The Red Rose of Anjou - Plaidy Jean - Страница 46

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‘A curse on him,’ said Margaret lightly. ‘But why do we talk of that Edward when we have this little one here?’ She turned to the Duke. ‘I wonder if the sight of him might move Henry.’

‘If anything could it would be the child,’ said Somerset.

Margaret nodded. She was half fearful for something told her that Henry would not even know his own child.

There was no time for resting on her triumph.

Everyone would know now that there was something very wrong with the King if he did not appear at the christening of his son.

So it was proclaimed that the King was ill but the truth could not for long be withheld.

The christening ceremony was splendid. A costly chrisom was provided for the baby—richly embroidered in exquisitely coloured silks and studded with pearls and rich gems, but lined with linen so that the child’s delicate skin should not be scratched. There were twenty yards of cloth of gold needed to decorate the font and Margaret’s own churching-robe contained five hundred and forty sables. The cost of this was over five hundred pounds.

Margaret tried hard to live for just that day and refused to look ahead. It was not easy. The dark clouds were gathering.

###

‘So,’ said York, ‘the Queen has a son. Whose son? Not that idiot’s surely! I believe him to be impotent. In such case how is it that our beautiful Queen produces a child?’

‘Whom do you suspect?’ asked Warwick.

‘She is on very intimate terms with Somerset.’

‘He is rather old.’

‘But capable of begetting a child.’

‘She is friendly with Buckingham.’

‘Ah, she has her friends. But there must be a Regency, a protector of some sort now. Henry is incapable of governing.’

‘It is true,’ said Warwick. ‘And you, my lord, should be our Protector. As the next in line of succession—recently displaced by this little Prince—it is your due.’

‘So I thought,’ said York. ‘A Parliament must be called without delay.’

After her ceremonial churching which was attended by twenty-five of the highest ladies in the land including ten Duchesses, Margaret had left for Windsor. She had decided that it would be best for the King to stay there for a while where he could be free from too much exposure. She knew of course that the rumours were thick in the air and that very soon there would be some decision made as to who was to rule the country. As Queen she believed she should and she was going to fight for the position.

In the meantime she prayed for Henry’s return to sanity, but he still showed no sign of having the least idea where he was.

Surely the child would awaken something in him?

Young Edward was dressed in his magnificent christening robe and Margaret put him into the arms of the Duke of Buckingham. With Somerset on one side of her the three of them went into the King’s bedchamber.

He was seated in a chair, his plain unkingly clothes hanging loosely on him, his hands dangling at his sides and he was staring listlessly in front of him.

Margaret went forward and knelt at his feet.

‘Henry, Henry, it is I, Margaret, your wife. You know me. You must know me.’

He stared over her head and she felt a great urge to shake him.

‘Henry,’ she cried sharply. ‘You know me. You must know me.’

There was still no response.

‘We have a child,’ she cried. ‘A son. It is what we wanted. More than anything we wanted this son. The people are delighted. They are calling for him...and for you. You must rouse yourself.’

There was no flicker of intelligence in those lack-lustre eyes.

She returned to Buckingham.

‘Bring the baby,’ she said.

Buckingham came forward. He held the baby out to Henry, but Henry just sat there, mute and unaware.

###

It was well known that the King was incapable of governing and that he suffered from some strange illness. They did not call it madness but people were talking of his French grandfather and everyone had heard what had happened to him.

So while the King remained thus there would have to be a Protector of the Realm, a King’s Lieutenant, someone who could stand at the head of affairs until the King recovered.

As the Queen, it is my place to act for the King, thought Margaret. Her mother and grandmother had done so when the occasion arose, and she could see no reason why she should not do the same.

Matters drifted on. Christmas came and still no decision had been made and Henry remained in his strange state, unaware of anything that was going on around him.

Margaret, after having consulted with Somerset and Buckingham, decided to take matters into her own hands. With their help she prepared a bill setting out what she considered her rights.

She wanted to rule the country in Henry’s name. She would be the one to appoint whom she chose to the important posts in the government; she should have power to bestow bishoprics on members of the clergy; and she should be assigned what was necessary to keep her, the King and the little Prince in the state due to them.

Parliament pretended to consider. They were delighted by the birth ol the Prince but they were certainly not going to place more power in the hands of Margaret whom many held responsible for the disasters in France. Somerset was unpopular; he was allied with the Queen. It was decided therefore that the task must fall to one who was near to the throne and at the same time a strong man who was capable of governing: the Duke of York.

Here was triumph. Proud Cis was beside herself. She gathered her children and while she held young Richard in her arms—he was only a year old -she told them how their great father, who should really be King, was now head of the country.

‘We must make sure that he remains so,’ she said and her words were directed in particular to her tall, twelve-year-old son—handsome Plantagenet in looks, already earning a reputation for wildness—the son of whom she was most proud.

Edward declared he was ready to fight for his father’s rights and the Duke laid his hand on his shoulder and said, ‘When the time comes, my son. When the time comes.’

And it would come. They were all sure of that.

The Queen was furious. They had slighted her. She was the Queen; she had produced the heir to the throne. The Regency should have been hers.

The Duke of York wanted to play the game with caution. He declared to the Parliament that he accepted office only because he considered it his duty to do so. The King must know that— as soon as he returned to health—he, York, would stand aside.

As a man who believed he would one day be King he wanted to show his determination to uphold law and order. Kings could not rule satisfactorily without that, and he had made up his mind that one day he was going to rule.

He appointed his brother-in-law Richard, Earl of Salisbury, Chancellor. He would surround himself with friends in high places and the first thing to do was to be rid of Somerset, who was impeached and sent to the Tower.

It was hardly likely that his enemies would stand aside and allow York to rule in peace. It was soon necessary for him to march to the North and suppress disturbances where certain noblemen led by the Duke of Exeter had raised their standards against him.

During those months of his Protectorate York showed himself to be the strong man the country needed. He was cautious and well aware that there was a great deal of support throughout the country for the Lancastrians. The King was the King and the people were fond of him—imbecile though he might be. There were many stories in circulation about his clemency and his gentleness. ‘Poor Henry!’ they said. His Queen was a virago. She was French; she was extravagant; she ruled the King; but still she was the mother of the heir to the throne. York knew that the time had not come to make the great bid. In the meantime he contented himself in governing the country, which all had to admit he did with more skill than his predecessors. He had captured Exeter, and Somerset was his prisoner, but he brought neither of them to trial. He was not sure what effect that would have on the people.

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