Jean Plaidy (7 page)

When my mother heard that Isabel had told me the news she sent for me.

“Anne,” she said. “I want to talk to you. Isabel has spoken to you, I believe.”

“You mean about her betrothal, my lady?”

“I mean that. She is so happy that she must talk of it, but your father does not wish it to be announced just yet. There are one or two little matters that have to be arranged first.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Your father did not know that George would ask Isabel yet. He meant there to be certain negotiations…then we could have been sure that all would be well.”

“Is all…not well, my lady?”

“Oh yes…it will be. George, of course, will have to have the king's consent.”

“And you think the king may not give it?”

“Your father thinks it an excellent match and the king will think so, too.”

I looked at her disbelievingly. Even I knew that those days had gone when the will of the Earl of Warwick was the king's.

“Isabel is one of the greatest heiresses in the country, as you will be, my child. Your father is, after all, the great Earl of Warwick. Most young men would find that irresistible, but this is particularly agreeable, for it is not as though George and Isabel were strangers. They were drawn to each other from the first, so it is an ideal match. But we have to keep quiet about it.”

She paused and sighed. I guessed she was wondering how much it would be necessary to tell me. I know I appeared older than my years and, being my father's daughter, although leading a sheltered life at Middleham, I had been aware of events.

She went on: “You will have heard that the Woodvilles have taken over the court…more or less. There are so many of them. Your father might have been reconciled even to the queen if she had not brought in her numerous relations to take charge of everything. As I said, Isabel is an heiress. It may well be that one of the Woodvilles would seek to marry her and the queen would wheedle the king into allowing this.”

“Against his own brother's wishes?”

“The queen has her methods of getting her own way. But enough of that. Suffice it that your father and I do not wish this proposed marriage to be discussed until it is ripe to do so. There is another matter that could mean delay. There is a blood relationship, between Isabel and George, so there will have to be a dispensation from the Pope.”

“I had not thought of that.”

She smiled at me. “Well, I have made the point. Do not mention this to anyone. It is a secret just as yet. Isabel was very indiscreet to tell you but, dear child, she was so happy. So…let us rejoice with her and pray all goes well and that soon she will be George's happy wife. You understand?”

“Yes, my lady,” I said meekly.

         

My uncle George Neville, Archbishop of York, arrived at Middleham. He was the most important of my father's brothers and completely dedicated to the advancement of the Nevilles; thus he worked in close contact with my father.

Uncle John, who had recently been so uneasy about the relationship between the king and my father, was torn between his loyalty to the crown and to his family. Not so with Uncle George. He was wholeheartedly for the restoration of power to the Nevilles.

As Chancellor and Archbishop, Uncle George was a very powerful man and he had been asked to Middleham for a purpose.

At the time I was not sure what that purpose was but later I learned that he had come to discuss the dispensation that would be required from Rome before the marriage of George and Isabel could take place.

My uncle was involved in two missions in Rome: one the dispensation and the other his hope of receiving a cardinal's hat. Both must be kept secret from the king, of course, because it seemed likely he would approve of neither.

So during my uncle's stay at Middleham, there were many secret meetings between him, my father, and the Duke of Clarence.

I was rather disturbed. I could not help wondering what Richard would think of all this. That he would deplore it, I was sure, but it would mean that these three were not working in unison with his brother Edward.

Isabel, however, thought it was immensely exciting. Whether she was in love with George or the prospect of making a brilliant marriage, I was not sure. Certainly she and George seemed very happy together; and there was no doubt of his charm, but for some reason I could not entirely trust him and I wondered how deep his feelings went.

During that visit there was a great deal of talk about the Woodvilles and their influence at court. George was less discreet than my father and uncle. He told Isabel and Isabel told me that the main trouble with the queen's family was that they flattered the king and fell in with everything he said. He liked that. It made life easy. And then that woman would come along with her request for this and that…and it was the simplest way to give it to her.

“George says that the king is not faithful to the queen,” said Isabel. “She knows it but she never reproaches him. She just treats it as though it is natural. I told George I would never be like that so he will have to be a good husband when he marries me. He says Elizabeth is very clever. All she cares about is having children and getting her family into high places and rich marriages. He says she will think of one for him and one for me…and it won't be for us to be married to each other but to a Woodville for each of us. That makes us laugh, because we are going to marry each other, says George, and nothing is going to prevent us.”

“Oh, Isabel,” I cried. “I hope it all comes right for you.”

“Of course it will come right. Our father will see to that.”

When I look back over that time, I can follow step by step how everything fell into place and how gradually we approached disaster.

Now that I see it all so much more clearly and with the advantage of hindsight, I cannot blame my father. He had worked hard to attain his power but he had simply misjudged his puppet. He had found it difficult to understand the nature of Edward and it was imperative for him to do so if he were to succeed in his schemes. He had dismissed Edward as a light-living luxury-loving young man—which he was—but there was another side to his nature.

From the beginning Edward had the making of a king who was determined to become one and remain one. This my father failed to see. Edward was a great soldier and so far had never been beaten on the battlefield. He had avoided conflict, was not in the least vindictive, and was inclined to forgive his enemies and bear few grudges, and this, in some ways, added to his strength. He knew what he owed to my father; he realized he could be a powerful enemy; but Edward was determined to rule in his way and no other man's. When he had sought the crown and Warwick had helped him attain it, he had listened and obeyed his mentor the earl because he recognized his power at the time to make or break him; but he was now made; he was the king and all must be made aware of it.

