Jean Plaidy (6 page)

The party arrived from York and, to my great joy, riding with my father and uncle was Richard.

In the great hall I was seated at the long table with my mother and Isabel, and Richard was with us. He gave me his rare smile and I knew that meant that he was glad to see me.

All the feasting…the drinking…the dancing…the splendor indicated one thing: the power of the Nevilles was by no means diminished. The local peasantry had the earl's permission to go to the kitchens and take as much meat as they could carry off on their knives; and for that they were ready to throw their caps in the air at any time and shout “A Warwick” as often and as enthusiastically as the great earl wished.

It was a reminder to all that the Nevilles were not to be treated with disdain. The king might travel about the south, smiling and courteous, winning the approbation of the people, but this was the north and the Nevilles were the lords of the north. They had wrested the title from the Percys; and these sturdy, down-to-earth people were not the sort to be seduced by a few superficial smiles.

I could see that Richard was not happy. I longed to talk to him, but I could not do so at the table before my mother, Isabel, and the guests who sat with us. But I determined to find an opportunity of doing so before he went away.

It had always been a habit of his to go off alone somewhere and eventually I found him. He was walking in the castle grounds and I called to him.

“Richard, I'm here. Or do you want to be left alone?”

“I don't mind you,” he said.

“I was hoping to have a talk with you. Oh, Richard, how deep is this trouble between the king and my father?”

“Your father is making it deep.”

“Has he no reason?”

“I suppose there are some who would say he has.” He turned anxious eyes to me. “You know of my brother's marriage?”

“Everyone knows.”

“A man must marry where he will.”

“Must not a king think of his country?”

“My brother thinks of his country. They are demanding that he get an heir. That is what he is preparing to give them.”

“But I have heard that my father was negotiating with the King of France for a suitable marriage. The king allowed him to do so while he was already married.”

“I know. Perhaps the king should have told your father. But it is more than that, Anne. The king does not wish others to tell him what he must do. He decides for himself. That is what he means your father to understand. He is sorry to be on ill terms. He does not forget the good service your father has given him in the past and the friendship between them. But he will make his own choice and he has chosen this queen.”

“So you, too, are against my father?”

He shook his head. “I have admired your father more than any man except my brother. They have both been ideals to me. I have often wished that I could be like them. But your father must remember that it is my brother who is the king. The people shout for Warwick in the streets, it is true. I believe that, next to my brother, they respect him more than any other man. It grieves me as much as it does you that they should not be good friends.”

“What does George say?”

He was silent for a few seconds. Then he said slowly, “George does not like the queen. George is always…a little critical. Secretly, I think he would like to be king himself. He is handsome and clever…and people like him. But he should know that not he nor anyone…could compete with Edward.”

“How loyal you are to the king!”

“I would die rather than fail him. I have taken for my motto ‘Loyaulte me lie!' I think loyalty is the most important virtue and that is what I have for Edward.”

“He is fortunate to have such a brother.”

“Nay. It is I who am the fortunate one.”

“Tell me. Why does George not like the queen?”

“George would not like any queen my brother had, for if she produces a son, George would be a step backwards from the throne. Now, you see, he is next in line. I believe that is at the heart of George's dislike. Besides…”

“Besides, what?”

“Well, the queen is haughty. People have to kneel before her all the time. It is what happens. She was of no importance before her marriage. Now she is the queen and she wants no one to forget it.”

“That will not make her very popular.”

“I believe she does not crave popularity. She just wants to be the Queen of England. Surely that is ambition enough.”

“Richard, I believe you do not like her either.”

“Have I shown that?”

“Yes, you have.”

He hesitated for a moment, then he said, “The Woodvilles are arrogant. They have come too high too quickly. They are pushing themselves into the highest positions in the land; and the queen is seeking great marriages for all her relations…her sons…her brothers. There are many of them. People are saying that before long we shall have the Woodville clan ousting…”

“…ousting the Nevilles,” I finished.

“Yes, they are saying that. We shall be ruled by the Woodvilles and the Woodvilles are unfit for high office.”

“So you see why my father is so upset.”

“I understand, and it grieves me. My brother has been kind to your father. He stormed into the king's chambers and actually dared berate him. My brother was so calm…so reasonable! ‘Poor Warwick!' he said. ‘I should have told him I was married and not let him go on making plans with the old Spider. Yes, I understand his wrath. He has been of good service to me and I am ready to forget that outburst. I am ready to be his good friend again.' There! You see how forgiving he can be. He does not want conflict with his old friend. If only your father would be friends again, my brother would be ready.”

“He will, I am sure.”

“He must be.”

“And in the meantime, does that mean that you will not be staying at Middleham?”

“I am here now only for this celebration.”

“I am so glad you came, Richard. Oh, how I wish for a return to the old days before there was this trouble.”

“We were always good friends, you and I, Anne,” he said. “Let us always be.”

“That is what I want. Very much I want it.”

“We will agree then that, whatever happens, you and I will always be friends.”

How readily I agreed to that.

         

We returned to Middleham and Richard said good-bye to me and went to join his brother.

Life settled down to what it had been. There were boys in the tiltyard and in the fields doing their martial exercises, but I was not interested because Richard was not among them.

I was learning more about what was going on. The quarrel between my father and the king had made me more aware. There were times when there was no sign of the rift, but it was there, and occasionally it was brought to our notice.

