‘I see that what you did is unpardonable.’
‘There is no sin on earth that cannot be pardoned by magnamity and generosity of heart, my lady.’
All the time she was thinking what this man could do. He emanated power and strength. He was not called the King-Maker for nothing.
But she was not going to give way lightly. It was when the King of France appeared and with a certain humble grace begged her to pardon the Earl of Warwick that she at length agreed.
‘It will be necessary for my son to do the same,’ she said. ‘I am not sure that he will agree.’
The King and Warwick exchanged smiles. Of course he would agree. He would do exactly what his mother told him to.
Louis expressed a wish that they should all travel to Angers where the Countess of Warwick and her younger daughter Anne would be waiting to receive them.
Margaret’s spirits were uplifted. She had had to subdue her pride to agree to friendship with Warwick but she knew that she had to catch at anything that might help her regain the throne for her son. Warwick could do that. He was the one man in England who could. It was really a miraculous piece of good fortune that he had quarrelled with Edward. Yolande was right. She would have been a fool to let that pass just because of her stubborn pride.
And how good it was to ride in a procession again like a royal Queen. And Edward beside her. Growing up handsome, brave, a son to be proud of. Nearly eighteen years old now. Old enough to take the crown.
She had heard with some surprise that Warwick’s elder daughter Isabel had married Clarence. Clever Warwick. He had somehow won Clarence to his side and no doubt the bribe of Warwick’s vast wealth had worked with the young Duke. He was a traitor to his brother. It seemed to her the world was full of traitors.
It pointed to one factor. Events were moving. The period of stagnation was clearly coming to an end and no matter what had brought it about that was something for which she must rejoice.
The King of France rode beside her into Angers. She noticed that the people did not cheer vociferously. Louis lacked that appeal which she accepted grudgingly belonged to Edward of York. The Valois were not handsome as the Plantagenets had been. Appearances were important. She herself was still a beautiful woman in spite of the ravages of time and events. She noticed approving eyes on her dear son and that warmed her heart a little.
Louis was aware of it too for he commented on the Prince’s royal appearance.
‘A great joy to you, my lady,’ he said.
‘My only one for a long time,’ replied Margaret.
‘And what a blessing. He will soon be marrying I doubt not and then you will have your grandchildren.’
She was wary. This conversation was leading somewhere. The Spider King was not known to waste words in idle chatter.
‘I believe the young Duke of Clarence is very happy in his marriage. Warwick’s girls are beauties...moreover they are the richest heiresses in England.’
‘That may be so and I wish Clarence joy of his marriage. I’ll swear his brother does not feel the same pleasure in it as my lord Warwick appears to.’
‘Ha!’ Louis gave his short bark which was meant to be a laugh. ‘Edward has been acting with great foolishness. That is not the way to hold a crown...especially when a man has no right to it. Warwick put it on his head and Warwick will take it off when the time comes...and put it where it belongs.’
‘If justice prevails that is assuredly what will take place,’ she said.
‘And princes should marry young. The sooner they begin to produce heirs the better. Warwick has a charming young daughter. What a prize...a beautiful healthy young girl and a half share in the greatest estates in England.’
‘I cannot believe, my lord, that you suggest that the Prince of Wales should marry Warwick’s daughter.’
‘It seems to me...and to others...an admirable solution to the problem of the Prince’s marriage.’
‘My lord, it is quite out of the question.’
‘Oh surely not.’
‘I have forgiven the Earl of Warwick his treatment of me and the King. It has cost me a great deal to do that. To allow my son to marry his daughter is something I will not consider...not for one moment...’
Louis bowed his head and was silent. Indeed he was not one to waste words.
At Angers the Countess of Warwick was waiting with her young daughter. Anne Beauchamp was a pleasant creature. Poor woman, thought Margaret, married to a man like Warwick. What life had she had! But her real interest was for the girl. Comely, yes, rather delicately formed and dainty, of good manners and some beauty. If she had been the daughter of the King of France or the Duke of Burgundy instead of a mere Earl—and an old enemy at that—Margaret would have considered the girl a possible match.
There were fetes and entertainments at Angers. Warwick submitted with as much patience as he could muster. So did Margaret. The Earl had a promise of help from Louis but he did not want to move until the time was ripe. His friends were amassing forces in England; his most important scheme was to land when Edward was in the North for Warwick had arranged with his brother-in-law Lord Fitzhugh to send out rumours of a rising in the North which would take Edward up there with an army. If he could land in the South, free Henry from the Tower and set him up as King, he would have an immediate advantage; Warwick’s brother John had deliberately not joined with him for the reason that he could be more useful seeming to remain loyal to Edward, and when Edward was lured to the North John would at the right moment desert him and declare for Henry and Warwick would then be in a position to defeat Edward.
It was a clever plan and Warwick’s strategy had always been more successful than his actual physical warfare.
He needed everything to fall into place. Margaret was a stubborn woman; he wished he could do without her. When he looked back he could see that had Henry had a different Queen he might not be in the Tower today.
But Margaret would not agree to a union between Edward and Anne. Meanwhile the two young people had met and clearly liked each other. Edward said he thought she was a delightful girl, not in the least bit like her father. There was no trace of arrogance about her.
‘Nor should there be,’ snapped Margaret. ‘Who is she but the daughter of an upstart Earl who got his titles through his wife?’
‘And became so powerful that he decided who should sit on the throne of England,’ Edward reminded her.
Edward was beginning to have ideas of his own; and she could see that he liked the idea of marrying Anne Neville rather than having some foreign princess foisted on him.
René urged Margaret to agree to the marriage. She must accept the fact that Warwick was important to her. This was the best opportunity she had ever had. It was like a miracle that Warwick should have changed sides.
Yolande and her stepmother joined their voices to René’s. Perhaps if they had not so earnestly tried to persuade her she might have agreed earlier.
The King of France talked to her too. She told him that there had been a suggestion that Edward marry the daughter of Edward the Fourth. ‘Elizabeth of York is a baby about four or five years old,’ Louis reminded her. ‘She is too young, and would you marry your son to the daughter of your greatest enemy?’
‘You are asking me to do just that.’
‘So you regard Warwick as a greater enemy than the man who took the crown from your husband?’
‘It was Warwick who took it.’
‘All the more reason why you should rejoice that he has become your friend.’
She told herself that it was because her beloved son Edward liked the girl that she gave in. But it was not really that. She knew that her only hope of defeating Edward and putting Henry back on the throne was through Warwick.