Edward lay face down in some mud, his riderless horse vanishing into the woods. I scrambled off my horse and knelt beside him. “My God. My God. Speak to me.”
My son sat up. “I’m fine,” he muttered.
I helped him to stand. Nothing had been broken, but a knot was beginning to appear on his forehead. “You must get on my horse. It has a sidesaddle, of course, but we can man—”
“No. We have a sidesaddle now.” A rider wearing the ragged staff insignia of Warwick swung easily from his horse, and grabbed me by my cloak as five or six other men trotted up behind him. “And look what else we have, boys. The little French bitch who started all of this. Ain’t I right?” He raised his sword and smiled at me. “I can cut your pretty little head off with this, like you did the good Duke of York’s. Did you know that?”
“Leave my mother alone!”
“Well, if it isn’t the little bastard himself,” said our captor genially. “Whose son are you, anyway? Suffolk’s?”
“Too late, you fool. Suffolk died years before this one was hatched.”
“True. Must be a Beaufort, then. But who knows? Could be anyone’s, really.” He pushed me to my knees. “Ever had a fighting man, Meg? Maybe I’ll have my pleasure with you before I kill you. Would you like that?”
Edward ran to my side and drew his dagger. “Don’t you dare hurt her!”
My captor chuckled. “The bastard has spirit, I’ll give him that.” He considered. “Now, if there is an off chance that he’s Henry’s, he needs to be got rid of. If he isn’t Henry’s, he’s a nuisance no one will miss. What of it, men? Shall we kill the boy as well?”
“For our Savior’s sake, spare us!” I stared up at the men. “You can have my jewels, my horse, my cloak—everything. You can have my body if that is what you want. You are Warwick’s men, don’t you think he will give you a generous reward if you bring us to him alive? Don’t you think my father would pay dearly to ransom us? You’ll get nothing if you bring Warwick our corpses; even he won’t want his hands stained with a woman’s blood and a boy’s. He might even punish you.” I held up my hands in supplication. “At least spare my boy!”
“The wench has a point,” observed the youngest of the men, who had been watching me plead with less amusement than the rest. He gave me a look that I could not read, then walked over to my horse and opened a saddlebag. “Christ, there’s half the crown jewels in here!”
“You’ll not be taking them all for yourself,” his leader warned. He turned as the men around him all swarmed round the booty. “What, you think you’ll cheat me out of my just share? Will! Guard the bitch and her whelp, damnit!”
Will, the young man who had spoken earlier, left the treasure with a sullen look and yanked me to my feet. Then he whispered into my ear, “See the dappled horse there? When I signal, grab your boy and run for it. Hesitate and all three of us will be dead.”
I nodded. For an agonizing few more moments, the men squabbled over my goods, their voices rising as they fought over who should get what. Then one punched the other. “Now!” hissed Will.
We scrambled on the horse, I in front of Will and Edward hanging onto his back, and galloped into the woods, our departure lost in the melee. “I’ll not see a lady raped or killed, and I suspect they would have done both to you,” Will said when I gasped out my thanks. “But I warn you, your grace, these woods are full of brigands. We might have exchanged bad for worse.”
“For now, I’ll be pleased to take my chances,” I said, clutching the pommel and thanking the Lord that I had always been a confident rider. Every small tree looked to me like another menacing figure coming to rob or ravish me, and I had no idea whether we were riding toward Berwick, but I at least did not fear falling off this horse. I turned. “Edward! Are you holding on tight?”
“Yes, Mother,” said my son, with sufficient irritation for me to smile.
Then a horseman galloped toward us, clearly bent on blocking our path. “Let us pass!” demanded Will as he reluctantly halted our horse.
The horseman said nothing, and indeed, he looked so menacing that he needed no words to aid him. He was easily one and a half times Will’s size, and his stare as he sized up my escort was a fearsome one to behold. “What have you got for me, boy?” Will made no response. “Answer me, boy, or I’ll kill you here and now, before the lady.” He moved closer to me and fingered my gown. “That gown’s of quality; you’ll not have me believe you’ve no valuables.” He eyed Edward, who was attempting without much success not to look scared. “That boy’s well dressed; if you’ll not pay me to recover him, I reckon some of his people will. Give him here!”
