This is a remarkable account. Since it was confided to her spiritual adviser, who only made it public in his sermon on the month’s anniversary of her death as a tribute to her piety, there is no reason to doubt its basic authenticity. It shows that Margaret already had a highly developed and unusually powerful sensitivity to religious experience, one that belonged among the mystical tradition of women visionaries of the late Middle Ages. Only Margaret was not a recluse, but a wealthy heiress with a blood-link to the throne, lavishly fêted at the Lancastrian court.
It is worth rehearsing the sequence recalled by her. Margaret asked directly for guidance from a particular saint. She then saw the saint in a vision, and since he instructed her on what to do it seems likely that she also heard his voice. It immediately evokes the life of another astonishing woman who also appealed for help from named saints – Michael, Margaret and Catherine – and then saw them and heard their voices: Joan of Arc, who experienced her first vision at around the age of eleven. Joan was not an aristocrat but from the French peasantry; however, like Margaret she was a woman of action rather than contemplation, ready to fight for her cause.
In more general terms, Margaret’s vision shows that she had a strong sense of personal destiny. The harsh political reality was that this young girl had little say in what was happening around her. It was the king and his advisers who had decided to annul Margaret’s child marriage to John de la Pole, and she would simply have been required to take part in a ceremony in which the match was formally dissolved. But Margaret invested that ceremony with great mystical significance and power. She did not ask advice from a bishop or priest, a representative of the English Church or of the ruling Lancastrian government. By appealing directly to a Christian saint she took command of the situation and reclaimed that decision as her own. It gives us an intimate insight into the way she thought and made sense of the world.
Margaret would now marry Edmund Tudor, and it was decided that the marriage would take place after two years, when she was twelve and her husband twenty-four. Margaret’s childhood was now coming to an end, and although – after her appearance at the royal court – she returned home with her mother, her life was different. She now received a much more intensive education, instruction in etiquette and would have been regularly informed of the news at court and of the kingdom as a whole. She would have learned of the king’s breakdown that summer, how he had fallen into a stupor, unable to recognise anyone or anything, not even his own son, Prince Edward, born to his queen Margaret of Anjou in October 1453. And with the king sick, Margaret would have been told of the two great factions within the realm, the one clustered around the greatest aristocrat in the land, Richard Duke of York, the other around the party of her own uncle, Edmund Beaufort Duke of Somerset.
The House of York was in the ascendant. In 1454 it was Richard Duke of York who governed the realm as Protector and consigned his rival Edmund Beaufort to the Tower of London. When Henry VI recovered his health early in 1455, released Edmund from imprisonment and restored him as chief minister, York went into open revolt. He raised an army and confronted the king and his supporters at St Albans, where a confused skirmish took place amid the city’s streets. When Edmund was cut down and killed, the fighting ceased. Margaret would have received this news with horror. In her eyes her uncle, the family’s most senior representative, was a loyal and devoted servant to the House of Lancaster. His preeminence within the realm showed the power the Beauforts could wield, a power that Margaret would also come to enjoy, but his fate also warned of terrible danger.
On 1 November 1455 the marriage between Margaret and Edmund Tudor took place at Bletsoe, and then the couple left for Tudor’s residence at Lamphey in Pembrokeshire. In the spring of 1456 Margaret became pregnant. She was twelve years old and small in build for her age. Her 24-year-old husband chose not to wait until she was older and physically stronger before consummating the marriage, but put the life of his young wife at risk to ensure that she would become pregnant as quickly as possible. His motives were entirely mercenary, for by right of the ‘courtesy of England’ as long as Margaret produced an heir Edmund would enjoy a life interest in her estates, whatever the subsequent fate of mother and child. It was a rape within marriage, deeply shocking by modern standards and surprising and harshly inconsiderate by medieval ones, for even in this far more ruthless age it was normal practice to wait until a young wife was at least fourteen before having sex with her. The experience caused Margaret lasting physical and emotional damage.
