking of power...and all by these upstarts.’
‘I see you have a grasp of the situation,’ said Warwick. ‘The people are getting displeased. I do not think the King understands how angry the people are growing.’
‘If the people are growing angry my brother the King would be aware of it,’ said Richard gravely.
Ah, thought Warwick, be wary of Richard!
‘Our brother is too busy with his woman,’ said Clarence with a laugh.
‘My lord, you speak truth. I fear this country will be at war again if we do not take heed. In fact I think it is time our King was taught a lesson.’
Richard had gone white. ‘I will not remain here and listen to such lack of respect for the King.’
With that he walked out of the room.
‘You mistake,’ Warwick called after him. ‘I love the King. I have served him with all I have...’
But Richard was gone.
Clarence shrugged his shoulders. ‘He is very young,’ he said. ‘He worships Edward blindly. He even says he likes this marriage because it is what Edward wants.’
‘It is true he is young,’ said Warwick, ‘and therefore you and I need not concern ourselves with him yet. I am glad he has left us for now we can talk as men.’
Clarence smiled, well pleased. ‘I knew you had something of importance to say to me.’
‘Indeed I have. As you know, I have made your brother King of England.’
‘I know you are called the King-Maker.’
‘And rightly. It would seem, my lord, that if we allow matters to go on as they are you and I...and young Richard who will not listen...yet...will be the subjects of the Woodvilles, for all these marriages they are making are going to make them more powerful than any of us...even the King.’
‘I’ll not tolerate that.’
‘I thought you would not.’
‘What then?’
‘Your brother is not so secure on the throne that he can afford such a marriage. There is one other...’
‘Henry...poor old Henry...the prisoner in the Tower.’
‘A figurehead, nothing more. And we would have an heir.
Not Margaret’s bastard...for bastard I believe him to be. Henry could never have begotten a son and she was friendly first with Suffolk and then with Somerset... There would be an heir...’ Warwick was looking intently at Clarence, whose eyes widened as he grasped the Earl’s meaning.
Clarence on the throne! Why not? He was Edward’s brother and in fact if Edward did not produce a child he was next in line.
It was a glorious prospect.
‘Well?’ he said almost imperiously as though the crown was already on his head.
‘The King of France would be our ally. It would be necessary to get his help. We should also bring back Margaret to work for us...’
‘With the Prince of Wales...’
‘Why shouldn’t they work for us? Although the people detest her they like to have everything in order. If we could bring out Henry and ride with him into battle...and bring Margaret and the so-called Prince back to England...’
Clarence’s eyes sparkled. He loved intrigue and as he thought of the possibilities of this he was overcome by excitement. He had always been jealous of Edward. His mother, his father, everyone had marvelled at Edward’s good looks and charm, and it had not been easy for one of Clarence’s nature to have such a brother.
And now Edward had been a fool! He had married that lowborn woman; he had offended Warwick and everyone knew that Warwick had put him on the throne. Edward had at last shown that he was not so clever. And Clarence was going to show that he was clever, very clever indeed.
Warwick was smiling. How easy it was. Henry would be much more malleable. Imagine Clarence on the throne! Still, it might never come to that.
Warwick went on: ‘I have long known your regard for my elder daughter Isabel.’
Clarence was smiling secretly. It was so obvious. Cunning old Warwick. Make Clarence King and his daughter Isabel Queen.
‘My lord,’ he said, ‘how well you have guessed my feelings. I have always had the highest regard for Isabel and of late my heart has become deeply involved.’
‘I have been thinking that a match between you two would be a very desirable outcome for you both.’
‘You have guessed my heart’s desire.’
Warwick laid his hand on the young man’s arm.
‘Well, there will be work to be done first.’
‘I can scarcely wait to begin,’ answered Clarence.
THE QUEEN’S GRIEF
There were important visitors at the castle of St. Michiel. Prince Edward came in excitedly to tell his mother of their arrival. Life was so quiet in St. Michiel. The Prince had longed for something to happen. His mother often said that one day they would go back to England and claim what was rightfully theirs and Sir John Fortescue was always keeping him to his lessons and impressing on him that a Prince born to be King must be skilled in book learning as well as martial arts.