“Let him go!” I dropped to the ground and stood before the brigand. “Do you know who I am? I am your queen, Margaret, wife to your rightful king, Henry the Sixth, and that is your prince!”
The robber stared.
“It is true. Go a little ways from whence we came, to Norham Castle, and you will find it has been under siege, with me present.”
“She speaks true,” said Will.
“I have no jewels; I was robbed of them back near Norham. I have only the clothes on my back. If that will satisfy you, I will give them to you, though as you can see they are much worn. But why settle for that, when I can give you something far more valuable?”
“Say what?”
“A new life! Aren’t you secretly ashamed of this life, robbing innocents and the unwary, lurking, knowing that you will end up on the gallows? But if you help my son and me and my friend here, and bring us safely to the king, you will have done a good deed that will atone for the evil you have done. My husband will reward you, be certain of it, and more important, God will reward you as well. It is never too late to change.”
The robber hesitated. “You are really the queen? You sound more like a female preacher.”
I smiled. “I am the queen. When you take me to safety, my friends will tell you I speak the truth. Now, come. What will it be? The clothes we are wearing, which will feed you for a short time before you are hanged, or your immortal soul?”
The robber swung off his horse and knelt awkwardly at my feet. “My lady, I am yours to command.”
“Rise, then, and show us to Berwick, where my husband awaits me.”
“It’s not far,” said the thief. He looked at Edward, still sitting behind Will. “I can take the boy up behind me, my lady, if it would be more comfortable for you and him.”
I hesitated, then nodded. The robber swung Edward onto his horse, and we trotted away after Will had settled me behind him. Will hissed behind his shoulder, “Your grace, why did you tell him who you were? He might have taken you back to Warwick’s men for a reward! And why did you give him your son? Wasn’t that taking a risk?”
“I don’t know.” I looked at Edward, who was chattering now quite amicably with the robber. “Maybe it was because it was what my husband would do.”
***
It was mid-afternoon when our oddly assorted little group finally came to Berwick, where I found that a search was being mounted for Edward and me. As soon as I passed through the gate, a messenger dashed off to find Henry, who had me locked in his arms before I could even reach the bailey. “Thank the Lord you are safe,” he whispered into my hair. “And you, my boy!” He embraced my son, then stared at Will with his ragged staff badge and my would-be robber as they kneeled before him. “And these are—”
“This is young Will, who saved me back at Norham,” I said. “And this is—” I frowned, remembering I had never learned the name of the man to whom I had entrusted our son.
“They call me Black Jack, your grace.”
“Black Jack,” said Henry, the name sounding so ridiculous on his lips that I could not help but smile in my exhaustion.
“Black Jack could have robbed me in the forest, but instead helped us here to safety. He has treated me with all of the respect due to a queen, and I trust he will do the same to you as his king.”
My companion nodd
ed.
“Rise, then, both of you,” Henry said. “Young Will, you can return to your people, or stay here in my service. I hope you will choose the latter, but I know you may have family waiting for you.”
“I do, your grace. I am sorry.”
“Then take some refreshment before you leave, and rest your horse. And you, Black Jack? Would you like to stay?”
“I’ve no one waiting for me, your grace. If I can serve you and your brave lady, I’d be honored.”
“Then so it shall be.”
***
Before my adventures, I had half hoped that Henry would change his mind about sending me to France, but after getting an uncensored account of the episode from Edward, Will, and Black Jack, Henry could not get me out of England fast enough. He did not even wait for my father’s reply to his message. “Had those men murdered you, or ravished you”—Henry shuddered—“I might well have gone mad again. I almost did when I heard from some of those Scots that Warwick’s men had been seen near you. No, you and Edward must go to France. Why, what is wrong, my dear?”
