by Jean Plaidy
She did not explain what was happening immediately. On the advice of William Hately she would do so gradually.
York was in control. The people seemed to like him. He had established a certain order throughout the country. Their dear friends Somerset and Exeter were captives.
‘They must be released,’ said the King.
‘It is the first thing we shall do when we are in command again. We shall dismiss York and his friends and bring back our own.’
Henry looked a little tired and closed his eyes. William Hately said: ‘Do not talk too much of State affairs to him. Let it come gradually. He has recovered but he is still weak.’
Let him recover gradually!
Impatient as she was for action, Margaret could see the wisdom of that. For the moment the affairs of the country must remain in York’s hands, but not for long...
Bishop Waynflete and the Prior of St. John’s came to Coventry to see the King.
He was delighted to receive them and he was happy praying with them.
He has not changed, thought Margaret.
Soon we must leave Coventry. Soon we shall take over the reins of government.
###
That was a happy Christmastime. Every day Henry showed some improvement and began to take an interest in his surroundings.
The choice of Coventry had been a wise one for it had always been a favourite of his. He wanted to visit the churches of the town. There were three which had been standing there for years. Henry delighted in them, particularly that of St. Michael which had been built long ago in the reign of the first Henry and had been given to the monks of Coventry by Earl Randulph. Then there was St. Mary’s Hall which he himself had built. It had an intricately carved roof with figures which were almost grotesque, a minstrels’ gallery and an armoury. The enormous glass windows were a treasure in themselves. Henry delighted in it and his enthusiasm showed from his eyes as he talked of it with Margaret. In this hall was a tapestry which Henry had ordered to be made and which had been hung only a few years previously. It was thirty feet by ten and Henry had helped to design it. The colours, he pointed out, showed what advances had been made in dyeing and they really were exquisite.
It was wonderful to see his excitement over these things, but Margaret wished he could be equally so with regard to State matters. He did not seem to wish to discuss those. Whenever such questions were brought up, a film would come over his eyes and he would put his hand to his head as though he were tired. It was too dangerous as yet to insist for Margaret had a horror of his lapsing once more into that lethargy which bordered on idiocy.
What she would have to do was to bring his friends to him. Let him talk to them. Let him see that he was loved by many. Then they would set about ousting arrogant York from the Protectorate and bringing Somerset back.
One day there were visitors at the castle and Margaret received them warmly for she knew very well that there could not be stronger supporters of the Lancastrian cause. Their prosperity would most certainly depend on it, and that was the best reliance one could have on friends. A cynical observation, some might say, but it was nevertheless true and even if there was real regard it must be strengthened by expediency.
The visitors were brought in to the King and when he saw them his pleasure was obvious.
‘Can it really be...Owen?’ said Henry.
Owen Tudor was on his knees before the King.
‘Your servant,’ he said.
‘Owen Tudor.’ The King’s eyes were glazed with emotion. I remember you well, Owen.’
‘My lord, your mother and I talked so much of you, thought so much of you...When we were together... before they parted us we used to say how happy we could have been if you were with us.’
‘Yes, I should have been happy too. I remember being impressed by you all and feeling a certain longing and a resentment, too, because I was the son of a King. Oh, Owen, how good it is to see you and recall those days when you taught me to ride my pony. I fear I was a timid pupil.’
‘My lord, you were a good pupil. You listened to your teacher which is what few do.’
‘My mother, Owen...Oh, that was a tragedy.’
‘I think she could not endure the breaking up of our happy home.’
‘Oh, it was cruel, cruel... And you went away to Wales. How fared you, Owen?’
‘Well enough...in my native Wales. You were good to us, my lord. You never forgot us.’
‘I did very little, Owen, for my stepfather and my half-brothers. Tell me, how are they?’
‘If you would wish it you may see for yourself. Two of them are here in Coventry awaiting your permission to present themselves.’
‘Awaiting my permission! My own brothers! Let them be brought to me without delay. But there are more than two.’
‘My youngest son Owen has become a monk.’
‘Ah, fortunate man. Where is he?’
‘In Westminster.’
‘I well remember him. And your daughter?’
‘Jacina is growing up. She will be of marriageable age very soon.’
‘We will find a husband for her. The Queen loves to arrange these marriages. Do I speak truth, my love?’
‘It is a pleasure to set young people together. They should all marry young. That is my view. Then they should have children...lots of them.’
‘Yes,’ said Henry tenderly. ‘Margaret is the Court’s matchmaker.’
‘My eldest, your half-brother Edmund, will ask of you permission to marry. He is in love with the niece of the Duke of Somerset.’
‘Margaret Beaufort! She is a much sought after little girl. I remember the Duke of Suffolk wanted her for his son.’
‘I think she would be inclined to take Edmund...if you would consider it. After all, Edmund has royal blood through his mother.’
‘I have no doubt that the Queen will arrange that matter. Now send my brothers to me. I would see them.’
‘They want to assure you of their devotion. If ever you should need them, they are at your service.’