In the Middle Ages, a dutiful Christian wife would not be expected to ever openly criticise her husband. But there is compelling evidence that Margaret knew, or came to know, that what had happened to her was morally wrong. Many years later, when Margaret’s own son – Henry VII – was on the throne, she strongly intervened to delay the marriage of her granddaughter, also named Margaret, to the Scottish King James IV. Her reason was that the Princess Margaret was too young, and that her intended husband could not be trusted to wait before consummating the marriage. It was a striking echo of her own experience, and such was her authority with her son, the king, that her wishes were immediately respected.
Margaret’s pregnancy was deeply frightening for her. This brave young woman had to come to terms with constant physical and emotional pain, and also her fears for the well-being of her husband, Edmund Tudor, the man who had violated her. For Tudor remained her husband and protector in a lawless region of Wales, a country entirely alien to Margaret, and his life and safety were now in jeopardy. Tudor was acting as Henry VI’s lieutenant in the region and as he took up the reins of power he clashed with local supporters of Richard Duke of York. It was the Yorkists who proved the stronger. One of York’s retainers, Sir William Herbert, captured Tudor and imprisoned him in Carmarthen Castle in August 1456. As Margaret’s pregnancy developed, the news about her husband became more and more alarming. She first learned that he had been taken captive, then that he had fallen dangerously ill – a victim of a local outbreak of the plague – and finally there came the hammer blow. Margaret learned that Edmund Tudor had died in Carmarthen on 1 November 1456.
Margaret was more than six months pregnant. She could not risk the dangerous journey back to England, and was now alone, a young widow, vulnerable and terribly afraid. Her confessor John Fisher later spoke of this time, almost certainly drawing on information Margaret had shared with him. Fisher recalled that she had been terrified – in this violent and remote place – fearful for her own safety and that of the child she was carrying. She dreaded the real danger that they both could fall victim to the plague that had killed her husband. In the circumstances, Margaret did the only thing possible – she sought the protection of her brother-in-law, Jasper Tudor, and took up residence in his nearby seat at Pembroke Castle. She gave birth to a son there on 28 January 1457, and named him Henry in honour of the Lancastrian King Henry VI.
The recollections of John Fisher – an invaluable and intimate source about Margaret’s life – make clear that the birth was a very painful one because of her small build and young age. It must have been a terrible experience for her. But soon after her recovery from this ordeal, Margaret made a striking decision, to negotiate another match as quickly as possible. This was a quite remarkable course of action, for Margaret’s experience of sex within marriage at the age of twelve had damaged her and left her physically unable to bear any more children. It was likely to have put her off sex completely – indeed any form of close physical intimacy may have repelled her. One of the religious books owned by Margaret and later bequeathed to Christ’s College, Cambridge, contained a chapter on the spiritual responsibilities of marriage. The section on frigidity had been annotated, probably by Margaret herself or a scribe under her instruction, and a question was posed in the margin. It asked if it was a sin to find sex abhorrent. The thought clearly troubled Margaret, and almost certainly encapsulated her own experience.
And yet, in March 1457, less than two months af
ter the birth of her son, Margaret rode with Jasper Tudor from Pembroke Castle to the Duke of Buckingham’s manor of Greenfield, near Newport in Gwent. Not yet fourteen, Margaret could easily have chosen to stay at Pembroke with her young son and, for a time at least, keep away from high politics. But she decided to embark upon a different path. Humphrey Stafford Duke of Buckingham was the most important member of the Lancastrian court and the only English magnate as powerful as Richard Duke of York. Margaret’s chief aim was to gain the duke’s protection, safeguard her interests and those of her infant son, and avoid another husband being forced upon her. She resolved to do this as quickly as possible.
This was a political transaction, and yet it was also a remarkable personal moment. Margaret, a thirteen-year-old girl, was not intimidated by the prospect of negotiating with a 54-year-old duke, a man who had held most of the important posts of the realm, including the captaincy of Calais and the constableship of England. There was a family entrée, because the duke’s oldest son, also named Humphrey, had married another Margaret Beaufort, Margaret the daughter of Edmund Beaufort Duke of Somerset. But these discussions also required poise and confidence. Margaret was now seeking to arrange a marriage between herself and the duke’s younger son, Henry Stafford. Her efforts were crowned with success. Bishop Reginald Boulers of Coventry and Lichfield granted dispensation for the match on 6 April 1457, necessary because Margaret Beaufort and Henry Stafford were second cousins. The marriage was celebrated at Humphrey Duke of Buckingham’s lavish residence at Maxstoke in Warwickshire soon afterwards.