When there was a visiting embassy—from Bohemia, I think—and the king was anxious to entertain the emissaries lavishly, we heard that he had offered them a banquet with fifty different courses of the finest foods. Everyone gasped with wonder until they heard that the Earl of Warwick had invited the visitors to Warwick Court where sixty courses were offered; and that because of the earl's generous gesture in allowing the people to come to the kitchens and take away the surplus food, there was rejoicing in the streets because Warwick was in town. The cries of “A Warwick!” “Long live the great earl!” were heard far into the night. A reminder to the king that, although he wore the crown—put on his head by Warwick—the earl was still to be reckoned with and the quarrel with the king had not diminished his popularity with the people; and they were of paramount importance when it came to keeping a king on the throne.

In spite of his half-hidden rancour, my father stood sponsor when Elizabeth Woodville produced her first child—a daughter, named Elizabeth after her mother; and George, Archbishop of York, performed the ceremony.

When it was suggested that Charles, Count of Charolais, heir to Philip, Duke of Burgundy, might marry the king's sister, Margaret, it was the Earl of Warwick who was the natural emissary sent to arrange the match. He was the best of ambassadors, on good terms with the King of France and not on ill ones with Burgundy. The king must be aware that it would not be good for him if there was warfare between him and his old friend.

My mother now talked to us more freely. Isabel was growing up and, as her sister, constantly in her company, I might have appeared older than my years. In any case, I was present at some of these conversations.

“I do wish this trouble between them was over,” said my mother. “They really cannot do without each other. Sometimes I think your father is on the point of forgiving the king, and beginning to see that the marriage was the impetuous act of a young man in love.”

Isabel sighed. She could not forget that the king had seen her and he had looked at her in what she thought was a special way for her alone. I hoped she was now realizing that there was nothing special about it; it was his way of looking at all women, young or old. It was the secret of his charm, for what woman could resist such looks that implied that she was desirable above all others—until she realized they were given to all members of her sex.

We were all hoping that my mother was right; and indeed, when my father was away from home on a mission for the king, it seemed that she might be.

Two events took place that brought my father's scheme out into the open, and after that even I knew that there was little hope of reconciliation.

My cousin George, son of John Neville, was betrothed to the heiress of the Duke of Exeter—a match that had my father's complete approval. However, the queen had other ideas for the Exeter fortune and thought it would do very well for the elder of her two sons—at that time Sir Thomas Grey. As the king gave in to the queen in almost everything she demanded, she succeeded in this matter; and my father's wrath was great.

He was at Middleham when he heard the news from his brother, and he did not have to hide his rage from his wife and family.

“What are we coming to?” he demanded. “It is only a short time ago when the queen's father was appointed Treasurer of England and made Earl Rivers. Whatever that rapacious witch asks for is given her!”

But the real cause of my father's disquiet, and what made him give up trying to hide his real motives, was that the king was planning to find a bride for his brother George, Duke of Clarence, and he had settled on Mary, daughter of Charles of Burgundy.

My father had other plans for Clarence.

         

George, Duke of Clarence, came to Middleham. His reception was as grand as that given to the king when he had visited us.

“Well,” said Isabel, smiling secretly, “is he not the king's brother?”

There was feasting and revelry with the usual entertainments, but what struck me most was the show of affection between my father and the duke. They were cloistered together: one saw them walking arm in arm in the gardens and they were always deep in discussion.

This meant something, I was sure, and I was soon to discover what. It was through Isabel, as usual.

I had retired for the night and my woman had just left me when Isabel came in. She looked very pretty, radiant in fact.

“The most wonderful thing has happened,” she announced. “I am going to be married.”

“Well,” I said. “It was certain to come sooner or later. You are no longer
very
young.”

“Why don't you ask who my bridegroom is to be?”

“You know you are longing to tell me.”

“It is George.”

“So that is what all this is about.”

“Yes. He came here to ask me. Our father is delighted. So everything is just as it should be.”

“And the king is pleased?”

She looked at me blankly. “The king…?”

“Wouldn't he have to give his consent? George is his brother.”

“Of course the king will be pleased, and if my father wants it, it will be.”

“It is all very mysterious. What is going on between our father and the king, I mean. They are not the friends they once were.”

“Oh, be silent. You are jealous.”

“I'm not. I'm just hoping it is going to be all right.”

She sat on my bed. “I shall go to court. I shall wear wonderful gowns. George is so good-looking, is he not? They say he is remarkably like the king. Just suppose the king did not have any heirs…”

“He already has a daughter. You are going too fast. Let us get you married first. When is the wedding to be?”

“Hush. It is not to be generally known at first. You forget who George is.”

“I certainly do not.”

“There are all sorts of things that have to be arranged. It is a secret so far.”

“So you immediately tell me!”

“You don't count.”

“Thank you.”

“I mean you are my little sister, and haven't I always told you things?”

“You have…now and then.”

She flung her arms around me and hugged me. “I'm so happy, Anne. I always loved George, you know. He is rather wonderful, is he not? He's always so merry and good at things…just everything.” She sighed. “He would make a very good king.”

I could not help feeling a little uneasy—not only because of my father's strained relations with the king, but there was something else. I confessed it to myself now. There was something I did not like about George. He was not exactly shifty but watchful. He had too much charm and it was not like the king's, which appeared to be so spontaneous. There had always seemed to me to be something calculating about George. I had noticed a rather petulant look when his brother Edward's name was mentioned. I had a feeling that he was furious with a fate that had not made him the first born. But then, perhaps I was comparing him with Richard.

But I had to rejoice with Isabel. She was so pleased with life. She had wanted to be married for some time, but it had to be to the right person. It seemed to her now that George was that person. Brother to the king! She was thinking that a glorious future awaited him…and her.