by Jean Plaidy
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 t
raitor 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 b
ecause 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.