But nothing happened. The years passed. He had been a child when he came here and now he was sixteen. It seemed he had spent all his life in this quiet castle where every day was exactly like the one which had gone before.
And now…messengers.
He was with his mother when the messengers were brought to her. He stood by her while she received the letters.
There were several of them. One bore the royal seal. There was another from his grandfather and one from his aunt as well.
How slowly his mother opened them. She was pretending she was not excited for she must be since that letter was from the King of France.
She read it through.
‘What does he say, dear lady?’ begged the Prince.
Margaret smiled at her son’s eagerness.
‘The King commands us to go to Tours.’
“’The King. To Tours! Oh, dear mother, when?’
‘Very, very soon. And now here is a letter from your grandfather.’
He looked over her shoulder and read that Margaret and the Prince should lose no time in coming to Tours. The King was eager to discuss the prospects of the House of Lancaster which it seemed were growing a little brighter.
Margaret stared ahead of her. What did this mean? What could have happened? It had seemed so long now since Edward had usurped the throne and sent her into exile and Henry to the Tower.
But since the King of France was involved this must be of some significance. Not that she dared hope for too much. Perhaps she had hoped too deeply in the past; when hope turned to disaster the bitterness was hard to bear.
There was a letter from her sister Yolande. She reiterated what her father had said. There were hopeful signs and they were excited, for certain things it seemed had happened in England which had changed the outlook. Yolande’s husband Ferri—the Count of Vaudémont—joined his wishes with hers that Margaret would lose no time in coming to Tours.
It was indeed exciting. She had to admit it. Something important was about to happen.
‘My dear mother, you have become young again,’ said the Prince.
She put her arms about him and held him close to her, suffocatingly so. She was very demonstrative and sometimes her absolute devotion was an embarrassment to the Prince. He was devoted to her. He knew that he owed her a great deal and all her vehemence was for his sake. He had been brought up to realize that he was the rightful heir to the crown of England and that it was his mother’s dearest hope that he should have it. Yes, she was wonderful, but he wished that she would not be quite so fierce in her displays of emotion.
He withdrew himself, smiling at her and kissing her cheek to show that he loved her even though he did not want to be suffocated.
‘We will prepare to leave for Tours at once,’ she said.
###
It was with great emotion that she was reunited with her family.
René was there with his pretty young wife and he and Margaret openly wept as they embraced.
‘I am so happy at this change,’ he said. ‘I am sure, my dear daughter, that soon all is going to be well for you.’
Then she was embraced by Yolande and Ferri and when they were all presented to the Prince they remarked how grown he was, how tall, how good-looking.
‘A King in very truth,’ said René.
The King of France arrived and expressed himself deeply moved by the emotion he saw in this family reunion although no one believed that the Spider King of France could be moved for one instant for sentimental reasons.
Margaret was all eagerness to learn what this change in England was all about and when she was told of the quarrel between Edward of York and the Earl of Warwick she could only express the utmost delight. She was less happy when she learned that Warwick was on his way to France and was planning to visit her.
‘I will never see that man,’ she cried. ‘He is responsible for all my troubles.’
‘You must see him,’ said her father. ‘You must forget all that has gone before. In him could lie your salvation.’
‘In that case I shall remain unsaved. I will not see a man who has called my son a bastard and thrown cruel slander on my honour.’
‘My dear daughter, you must be reasonable.’
Margaret said there was no need of them to continue the conversation for she had made up her mind.
A few days passed during which René, Yolande and Ferri did all they could to persuade her. She was adamant.
‘It is too much to ask. Moreover if he is ready to betray his friend Edward, whom he made King in name, how could I trust him?’
‘Edward deceived him. You must take advantage of this quarrel between them.’
‘I will have nothing to do with Warwick.’
René was a little impatient. The King of France was anxious for a rapprochement between Warwick and Margaret for it was very much to his advantage to make life uncomfortable for Edward.
