The Red Rose of Anjou - Plaidy Jean - Страница 40

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Henry lived like a recluse and a very pious one at that. He did not dress like a King but like a townsman with a round cape and a long cloak of drab colour; he refused to wear the fashionable long pointed shoes and wore the round ones which countrymen wore. When he had to be attired for State occasions he wore a hair shirt under the glittering robes. Margaret herself loved to be arrayed in splendid garments. Of course she did. Had she not suffered poverty all her life before she came to England and was she not the Queen? Moreover she was beautiful and naturally she wanted to make the most of her charms.

Henry wanted nothing for himself but he gave freely to others. He never wanted to punish evil doers—even robbers and such malefactors. He found excuses for them. It was very benevolent but it did nothing to deter the criminals. The fact was that he was a good man; he would have been at home in a monastery and it was a pity fate had set him on a throne.

He was at this time taking a great interest in his half-brothers, the Tudor children. He himself would supervise their education and make sure that they were provided for. ‘It is what my mother would have wished, God rest her soul,’ he declared. She had lived with Owen and he remembered Owen with affection. Owen was still somewhere in Wales. His mother and Owen might not have been married but, as he said to Margaret, that was no fault of the children.

Margaret shrugged her shoulders. The Tudors were of no interest to her. She had to concern herself with governing the realm, for it was becoming increasingly obvious to her that Henry was incapable of doing that.

Yet the people loved him. Everything that went wrong in the nation’s affairs was blamed on others—and particularly on the Queen.

They hated her and with every month that hatred grew.

The English were losing their French possessions to the French—and she was French. They looked for scapegoats. They had had Suffolk but they were not satisfied. They wanted others and their thoughts had come to rest on Margaret.

Who had given Maine to the French? they demanded. Who had betrayed the armies? Margaret. Of course she had. She was not working for England. She was working for her father, Rene of Anjou, and her uncle Charles, the King of France. What had happened to the Duke of Gloucester? He had died mysteriously when he had been arrested on the way to Bury. She had had a hand in that.

So there she was. The French spy in their midst, the murderess, the arrogant little Queen who ruled the poor saintly King who was too virtuous himself to see sin in others.

The rumour had started that she was a bastard and not the daughter of Rene of Anjou. What had her relationship with Suffolk been? It was useless for anyone to point out that Suffolk had been an old man and that Margaret had been on terms of great friendship with his wife. They wanted her to be not only illegitimate but immoral and they were going to do their best to make others accept this view. She was certainly the most unpopular woman in England.

She received Somerset with a show of affection. She never sought to hide the love she bore her friends any more than she did her hatred towards her enemies. Margaret prided herself on her honesty and nothing should curb it, no matter how the display of it might wound others.

‘My lady,’ said Somerset kneeling, ‘you sent for me.’

‘Rise, Edmund,’ she said. ‘It is good to see you. At least I have a friend in you.’

‘Until the end of my days.’

‘Edmund, there are disturbing rumours. Is it true York has left Ireland?’

‘I believe it to be so.’

‘For what purpose? Has this anything to do with Jack Cade?’

‘I fear it may have.’

‘Cade called himself Mortimer but it has been proved he had no connection with the Mortimers.’

‘I would not be so sure of that.’

‘Then if it was so York is a traitor to the King.’

‘York is an ambitious man.’

‘We did well to send him to Ireland. He has no right to return without our permission.’

‘What does the King say to this?’

‘The King!’ Margaret’s lips curled. ‘He says that York has been in Ireland, has proved himself a good administrator.’

‘All the more reason why he should be kept there.’

‘That’s what I tell Henry. But you say York is already on his way over.’

‘That is my information.’

‘Do you think he will make trouble?’

‘I think he is coming to prove that he had no part in the Cade rebellion. That would suggest he comes to assure you and the King of his loyalty.’

‘He had better,’ replied Margaret grimly. ‘I will take you to the King. He is very kindly disposed towards you, Edmund.’

‘For which I believe I have to thank your good grace.’

‘Henry is always ready to love my friends,’ she answered complacently.

It was true. He doted on her. Nothing would ever mean so much to Margaret as her royalty, and although sometimes she forgot that Henry had bestowed it on her, she was fond of him. Secretly she rejoiced in his weakness which enabled her to develop her strength. She never had to light Henry and never found it difficult to impose her views on him; she might have had to persuade him at times, but that had always been easy. He was delighted that he had acquired such a beautiful wife who could take her place in public affairs in fact take his place, so that he could often elude that which was distasteful to him. She was always gentle with him for the reason that he never gave her cause to be otherwise. He was not demanding in any way. He was very grateful for Margaret and he thought her interest in those about her was wonderful. She had arranged several marriages for the women of her household. If she liked them she liked them a good deal and brought those tremendous energies of hers to work for what she considered their good. She would naturally be offended if they did not agree with her and sometimes rebelled against the plans she made for them. She could become angry then, and a friend could become an enemy. She would do a great deal for her friends but she never allowed an enemy to be unaware of her resentment.

It was amazing how much force, energy and passion were contained in that small body.

Henry received Somerset with affection. Margaret was fond of him and had made Henry see what a good servant he was in spite of the unkind things which were said about him in almost every quarter.

‘We must support our friends,’ said Margaret; and he agreed with her.

‘My lord Somerset is a little disturbed about the news of York,’ said Margaret. ‘He has no right to leave Ireland without permission from you.’

‘He has done very well there,’ said Henry, ‘and I do not think he was very eager to go.’

‘Of course he was not,’ cried Margaret. ‘He wanted to be here. He liked to keep his eyes on the crown.’

‘He has been a good servant to it,’ ventured Henry.

‘He will be a good servant for just as long as it suits him.’

‘It suits all of us to serve the crown,’ replied Henry placidly.

‘It depends in what manner,’ replied Margaret shortly. ‘My lord Somerset comes here to warn us of York’s coming.’

‘Oh, we will see him when he arrives. He will bring us news of Ireland.’

Margaret raised her eyes to the ceiling in some exasperation. The gesture implied that it was useless to attempt to talk to the King.

It would be up to her...and Somerset...to act whenever York presented himself.

###

Richard knew that he was coming into trouble. He had two very good excuses for returning to England. One was that if he were to keep order in Ireland money must be sent to him. This had not been done. The other was that accusations which had been made against him as the man behind Jack Cade’s rebellion must be refuted.

He was in need of money. Although he was the greatest landowner in England his income was not enough for the upkeep of his vast estates, and since he had not been paid for his work in Ireland, he must come home to sort out his affairs. But chiefly of course it was to quell these suspicions of his being behind the uprisings. At least both these were good enough reasons. Another was too dangerous to discuss with anyone but Cecily.

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