This was a triumphant outcome, placing Margaret once again at the centre of court and government. For the Lancastrian court had rejected London for Coventry, Kenilworth and the Midlands, and the Duke of Buckingham’s estates lay in the centre of its area of influence. Margaret had already acquired a taste for the machinations of court politics. Lady Margaret Beaufort’s early biographers, obsessed by her piety, downplayed her political skill and powerful ambition. Yet these attributes formed the heart of her identity.
SUN OF YORK
In normal circumstances, Margaret Beaufort could now have looked forward to a period of stability, as her new husband Sir Henry Stafford served the Lancastrian regime and enjoyed the fruits of its patronage. But these were not normal circumstances. The dramatic events that led to Richard Duke of York’s son Edward Earl of March being crowned King Edward IV have already been told elsewhere, and will only be repeated briefly here.
A topsy-turvy period of politics saw first the Yorkists routed at Ludford in October 1459, and then the return of Richard Neville Earl of Warwick and Edward Earl of March from Calais in the summer of the following year. They landed at Sandwich and, gathering a small army, marched to Northampton and demanded an audience with Henry VI. Humphrey Duke of Buckingham, the commander of the Lancastrian forces, refused to grant them one. On 10 July 1460 both sides prepared for battle, and the Duke of Buckingham drew up his will, settling 400 marks of land on Margaret and her husband. In the confused fighting that followed, marred by the treachery of one of Henry VI’s followers, the Yorkists were triumphant and Duke Humphrey was slain trying to protect the king from his assailants.
Margaret would have been shocked by the news of Northampton. She had chosen Humphrey Duke of Buckingham as a powerful protector for herself and her son, and now that protector had died violently in battle. For a while, it seemed possible that the Lancastrians might still triumph, as Margaret of Anjou gathered a fresh army and defeated the Yorkists in clashes at Wakefield and the second battle of St Albans. But Queen Margaret’s failure to occupy the capital lost her the military advantage, and Edward Earl of March now seized his opportunity. Edward had defeated a Lancastrian army raised by Jasper Tudor and his father Owen at Mortimer’s Cross – on the Welsh Marches near Wigmore in Herefordshire – on 2 February 1461. Before the battle Edward had drawn encouragement from an unusual meteorological phenomenon, a parhelion, whereby three suns had appeared in the sky, and later made the sun in splendour his royal badge in celebration of his victory.
Margaret would have drawn little solace from the three suns. At the close of the battle the House of Tudor had been decimated: Owen Tudor was executed and Jasper forced into flight, leaving the fortunes of Margaret’s son Henry Tudor increasingly vulnerable. Edward now entered London, claimed the crown of England and then marched north to do battle with the Lancastrians. The two sides met at Towton in Yorkshire on 29 March 1461. This bloody battle, fought in a blinding snowstorm, ended in a complete rout of the Lancastrian army and established Edward IV on the throne.
The battle was a body-blow for Lady Margaret, for in its aftermath she discovered the remainder of her Lancastrian friends and allies had either been slain or driven into exile. It was a grim roll-call. Her mother’s third husband, Lionel Lord Welles, was killed in the fighting. Her cousin Henry Beaufort Duke of Somerset, and his younger brothers Edmund and John, had been forced to flee the country – first to Scotland, and then to France. It was rumoured that Jasper Tudor had also gone into exile in France.
Margaret quickly realised that the only way to safeguard her fortunes was to seek a rapprochement with the Yorkist king. Accordingly, her husband Sir Henry Stafford, who had fought with the Lancastrians at Towton, quickly made his peace with the new regime, securing a general pardon, first for himself and later his wife. Henry Stafford’s reconciliation protected Margaret’s estates, which were saved from confiscation in the acts of resumption of two successive parliaments. But Margaret was unable to prevent a long-term separation from her son, and this was a terrible blow for her. On 30 September 1461 Edward IV granted the wardship and marriage of Henry Tudor to his loyal supporter William Lord Herbert. The four-year-old Henry would now be transferred to Herbert’s keeping at his Welsh castle of Raglan.