‘I will see that an understanding is brought about between these two,’ said Louis. ‘When Warwick arrives he shall be presented to me in Margaret’s presence.’
And this was what happened.
The King of France greeted the Earl with warmth and then presented him to Margaret, who regarded him stonily.
‘Nay, my lord,’ she said ignoring Warwick and looking fixedly at Louis, ‘in all respect to myself and honour to my son I cannot receive the Earl of Warwick.’
Louis was annoyed but could do nothing about it. He drew Warwick on one side.
‘The lady has a violent temper,’ he said. ‘We shall have to find a means of placating it. When she realizes what you can do for her and her son she will be more gracious.’
Yolande came to Margaret’s private apartments to remonstrate with her.
‘You were always stubborn,’ she said. ‘The King will be furious. What you did was tantamount to an insult to him.’
‘In presenting that man to me he was insulting me.’
‘You, my dear Margaret, are not the King of France!’
‘Nay, but I am the Queen of England.’
‘Some would say England has a Queen Elizabeth.’
Margaret had to restrain herself for she could have slapped her sister’s face. Yolande and she had quickly discovered that their temperaments did not blend well together.
‘I shall do what is right according to my own standards,’ she snapped.
‘And lose yourself a throne. You may do that but that you should prevent your son’s taking what he has a right to is nothing but selfish.’
Yolande flounced out of the room but her remark had made more impression on Margaret than all the persuasion had done and very shortly afterwards she agreed to see Warwick.
It was not in her nature to make it easy for him. She intended that he should grovel before her, and Warwick, proud as he might be, was ready to go to great lengths to obtain what he wanted. Friendship with Margaret was essential to his plans. Therefore this reconciliation must be brought about.
He tried to appeal to her common sense.
‘I put Edward on the throne,’ he said. ‘It was a mistake. I should have given my allegiance to Henry. If I had what a different story we should have had to tell.’
‘Indeed you have created much mischief,’ retorted Margaret. ‘You have been a traitor to the anointed King.’
‘I was wrong and am now ready to repair my misdeeds. I shall now be Edward’s foe as vehemently as I have been his friend.
I was misled by what I believed to be his claim to the throne and because of the King’s illness...’
She silenced him. She wanted no reference to Henry’s weakness of mind.
‘I see that what you did is unpardonable.’
‘There is no sin on earth that cannot be pardoned by magnamity and generosity of heart, my lady.’
All the time she was thinking what this man could do. He emanated power and strength. He was not called the King-Maker for nothing.
But she was not going to give way lightly. It was when the King of France appeared and with a certain humble grace begged her to pardon the Earl of Warwick that she at length agreed.
‘It will be necessary for my son to do the same,’ she said. ‘I am not sure that he will agree.’
The King and Warwick exchanged smiles. Of course he would agree. He would do exactly what his mother told him to.
###
Louis expressed a wish that they should all travel to Angers where the Countess of Warwick and her younger daughter Anne would be waiting to receive them.
Margaret’s spirits were uplifted. She had had to subdue her pride to agree to friendship with Warwick but she knew that she had to catch at anything that might help her regain the throne for her son. Warwick could do that. He was the one man in England who could. It was really a miraculous piece of good fortune that he had quarrelled with Edward. Yolande was right. She would have been a fool to let that pass just because of her stubborn pride.
And how good it was to ride in a procession again like a royal Queen. And Edward beside her. Growing up handsome, brave, a son to be proud of. Nearly eighteen years old now. Old enough to take the crown.
She had heard with some surprise that Warwick’s elder daughter Isabel had married Clarence. Clever Warwick. He had somehow won Clarence to his side and no doubt the bribe of Warwick’s vast wealth had worked with the young Duke. He was a traitor to his brother. It seemed to her the world was full of traitors.
It pointed to one factor. Events were moving. The period of stagnation was clearly coming to an end and no matter what had brought it about that was something for which she must rejoice.