“I deserve to have been ravished and murdered.” I dropped down to my knees. “I have been advised not to tell you this, but I cannot bear it any longer. You must know the truth if you are to send me to France again. I have wronged you in the worst way a woman can wrong a husband.”
Henry stared down at me as I huddled by his feet. “With another man?”
“Yes. With Henry Beaufort.” I swallowed. “He has been a traitor to you by deserting you and will have to answer to God for that, but I am to blame for our adultery. I am the woman and the married one; I should have known better. I did know better. If you will only forgive me, I will do any penance I am asked to do. I will fast. I will walk barefoot through the streets with a taper. I will end my days in a nunnery. I will—”
“Margaret, stand.”
Shaking, I obeyed. Calmly, Henry asked, “Edward. He is my son?”
“Yes. I will swear to it. I did you no wrong until I went to Rouen. Ruin. It is aptly named, is it not?” I stared at the floor. “I will never wrong you in that way again; I will swear an oath to that too.”
Henry took me into his arms. “I forgive you, Marguerite. There is no need for solemn oaths.”
“You are too generous,” I whispered.
“You have had much to bear these last few years.” Henry stroked my hair as I began to sob into his neck.
“But can you ever trust me again?”
“I can and I will.” He smiled sadly. “Even when you were in Rouen, you did your best for me. How many queens have been asked to do so much? How many have suffered robbery and shipwreck and exile for their king’s sake? I do not condone your behavior with Somerset, but under the circumstances I cannot let it outweigh all of the devotion you have shown to me and our son.”
“Our son. Believe me.”
“I do.” Henry was silent for a time while I rested in his embrace. “I would even forgive Hal if he asked it,” he said. “Perhaps someday he will.”
I shook my head. “They say that Edward has made him very welcome at his court. The traitor will be too comfortable there.”
“You must have loved him, and I was fond of him myself. The man cannot be all bad; indeed, I know he is not. Do not give up on him, Marguerite.”
Only my dear Henry could speak more kindly about my former lover than I could myself. “I will try. After all, you have not given up on me.”
I spent the night clasped in my husband’s arms. The next day, I once again made my farewells to Henry at Edinburgh. Traveling with me and Edward were the Duke of Exeter, Doctor Morton, Marie, William and Katherine Vaux, and a couple of dozen others, each of us in varying degrees a tatterdemalion. Would we ever see England’s shores again? Yet as uncertain as our future was, it was Henry I worried about most, left to no one but the uncertain protection of the Scots. “I wish you were going with us,” I said as I embraced him.
“I must stay here and be ready for whatever happens,” said Henry, hugging me closer to him. “Who knows? Perhaps when we see each other again, it will be in London.”
I smiled and turned to Lord Ros as Henry bade good-bye to our son. “Do take care of him.”
“I will. I and Black Jack,” he added, for Black Jack had taken a distinct liking to Lord Ros and could generally be found rendering him some service or another. “Don’t you fear, your grace. We will keep the cause of Lancaster alive here.”
“As I will abroad.” I turned to Henry one more time. “I love you,” I said simply.
“And I love you. Remember, my darling. In London!”
“In London!” I said, smiling and waving as Pierre de Brézé led me toward our waiting ship.
King Edward, as I had been reminded none too gently to call him, was a tall man, who looked even taller when one was kneeling before him in supplication. Six feet four, I estimated. “Up,” he said cheerfully, extending a hand himself to assist me, for my hands were bound lest, I’d been told, I had some harebrained notion about assassinating the rightful king. “So! You have agreed to become our liegeman. A sensible decision. What made you do it? I must say, you’re the last one I’d have ever expected to come over to our side.”
