Jean Plaidy - The Red Rose of Anjou

Clarence shrugged his shoulders. ‘He is very young,’ he said. ‘He worships Edward blindly. He even says he likes this marriage because it is what Edward wants.’

‘It is true he is young,’ said Warwick, ‘and therefore you and I need not concern ourselves with him yet. I am glad he has left us for now we can talk as men.’

Clarence smiled, well pleased. ‘I knew you had something of importance to say to me.’

‘Indeed I have. As you know, I have made your brother King of England.’

‘I know you are called the King-Maker.’

‘And rightly. It would seem, my lord, that if we allow matters to go on as they are you and I...and young Richard who will not listen...yet...will be the subjects of the Woodvilles, for all these marriages they are making are going to make them more powerful than any of us...even the King.’

‘I’ll not tolerate that.’

‘I thought you would not.’

‘What then?’

‘Your brother is not so secure on the throne that he can afford such a marriage. There is one other...’

‘Henry...poor old Henry...the prisoner in the Tower.’

‘A figurehead, nothing more. And we would have an heir.

Not Margaret’s bastard...for bastard I believe him to be. Henry could never have begotten a son and she was friendly first with Suffolk and then with Somerset... There would be an heir...’ Warwick was looking intently at Clarence, whose eyes widened as he grasped the Earl’s meaning.

Clarence on the throne! Why not? He was Edward’s brother and in fact if Edward did not produce a child he was next in line.

It was a glorious prospect.

‘Well?’ he said almost imperiously as though the crown was already on his head.

‘The King of France would be our ally. It would be necessary to get his help. We should also bring back Margaret to work for us...’

‘With the Prince of Wales...’

‘Why shouldn’t they work for us? Although the people detest her they like to have everything in order. If we could bring out Henry and ride with him into battle...and bring Margaret and the so-called Prince back to England...’

Clarence’s eyes sparkled. He loved intrigue and as he thought of the possibilities of this he was overcome by excitement. He had always been jealous of Edward. His mother, his father, everyone had marvelled at Edward’s good looks and charm, and it had not been easy for one of Clarence’s nature to have such a brother.

And now Edward had been a fool! He had married that lowborn woman; he had offended Warwick and everyone knew that Warwick had put him on the throne. Edward had at last shown that he was not so clever. And Clarence was going to show that he was clever, very clever indeed.

Warwick was smiling. How easy it was. Henry would be much more malleable. Imagine Clarence on the throne! Still, it might never come to that.

Warwick went on: ‘I have long known your regard for my elder daughter Isabel.’

Clarence was smiling secretly. It was so obvious. Cunning old Warwick. Make Clarence King and his daughter Isabel Queen.

‘My lord,’ he said, ‘how well you have guessed my feelings. I have always had the highest regard for Isabel and of late my heart has become deeply involved.’

‘I have been thinking that a match between you two would be a very desirable outcome for you both.’

‘You have guessed my heart’s desire.’

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.

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 traitor 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.