The King of France rode beside her into Angers. She noticed that the people did not cheer vociferously. Louis lacked that appeal which she accepted grudgingly belonged to Edward of York. The Valois were not handsome as the Plantagenets had been. Appearances were important. She herself was still a beautiful woman in spite of the ravages of time and events. She noticed approving eyes on her dear son and that warmed her heart a little.
Louis was aware of it too for he commented on the Prince’s royal appearance.
‘A great joy to you, my lady,’ he said.
‘My only one for a long time,’ replied Margaret.
‘And what a blessing. He will soon be marrying I doubt not and then you will have your grandchildren.’
She was wary. This conversation was leading somewhere. The Spider King was not known to waste words in idle chatter.
‘I believe the young Duke of Clarence is very happy in his marriage. Warwick’s girls are beauties...moreover they are the richest heiresses in England.’
‘That may be so and I wish Clarence joy of his marriage. I’ll swear his brother does not feel the same pleasure in it as my lord Warwick appears to.’
‘Ha!’ Louis gave his short bark which was meant to be a laugh. ‘Edward has been acting with great foolishness. That is not the way to hold a crown...especially when a man has no right to it. Warwick put it on his head and Warwick will take it off when the time comes...and put it where it belongs.’
‘If justice prevails that is assuredly what will take place,’ she said.
‘And princes should marry young. The sooner they begin to produce heirs the better. Warwick has a charming young daughter. What a prize...a beautiful healthy young girl and a half share in the greatest estates in England.’
‘I cannot believe, my lord, that you suggest that the Prince of Wales should marry Warwick’s daughter.’
‘It seems to me...and to others...an admirable solution to the problem of the Prince’s marriage.’
‘My lord, it is quite out of the question.’
‘Oh surely not.’
‘I have forgiven the Earl of Warwick his treatment of me and the King. It has cost me a great deal to do that. To allow my son to marry his daughter is something I will not consider...not for one moment...’
Louis bowed his head and was silent. Indeed he was not one to waste words.
At Angers the Countess of Warwick was waiting with her young daughter. Anne Beauchamp was a pleasant creature. Poor woman, thought Margaret, married to a man like Warwick. What life had she had! But her real interest was for the girl. Comely, yes, rather delicately formed and dainty, of good manners and some beauty. If she had been the daughter of the King of France or the Duke of Burgundy instead of a mere Earl—and an old enemy at that—Margaret would have considered the girl a possible match.
There were fetes and entertainments at Angers. Warwick submitted with as much patience as he could muster. So did Margaret. The Earl had a promise of help from Louis but he did not want to move until the time was ripe. His friends were amassing forces in England; his most important scheme was to land when Edward was in the North for Warwick had arranged with his brother-in-law Lord Fitzhugh to send out rumours of a rising in the North which would take Edward up there with an army. If he could land in the South, free Henry from the Tower and set him up as King, he would have an immediate advantage; Warwick’s brother John had deliberately not joined with him for the reason that he could be more useful seeming to remain loyal to Edward, and when Edward was lured to the North John would at the right moment desert him and declare for Henry and Warwick would then be in a position to defeat Edward.
It was a clever plan and Warwick’s strategy had always been more successful than his actual physical warfare.
He needed everything to fall into place. Margaret was a stubborn woman; he wished he could do without her. When he looked back he could see that had Henry had a different Queen he might not be in the Tower today.
But Margaret would not agree to a union between Edward and Anne. Meanwhile the two young people had met and clearly liked each other. Edward said he thought she was a delightful girl, not in the least bit like her father. There was no trace of arrogance about her.
‘Nor should there be,’ snapped Margaret. ‘Who is she but the daughter of an upstart Earl who got his titles through his wife?’
‘And became so powerful that he decided who should sit on the throne of England,’ Edward reminded her.
Edward was beginning to have ideas of his own; and she could see that he liked the idea of marrying Anne Neville rather than having some foreign princess foisted on him.
René urged Margaret to agree to the marriage. She must accept the fact that Warwick was important to her. This was the best opportunity she had ever had. It was like a miracle that Warwick should have changed sides.
