For the time being she would shelve the matter and turn her attention to Mary of Gueldres.
Mary was sorry for her. She wanted to be of help; but naturally she must not be foolish, when her own position was so precarious. It was always dangerous when a King died leaving a young heir—a minor who must be surrounded by those who wished to govern for him.
In Lincluden Abbey where Mary had given Margaret apartments, the two women talked and bargained together— Margaret with a kind of feverish intensity, Mary more coldly, calculating each step before she made it, in contrast to Margaret’s impetuosity.
There was a fellow feeling between them. Both had young sons to protect. Mary was without a husband it was true but Margaret felt that hers could sometimes be an encumbrance rather than an asset.
‘It is only temporary help I need,’ Margaret explained fervently. ‘Once I have regained what is mine everything shall be repaid.’
‘I know it,’ replied Mary, ‘but conflicts go on for years before they are resolved and I have difficulties here. We have very unruly nobles in Scotland.’
‘They could not be more so than those of England. I often wish I could get rid of them all.’
‘Ah, we have to take care that they do not get rid of us.’
‘You and I should make a bargain. We should help each other. My dear cousin, give me men, give me arms and let our children marry. Let that be the bond between us. Your little Mary could be my Edward’s bride.’
It was tempting. The daughter of a Scottish king was not as desirable a parti as some might be. Her father was dead, her mother was struggling to keep the throne safe for her son—and if Margaret succeeded in defeating the rebels Edward would one day be King and little Mary of Scotland Queen of England.
It was a golden prospect if only the war could be won, if Edward was not to be ousted from the throne; but it seemed very likely that he would be, since after Northampton, Richard of York had been declared heir to the throne on the death of Henry.
Mary of Gueldres hesitated.
She knew how desperate Margaret was. She knew that she would do almost anything for help. She would consider nothing too high a price to be paid for what she wanted.
Mary of Gueldres said: ‘For myself I would agree willingly to this marriage, but it is those about me...I fear before they would be willing to help they would want something more...’
‘What?’ cried Margaret. ‘Tell me what?’
‘Berwick,’ said Mary quietly.
Berwick! That border town which was so important to the English.
Well, she had been ready to give Calais. Why hesitate at Berwick?
‘Very well,’ she said. ‘Berwick shall be yours...in exchange for an army which will help me destroy these rebels.’
Cecily Duchess of York had arrived in London in great style with three of her children—her daughter Margaret and her two youngest sons George and Richard.
They must all behave with the utmost dignity, she had told them. Their behaviour was of the utmost importance because they had become Princes. They had always been of the highest in the land—but then so had others; now they had stepped up with their father who when the King died would be King in his place. As for their brother Edward—anyone must realize just by looking at him that he was surely born for a crown.
Edward was the children’s god. He was always so dazzling to look at and stories of his adventures reached them; he was a great soldier, a great adventurer and he never seemed out of temper. He would be King one day, their mother told them, but not yet praise God because their noble father came first.
The Duke was coming from Ireland to join them and when he arrived it would be a great day of rejoicing for everybody. Cecily decided that it would be fitting for her to go to meet him and therefore the children would be left behind in the mansion in Southwark where they had been living since they came to London.
‘Your brother Edward will come often to see you,’ she told them. ‘But you must not expect too much attention from him. He has great affairs with which to concern himself and he will spend much time with the great Earl of Warwick. If the Earl should come here, make sure you treat him with the correct respect. Edward will notice if you don’t.’
They did not believe their big handsome brother would trouble very much about that. Life was exciting. And when their father came to London he would go to Parliament and after that nobody would be able to say they were not Princes.
The days passed. The children went riding through the city but they were too young to notice the tension in the streets. Northampton might have been a resounding victory but there were many lords who supported the red rose of Lancaster and when a King was in conflict with certain members of the nobility and when new rulers were going to replace old there was always acute danger. It was true that Henry was not fit to govern; it was true that many hated the Queen; but there was a young Prince at present with his mother and to accept the Duke of York in his place did not please everybody.
That the Duke and Duchess of York already regarded themselves as the rulers was obvious. When the Duchess had left London on her way to meet her husband she had travelled in a chariot decorated with blue velvet and drawn by four pairs of the finest horses. Margaret of Anjou had never travelled more royally. The Duke was a more able administrator than Henry, that was true; but it seemed that Proud Cis would be every bit as overbearing as Margaret.
In due course York came riding into London. With Cecily in her velvet-covered chariot it was a very grand procession, but there was a notable lack of enthusiasm among the people.
The Duke cared nothing for that. He lost no time in presenting himself to the Parliament and on his way there had one of his men ride ahead of him carrying a sword—a custom which implied that he was already the King.
The people watched in silence and later, when presenting himself in Parliament, he insisted on the lords listening to an account of his pedigree which showed that he had more right to the throne than Henry. Henry’s grandfather had usurped the throne, he declared. Others had come before him. Therefore he, York, was the rightful King.
There was great consternation throughout the House and the lords were uncertain how to act. They accepted the pedigree, on the other hand Henry was their crowned King. At length one of them suggested that as the matter was so complicated it should be put before judges. It was a matter of law and for them to decide.
When York returned to Southwark it was to find Warwick there with Edward.
They immediately retired to an apartment where the three of them might talk in earnest.
It was clear that Warwick did not approve of York’s action in going to the Parliament. ‘The time is not ripe,’ said Warwick; and he was regretting that York stood before his son. How much easier it would be to handle Edward!
‘We have delayed long enough,’ said York. ‘It is time we let the people see what we stand for. We want Henry deposed and we have to let Margaret know that she has not a chance.’
‘It’s true,’ said Warwick, ‘but we should tread with more care. There is hostile feeling all around us, and it will need little to turn that into active support for Henry.’
‘Henry is hopeless and all know it.’
‘He still retains their affection. Well, we have gone so far, we must see what the judges make of it.’
The judges very quickly let them know. ‘This matter is too difficult for us to decide,’ was their verdict. ‘It is above our knowledge of the law and learning.’
It was fortunate that Warwick’s brother, George Neville, had been made Chancellor. He declared that it was clear that the King’s health prevented him from ruling. Let the decision remain to let him wear the crown until he died and then let it go to York.