Hatred superseded grief.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.
‘Go into the villages and hamlets,’ she said, ‘Search out boys with talent. Let them know that if they want to become musicians there is a place for them at Court. They will be paid good wages and will never want.’
When the boys began to arrive Henry showed an interest in them and their studies. He had always believed in teaching and bringing out the abilities of any who possessed them. There was J no doubt that this had been an excellent idea.
There were some who wanted to go into the Church. Henry had a special interest in these. He promised to advance them and did so, and took a great interest in their progress. Margaret moved to Greenwich to be nearer London—but not too near for the Londoners were ardent Yorkists, and she was anxious not to attract too much attention to herself and the King at this stage. It was important, she felt, to lull the Yorkists into a sense of security. Let them think they were in command. So they were, but not for long, she promised herself.
She rejoiced in Henry’s definite recovery, slow though it was: People were drifting to Greenwich. There were the sons of fathers who had been slain at St. Albans. They thirsted for revenge with a passion which almost matched Margaret’s. She encouraged them. One day it will be a different story, she told them in fervour. It will be for us to command them. And then it will be to the Tower in preparation for the scaffold for some.
York, Warwick and Salisbury, they haunted her dreams.
The day will come, she promised herself And then no mercy. She found pleasure in inventing torments for them. Henry would have been horrified if he knew what was in her mind. He had always been squeamish. Perhaps that was why he had all but lost his throne.
Never mind. He was a good and loving man. He would obey his wife. And then when her son was of age he would be a fine strong King, for she would bring him up to be just that.
In the meantime it was a matter of treading warily—which was very difficult for a woman of her temperament. But she was doing well.
In Greenwich they talked constantly of the day when they would be strong enough to defeat York.
‘We’ll have his head on London Bridge, never fear,’ said Margaret. ‘But not a word of this before the King. The King
is a saint. He would die himself rather than shed anyone’s blood. That is why he needs us...to help him govern.’
They were beginning to see in Margaret a leader. It was incongruous that this small woman with the dainty hands and the long fair hair and the eyes which flashed blue fire when she talked of what was in store for her enemies, should be the one to lead them. But such was the power of her resolution, such her eloquence, such her burning determination that they were beginning to accept her.
Henry the new Duke of Somerset had recovered from his wounds and was constantly at her side. She was going to put him in his father’s place as soon as possible. It was the least she could do for dear Edmund; but apart from that she loved the new Duke for himself. He was her ardent supporter and like her he thirsted for revenge.
There were three who were very welcome at Greenwich; Henry’s stepfather, Owen Tudor, and his half-brothers, Edmund and Jasper. Henry was always delighted to see them and would be happy recalling the days when he was a little boy and Owen Tudor had taught him to ride.
But the Tudors did not come merely to talk of old times with Henry. They were staunchly for the Lancastrian cause. They were strong men—all three of them, ready to face hardship, ready to risk their lives; and for the sake of Katherine, beloved wife to one and mother to the other two, they were firmly behind Henry.