Виктория Холт - The Reluctant Queen

It was late September. We had come to a period of comparative peace. After the defeat at Hedgeley Moor and Hexham, Margaret I fled the country; the Lancastrians were in disarray.

My father returned to us contentedly. His family were receiving the honours they deserved. After his magnificent performance at Hedgeley Moor, John was given the Earldom of Northumberland. George Neville, at that time Chancellor and Bishop of Exeter, was to be made Archbishop of York. This was what my father wanted his family in high places with himself at the head of the state to be called on should his help be needed, while Edward remained the charming representative, doing Warwick's will as though it were his own with the grace and charm of which he was capable. It was a dream come true. Then came the awakening.

It was a late September day. How well I remember it! We had arisen as usual and Isabel and I had spent the morning at our lessons and in the afternoon ridden out with the grooms for a short period of exercise. We were in the solarium with our mother and some of the ladies when there were sounds of arrival from below. My mother rose from her chair and went towards the door, but before she could reach it my father strode into the solarium.

I had never seen him look as he did. He had apparently coir straight from a long journey, but where were his followers? Eve as the thought entered my mind I heard the sounds of the arrival below. He must have ridden on ahead of them.

My mother immediately dismissed the ladies. They left' needlework where it was and went swiftly out. She signed for us to follow them. We went to the door and Isabel caught my hand. She stood in a corner behind a screen and I stood with her.

Both my parents were so agitated that they did not notice we were there.

My mother stammered: "You have come from Reading?"

"Aye ... from Reading."

"Richard, what has happened?"

"Disaster," he said.

"Margaret?" whispered my mother.

"Worse," he said.

"Worse. The king has married."

"But it was his wedding you were going to discuss. You were arranging it."

"I know. I know. The effrontery! He is not what I thought. This has changed everything. The truth is, Anne, I did not know this man I set up. I have worked for him. I have made him what he is ... and what do I get in return? Ingratitude. Defiance. The Council is outraged, but of what avail? The deed is done. I should never have made him king."

Isabel and I were as still as statues. We had to stay and hear more.

The king married! He was to marry Bona of Savoy. Our father had arranged it.

My mother said: "Richard, what does this mean?"

My father was silent for a few seconds. Then he said slowly: "It means that all my work has been in vain. I have given my support to the wrong man. I have put him where he is, guiding him, shielding him. I have made him the king. And what does he do? He flouts me. He has married that woman while he was allowing me to negotiate with the King of France. He has made a fool of me. After I have put the crown on his head, he is showing me quite clearly that he intends to go his own foolish way."

"My dear," said my mother, "this has been a terrible blow. You have ridden far. You need rest. Then we can talk of it calmly. Please rest now, Richard."

He put his hand to his head.

"Everything that I have done," he murmured.

"Useless. I have put him there ... and now I see that I made the wrong choice!"

"He will regret it. He will soon be back with you."

"Aye!" said my father fiercely.

"He shall regret it."

Everyone at Middleham was talking about the king's marriage and I guessed it was being discussed all over the country. There was a great deal I did not know at the time but I learned later, little by little.

To my father's chagrin, the people where on the king's side. Was it not just what the handsome boy would do? And, like the romantic lover that he was, he snapped his fingers at conventions and married the object of his devotion.

"God bless him" said the people.

"He may be a king but he is a gallant boy at heart."

It was indeed a romantic story. He had met Elizabeth Woodville in the forest by chance, it was said; but there were some who laughed that to scorn. Who was this woman? She was older than he was and already a mother with two children by her first marriage. She, with her mother, had planned the whole episode. She had stood there, her golden hair loose about her shoulders, holding her two boys by the hand and when the king had appeared she had knelt and begged him to restore her late husband's estates; and, so attracted was he by her outstanding beauty that she was able to trap him into marriage.

Isabel was obsessed with the subject; she was a little piqued because the king had come to Middleham and seen her. Yet he had not fallen madly in love with her. How she envied Elizabeth Woodville!

"It is witchcraft, of course," she said.

"Elizabeth Woodville's mother is said to be a witch. And who is Elizabeth Woodville? There are ladies of higher birth than she is who would have been far more suitable. Oh yes, it was certainly witchcraft."

"Ladies of high birth such as the daughter of the Earl of Warwick?" I asked rather maliciously."I feel sure that if I had been older I studied her. She really was very pretty and well aware of it. Yes, I thought, perhaps if she had been older ... how differently my father would have felt about that! Then he would not be regretting the cancellation of the plans for marrying the king to Bona of Savoy. It was hard to imagine Isabel, my sister, Queen of

"Of course." I said, "the new Queen's mother was the widow of the Duke of Bedford so she is connected with royalty. Was not the Duke of Bedford brother of King Henry the Fifth?"

"Yes, but when he died, she married Sir Richard Woodville, Lord Rivers, and he was killed in battle ... fighting against the king!"

"That's what makes it all so romantic!"

"Everyone expected she would be his mistress, but she said, "No, I will not have you unless you marry me." Had I been her, that is what I should have said."

"If he had wanted to marry you he could have done so without any fuss. Our father would have liked that, surely. In fact, I wonder he did not arrange it."

"He should have done so," she said almost tearfully.

"But it is too late now."

"Isabel, have you thought what this is going to mean to us?"

"We shall not be Yorkists any more."

"Then what shall we be?"

"I suppose," she said, "we shall have to wait and see."

"Does this mean that they are our enemies ... Richard ... George ...?"

She looked grave at the suggestion.

"I do not think," I went on, "that I would ever be Richard's enemy ... certainly not just because his brother had married Elizabeth Woodville."

"Our father is very angry."

"I know. He shuts himself away and does not talk to anyone but our mother."

"He is so shocked by all this. He thought that, as he had made Edward king, he could make him do exactly what he wanted. What has upset him so much is to find he cannot."

And so we talked and scarcely of anything else. We heard rumours of the king's besotted love for his new wife. He had given her everything she wanted and her family were already filling most of the important posts in the country. It seemed that we were in danger of being ruled no longer by the Earl of Warwick, but by the Woodvilles.

There was tension throughout the castle. We all knew that the storm must break soon.

And so we waited for it.

Eventually my father began to look more like his old self, but his anger still burned within him, and, as was proved later, he was making plans.

As Premier Earl of the Kingdom, it would naturally fall to him to present the new queen to the Lords in Reading Abbey. For a few hours he raged and stormed in my mother's presence and declared it would be an added insult for him to do this and he would not endure it; but she managed to persuade him that to decline would mean an open rift with the king himself and this was not the time for that. He saw the good sense of this.