I think that was the true state of affairs, and who could blame Edward? My father had agreed to accept him as king, to work for him and serve him. The quarrel over Edward's marriage could have been forgotten and the king would have borne no rancor. They could have resumed their normal relationship and have been of inestimable help to each other. It was my father's pride—and that only—that stood in the way of a reconciliation.

There was a difference of opinion between them on foreign policy. My father had been wooed by the King of France, who had seen in him the real ruler of England, which had been true in the first period of Edward's reign. My father greatly valued the friendship of France. For many years there had been conflict between the royal house of France and that of Burgundy; and both the French and the Burgundians would be watching what was happening in England and would be aware of the coolness between the king and the Earl of Warwick. Therefore Burgundy decided to woo Edward.

Since he had come to the throne, Edward had matured considerably and he would have realized that my father's power was increased by the support of the King of France. He had given my father the chance to patch up their quarrel, but Edward would know that the resentment still smoldered and would grow when Warwick fully understood that Edward was no longer prepared to be led.

He may well, at this time, have come to think of my father as an enemy. My father was a little careless—and so was the archbishop, for when the Pope's emissary came to England, he did not present himself to the court in the customary manner, but went straight to the Moor in Hertfordshire, which was the archbishop's residence in the South of England.

It was natural that the king should want to know what business was taking place between Rome and the archbishop and he must have discovered that he was seeking not only to become a cardinal but also a dispensation for the marriage of George and Isabel.

This would have made Edward highly suspicious, for neither of these projects had his approval.

Poor Isabel! I was glad she did not know at that time of all the difficulties that were being put in her way. She was too blissfully happy to accept the fact that she was just a pawn in the game—to be moved whichever way was most advantageous to the players.

My father managed to persuade the king that it was necessary for him to accept an invitation to the court of France.

I remember his departure at the head of a cavalcade, and heard the shouts of “A Warwick!” and “Long live the earl!” It was very heartening. When we saw him thus we could believe he really was mightier than the king and that Edward must soon realize this and it would all be as it had been before.

It was unfortunate that no sooner had my father left for France than emissaries from the Duke of Burgundy arrived. We heard about the magnificent reception they had received at court and how feasting and jousting had been arranged to make the visitors understand how welcome they were. It was a situation that needed my father's attention and he should not have been out of England at such a time.

But how were we, at Middleham, to know that momentous events were building up to a climax that would change our lives?

We heard vague rumors and we did know that the Burgundians were in England and being well received by the king while my father was being fêted by the enemy of Burgundy in France—which was a strange situation.

Visitors to Middleham told us how the Woodvilles were very much to the fore, making sure that the visitors from Burgundy noticed them; and they made it clear that they had the friendship of this powerful family that had so recently come into evidence. Meanwhile the king showed his regard for the Burgundians by inviting them to the opening of Parliament.

My mother was worried, I knew, though she said nothing.

“Who cares about the Burgundians!” said Isabel. “As soon as we get the dispensation, George and I will be married. And once we are, nobody can stop us.”

“Do you think it will be easy to get the dispensation?” I asked.

“Of course.”

“I think what our mother is worried about is that the king has all these people at court while our father is a guest of the King of France and he is not friendly with Burgundy.”

“What do you know about it?”

“Very little. But then, what do you know?”

“I know I am going to marry George and that is all that matters to me.”

I knew Isabel well, so I was fully aware that she did not want to think of all these conflicts because in her heart she knew that her fate was not in her own hands—or even those of George; but in those of my father and the King of England.

Then something rather alarming did happen. If my father had been in England, it might not have come to pass, but he was away and, although Uncle George was determined to fight for the family of Neville, he was not sure how to do it. We learned of this through a visitor to the castle.

It was some distant cousin who had called to tell my mother the news and I suppose to assure us that our most humble connections never forgot that they belonged to the House of Neville.

My mother sent for refreshments for him, but before they were brought, he blurted out, “The Archbishop of York is no longer Chancellor, my lady.”

“What?” cried my mother. She had turned so pale I thought she was going to faint.

“My lady, when the archbishop knew that the Burgundians were going to attend the opening of Parliament, he sent a message to say he was too ill to deliver the Chancellor's address.”

“But it is the custom,” stammered my mother. “Yet…if he were ill…”

“My lady, they say that the king did not believe he was ill and looked upon it as an insult to Burgundy.”

My mother put her hand to her head. “And…so the king has taken the Great Seal?”

“Yes, my lady. My Lord Herbert rode with the king to the archbishop's palace and asked him to give it up.”

“The earl will be…angry.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“And what of the Great Seal?”

“It has been given to the Bishop of Bath and Wells, my lady.”

“Is that all?”

“My lady, it is enough.”

“What does this mean?” I asked my mother later.

“It is a slight on the family.”

“If my father were here…”

“I don't know of anything that he could have done. It is another instance of the king's declaring that he will go his own way.”

“But to take the Chancellorship from Uncle George…” I said.

“Your father will regret leaving England.”

Isabel had not spoken. I knew she was wondering what effect this would have on the dispensation.

I think that incident, more than any other, brought home to us the fact that our father was no longer the most powerful man in England.

         

The entertaining of the Burgundians came to an abrupt end when news reached England of the death of Duke Philip of Burgundy and the emissaries prepared to leave. Duke Philip was succeeded by his son, Charles, which made the proposed match with Margaret of York, the king's sister, even more desirable, for now she would be marrying the duke himself instead of his heir.