by Jean Plaidy
‘Go into the villages and hamlets,’ she said, ‘Search out boys with talent. Let them know that if they want to become musicians there is a place for them at Court. They will be paid good wages and will never want.’
When the boys began to arrive Henry showed an interest in them and their studies. He had always believed in teaching and bringing out the abilities of any who possessed them. There was J no doubt that this had been an excellent idea.
There were some who wanted to go into the Church. Henry had a special interest in these. He promised to advance them and did so, and took a great interest in their progress. Margaret moved to Greenwich to be nearer London—but not too near for the Londoners were ardent Yorkists, and she was anxious not to attract too much attention to herself and the King at this stage. It was important, she felt, to lull the Yorkists into a sense of security. Let them think they were in command. So they were, but not for long, she promised herself.
She rejoiced in Henry’s definite recovery, slow though it was: People were drifting to Greenwich. There were the sons of fathers who had been slain at St. Albans. They thirsted for revenge with a passion which almost matched Margaret’s. She encouraged them. One day it will be a different story, she told them in fervour. It will be for us to command them. And then it will be to the Tower in preparation for the scaffold for some.
York, Warwick and Salisbury, they haunted her dreams.
The day will come, she promised herself And then no mercy. She found pleasure in inventing torments for them. Henry would have been horrified if he knew what was in her mind. He had always been squeamish. Perhaps that was why he had all but lost his throne.
Never mind. He was a good and loving man. He would obey his wife. And then when her son was of age he would be a fine strong King, for she would bring him up to be just that.
In the meantime it was a matter of treading warily—which was very difficult for a woman of her temperament. But she was doing well.
In Greenwich they talked constantly of the day when they would be strong enough to defeat York.
‘We’ll have his head on London Bridge, never fear,’ said Margaret. ‘But not a word of this before the King. The King
is a saint. He would die himself rather than shed anyone’s blood. That is why he needs us...to help him govern.’
They were beginning to see in Margaret a leader. It was incongruous that this small woman with the dainty hands and the long fair hair and the eyes which flashed blue fire when she talked of what was in store for her enemies, should be the one to lead them. But such was the power of her resolution, such her eloquence, such her burning determination that they were beginning to accept her.
Henry the new Duke of Somerset had recovered from his wounds and was constantly at her side. She was going to put him in his father’s place as soon as possible. It was the least she could do for dear Edmund; but apart from that she loved the new Duke for himself. He was her ardent supporter and like her he thirsted for revenge.
There were three who were very welcome at Greenwich; Henry’s stepfather, Owen Tudor, and his half-brothers, Edmund and Jasper. Henry was always delighted to see them and would be happy recalling the days when he was a little boy and Owen Tudor had taught him to ride.
But the Tudors did not come merely to talk of old times with Henry. They were staunchly for the Lancastrian cause. They were strong men—all three of them, ready to face hardship, ready to risk their lives; and for the sake of Katherine, beloved wife to one and mother to the other two, they were firmly behind Henry.
They were pleasant days for Henry who was ignorant of the revengeful plans. He did not want to think of that fearful time in St. Albans. The wound on his neck had proved to be slight and he could not bear to think of poor dear Somerset lying dead under that inn sign. He never wanted to go near St. Albans again. He just wanted to forget the horrible sounds and sights of war.
Forsooth and forsooth,’ he muttered to himself. ‘Why do men make war when all know we are always better off without it?’
Let York be protector of the realm. Why not? It was what York wanted; it stopped war. A number of the people wanted it. They said York managed very well and as long as he went on doing so there need be no trouble. York had been most respectful to him and he had stressed the fact that he regarded him as the sole King of the realm. It was only because he needed to recover from his illness—which had been aggravated by events in St. Albans—that York was installed as Protector. It was only a temporary measure.
But Henry was very happy for it to continue.
So he listened to the music played by the boys who had been brought in to be taught and gently remonstrated with them when they did not play correctly. He loved to hear them and they loved to play for him.
Then there were those who wanted to go on pilgrimages to holy shrines. They came and discussed their projects with the King. He delighted to hear them. He himself would like to go on a pilgrimage.
‘That might be an excellent idea,’ said Margaret. They would travel through the country and the people would be delighted to see them, particularly if they had the little Prince with them—their gentle King who wished no ill to any and their charming Prince who could always captivate with his innocent manners. And her .. . well, they might not like her so much. There was a good deal of prejudice to overcome. But they must applaud her devotion to her family.
This was not the time though. Margaret had other plans...just at first.
‘When you are well enough,’ she told Henry, ‘we will make our pilgrimage.’
‘I feel well now,’ said Henry. ‘Well enough to make a short journey.’
‘We will see,’ said Margaret.
Not yet, she thought secretly. Not until the people can see you as their ruler. Not until York is no longer Protector. In a little while perhaps, but not yet.
The visitors continued to come. Margaret held her secret meetings and the King listened to his music, discussed possible pilgrimages, spent a great deal of time with his confessor, prayed and meditated.
Alchemists came to him who believed that they could discover the philosopher’s stone by which they could turn base metals into gold. ‘It would be a miraculous discovery,’ said Henry, thinking sadly of his depleted exchequer and how wonderful it would be if the country did not have to inflict such heavy taxation on its subjects.
He would visit the royal laboratories and spend hours with the alchemists. They arrived at Greenwich from all over the country. They were all on the verge of discovering the secret formula; but none of them ever found it.