“I thought I might as well give in to the inevitable,” I said. In fact, I could pinpoint the exact moment when I had decided not merely to surrender to Edward, but to pledge my loyalty to him: the morning of Christmas Eve, when I had sat down to yet another plate of horse. I was six-and-twenty and unmarried, with a bastard child I had never seen. I was poor; I hadn’t seen my mother in years; my brother Edmund was languishing as a Yorkist prisoner. I loved a woman I never could have openly, and she herself had begged me to break off our relations. I was fighting for a cause that had been lost long ago at Palm Sunday Field. That Christmastide as I stared around me at the cheerlessness of Bamburgh Castle, it had suddenly seemed so simple, so seductive to throw in my lot with the side that was winning.
Seductive it had been; simple it had not. I hadn’t dared to tell even Tom, my own brother, my intention. Even as Edward’s men led me into the king’s presence, I had had second thoughts. I could tell him I had changed my mind, and then I would go to my prison or to my death with a clear conscience.
But my courage, and my conscience, had failed me.
Edward snorted when he heard my reply. “That’s what they all say when they come over to me. I decided to give in to the inevitable. Or One can’t fight against fate. Always the same answer. And they all have the same expression on their face, like they’ve taken a gulp of bad wine.”
“Oh?” I said gloomily. “I had hoped that I was more unique.”
My new king smiled. “Someone told me that you had a certain charm, Beaufort. I was beginning to doubt it.” He settled back in his chair and looked at me with interest. “Why, I believe we might even become friends.”
***
I tried not to think of Margaret in those early Yorkist days of mine, which of course meant that I thought of her nearly constantly. When I had been brought to Alnwick to assist Warwick (a role that was as nearly as unpleasant to think about as my betrayal of Margaret, but I was wisely kept far from his presence), I passed the dreary hours of the siege in dialogue with myself: She dismissed you, after all, and she was right. Continuing as things were could only lead to disaster. Her place is with her husband, not with you. It’s all for the best.
But you didn’t have to abandon her cause when you left her bed.
With all of my conversations with myself ending like this, I couldn’t have been more unpleasant, and more tedious, company for myself. Needless to say, then, I quickly sought out more congenial companionship as soon as the king’s household, me in tow, arrived in London. “Your grace, I would like to ask leave to visit my son in London. I’ve never seen him.”
Edward threw me an exasperated look. “Beaufort, when will you realize that you’re not my prisoner? You can see the boy any time you want. How old is he?”
<
br /> “Three. He was born when I was abroad.”
“And you’ve never had a chance to see the lad? Well, I suppose not, if he’s been here. Who’s the mother?”
I hesitated, and Edward laughed. “Good Lord, man, I’m not poaching on your territory.” He smiled in that endearingly boyish way of his. “In fact, I’ve a bastard son of my own, just newly hatched. Arthur, the boy’s name is, by an Elizabeth Lucy. I rather like the name, don’t you?”
“Do you still see the mother?” I asked, since Edward evidently liked this topic and it had occurred to me that I had been rather standoffish.
“Oh, once in a while,” the king said airily. “There are other women now.”
Sometimes I marveled at the fact that the same island had managed to produce two kings so diametrically opposite as Henry and Edward.
That very afternoon, I set off for Eastcheap, where I found that unlike everything else, Joan’s shop had changed very little in the past few years—if anything, it looked better than when I had seen first seen it. It smelled as tempting as it had when I had first come across it at age seventeen, and I wondered if Joan was as tempting too.
Well, I would find out soon enough. I pushed open the door and there Joan stood, setting out wafers. “Smells good in here,” I said.
“Thank you, sir. My cooking is good, you’ll find. Won’t you try something?” Joan gave me her full attention and clapped a floury hand to her chest. “Hal?”
“The same.”
“My God,” Joan said, and locked me into a flour-filled embrace. “It’s safe for you to be in London?”
“Yes.” Well, there was no point in delaying the truth. “I serve the House of York now.”
Joan’s face changed. “I had heard that, but I never believed it. You? A Yorkist?”
“Me.”
“I can’t believe it even when I hear it from you.”
“Well, it’s true. Is that all you can do, stare at me as if I had horns?”
“I—I just never expected it.”
The Queen of Last Hopes Page 26
