The Red Rose of Anjou - Plaidy Jean - Страница 56

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The raid was successful—from the French point of view, and de Breze sailed away with booty and prisoners from whose families he hoped to collect considerable ransoms.

When it was discovered that the Queen had actually requested the help of the French—for there were spies in the royal household and Margaret, who was impulsive in her actions was also careless and some of the correspondence between her and the King of France had been intercepted—the hatred towards her intensified. She was a traitor. She was fighting for the French against the English. Their own Queen. They had never liked her. Now a wave of hatred spread through the country and nowhere was this stronger than in the county of Kent and the city of London. They blamed her for the raid on Sandwich. They blamed her for loss of trade which upset the Londoners particularly.

Margaret’s little scheme to immobilize Calais had failed dismally and had moreover harmed her reputation irreparably.

Henry was most upset and realized that Margaret, in her enthusiasm, had done a great deal of harm. He tried to explain to her and for the first time she understood that he could be firm.

He was after all the King; there were times when his royalty seemed important to him. ‘I am the King,’ he would gently remind those who sought to override him—even Margaret.

‘This warring can bring us no good,’ he declared with a certain strength. ‘I am eager to put an end to it.’

‘You never will while York lives,’ said Margaret grimly.

‘Margaret, I want no more killing, no more strife. York has a right to his opinions. He never wanted to take my place. He has said so.’

‘Said so,’ cried Margaret. ‘You would heed the word of a traitor.’

‘He is no traitor! Think of his conduct after St. Albans. He came to me, wounded as I was, and knelt before me. He could easily have killed me then.’

Margaret covered her face with her hands in exasperation.

Henry gently withdrew them. She looked into his face and saw a purpose there.

He will have to have his way, she thought; he is the King and now he is remembering it.

She listened to what he had to propose. He was going to call all the nobles to London; York, Warwick, Salisbury and with them lords like Northumberland, Egremont and Clifford who held grievances against them for the blood that was shed at St. Albans.

‘Do you want fighting in the streets of London?’

‘No,’ said Henry sternly. ‘That I shall forbid. These men are going to take each other’s hands in friendship. I shall command them to do so. I am the King.’

Margaret was astounded. She had never seen Henry look like that before.

###

Henry had realized that the path Margaret was taking would lead to civil war. She had made herself very unpopular and here were no cheers in the streets for her though they came readily enough for the Prince and Henry himself. But there was uneasy silence in the crowd when Margaret appeared. Henry feared that it could well develop into something very unpleasant and even Margaret’s life might be in danger.

He must put a stop to this conflict. He must bring about some understanding with the Yorkists. He believed in his heart that they did not want war any more than he did. It was only people who thought as Margaret did who were so thirsting for revenge that they would plunge the country into bloodshed to get it.

He decided in a desperate effort to make peace between them to summon all the leading nobles to Westminster. When they arrived they caused great consternation to the Londoners who wanted no battles fought on their precious territory. If the rival factions wanted to fight, they said, let them go somewhere else to do it.

The Yorkists were arriving in strength. Salisbury had with him five hundred men and he lodged with them in Fleet Street, and it was not long afterwards when the Duke of York came in to Baynard’s Castle with some four or five hundred.

Sir Geoffrey Boleyn, the Lord Mayor of London, was disturbed and ordered the city’s guards to watch over the property of the London merchants; he set patrols to march through the streets after dark and there was an air of tension throughout the city.

Margaret thought the King should never have attempted to call the nobles together; they would never agree; moreover the promises of the Yorkists she was sure could not be relied on. Secretly she did not want peace. She wanted revenge on York and she could not get that very easily unless there was war.

Then the loyal Lancastrians began to arrive. There were the young lords sporting their red roses led by three, all of whom had lost their fathers in the battle of St. Albans—Clifford, Egremont and Northumberland, every one of them seeking an eye for an eye. Bloodshed in their eyes could only satisfy for bloodshed.

The tension increased when Warwick, the hero of Calais, arrived in the city with six hundred trained soldiers.

Henry arranged a meeting which was to be presided over by Bishop Waynflete and Thomas Bourchier, the Archbishop of Canterbury.

The King had previously had a meeting with York, Salisbury and Warwick and was pleased to find how conciliatory they were. York insisted that civil war was the last thing he wanted. He had felt it necessary that the late Duke of Somerset should be removed from his post and it was for this reason that he had been marching to London when the affray at St. Albans had broken out. It was unfortunate that the King had been wounded and that Somerset had been killed. He was sorry too for those young lords whose fathers had been slain and could understand their grief and anger at their losses.

‘Perhaps it would be well if you showed that you truly regretted this affray,’ suggested Henry. ‘How would you feel about building a chapel at St. Albans...on the site of the battle. Masses could be said there for the souls of those men who had died there.’

The three men considered this and said they would be delighted to build a chapel for such purpose.

‘Then I think we are making some progress,’ said Henry delightedly. ‘But a little more may be demanded.’

‘What do you suggest, my lord?’ asked York.

‘I think if there was financial recompense to those families who have suffered we might get them to agree to keep the peace. Certain sums are due to you—to you, my lord Warwick, for the governorship of Calais and to you, my lord Duke, for your services as Protector. Suppose these sums were diverted to the Duchess of Somerset, to young Clifford and Egremont and others who have suffered losses.’

York, Warwick and Salisbury said that they would like a little time to consider this.

‘Not too long,’ Henry warned them. ‘The people are restive and want a declaration of peace between you all as soon as it can be arranged.’

York laughed when he was alone with his friends.

‘The chapel...yes, we can do that,’ he said. ‘That is a small matter. The money...? Well, when were you last paid, Warwick?’

‘I never have received a groat.’

‘Nor have I. So let us most magnanimously offer to these families that which would most likely never have come to us. Let us have our wages diverted to them. They can wait for them...just as we did...and I doubt they ever see the colour of the money.’

Henry was delighted. ‘You see,’ he said to Margaret, ‘how simple it is when you make the right approach. People are at heart good, but they get carried away by their passions. If only they would pause and commune with God.’

With the Yorkists being so ready to agree to a peace there was nothing the Lancastrians could do but accept.

‘There shall be a thanksgiving service at St. Paul’s,’ announced Henry with gratification.

‘And do you believe these Yorkists?’ asked Margaret with scorn in her voice.

‘I believe they want peace. York is a good man. I know him well. He is a close kinsman, remember. He really wants what is best for this country.’

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