The Reluctant Queen

by Виктория Холт

  The crossing was all that we had feared it would be and we arrived at Weymouth feeling battered and exhausted.

  Sombre news awaited us there.

  My father was dead. He had been killed at the Battle of Barnet.

  At Warwick Court

  It had happened just as we had embarked on that stormy sea. I could not believe it. To me he had always seemed indestructible. My poor mother, I thought. What is she feeling now? They had been deeply attached to each other. Although he was rarely with us, I had never heard of any infidelity on his part. She had brought him the means to become the man he was and I believed he was ever grateful to her for that. He had always treated her with the utmost respect. I think he cared for us children in his way. True, he had been about to involve me in a match which was most distasteful to me, but it was the rule for parents in his position to regard their daughters as instruments for bringing glory to the family.

  "Warwick is dead!" We heard that everywhere. People talked of little else. He was no more the man who had been the most influential in England, the man whose power enabled him to make and unmake kings.

  I felt lost in a bewildering world. My father dead! Where should we go now?

  The queen took the news calmly. It occurred to me that, although she expressed her sorrow, she was not entirely displeased.

  Warwick had set Henry up as king; he had carried out his part of the bargain. If he had lived, he would have wanted to rule. That was at the very root of his ambition. He had made kings that he might guide them and Margaret was not one to be guided. So now ... he had served his purpose. He had brought Henry back to the throne. And then ... he had fought at Barnet.

  She was studying me speculatively. I guessed she was thinking: with Warwick no more, of what importance was his daughter?

  She did not dislike me any more. In fact I believe she had a certain fondness for me. Perhaps she despised me a little because I was not ambitious, not fiercely desirous for a crown ... as she was. But there was some rapport between us and that hatred she had had for me in the beginning, as Warwick's daughter, was no longer there. She had even become reconciled to accepting me as a daughter-in-law.

  But now where did I stand when my father was killed in battle? Perhaps she was wondering whether she need honour the pledge she had made to marry me to her son.

  I would be wholeheartedly grateful to her if she would not agree to that.

  What strange days they were days of much activity and terrible uncertainty.

  Messages came to us from the Duke of Somerset. It would be advisable for us to go to Lancaster to rally troops. The Lancastrian cause had not been lost by the desertion of the Duke of Clarence and the death of the Earl of Warwick.

  I wished that I could have seen my mother. I did receive a letter from her and it was heartbreaking to read it.

  She was suffering deeply from the death of my father.

  "I know not what will become of us," she wrote.

  She told me that she was going to Beaulieu Abbey. I was not to worry about her. She hinted that she believed Edward would not be harsh with us.

  It was a comfort to hear from her. I, of course, betrothed to the Prince of Wales, was as deeply embroiled as she was. The fact that I was innocently caught up in a matter for which I had no enthusiasm was of no account. I had become one of them now a Lancastrian. I was allied to my future mother-in-law, and I must needs follow her.

  We set out from Weymouth. Margaret was full of energy. She rode at the head of the cavalcade with me beside her, and she rallied men to her cause as she went through the towns and villages. The impostor was back in England; he had murdered the worthy Earl of Warwick. She was caring for his poor fatherless daughter. The earl must be avenged. They must ride with her to drive base Edward out of the country.

  By the time we reached Bath we had a small following. Therewe were met by riders who came from Wales with the news that Jasper Tudor was gathering together a fine army to fight for Henry.

  Knowing of the queen's approach, Jasper Tudor had suggested that she join forces with him, for Edward of York, with his army, was not far away and, having got wind of their arrival, was bearing down on them.

  After consultation with her captains that was what Margaret decided to do. I was full of admiration for her. She would have been an excellent commander if she could have dispensed with that arrogance. How different Edward was! He was friendly with the humblest soldier; he made them all feel they were all men together to work to the best of their ability, he no less than the lowest rank. His popularity was the secret of his success. There followed the fatal Battle of Tewkesbury. I was riding with Margaret at the head of the cavalcade when we were met by Prince Edward with the men he had assembled. He told us that Edward of York was in the vicinity and the two armies must soon come face to face.

  The prince persuaded his mother to go with me to a small religious house on the road along which we were passing. He said the battle would be short and triumphant but he did not want to suffer the anxiety of knowing that his mother and I might be in danger. It seemed wise that we should remain with the nuns.

  "I shall be content knowing you are there," he said.

  "And I shall soon be with you to tell you of our victory."

  I looked anxiously at the queen. She had been known to ride into battle with the army and for a moment I thought she was going to refuse.

