She looked into the pale oval face, at the eyes which were shadowed with apprehension and the heart of Margaret of Anjou which alternated from being as hard as stone to being as soft as butter, began to melt.

‘There is no need to fear,’ she said. ‘You are to be with me until we can return to England. You are to be the bride of the finest young man in the world. There.’

She drew her forward and kissed her cheek.

She might hate the father – even though he was her ally now – but she could not hate this pale trembling girl.


There was a formal meeting between Anne and her husband-to-be. Edward was handsome, slim and nearly eighteen years old. He looked curiously at Anne and taking her hand kissed it in accordance with what was expected of him.

Edward had no great desire to marry but he knew this marriage was necessary and it had to be this girl because her father was the great Kingmaker who could put men on the throne and then take the throne away from them. He had been brought up to hate him because his mother had always said it was Warwick who had made Edward King. It was particularly galling to her because after the second battle of St Albans which she had won, Warwick had marched to London and claimed the throne for Edward.

That was all past history and now a glittering prospect was opening before them. To make it a possibility certain unpleasant conditions had been demanded. One was friendship with Warwick; another was the Prince’s marriage to his daughter.

But at their meeting he was agreeably surprised. She looked so gentle, so eager to please. She was pale and delicate-looking but he did not mind that. Although he himself was handsome his features were of a somewhat effeminate mould. He knew this had worried his mother who had wanted to make a warrior of him. For that reason she had made him be present when he was quite young at a bloody execution. In fact she had asked him to give the verdict on two men whom she considered had betrayed her. He vividly recalled saying what he knew was expected of him: ‘Let us have their heads.’

And the execution had been carried out in his sight. He had known then that heads were not only hacked off. There was blood ... so much blood.

Yet he had sat through it and his mother had said she was proud of him. He had to do those things because his handsome face would have done for a girl as well as a boy and he had to show that he made up in warlike spirit for what he lacked in strong and masculine looks.

And now here was Anne Neville – a quiet, self-effacing girl. He was glad of that. He would have expected the daughter of Warwick to be a forceful lady ... someone rather like his mother.

‘So they are going to marry us,’ he said.

He spoke in a friendly way and she sensed that he was as apprehensive as she was. There was an immediate rapport between them. Anne smiled and her smile beautified her face, wiping away the fear.

She is very pretty, thought the Prince. Perhaps it is not so bad after all ... even though she is Warwick’s daughter.

She thought: He looks kind, so it is not so bad ... even though he is not Richard.


At the end of July the ceremony of betrothal took place in the Cathedral of Angers. The marriage would be celebrated, Margaret of Anjou had declared, when her husband Henry the King was safely on the throne. The ceremony was binding, however, and although she was not yet quite a wife, Anne regarded the young Prince as her husband.

The Countess was delighted that Margaret had taken a liking to her daughter and she herself was finding it easier than she had believed possible to feel friendly towards the Queen.

Warwick had left for England to put his plan into action and they were all waiting with eagerness for the result. Because it was Warwick’s plan and Warwick was in charge of its success, incredible as it was, they found it easy to believe that it would succeed.

In the meantime the King of France was determined to show them that he was their friend. This of course was due to the fact that the Duke of Burgundy was Edward’s ally and the friendship between those two had become stronger since the marriage of Edward’s sister Margaret with the Duke.

They did not intend to stay in Angers and after Warwick’s departure they left for Paris. Louis had sent a guard of honour to escort them and Margaret entered Paris as a Queen. With her were her son, Anne, and the Countess of Warwick. She was happier than she had been for years.

All she wanted now was to hear that Warwick’s plan had succeeded and that she with the Prince was to return to England to take up their rightful positions there.

The streets of Paris were gaily decorated on the orders of the King and they took up their residence at the Palace of St Pol, where they lived in luxury which was all the more appreciated because of the hardships they had all so recently suffered.

Time passed slowly and each day they waited eagerly for news.

At last it came.

King Henry had been freed from the Tower and was in possession of the kingdom. Once more Warwick had succeeded.

Margaret was wild with joy; the Prince was exuberant.

‘Now we shall return to England and claim our own,’ he declared.

Anne was wondering what had happened to Edward and most of all to Richard.


Edward was in the North when news of Warwick’s arrival was brought to him. He could not believe it. Warwick – to join forces with Margaret of Anjou! Anne Neville betrothed to the Prince! He was astounded. He had always refused to believe that Warwick could really become his enemy.

He was concerned for Elizabeth and the children who were in London and to make matters more awkward Elizabeth was far advanced in pregnancy. Cecily was merely a year or so old and even the eldest, another Elizabeth, was only five. Warwick would very likely have the South-east with him, for he had always been popular there.

Edward rejoiced that Montague could be trusted to hold the North. John Neville, Lord Montague was the only Neville who had failed to support his brother, and he remained faithful to Edward. This had been a great help because Montague was one of the most successful captains in England. It was a source of great irritation to Warwick that a member of the family should not support him. But Montague had sworn allegiance to the Yorkist cause as they all had in the beginning and he was not going to break his word now just because his brother had.

