Jean Plaidy (16 page)

Something told me they would not and this was not the end of the conflict. And I guessed that the same thoughts were in the minds of the messengers.

I left them then, for no more was to be learned. They had been sent to bring the glad tidings and their duty was done. When they had rested for a night they would return to England.

And what of us, I wondered?

The queen sent for me.

“I confess,” she said, “that I did not always believe that your father would do this. I did not trust him entirely. But he has proved himself to be a man of honor.”

Had he, I wondered? He had turned from the king and supported his rival. Was that honorable? And he had done it because he had wanted power, and if he could not reach it through one king he would try to do so through another. But little as I knew of state affairs, I sensed in that moment that my father had made a mistake. The people would never accept Henry; and was Edward the man to stand aside and let them?

Margaret went on, “First we must give our thanks to God for this victory and when that is done we will make our plans. As soon as we are in England you shall be married. This I have promised your father and I shall keep my word. Now let us plan. We shall be leaving here for Paris. My son will have heard the good news by now. He will be there. Then we shall go to England to claim our crown. You look thoughtful, child. You must rejoice. This is a happy day for us all. The House of Lancaster is back where it belongs.”

We did not leave immediately. The next day messengers arrived at the
château
with the news that the King of France was on his way to Amboise to visit Margaret. She must of course be there to receive him.

More than a week passed before the arrival of the king and in the meantime the
château
was given over to preparation for his visit. It was unthinkable that we could leave at such a time.

In due course he arrived with his queen, Charlotte of Savoy.

He received the queen—and me—in a very friendly manner and told us that it was a source of great pleasure to him to know that events were going well in England.

Louis was an extraordinary man. I could not trust him. He was quite unlike a king: he had little dignity, was careless in his dress, and there was a complete lack of formality in his speech and behavoir. He was amiable, but there was a watchfulness about him, a certain slyness that suggested he might be planning something that was quite alien to his utterances.

I could not get out of my mind the stories I had heard of his vengeful nature and how he had made a particularly gruesome prison of his
château
of Loches where he imprisoned his enemies in the
oubliettes
there—those dungeon-like underground prisons into which men were thrown and left to be forgotten as the name implied. What had impressed me so deeply was that Louis was reputed to pay periodic visits to Loches that he might peer down on those men whom he had imprisoned and then watch as they progressed toward their grisly end. There were also rumors that he imprisoned men in iron cages and reduced them to the state of animals.

Some might say that there would always be those to malign kings and people in high places, but I could believe these rumors of Louis, even while he was displaying such friendship toward Margaret and benignity to me.

I liked his wife, Charlotte; she was a placid woman who was now pregnant. I had heard it said that she was either giving birth or preparing to do so; and it was maliciously hinted that Louis far preferred the society of his mistress, Marguerite de Sassenage, and spent only long enough with Charlotte to impregnate her and so keep her busy bearing the children of France.

I could understand how he had earned the sobriquet of the Spider King. However, Charlotte seemed happy enough, so perhaps she was as eager to be rid of him as he was of her.

He certainly seemed to be pleased by what was happening in England, and was eager to celebrate the victory. That seemed reasonable enough as King Henry was related to him; moreover Margaret was French. Naturally France would support the House of Lancaster against that of York. It was Louis who had brought my father and Margaret together and prevailed on Margaret to make up their quarrel. So this was his victory as it was Margaret's.

It was easy to talk to Louis. I had heard someone say of him that if one had met him by chance one would take him for a man of low condition rather than a person of distinction. There was truth in that, for he was a little slovenly in his dress—rare in a king of France—so that one did not feel, when talking to him, that one was with the king. It seemed that he preferred to be with the humble rather than the nobility.

“It pleases me,” he said, “to contemplate your good fortune. Your father is a man I esteem as much as any man I know. He will rule England wisely with the help of the queen. The poor king is alas in a sorry state. But with the Earl of Warwick to guide him he will be in good hands. We shall be good neighbors, which is what I have always wanted.” He smiled slyly and I wondered how sincere he was in this. “The rightful king will be restored to the throne and one day you, my dear, will be Queen of England. That is what gives me pleasure.”

The celebrations were not of long duration, for I had discovered that the king was parsimonious in the extreme, and could not bear to see money wasted.

He spent a good deal of time with Margaret, and I for one could not regret his delaying our preparations to return to England, for I knew what awaited me there.

He was at the
château
for about two weeks, which was a long time for him. He was restless and spent much time wandering about his kingdom.

So far Prince Edward had not come to us and the queen was very eager to make some plans with him. She believed he was in Paris and after the king had departed we set out for that city.

It was now well into November and the weather was not good, which meant that our journey was considerably delayed. We were naturally anxious to know what was happening in England and we were ever on the watch for messengers, but as winter was with us and the sea was so treacherous at that time, it might be difficult for them to reach us.

Edward was not in Paris when we arrived and we must wait there. Fortunately, due to our benefactor, the King of France, there was no lack of hospitality. I was surprised that Margaret did not chafe more against the delays. Then I came to the conclusion that she wished my father to bring the country to a settled state before we returned.

I think Edward was gathering together an army. Perhaps he, too, was hoping that when we returned it would be to a welcome and not to deal with uprisings and such like, which might well occur after the banishing of a popular king and replacing him by one such as Henry.

I was unsure of what was happening. I knew that my mother was still in France. Isabel had returned to England with Clarence, who had followed my father there. They were still allies at this stage, but I fancy uneasy ones. Clarence had been convinced that he was to have the throne. I wondered what his reactions were when the plans were changed and Henry was to be restored.

