‘I should think not,’ cried Margaret. ‘Such marriages could bring us nothing but good.’
‘I do not think the King of Scotland would agree.’
‘He certainly cannot if he does not know what is proposed.’
‘My dear, if it is your wish...’
‘It is and it should be yours. Have you thought what these marriages could mean to us? There is always trouble on the Border’ With Henry Beaufort up there and his brother with him, we should have friends, not enemies, in the Scots.’
‘If it would mean peace, my dear lady, I would give every encouragement to it.’
Margaret was pleased. The King’s approval was not necessary to her but she always felt that she liked to have it.
She set negotiations in motion. It was a disappointment that there was a lukewarm response from the King of Scots which might well mean ‘Don’t meddle in these matters and keep your matchmaking schemes within the bounds of your own country.’ If she was proposing a match with the Prince of Wales that would be another matter.
Margaret was obliged temporarily to shelve the matter. There was something of great importance with which to occupy herself, and this she determined to carry on without consultation with Henry.
She had always kept in touch with her uncle the King of France and her father the titular King of Sicily and Naples. If René was rather frivolous, the King of France was far from that. Margaret was eager to make the throne safe for Henry and she felt it could never be that while York lived. She would not be happy until she saw York’s head displayed on some prominent edifice for all to witness his defeat and humiliation. Vengeance was like a burning fire within her which could only be doused by horrible death. It did not occur to her that for the Queen of England to indulge in correspondence with an enemy of England was more than incongruous. It could be construed as treachery and in view of her unpopularity, which was already overpowering, Margaret was playing a very dangerous game.
There was one whom Margaret hated almost as intensely as she did the Duke of York and that was the Earl of Warwick. It was Warwick’s tactics which had achieved victory at St. Albans for the Yorkists. He was as dangerous as York. The only difference was that he laid no claim to the throne.
Warwick—with characteristic shrewdness—had taken over the governorship of Calais, which some said was the most important port in Europe, and if it had not been quite that before, Warwick was certainly making it so now. He was turning himself into a kind of pirate king of the Channel, and making it impossible for French ships to pass through with safety.
Margaret had already written to her uncle explaining that she did not want Warwick back in England. He was too clever, too important to the Yorkist cause and while he was in Calais he was kept out of the way. Would the King harry the port a little, making Warwick’s presence in Calais absolutely necessary to its safety. Threaten it. Make a determined set at it. At all costs keep Warwick out of England.
Again it did not occur to her that to ask an enemy of her country to attack one of its possessions was treachery of the worst |l kind. Margaret was single-minded. She wanted Henry safe on the throne and that could only be brought about by the death of York and she did not care what means she employed to bring that about.
Charles VII had changed since those days when as Dauphin he has listlessly allowed his country to slip out of his grasp. He was now reckoned to be the most astute monarch in Europe. He wanted to help his dear niece, he wrote, and he was authorizing Pierre de Brézé, the Seneschal of Normandy, who had always been one of Margaret’s devoted admirers, to prepare a fleet for the purpose of destroying Warwick’s fleet and immobilizing the port of Calais so that—so said the King of France—Warwick would be unable to use it for attacks on Margaret and Henry. He did not add that Calais was the town he most desired to get his hands on.
Margaret was delighted. Warwick would never be able to stand out against a French fleet.
It was summer when the fleet was ready. De Brézé sailed along the coast looking for Warwick’s fleet. But a heavy mist fell and visibility was poor and there was no sign of Warwick and his ships. It was a pity, thought de Brézé, for he had sixty ships manned to the strength of four thousand and he contemplated an easy victory.
Land came into sight. He was puzzled. It could only be England. He lay off the shore for a while and when the mist lifted a little he knew with certainty that he was close to the English coast.
He landed some of his men in a quiet bay and then sailed along until he came to the town of Sandwich.
He then set the rest ashore. The people of Sandwich were taken unaware. When they had first seen the ships they had thought they were Warwick’s and were prepared to give them a good welcome, for Warwick was regarded as a hero in Kent.
The raid was successful—from the French point of view, and de Brézé 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.