Yolande and her stepmother joined their voices to René’s. Perhaps if they had not so earnestly tried to persuade her she might have agreed earlier.
The King of France talked to her too. She told him that there had been a suggestion that Edward marry the daughter of Edward the Fourth. ‘Elizabeth of York is a baby about four or five years old,’ Louis reminded her. ‘She is too young, and would you marry your son to the daughter of your greatest enemy?’
‘You are asking me to do just that.’
‘So you regard Warwick as a greater enemy than the man who took the crown from your husband?’
‘It was Warwick who took it.’
‘All the more reason why you should rejoice that he has become your friend.’
She told herself that it was because her beloved son Edward liked the girl that she gave in. But it was not really that. She knew that her only hope of defeating Edward and putting Henry back on the throne was through Warwick.
So, just as she had agreed to make a pact of friendship with Warwick she now agreed that there should be a betrothal between his daughter and her son.
###
What intoxication to contemplate the future! Warwick was almost ready to strike. He was succeeding as he had known he would. Louis had promised him forty-six thousand crowns and two thousand French archers. Jasper Tudor had arrived in France; Jasper had never wavered in his loyalty to the Lancastrian cause and now that Warwick was with them his hopes were high. He had men whom he could trust waiting in Wales to fight for King Henry.
There were many conferences in which Warwick laid his plans before Margaret. She would never like him, of course; but she had to admire him. She often thought during those days of how differently everything might have turned out if he had been for them and not against them.
‘The Prince of Wales shall be the Regent,’ he had said. ‘For he is of an age to govern and I doubt very much that the King will be well enough to do so after such a long incarceration.’
That suited Margaret. She would be at his side. She would guide him. Oh how happy she would be to see her darling son preparing to govern his Kingdom!
Clarence would have his reward for turning against his brother. He should have all his brother’s lands. Clarence was not sure that this was enough reward. He had had his eyes on the crown. But there was time. Who knew what the outcome of this would be and there might be a few battles to be fought.
As for Margaret she should have the care of the Prince’s betrothed. She should teach Anne her ways and what would be expected of her as wife to the Prince of Wales. Margaret was delighted. She could not help but like the gentle Anne, and every day she was less against the match than she had previously been. She had made it clear that the marriage should not take place until Henry was on the throne, and to this Warwick had agreed.
Warwick left and sailed for Devonshire with Clarence, Jasper Tudor and the Earl of Oxford while Margaret settled down to wait. That was mid-September and it was not until October that the news came.
She could scarcely believe it. It had happened. She called the Prince to her; she embraced him with fervour.
‘He has done it,’ she said. ‘God be thanked, Warwick has put Henry back on the throne.’
###
It had all gone according to plan. Edward had foolishly allowed himself to be lured to the North to quell the rising in answer to the call for help from John Neville.
No sooner was he there when Warwick landed. John Neville then called to his men and told them that they were now going to bring back the true King. In fact his brother was already engaged in doing this. They were tired of the growing arrogance of the Woodvilles and the new nobility which the Queen was creating. All those who agreed with him could follow him south to join the armies of the great Warwick. Warwick’s name acted like magic.
‘In the morning.’ said Neville, ‘we will take the King.’
Edward had some faithful servants and one of them immediately hurried to tell him what had happened. Edward was sitting at dinner when the servant arrived and realizing his position decided that there was only one course open to him and that was flight.
‘If we stay we shall be captured...and murdered I doubt not,’ he said. ‘Warwick will know better than to try to make a captive of me. We must get away...but only for a while.’
There were some eight hundred of them including Hastings and his young brother Richard. They rode to the coast and reached Lynn where they found ships to take them to Holland.
‘Better to live to fight another day,’ said Edward. ‘I would never have believed this of Warwick.’
‘A curse on him,’ cried Richard. ‘The traitor.’
‘Nay, brother,’ said Edward. ‘He was a good friend to me. That is why I know he will be a good enemy. Our ways parted. He wanted to go on leading me and I am out of leading strings. I always liked Warwick. Methinks I always will.’