Owen knew that the Queen was watching him closely. The
King might not want to think of the possibility of war but it was there and the Queen knew exactly what he meant.
When the two young men were brought to the King he received them with emotion. His half-brothers—Edmund and Jasper Tudor. They reminded him so much of their mother— who was Henry’s mother too—and he was glad that he was related so closely to them.
They were a handsome pair – a few years younger than Henry who was at this time thirty-three years of age. Edmund must be about twenty-five and Jasper twenty-three or -four. They both had reason to be grateful to Henry who had made sure that they were adequately educated, first by the Abbess of Barking and later they had been put in the care of priests. Moreover Henry had bestowed titles on them—Edmund was the Earl of Richmond and Jasper the Earl of Pembroke. He would have given the youngest, Owen, a title if he had not gone into a monastery. The most fortunate of them all, in Henry’s opinion.
Margaret eyed the three men with approval. Firm strong supporters of Lancaster and held together by ties of kinship.
Henry was happy to drop all ceremony and to talk to his stepfather and his brothers as equals. They talked for a while of the old days, which was sad because they must think of the death ()( Katherine their mother.
‘How happy she would have been if she could be here with us thus,’ said Owen.
‘She sees us from Heaven,’ answered Henry.
‘I here is one matter which grieves us all very much,’ Edmund told him. ‘It is the .scandal which has been spoken about our mother and the slurs that are cast on us...’
‘They call us bastards,’ said Jasper.
Owen said: ‘There was a marriage, my lord. 1 assure you there was. It took place just before Edmund’s birth but when he was born I and your mother were married.’
Henry looked at Margaret, who said,
‘There could be a declaration in Parliament. Why not? It has been done before. Why, Margaret Beaufort herself comes of a line which began as a bastard sprig and it was long alter the birth ol the Beauforts that John ol Gaunt legitimized them. I see no reason why there should not be a declaration in Parliament.’
‘We shall see to it,’ said Henry.
Margaret rejoiced. It was the first time he had mentioned sitting with a Parliament.
There was no doubt that the Tudors’ visit had done some good.
When they had left after giving a firm indication of their loyalty to Henry and Lancaster, Margaret talked of them to the King.
‘They are fine men...all of them. Owen is getting old of course but you need strong men Like Edmund and Jasper.’
‘Owen did not seem to me an old man but I believe he was the same age as my mother and she was twenty-one when I was born.’
I would trust them all to serve you well,’ said Margaret, ‘and that makes me warm towards them. I will arrange a marriage for the girl and I see no reason why Edmund should not have Margaret Beaufort.’
‘Then, my love,’ said Henry, ‘if you decide it shall be so, it will be.’
###
There could no longer be any delay. Henry was weak still but Margaret insisted that he should be taken to the House of Lords and when he arrived there he dissolved Parliament.
The reign of the Duke of York was at an end. The King was returned and York had known his power was of a temporary nature.
It was unfortunate for the King and Margaret that York’s period of supremacy had been long enough to show the people that he was a good ruler. Law and order had been restored to the country and York’s rule had been seen to be just and firm.
Now it was over, but York would not lightly relinquish what he had cherished so much and for which he had an undoubted aptitude. Yet he must. He had taken on the Protectorate on the understanding that he must give it up as soon as the King was well.
The first act of the King’s—or rather Margaret’s—was to get Somerset released from the Tower. Shortly afterwards Exeter followed him.
Margaret now reinstated Somerset and he was the most important man in the country under the King.
There was of course a fierce hatred between Somerset and York. Somerset would never forgive York for imprisoning him; and York despised Somerset and wondered whether he ought
to have taken advantage of the situation and finished him altogether.
The feud between those two was irreconcilable and would only end with the death of one of them.
Meanwhile Margaret was revelling in the return to power. She indulged in her favourite pastime of matchmaking. Margaret Beaufort was married to Edmund Tudor and for Jacina she found Lord Grey de Wilton.
She was delighted with her efforts and she knew that if they were needed the Tudors would be on Henry’s side.
AT ST. ALBANS
The Duke of York was angry. Everything had been changing; events had been falling into place; he had been achieving success; he had shown the people that he had the gifts of a ruler and then…the King recovered.
‘And how far has he recovered?’ he demanded of Cecily.
‘He’s likely to go toppling over into idiocy again.’
‘Not that we wish him ill,’ added the Duke.
Cecily pressed her lips tightly together. She wished him ill. She wished he would go back to his madness.
‘But,’ went on the Duke, ‘when I had a comparatively free hand I felt I was getting things in order.’
‘You were, and if the people had any sense they would make you King.’
‘They always have such a respect for a crowned King,’ said York.
Cecily was silent seeing herself and Richard being crowned in Westminster Abbey. That was how it should be. They both had royal blood and Richard had more right to the crown than Henry.
‘What now?’ she asked.
‘Salisbury and Warwick will be with us shortly. We shall decide then.’
He was right. It was not long before Salisbury and Warwick arrived.
They were as resentful as York himself.
‘What will happen now?’ they cried.
‘Disaster for the country,’ answered York.