After a while Prince Edward arrived in Paris and my fears were confirmed. He was in a state of great excitement seeing himself as king. He did not believe that his father could ever reign. It might well be that he would become regent until Henry's death. His formidable mother would expect to reign with him. But she doted on him and he saw a glorious future before him, I was sure. Of course, he had to take me as part of the bargain. I shivered at the thought. It had been like a cloud hanging over me—and now the storm was about to break.

We should be married in England, for it would not be fitting for the heir to the throne to marry in a foreign country. I guessed that as soon as we returned the arrangements would be made. The thought filled me with panic.

How could my father have done this to me? But what did any of these power-seeking men care whom they used as long as advantage to them was the result? How I wished I had not been born Warwick's daughter. I should have been much happier as one of the village girls. I longed more than ever for those childhood days at Middleham.

In truth Edward frightened me. He kissed my hand as though with affection; he spoke to me caressingly; and his eyes studied me. What did I see there? A faint contempt. I would be unlike the women he had known. What sort of women would he like? I had heard of no romances. Perhaps he was the kind who visited low taverns, who indulged his lust with serving maids. I could think that very likely. I was small—too young to be formed as a woman yet. My hair was my real beauty—being long and fair. I supposed I was not ill-favored. Both Isabel and I had been referred to as beauties. But that was a term applied to all princesses or ladies of the nobility—especially when they were being used as bargaining counters in proposed marriages. I had an idea that I should not suit his fancies: he would prefer someone bold, practiced…not an inexperienced girl.

Yet there were times when I seemed to detect a sly lust in his eyes and that alarmed me. I wished Isabel were here. If only there was someone I could talk to…someone comfortable and homely, someone like Ankarette Twynyho.

But there was no one and I felt very lonely and full of fear.

Every morning I reminded myself: the marriage cannot take place until we are in England. And I prayed for more delays.

Edward spent a good deal of time with his mother. His stay with us must be brief, she told me. He should not delay long before going to England to claim his inheritance. Louis had been helpful, but getting money from him for supplies was not an easy task. He was notoriously mean and wanted some reward for his beneficence.

How glad I was when Edward left us, but now we ourselves must prepare in earnest for our return to England.

The winter is not the best time to travel but we set out on our journey. By this time it was the beginning of March and we were often hindered by the snow. We would be received at some
château
on our way and often found ourselves delayed by snow-blocked roads. It was a long and uncomfortable journey, but with the coming of April we found ourselves at Honfleur, to be confronted by a truly turbulent sea. We dared not risk the crossing while such conditions prevailed.

Each morning when I awoke the first thing I did was look out of my window. I would rejoice in that heaving mass of water. I would lie in bed at night and listen to the wind that howled and the waves that pounded against the shore.

We cannot go yet, I would whisper gleefully to myself; and I would try to shut out the memory of Edward's contemptuous yet lecherous eyes.

When messengers arrived I guessed they had something of great importance to tell us since they had braved the sea.

I was with the queen when they reached us. They were brought in immediately.

This time they did not come with smiles and good news but, as the bearers of ill tidings will be, they were hesitant to impart it.

“Tell us your news,” said Margaret sternly. “I am waiting.”

“Your Grace, my lady, Edward of York, with his brother, the Duke of Gloucester, Earl Rivers, and Lord Hastings, have landed at Ravenspur and are marching on to York.”

The queen closed her eyes. I went to her and took her by the arm. She shook me off a little impatiently, angry that I had assumed weakness in her.

“Ravenspur,” she said. “Where is that?”

“It is at the mouth of the Humber.”

“That is the north. He has ill judged his landing. The north was always for Warwick. What other news?”

“He has a force of two thousand with him—English and Burgundians.”

“Two thousand! What chance will they have?”

“I have to tell your Grace that he has reached the city of York and York has opened its gates to him.”

“The traitors!”

“There are rumors that Edward of York has come back only to claim his dukedom.”

“Impertinence,” murmured the queen.

But she was very shaken, I could see. She dismissed the messengers and motioned me to sit with her. I did so. She took my hand suddenly and pressed it. And then we sat on in silence.

         

The days that followed were like a dream. The gigantic waves still defied us to do battle with them. All we could do was look out over that stormy sea to England and wonder what was happening there.

We had always known that Edward of York was not the man to stand aside and let the Earl of Warwick take the crown from him. He would rally men to him; the people loved him. He looked like a king; he acted like a king; and if he made mistakes, they were kingly mistakes. I had always known that the people would not want Henry. They might pity him, but pity should not be for kings. They hated Margaret merely for being a foreigner, if for nothing else, but there was plenty more to turn them against her. They did not want her or her son or her husband. They wanted Edward. There might be mighty kingmakers like my father, but it was almost always the people who kept kings on their thrones.

I learned afterward what was happening in England.

My father had never really succeeded in ruling the country. People wanted a king, a figurehead, someone above them, aloof, because of the aura of royalty, which they regarded as holy. A king must be a minor god who can wear a golden crown and purple velvet and on whom they can bestow their adulation.

There was something else that happened at that time. When Edward had landed, the Duke of Clarence had cast aside his allegiance to the Earl of Warwick and gone to Edward.

I can imagine his appeal. “We are brothers, Edward. Should we be enemies? I was seduced by the earl. I listened to evil council. You are my brother, Edward. I want to serve you. Can you forgive me?” Surely it would have been something like that.

And Edward would forgive. When those who had served him ill came to him and begged for forgiveness, it was usually readily given. And this was his brother.

I wondered if it occurred to Edward that Clarence had come back to him because my father had set Henry on the throne after hinting that it was to be for him, Clarence? Surely that must have occurred to Edward? But, as I heard, readily he embraced his brother. It was like the parable of the prodigal son.