And so the King’s days passed pleasantly, while the Queen gathered about her a formidable force.
The King’s health was greatly improved but he was easily tired and there was no doubt that the battle of St. Albans had had some effect on him. However he was well enough to take to the saddle; his mind was clear; and although he would never be robust, he was in good health.
The time had come, thought Margaret.
She did not discuss the next step with Henry. She wanted to present it to him as the considered opinion not only of herself but his friends.
Young Henry Beaufort, son of Edmund and now himself Duke of Somerset, was a bright young man of about nineteen or twenty. Understandably, he hated York with a venom equalling that of the Queen.
‘It is York’s contention that he is only Protector of the Realm during the King’s indisposition,’ said young Somerset. 'If the King is no longer indisposed there is now no need for York to hold that position. It seems, my lady, that all we have to do is announce that the King is well.’
Margaret was thoughtful. That was as it might be. But there would be fierce opposition, she knew. York, Warwick and Salisbury had gathered their troops and come to oppose Henry.
‘It was done with speed and shrewdness,’ she reminded them.
With the Lancastrian lords they discussed how the desired effect should be brought about. York was not in
London at the time. He must be kept in the dark as to the King’s progress. If he knew that Henry was recovering he would be on the spot.
‘We must choose our time with care,’ said Owen Tudor.
Jasper thought that the King should go unexpectedly to one of the sessions of Parliament over which York and his immediate cronies did not preside, and make the announcement that he was now well and capable of taking over the government of the country.
‘It is the way,’ said Margaret. ‘Now we have to persuade the
That was not quite so easy. Henry enjoyed his life at Greenwich. He loved his music, his conversations with those who were almost as religious as himself; he loved the company of his son and he was grateful that he had a Queen who could care for him and keep unpleasant business away from him.
She reminded him gently that he was the son of a King; he had been a King since he was nine months old and the people wanted him. It was time now to take on his duties. She would be beside him, always ready to help him. He need have no fear.
It was a cold February day; the Duke of York was in the North and Warwick was in Calais for he had been given the important Governorship of that town when York had become Protector. As for the chief members of the York faction, they were all on their estates in various parts of the country.
The King rode up from Greenwich to Westminster, Margaret beside him.
He went into the House of Lords.
The assembled company, not knowing that he had left Greenwich, was astounded to see him enter thus ceremoniously.
The King stood before them, seeming in amazingly good health.
‘My lords,’ he said, as they had decided he should, ‘you see me, by the blessing of God, in good health. I do not think my kingdom now needs a Protector. I request your permission to resume the reins of government.’
The Lords rose as one and cheered him.
He was well. He was the King. It was his place to govern.
###
It had been completely successful. Margaret was gleeful. ‘You see, all we need is a firm hand. Our first act must be to notify the Duke of York that he is no longer Protector of this realm as it was unanimously agreed by the Lords that he cease to hold this office.’
Now they could get to work. York could do nothing. His men were scattered and the same applied to Salisbury. Warwick was in Calais so was not of immediate concern.
The Parliament had agreed that York’s services were no longer required. The King could not be turned out of his office. He claimed it. He was well now.
Henry was King again.
The King’s chief adviser should be the young Duke of Somerset. There were raised eyebrows at that. Henry Beaufort was loyal enough, but he lacked experience and his father could hardly have been called a success in the later years of his life. It was the conflict between York and Somerset which was at the root of the trouble. But Margaret, fierce in her loyalties, was scarcely shrewd in her judgment. She wanted to show this young man her compassion for the death of his beloved father;
she wanted to reward him for his friendship to her. Her emotions told her that this should be his reward; she did not pause to consider the wisdom of the move.
Henry wanted to bestow the seals on his good friend William Waynflete, Bishop of Winchester and Margaret saw no reason why Henry should not be indulged in this. Waynflete was a good Lancastrian—not fiercely against the Duke of York it was true, but believing firmly that Henry was the rightful King and should be supported for this reason. He and Henry had had many a happy hour together, discussing theology and architecture. Waynflete had often accompanied the King to Eton and King’s College and had a great interest in them.
Yes, Waynflete was the man.
The changes were completed before York could do anything about it and there was consternation in Sandal Castle near Wakefield when the news was brought to York.
His resignation demanded! It was hardly necessary. He was already deprived of his post. The King was now well enough to resume his duties.
It was a complete surprise.
The family clustered round him. Edward wanted his father to tell him exactly what had happened. He wanted to set out right away and force another battle on the King. Edmund, his brother and younger by a year, was eager to hear more of the details. George was trying to imitate Edward and talking of battle and little Richard toddled up to try and understand what all the excitement was about. Even the little girls were listening.
Cecily was furious. ‘This is that woman’s doing,’ she said.
Edward nodded. All the children knew that ‘that woman’ was the Queen and that she was very wicked. George said that she had come from France riding on a broomstick and it was only because she was a witch that she had been able to marry the King. When Elizabeth had asked Edward if this were true he had shrugged it aside impatiently.
‘When they say she’s a witch,’ he explained, ‘that just means that she’s artful and wicked and cruel and ought to be destroyed.’
The Duke of York said: ‘Of course it is her doing. Henry never has the wit to do anything alone.’
The children were overawed. Their father was speaking of the King and only their father could speak thus of the King. Everyone else had to be very careful. This was because their father
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.’