They were silent. The Great Seal had been taken from Salisbury and given to Bourchier, the Archbishop of Canter-, bury. The Governorship of Calais had been taken from York and given to Somerset. It was the last straw when Somerset had called a Council at Westminster which neither York, Warwick nor Salisbury were invited to attend.
‘Somerset is at the root of all the trouble,’ declared York. ‘But for him, I should have remained at my post.’
‘Do not forget that the Queen stands beside him.’
‘The Queen and Somerset are our enemies, true,’ agreed York. ‘Aye, and the enemies of England.’
‘They must be curbed,’ said Warwick.
‘How?’ asked Salisbury.
The Duke of York was thoughtful. Then he said slowly: ‘Everything we have worked for in the last year is wasted. It might never have happened. We cannot blame the King. He never wanted to take a hand in State affairs before his illness and now...it is clear that he wants to be guided. He is the figurehead but he wants a strong man to decide for him.’
‘And Somerset has taken the role,’ said Salisbury.
‘My lords,’ cried York, ‘Somerset is our enemy. We must rid ourselves of Somerset. That is all I ask. The King is King...the crowned King. I do not want to displace him. But he is unfit to rule and if we are going to save this country from its enemies and bring it prosperity we must have strong rule.’
The others were in agreement with that.
‘And how shall we enforce it?’ asked Warwick.
‘We must prepare ourselves for conflict.’
‘You mean fight? Civil war?’
‘We shall not be fighting against the King. I want to make that understood. We shall march. Show our strength and demand the removal of Somerset.’
Warwick was watching York steadily. ‘It is the only way,’ he said. ‘This has been brewing since that scene in Temple Gardens. It had to come to a head. It could be war.’
‘It must not come to that,’ insisted York.
‘A war of the red and white roses,’ said Salisbury.
‘I want no war,’ went on York. ‘I want Somerset removed from power, the Queen to realize that she cannot rule us, and a good strong government to take over until the King recovers full sanity or the Prince of Wales is old enough to rule.’
‘It shall be our task to bring about that happy state,’ said Salisbury.
###
At Westminster the King and Margaret heard that York had gathered together an army, that he had been joined by Warwick and Salisbury, and was preparing to march south.
Somerset had hurried to them to tell them the news. The light of battle was in his eyes. He was thinking that perhaps here was the opportunity to settle for ever with his enemy of York.
The King was distressed. ‘Marching!’ he cried. ‘What does he want to march for?’
The Queen tried to hide her exasperation. When would Henry realize that everyone was not kind and gentle like himself?
She burst out: ‘Because he sees himself as King. He wants to put you from the throne and take it for himself.’
‘No, no, my dear lady, York does not mean that. He is angry because he was not asked to the Council. Perhaps, my dear Edmund, we should have included him.’
‘Nay, nay, my lord,’ soothed Somerset. ‘The Queen knows that we have to be watchful of your enemies.’
‘So he is marching south,’ said Margaret.
‘I daresay he hopes to reach London.’
Margaret understood. York was popular in London. During his Protectorate trade had flourished. Trade was all these merchants thought about. London would be for York and she knew what the Londoners could be like when arou
sed. They were an army in themselves.
‘What we shall have to do,’ said Somerset, ‘is march north to meet them.’
Henry frowned but he was too tired to raise objections, and readily Margaret agreed with Somerset.
‘My lord,’ said Somerset, ‘you should march with your army.’
Henry was very sorrowful but he made no protests.
‘Oh God,’ thought Margaret, ‘I would I were a man. I would be there at the head of my army. I would bring this traitor York to justice.’
She realized she could not march with the army.
She said quietly: ‘I will take the Prince to Greenwich.’ She turned to Somerset. ‘There I shall eagerly await the news. I must know at once when the traitor York is in your hands.’
‘You shall hear with all speed, my lady,’ Somerset promised.
‘I trust it may be soon.’
Her mouth had hardened, and she clenched her hands as she thought what punishment she would inflict on this man who had dared to challenge the crown.
###
Beside the Duke of York rode his eldest son Edward. The boy was thirteen, young perhaps to ride out in what could well become a battle, but Edward was a precocious boy and had been from his early childhood. A son to be proud of, thought York—with a great deal of his mother in him. And best of all he had those fair, handsome Plantagenet looks. He was a Little wild, but only as boys should be, even at his age casting a speculative eye on the women and his father had heard that he had already indulged in a few adventures. Over young, perhaps. But in such times a boy must grow up quickly.
He was proud of young Edward. He wanted him to understand the position. He talked to him as they rode along.
He trusted there would be no conflict, he said. What they really wanted to do was show strength and by so doing remind their enemies that they could be a force to be reckoned with. ‘If we can drive that home without bloodshed, so much the better,’ he said.
Edward listened. He believed his father should be King. His mother had said so often enough. Edward admired his father almost to idolatry, and to be riding beside him on an occasion like this filled him with pride. Secretly he hoped there would be a battle. He wanted to distinguish himself, to make his father proud of him.
