Jean Plaidy - The Sun in Splendour

‘There is Warwick. What will he do?’

‘As I see it Warwick’s power is on the wane. This marriage will show others that as well as Warwick.’

‘And do you think they will stand aside and give up their power?’

‘They will have no alternative. We shall create new lords to stand by the King. They will be the ones who have the power.’

‘New lords?’

‘The Woodvilles, my dear daughter. We have a large family. This marriage is going to bring good ... not only to you but to us all.’

‘I shall not believe it until it happens.’

‘That will be very soon. Now I must make sure we are ready when he comes.’

It was the end of April. Never had the trees flowered more richly. The horsechestnut, the hornbeam, the alder and the birch with the wild cherry were bright with springtime blossom. The birds seemed to have gone wild with joy as though they knew this was a time for rejoicing.

So thought Edward as he left his company at Stony Stratford and rode over to Grafton where Jacquetta was waiting for him.

‘All is ready?’ asked Edward.

‘My dear lord, I have forgotten nothing.’

‘Where is Elizabeth?’ he demanded.

‘She is waiting for you.’

‘Take me to her.’

There she was in a blue robe looking very much as she had under the oak in Whittlebury Park, her long hair falling about her shoulders.

Edward took her eagerly into his arms.

‘My love,’ he said, ‘at last. It has been long waiting for this day.’

‘My dear husband,’ replied Elizabeth. ‘I too have waited for this day.’

‘Let us get on with the ceremony,’ said Edward. ‘There must be no more delay.’

Jacquetta was well prepared. She led him and Elizabeth to a chamber where a priest was waiting. There were also present two gentlewomen of Jacquetta’s household and a young man who would sing with the priest.

The ceremony was performed and there at Grafton Manor, Elizabeth Woodville became the wife of Edward the Fourth.

As soon as the ceremony was over Jacquetta conducted the married pair to the bridal chamber which she had prepared.

Cursing because he must leave Grafton Edward rode back to Stony Stratford.

Hastings was astonished to find him so preoccupied.

‘You have enjoyed good hunting, my lord,’ he said. ‘I see that.’

‘Yes, Hastings, yes,’ said Edward shortly and returned to his own chamber.

He was married. Elizabeth was his. There would be consequences but he did not care. It was worth it. It was the only way with a virtuous woman like Elizabeth. She was wonderful; she was beautiful; and he cared nothing for Warwick or any of them. He had said he would marry where he wanted to and he had.

The next day he said casually to Hastings: ‘Before we move I shall send a message to Rivers and tell him I would like to stay a while at Grafton to enjoy some hunting in Whittlebury.’

‘A pleasant spot,’ replied Hastings and thought: So the Lady Elizabeth has been amenable after all. It must be the case. So many of them were reluctant at first. They thought it added to the pleasure of the chase.

And so to Grafton.

There Lord Rivers greeted him and there was an especial warmth in the greeting his lady gave to the King.

Elizabeth did not appear. I believe the virtuous lady is not at home, thought Hastings. In which case he probably does like the hunting. He seems on special terms with the lady Jacquetta but she is a little too mature to interest him I should have thought.

So discreet was Jacquetta that no one guessed that when they had retired she conducted the King to her daughter’s bedchamber.

‘I pray she is pregnant before the storm breaks,’ said Jacquetta to her husband. ‘The people will at least be more lenient at the prospect of an heir.’

Her husband, less adventurous than his wife, was very alarmed by what they had done without consulting him.

But Jacquetta shook her head. ‘You will see what good comes of it for the family,’ she told him.

And so Edward spent four days at Grafton where he was conducted every night to Elizabeth’s chamber.

It was with great reluctance that he tore himself away. It was necessary. Warwick was waiting for him in the North.

He would tell no one – not even Hastings. As yet the marriage should be a secret; and although it could not remain so for long, he must choose the right moment to make it known.

In the meantime he could think of Elizabeth, long for Elizabeth and take every opportunity of being with her.

He was deeply in love as he had never been before. He regretted nothing.

Edward paused at Leicester where he received news of battles in the North.

‘It will be necessary for us to gather together more men,’ he said. ‘We should tarry here awhile until we have a larger army. I should think that in a week or so we should be ready.’

Hastings was amused. Groby Castle was not very far – an hour or so’s riding and of course Groby Castle was part of that estate which Edward had so nobly returned to the widow of his old enemy Lord Grey.

Hastings smiled inwardly. So the ice maiden had relented. She had melted before the warmth of kingly passion. He was not surprised. It had happened that way before. He would help his friend all he could in his adventuring.

So they rested awhile at Leicester while Edward enjoyed a clandestine honeymoon riding over to Groby every day and staying there until early morning of the next.

It was charming, thought Hastings, but really there was no need for the lady to be so coy.

Warwick of course was getting impatient and they could not rest for ever and they had to go all too soon for Edward, whose passion was growing instead of abating. A very unusual state of affairs, thought Hastings. The lady must indeed be a real charmer. Perhaps when Edward tired of her – and he inevitably would – he, Hastings, might make her acquaintance.

Poor Edward, he was indeed downcast and it was impossible to lift his spirits. One thing Hastings had observed and that was that references to Lady Grey were coldly received, which indicated that the King undoubtedly was emotionally involved.

