The Red Rose of Anjou - Plaidy Jean - Страница 52

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And here they were in St. Albans. It was most uncomfortable and his forces were all at their posts under Somerset and he was with them...leading them, he supposed. He had no heart for battles.

And upon the opposite side was York with Salisbury and Warwick. They should all be friends.

The fighting had started. York had not a chance of success, Somerset had told him.

‘I know, I know,’ said Henry, ‘but no more bloodshed than is necessary.’

‘It shall be so, my lord,’ said Somerset, the light of battle shining in his eyes.

Henry closed his. Buckingham was beside him. There was noise and shouting all about him. He hated to hear men and horses in distress. They were shouting for Warwick.

‘God help us,’ said Buckingham. ‘Warwick has broken into the town.’

An arrow struck Buckingham at that moment and he fell to the ground. The King turned to him in consternation and as he did so an arrow caught him in the neck. He fell from his horse and lay on the ground bleeding profusely.

He saw that Buckingham’s face was covered in blood.

‘My poor friend,’ he murmured; and then realized that his garments were soaked in his own blood.

Someone was standing over him.

‘My lord...’

‘York. Is it York?’

‘You are wounded, my lord.’ There was real consternation in his voice.

‘Forsooth and forsooth,’ said Henry.

York knelt down beside him.

‘We are your loyal servants,’ he said.

‘Then stop this slaughter of my subjects.’

‘It shall be done,’ said York. ‘The battle is over. Victory to the King’s loyal subjects. This affray was necessary. My lord, we crave your forgiveness for any inconvenience caused to you.’

‘War is senseless,’ said the King.

‘ ‘Tis so, my lord; we would have preferred to have settled in peaceful talk.’

‘I bear you no ill will,’ said the King. ‘But stop this fighting. Attend to the wounded. Let us have done with war.’

Henry was aware of others surrounding him and he allowed himself to be lifted into a litter. He was escorted to the Abbey by York, Salisbury and Warwick and there his wound was dressed. It was an ugly one but not likely to be fatal.

When he learned of Somerset’s death he was overcome by grief He was further grieved when he heard how many of his friends had died. Lord Clifford, Lord Northumberland, and Buckingham’s son. The Earl of Dorset, son and heir of Somerset, was so badly wounded that he had to be carried away in a cart.

‘Forsooth and forsooth,’ muttered the King.

It was necessary for him to ride with them to London, York told him, that the people might see that there was no rift between them.

What could Henry do?

The victory was York’s.

###

In great suspense Margaret waited at Greenwich for news of the Battle of St. Albans.

When she saw messengers approaching she hurried down to meet them demanding: ‘What news?’

She did not have to wait to be told. She could see it in their faces.

Somerset slain. The King wounded!

That frightened her. How? Where? How badly?

An arrow in his neck! Oh, the traitors. What she would do to them if ever they came into her hands!

But the King. How ill? This was enough to send him into a stupor again.

They were marching to London. The King with York, Salisbury and Warwick, that trio of traitors. He came as their prisoner, did he? No. They treated him as their King. They were most insistent. They had no quarrel with the King. Somerset was dead. Their mission was achieved.

How sad it was to lose friends. She thought of good Suffolk and poor Alice’s suffering. And now Edmund was slain too. And his son taken away, that beautiful young man nothing but a wreck now to be carried away in a cart. She could not have borne it but for the burning anger within her. It was only the thought that one day she would take such fearful revenge that they would wish they had never been born.

Hatred superseded grief. She would fight them. She would turn their victories into bitter humiliating defeat.

She went to the royal nursery. Little Edward was sleeping peacefully, but she picked him up and held him tightly to her.

One day, my love, you will be a King. Pray God you are a stronger one than your father.

The child began to whimper, angry at being disturbed in his sleep. But she would not let him go. She sat on a stool and rocked him to and fro.

He was her hope. She was going to fight for him, and one day...one day she would have York’s head on a pike.

She put the baby into his cradle. Then she went to her apartments. She would eat nothing. She sat staring straight ahead; and thus she remained for several hours during which none of her women dared approach her.

###

There was a Parliament of course, attended by the King with York in command.

Margaret considered she was publicly insulted, for it was stated that the government as managed by the Queen, the Duke of Somerset and their party had been an oppression and injustice to the country.

At Greenwich Margaret gave vent to her fury, but to what avail? The King was petitioned to appoint the Duke of York as Protector of the Realm and Henry agreed.

He could do nothing else, Margaret knew. York had him in his power. Oh, but one day...one day...

At least they had not made a prisoner of him. They continued to pay lip-service to him. They declared that he was the true t I King and that they had no wish but to serve him and the ^ I country.

Fools, to believe them, thought Margaret. There is one thing York wants and that is the crown.

Then she heard that she, with the Prince, was to go to Hertford where the King would join her. There were signs that his distressing malady was returning.

So he came to her to be nursed back to health. The arrow wound was not serious and was healing now. But he was ill, there was no doubt of that. He did not sink into a complete torpor as he had before. He would talk a little and read a good deal. But there was no doubt that his mind was failing.

‘There is nowhere he would rather be than in the Queen’s loving hands,’ said York.

So they were together; and she was touched by the sight of him. He was delighted to be with her and his son.

‘This is peace,’ he said.

LOVE DAY

Margaret had a strong purpose now. Revenge on her enemies. She was going to destroy those three men. York, Salisbury and Warwick. They were her enemies as Gloucester had never been, and she would not rest until she had had her revenge on them. This was something she could not do alone. She realized this. If the King lost his reason completely or died she would be desperately alone with a son to fight for and without adequate means to do so. She needed Henry, a sane Henry, but not too strong because he must be guided by her.

She was going to make the crown safe for her son.

Henry’s state of health gave her great cause for alarm. He must not be allowed to drift into that torpor which amounted to idiocy. She was prepared now. She would recall William Hately and together they would bring Henry back to health, for Hately’s sensible advice had worked wonders before and it still would, she was sure.

She sought to interest Henry in their child. The little boy was very useful. His charming ways enchanted all, and Margaret was more passionately devoted to him every day, loving him with all the fierceness of her nature. Nobody was going to take the crown away from him.

So she needed Henry, a live, sane Henry.

Once more she devoted her days to the care of these two. She discussed with William Hately the best course of action and because of Henry’s passionate love of music, on the doctor’s advice she sent her sheriffs out into the country to look for musicians. She thought young ones would interest the King because he so much enjoyed encouraging the young.

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