The Red Rose of Anjou - Plaidy Jean - Страница 63

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Then he began to journey on to London.

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Warwick never lost sight of the importance of the people. It was in this that he differed from Margaret. She considered their approval a trivial matter while to Warwick it was all important. London greeted him with warmth and his brother George, who was the Bishop of Exeter, came forward to embrace him and give him the blessing of the Church. So much had Warwick’s force swollen as he marched through England that it was now nearly forty thousand strong.

There must be a service at St. Paul’s, which all the leaders would attend, and at St. Paul’s Cross Warwick addressed the multitude.

‘We have been called traitors,’ he cried. ‘We are no traitors. We are the King’s liege men and we are come to declare our innocence to the King or die on the field. All of us here will swear on the cross of St. Thomas of Canterbury that we are doing nothing which could conflict with our allegiance to the King.’

The crowd roared its approval. ‘The King, the King.’ And then: ‘Down with the Queen.’

They understood. They would not be governed by a foreign woman. They wanted good government, such as York had shown he could administer, but under the King. They wanted an end to Margaret’s favourites.

Coppini spoke to the multitude. The King must not remain blind to his country’s needs. The Yorkists had right on their side. There must be sweet reason. The King must listen to the Duke of York and to the Earls of Warwick and Salisbury. They came with good sound sense. Those who stood with them would receive special pardons for their sins. Those who stood against them were defying God’s will.

Warwick saw that it had indeed been a wise move to ingratiate himself with Coppini. The people were religious and superstitious and Coppini, he gleefully told Edward, was as good as a thousand men.

Warwick sent another message to the King as he came near to Northampton. Coppini meanwhile went among the ranks stressing the fact that if they served the great Earl of Warwick they would be granted absolution of their sins. He was sorry for the Lancastrians. They faced excommunication.

The spirits of the men were high. They could serve their earthly hero Warwick and at the same time earn the good graces of Heaven.

Victory must be certain in such a case.

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The King’s forces had been drawn up in the fields with their faces turned away from the River Nene; they were close to Delapre Abbey, busily occupying themselves digging trenches and getting the guns in their correct positions.

The King was restive. He hated war. He was glad though that Margaret was not here. She was not far away in Coventry with young Edward but at least she would be out of the battle. Margaret alarmed him; she would ride with the men like a general. Had she been here she would have been stalking through the camp, haranguing the soldiers, behaving in a way which did not exactly endear her to them. But she never understood that. She thought they were there because it was their duty to fight for their King. It was, but Henry had always understood that they needed to respect and admire that King before they could be asked to fight for him.

Warwick, now the seasoned warrior and constantly on the alert to seize the advantage, spread out his forces facing the enemy. Salisbury was in London. York had not yet arrived, so he appointed Edward to lead one wing and Thomas Fauconberg the other. He trusted Fauconberg entirely. He was connected by blood being the bastard of Warwick’s kinsman William Neville. Even at this stage Warwick sent messages into the enemy’s lines exhorting them to parley rather than fight. Let the King come forward to speak with Warwick. That was all he asked, but he was determined to speak with the King or die.

He was very much aware that if this battle ensued he would be fighting the King and he wanted no charges of treachery against him.

The battle was short. The rain began to pelt down and the King’s cannon was useless. Warwick’s instructions were always: ‘Attack the leaders and the lords, leave the commoners.’ It had proved wise on other occasions and it did now on this one. Buckingham, Egremont and Shrewsbury all lay dead on the field.

It was victory for Warwick.

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The first action Warwick took when he knew that the battle was won was to seek out the King.

Henry was found sitting passively in his tent. He was not so concerned by the fact that he had lost the battle as that so much blood had been shed.

Warwick with March and the Bastard of Fauconberg went on to their knees and swore allegiance to him. They wanted to assure him that he was still their King.

‘It would not seem you regard me as such,’ said Henry mildly, ‘when you bring a force of arms against me.’

‘My lord,’ said Warwick, ‘not against you. Never against you.’

‘To be against my armies is to be against me.’

‘My lord, all we seek is justice. The people know that. Give us a chance to state our views to the Parliament.’

‘Every man should be permitted to state his view and so shall he in my kingdom if my will be done.’

Warwick was not displeased. Here was another puppet for the master to handle.

For three days he kept Henry at Northampton and then took him to London, treating him all the time with the respect which was due to his rank.

Through the streets of London they paraded, Warwick going before the King bareheaded and carrying the sword of state.

All was well, said the people. Warwick was in command as they all knew he must be and at the same time he was the King’s very good subject. It was a happy compromise.

The Queen had disappeared. Some said she had fled to Scotland. Good riddance was the general comment. Now the King, helped by Warwick and the Duke of York, could rule wisely.

Henry stayed at Eltham and then went to Greenwich. He spent his time waiting for the Parliament to be called in hunting for exercise, reading and listening to music. Secretly he was rather pleased that Margaret was not with him. He loved her of course, as a man should his wife; she was beautiful and eager for his welfare—he knew all that, but he wished she were a little less eager for it. He wished she would leave him alone to go his own way. It was pleasant enough when he had strong men to help him govern. He was rather fond of York who was after all a kinsman, and it was quite true that he was descended from both branches of the family and one of them was in fact nearer to the crown than Henry’s own.

Then York arrived in England and for the first time actually claimed the throne.

That caused something of a turmoil and many of the lords were indignant. But Henry could see the point of the argument. He had always been a King for as long as he could remember and could not imagine anything else, and oddly he would be loth to give up the crown, burdensome as it was. On the other hand it was true that York had a claim...

When it was suggested that he should continue to wear the crown throughout his lifetime and then let it go to York he agreed.

Margaret would have been furious. What of their son? she would have wanted to know.

Poor boy, he would be happier without a crown. Crowns were no guarantee of happiness. Rather they were the source of sorrow and heartbreak.

Yes, he would agree that York was to take the throne on his death. That was the solution which would put an end to these senseless sheddings of blood.

News came that Margaret who had fled to the North had gathered an army and was marching south.

The King shook his head in sorrow. York, taking Rutland with him, marched north to meet the Queen; and Warwick with Edward stayed on in London, intending to spend Christmas with Henry.

THE PAPER CROWN

When Margaret heard of the defeat at Northampton she ground her teeth with rage. If she could only get York in her power – and most of all Warwick – she would not hesitate to have their heads. That was what she longed for more than anything.

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