By the time the party reached York, Montague had won the battles of Hedgley Moor and Hexham and he and Warwick had suppressed other small risings in the area.

Edward congratulated Montague and created him Earl of Northumberland. His victories had been spectacular. He had completely defeated Somerset at Hedgley Moor and at Hexham had been confronted by an army with which rode King Henry himself. The victory there seemed to have crushed the Lancastrian cause. Many of its leaders were killed. Unfortunately Henry himself had managed to escape.

‘We must find Henry,’ said Warwick. ‘While he is at large there will be men to rally to his cause and that means danger. I shall not be happy until we have him in our hands.’

‘He is too feeble to fight,’ said Edward.

‘Aye, but he will find others to fight for him. I like it not that he should be free – fugitive though he might be. Then there is the Prince, his son.’

‘A boy!’

‘Boys grow up. Let it be known that there will be big rewards for any who deliver Henry to us. I wonder what is brewing in Margaret’s mind? I’ll rest better when you have an heir which brings us back to the subject of your marriage. It must take place soon. We should let nothing stand in its way.’ Edward nodded. The moment for revelation had not yet arrived.

They came south. Warwick was intent on preparations for the French marriage. It seemed as though he were thinking of nothing else. It could not be long before he must be told for Edward could not allow him to go to France and draw up the contracts.

There was a matter for concern over the currency. There was a scarcity of bullion in the country and it was agreed that new coins must be minted. Hastings who was Master of the Mint had made Edward see the necessity for the changes and Edward threw himself into the scheme with enthusiasm. It was a success and in addition to the mints in London, Canterbury and York new ones were needed and were set up in Norwich, Coventry and Bristol.

The people did not like getting used to the new values of nobles, royals, angels and groats; but they accepted the changes as necessary; and Edward found that the matter took people’s minds off the vexed one of a foreign marriage for a while.

But it could not be delayed for much longer and the moment came at a council meeting which Warwick had called at Reading, Warwick’s main purpose being to settle the final details before the embassy left for France to make the last arrangements for the King’s marriage.

Edward was ready. I am the King, he thought. And I will let them know it – all of them and in particular Warwick.

Warwick spoke at length as usual. Everyone was in agreement that it was time the King was married. The country needed an heir and the King would agree that it was his duty to provide it.

Edward said with the utmost grace that he was entirely in agreement with them. There was nothing he wanted more than to give the country an heir and he had already chosen his bride.

He was conscious of the tension in the room. Warwick was studying him with some puzzlement.

‘I will have Elizabeth Woodville, the daughter of Lord Rivers, and none other.’

There was an astonished silence. At length one of the councillors spoke. ‘She is a beautiful and virtuous lady, but not suitable to be the Queen of England.’

‘Not suitable!’ cried Edward. ‘Why not? She is the one I have chosen for my Queen.’

‘She is not the daughter of a duke or an earl.’

‘Her mother was the Duchess of Bedford. She is of the noble House of Luxembourg.’

‘The Duchess of Bedford married a humble squire, my lord.’

‘Have done,’ cried Edward. ‘There is nothing you can say that will move me, for I have already married the lady.’

The astonishment in the council chamber was so overwhelming that no one had anything to say.

The King walked out without looking at the Earl of Warwick who was sitting staring ahead.

So the King was married! First the Court, then the country was agog with the news.

How had she managed it? She had bewitched the King. Stories were circulated. He had tried to seduce her; she had threatened to kill herself with a dagger if he approached her; he had been trapped into marriage. How could an accomplished libertine be so securely trapped? There was one answer. It was witchcraft. Jacquetta, Lady Rivers – the Duchess of Bedford that was – had brought this about and all knew that she was a sorceress. There was wild conjecture as to how she had slipped a potion into his wine when he visited Grafton; how he had been led as a sleepwalker to attend that ceremony which had made humble Elizabeth Woodville a queen.

Yes, that was the favourite theory. It was done by sorcery.

The people were inclined to smile at their King. They did not like foreigners. Heaven knew the last King’s marriage had brought them the virago from Anjou. They wanted no more like her.

‘It is a love match,’ said the people of London. ‘God bless his handsome face. He has fallen in love with her and why should these mighty nobles try to spoil his happiness by bringing over a French woman for him. God bless the King and God bless the Queen if she is the one he wants.’

But whatever was said everyone was talking of the King’s marriage.

Richard was back at Middleham. He liked the fresh northern air and it was good to see the Countess and his second cousins again. Francis Lovell, son of Lord Lovell who was also being brought up at Middleham, was there and he and Francis were great friends. There was a warmth of affection for him at Middleham which he had not quite found in his own home.

There was always a great deal to talk about when he returned after being away. He, Francis and Anne would ride out on the Yorkshire moors and sometimes lie stretched on the grass while their horses drank from a stream and they could talk of what they would do in the future. Sometimes Isabel was with them, but she was delicate and tired rather easily. So did Anne, but she was so eager to be with the boys that she tried to forget her weakness. Richard often thought how strange it was that a strong man like the Earl of Warwick should have only two weak daughters, and not one son to bear his name.