At least that was before Edward had restored estates to the Earl of Northumberland which Montague had looked upon as his. For his successful campaigns he had been awarded the title of Marquis of Montague but of what use was that with only what had been called a ‘pye’s nest’ to maintain it.

Edward had forgotten this and did not realise that he had committed another of his mistakes in judging the characters of men. Montague had fought for him and stood beside him against his own brother and all he had been given was an empty title. Now Warwick had landed in England.

Edward was completely shocked when news came to him that Montague had rallied his men and called for Henry and that he was now marching to join Warwick. Edward was deserted and in the direst danger.

He was dining with his brother Richard, Hastings and Rivers when a messenger came galloping hot speed from Montague’s camp.

‘My lord, my lord,’ he cried. ‘Lord Montague has turned against you. He is already on the march. There is not a moment to lose. He is calling for King Henry and his brother and his army are with him. He is coming here to capture you and take you a prisoner to the Earl of Warwick.’

So Warwick was marching from the South and Montague, the traitor who had suddenly decided to change sides, was coming from the North. If he remained here he would be caught in a pincer movement between the two of them.

Richard was looking at him waiting for his orders. The dear boy would do everything he asked of him.

‘There is only one thing we can do,’ he said. ‘We have to escape. Come. Every second is precious. Rally the men. We must get to the coast. We’ll make our way to my sister of Burgundy. But first ... to the sea.’

Richard was wondering whether they should stay and fight.

‘A handful of us against an army!’ cried Edward. ‘There can be no more than eight hundred of us. No, brother, all the courage in the world – and I know you have that – would avail us nothing. We will go ... for the time. But it is only a breathing space. We shall be back. Then woe to Warwick.’

They were fortunate. They reached Lynn in safety and in a short while were on their way to Holland.


Elizabeth was preparing for the birth of her fourth child by Edward. She was certain this time it would be the longed-for boy. She must be grateful that she could bear children so easily and so quickly following one on another; it was a great asset in a Queen.

She had decided that the Tower would be a good place for the birth and she had had an apartment made ready there for her lying-in. It was very elaborate with crimson damask and fine Brittany linen – a room worthy of the King’s son.

Mrs Cobbe, the midwife who had attended her before and on whose skill she felt she could rely, was in attendance already. There were a few weeks to go, but one could never be sure with babies. Jacquetta had agreed with her that every precaution should be taken. Edward was in the North and she hoped that she would soon be sending joyful news to him.

There was something strange going on in the streets. She had been aware of it all day. She had gone to the window and seen them on the other side of the river gathering in crowds. The people were getting excited.

She wondered what was happening. Was Edward returning unexpectedly? He always liked to be close when his children were born.

Elizabeth was serenely content. She had still kept her hold on Edward after nearly six years of marriage; he was as devoted and as loving as ever; it was true he had his mistresses, but as that gave her a little respite from the indefatigable man she should perhaps rejoice rather than lament. She could say that she held his affections; he found in her an ideal wife. No recriminations; acceptance of his need for mistresses; agreeing with him and only asserting herself in matters which were of the utmost importance to her and which would not greatly affect him. If he knew she meddled as she had done in the marriages of her family and the case of Lord Desmond, he said nothing. She allowed him his amatory adventures and that meant a great deal to him. Of course he would not have discontinued them however much she protested but he was above all a man who liked to live in peace and that was what she allowed him to do.

Moreover she gave him children – girls so far but the boys would come.

And this by the way she carried him, so said Mrs Cobbe, was a boy; and Mrs Cobbe would not deceive her just to please her for a while. That was not Mrs Cobbe’s nature.

Her mother came into the apartment and it was immediately clear that Jacquetta was disturbed.

‘There is a great murmuring going on in the streets.’

‘What is wrong with them now?’

‘There are rumours that Warwick has landed.’

‘Warwick? He was driven out.’

‘That does not prevent his coming back. They say he has landed and is bringing an army with him.’

‘That’s impossible.’

‘No, I’m afraid not. I have kept the news from you for the last few days because I thought it was not good for you to worry in your condition. But it is getting serious now. Do you know what they are saying? Warwick has joined with Margaret of Anjou and their purpose is to put Henry back on the throne.’

‘What!’ cried Elizabeth, her face losing its delicate colour.

‘My dear, you must not distress yourself, but I think it is time we took some action.’

‘Where is Warwick now?’

‘They say he is on the way to London. They are expecting him.’

‘Warwick ... on his way here! Then what will become of us ... ?’

‘I think we are unsafe here.’

‘They would not dare to harm us ... Edward will soon be here.’

‘My dear daughter, I know you will be calm. The news is worse than I have told you. Edward has fled the country. Montague has deserted and Edward with Richard, Hastings and Anthony got away from Lynn by boat. They have gone to somewhere on the Continent.’

‘I can’t believe it. We were so ... safe.’