Henry Tudor was brought up with care and consideration by Lord Herbert. Edward IV’s close ally had paid the king no less than £1,000 for the rights of his wardship and intended, when he came of age, to marry him to his eldest daughter Maud. Raglan was a fine residence to grow up in, magnificently rebuilt by Herbert himself and, as described by one Welsh poet, with its ‘hundred rooms filled with festive fare, its towers, parlours and doors, its heaped-up fires of long-dried fuel’.
Herbert’s wife Anne Devereux supervised Henry’s upbringing with real kindness. Lady Margaret could have had few qualms about her son’s treatment, nor about his political future under the Yorkists, for both Herbert and Margaret were united in hoping that Edward IV might eventually restore Henry Tudor to the earldom of Richmond, the title held by his father. But it was an emotional blow none the less, the harsh reality that she would now miss much of his childhood, and only hear about it at second hand. Although rights of wardship were part of the reality of medieval life, this separation would be particularly hard for Margaret to bear.
Lady Margaret adjusted to the new situation as best she could. She sent regular messengers to Raglan to gain the latest news about her son’s upbringing, and negotiated with Herbert so that she could pay him the occasional visit. On one of these she toured her West Country estates with her husband, and then travelled to Bristol, where the small party accompanying her was ferried across the River Severn to Chepstow. Here they were met by a band of Herbert’s followers and escorted to Raglan Castle, where they stayed a week, before returning to England. The details of the itinerary are set out in the household documents belonging to Margaret, but beneath this dry record one can easily imagine her excitement and anticipation as she crossed the Severn and drew closer to her son, and her deep sadness as she parted from him.
In the early years of Edward IV’s reign, Margaret and her husband Sir Henry Stafford chose to set up their home in the castle of Bourne in Lincolnshire. The castle was pleasantly situated, set in parkland bordered by water, its roof-gardens offering striking views across the Fens, and it was in a part of the country Lady Margaret already knew well, and was happy in, conveniently close to her mother’s own resi
dence of Maxey. Bourne belonged to Margaret as part of the Holland inheritance that had descended to her through her paternal grandmother, and was a reminder that in her marriage to Stafford she was a great landed heiress and he, although the son of a duke, was only a younger son – with just a small estate to his name. The couple’s wealth and standing depended on Margaret’s properties, and the security of these was reliant on the goodwill of Edward IV, the new Yorkist king.
Such support was by no means guaranteed in the complex politics of the Wars of the Roses, for Margaret, despite her marriage to Stafford, remained a Beaufort, and the Beauforts had been bitter opponents of Edward’s father, Richard Duke of York. Edward IV, however, was ready to be conciliatory to his father’s former enemies. The king was young, personable and charismatic, and sought to win over the remaining supporters of the exiled Lancastrian King Henry VI to his cause. Foremost among them was Margaret’s own cousin, Henry Beaufort Duke of Somerset.
Henry Beaufort was one of the leading members of the Lancastrian party. After the death of his father, slain at the first battle of St Albans in 1455, he had become one of Henry VI’s most prominent war captains, and had fought against the Yorkists at Wakefield, the second battle of St Albans and Towton. He cut a dashing chivalric figure and was a notable jouster – well known in the courts of Burgundy and France. In the aftermath of the Lancastrian defeat at Towton, Beaufort had been sent to France by Margaret of Anjou to recruit fresh military aid for the embattled queen and her supporters. But his diplomatic mission did not go according to plan. Henry Beaufort arrived in Paris to find the French King Charles VII on his deathbed. Charles had been preparing an invasion army to support the Lancastrians, but he fell ill, and passed away before the force could set sail. Charles’s successor, Louis XI, did not wish to antagonise England’s new Yorkist government, and disbanded the soldiers. He also arrested Beaufort and threw him in jail.
The Women of the Cousins’ War Page 23