‘You shall hear with all speed, my lady,’ Somerset promised.
‘I trust it may be soon.’
Her mouth had hardened, and she clenched her hands as she thought what punishment she would inflict on this man who had dared to challenge the crown.
Beside the Duke of York rode his eldest son Edward. The boy was thirteen, young perhaps to ride out in what could well become a battle, but Edward was a precocious boy and had been from his early childhood. A son to be proud of, thought York—with a great deal of his mother in him. And best of all he had those fair, handsome Plantagenet looks. He was a Little wild, but only as boys should be, even at his age casting a speculative eye on the women and his father had heard that he had already indulged in a few adventures. Over young, perhaps. But in such times a boy must grow up quickly.
He was proud of young Edward. He wanted him to understand the position. He talked to him as they rode along.
He trusted there would be no conflict, he said. What they really wanted to do was show strength and by so doing remind their enemies that they could be a force to be reckoned with. ‘If we can drive that home without bloodshed, so much the better,’ he said.
Edward listened. He believed his father should be King. His mother had said so often enough. Edward admired his father almost to idolatry, and to be riding beside him on an occasion like this filled him with pride. Secretly he hoped there would be a battle. He wanted to distinguish himself, to make his father proud of him.
‘The King is ill advised,’ went on York. ‘The Queen is against us and she works with the Duke of Somerset who has done great harm to this country.’
Edward listened avidly. He hoped he would come face to face with the Duke of Somerset. He would cut off his head with his sword and present that head to his father.
‘Always remember,’ said the Duke, ‘never to indulge in battle unless it is the last resort.’
‘Yes, my lord,’ said Edward, still dreaming of Somerset’s head.
The Duke was dismayed when he heard that the King was marching north at the head of an army to meet him. This was the doing of Somerset and the Queen. Henry would never willingly have ridden out to battle.
The Duke discussed with Warwick and Salisbury what should be done.
‘There will be bloodshed if the armies clash,’ said York. ‘This will be the opening battle of a civil war. The King does not want that any more than we do.’
‘Somerset wants it. The Queen wants it.’
‘Somerset knows that we are going to ask the King to hand him over to us. He must be impeached. We have to save the country. That is all we ask. Then we shall form a Council and rule under the King.’
‘The Queen won’t give up her favourite and Somerset will certainly do everything to prevent himself falling into our hands.’
‘I want to let the King know that this is no battle against him. It is no fight for the crown. I want him to know that we are loyal subjects, devoted to the welfare of our country and because of this we cannot stand aside and allow it to be ruined.’
By the time they had reached the Hertfordshire town of Ware Richard had made up his mind that he must let the King know his true intentions. When a subject—and such a subject—set himself at the head of what could be called a small army it might well seem that he was intent on making war.
The King must understand.
He wrote to Henry. He explained clearly that he had not wavered in his loyalty to him. His grievance was that he had been excluded from the government by the Duke of Somerset who had charges to answer for. Every man who rode with him was loyal to the King.
He called one of his trusted messengers to him and gave him a letter.
‘Ride with all speed,’ he said. ‘It is imperative that the King reads this before another day has passed.’
York was confident that Henry would be only too delighted to call off any confrontation.
The messenger rode off and very shortly came to the royal camp.
He immediately disclosed the fact that he came on an urgent message from the Duke of York and he had a letter which he wished to deliver into the King’s hands.
He was immediately conducted to the royal tent. The King was sleeping but a man who was clearly a very noble lord came to ask his business.
‘I come with an important letter for the King from my master the Duke of York. It is to be delivered into the King’s hands.’
‘Give me the letter and I will make sure that it is given to the King as soon as he awakes.’
‘Thank you, my lord.’
‘And I will give orders that you are given safe conduct back to Ware.’
The messenger was grateful and retired, his duty as he thought accomplished.
He did not know that the man who had intercepted the letter was Somerset himself
A stroke of luck, thought the Duke. Who knew what the King would do on receipt of a letter like this? But perhaps one did know. He would say, ‘Welcome, my dear cousin of York. Let us forget our grievances...’ and before long York would have a place on the Council.
‘Never, while I have a say in matters!’ murmured Somerset.
He broke the seals and read the letter. So York had no quarrel with the King! He was a loyal subject! He did not want to usurp the throne. He wanted to serve under the King. But there was a note of warning however. A happy state of peace could only be achieved if certain people were delivered up for judgment.
‘Indeed I see your game, master York. You will be a good subject if the King will hand me over to you and your friends. And what for, eh? No, thank you. My head is too useful to me for me to wish to be parted from it.’
He held York’s letter in the flame of a flare.
The King should never know it had been sent.
So the King had ignored his letter. Very well, there was nothing more to be done but try to settle this matter by force of arms.
News came that the King had set out with an army and had halted at Watford.
‘We will try once more,’ said York. ‘If we fight we have started a war. It is worth another effort. But Henry must understand that Somerset must be delivered up to face the judgment of his peers.’
‘Deliver up those whom we accuse, my lord,’ wrote York.
‘When you have done this you will be served as our most rightful King. We cannot give way now until we have them. We shall fight and either get them or die in the attempt.’
Somerset was with the King when he received the letter for he had been unable to intercept it this time. The King grew pale.
‘What do they mean, Edmund’ They want you, of course. What can we say to them?’
‘My lord will not be dictated to by rebel subjects.’
‘I must not be. I think I had better see York. It would be easier to talk.’
‘My lord, it would be useless. Let me draft a reply for you. I will say that you resent York’s overbearing tones and perhaps that will bring him to his senses.’
‘Yes, we must bring him to his senses. Do that, Edmund.’
Edmund’s reply to York was not quite what the King had intended.
‘I shall know what traitors dare be so bold as to array my people in my own land. I shall destroy them...every mother’s son, for they are traitors to me and to England. Rather than give up any lord that is here with me, I shall this day myself live or die.’
When York read this he was astounded. It was so unlike the King who had always shuddered at the thought ol bloodshed and had once made his servants remove the decaying quarters of a traitor which were being displayed in the city of London. He was telling them that they were traitors and what their fate would be if they fell into his hands.