  "You must do as I say," he said.

  "I leave my bride in your charge. How could I give myself to battle if I must be in a state of anxiety about your safety?"

  I was aware of the thoughts which were passing through her mind. She was no longer young. It was ten years since Henry had lost his crown and she had lived in exile most of that time.

  Edward was insistent and finally she gave way.

  "We shall be waiting most eagerly," she told him.

  "I know, dear lady mother. And you shall be the first to hear of our victory."

  I was very relieved when at last she agreed to stay at the religious house to wait for news of the battle.

  The nuns received us warmly. I doubted they were partisan. To them we were just two women in need of shelter. True, one of us was a queen and the other destined to become one, but I am sure, whoever we had been, they would have given us shelter.

  I was glad to be at peace, if only for a short time. I was exhausted mentally as well as physically. The more I saw of my prospective bridegroom, the more I dreaded the marriage and that now seemed close.

  I thought about the armies which would be facing each other. Richard would be beside his brother. I felt desperately sad because we were on opposite sides. I prayed that Richard might come safely through this conflict. As for my future husband ... I tried not to think of him.

  We did not have to wait long for news. We received it from the soldiers who had come straight from the battle field. They were in sore need of attention. I was not sure on which side they had been fighting. They had simply found their way to the nuns, hoping they could have their wounds attended to. I went with the nuns to help if I could.

  One of the men who was lying on a pallet looked at me and said: "My lady, you are ..."

  "Lady Anne Neville," I said.

  And at that moment Margaret appeared. She had heard that there were arrivals at the house and she was hoping for news of a Lancastrian victory.

  "What news?" she cried.

  "What news?"

  Both of the men were silent. I could feel my heart beating wildly.

  "I am the queen," said Margaret with an intimidating manner.

  "I demand to know."

  One of the nuns said: "Your Grace, this man is badly wounded."

  That I perceive," retorted Margaret.

  "The queen asks him a question and he is holding something back."

  The day has gone against us, my lady," said the man.

  "Against the Prince of Wales?"

  "King Edward is victorious, my lady."

  "I do not belie
ve he could be."

  The man closed his eyes and lay back on his pallet. She went to him and would have shaken him but two nuns laid hands on her and forcibly held her back. Margaret in her fear and anxiety looked as though she were about to strike them.

  I said quickly: "When the men have recovered a little perhaps they will be able to tell us more, my lady. Just now they are too exhausted."

  She stepped back.

  "It cannot be." she said.

  "Edward would not let it be. We had the men ... we had everything."

  "Let me take you to your room. Rest awhile. I will go back, and help with the nuns. As soon as there is news I will come to you."

  To my surprise she allowed me to lead her away. I think she was so afraid that everything had gone wrong that she wanted to hold off the truth for a little longer until she had schooled herself to receive it. I made her lie down on the pallet in her cell. I said: "Rest assured I shall soon be with you."

  "Perhaps Edward will come. They are not far away. He will come as soon as he is able."

  I left her and went back to the nuns and the wounded men.

  One of the men said: "The queen has gone?"

  "She is resting now," I told him.

  "My lady, the battle has gone against us. The army is routed. King Edward is victorious. My Lord Somerset has been captured. The army is finished. It is the end, my lady. The king is back."

  "Are you sure of this?"

  "I have seen it with my own eyes."

  "I understand," I said.

  "I dare not tell the queen, my lady."

  "What are you holding back?"

  "It is the Prince, my lady. He has been slain. I beg of you, take this news to her. She must know ... and I dare not tell her."

  I stared at him. Could this be true? I tried to imagine what this would do to her. She was a strong woman I had good reason to know but if this were true and the Prince of Wales had indeed been killed ... how could I tell her?

  I did not tell her. I must be sure that it was true before I did. I spent a restless night. In the early hours of the morning I awoke to find someone in my cell-like room. It was the queen.

  She said: "You are awake, Anne?"

  "Yes," I replied.

  "I cannot sleep."

  "Why is there no news? Edward said he would send word when the battle was over. Surely it cannot still be going on."

  "It is over," I said.

  "You know something. These men ... there is something they have told you. Tell me. I command you."

  I was silent. She had risen. She took me by the shoulders and shook me.

  "Speak," she said. Tell me the worst. I forbid you to withhold it. Tell me."

  The battle is over." I said. The Lancastrian army is in retreat. The Yorkists have won the Battle of Tewkesbury."

  Then why was I not told?"

  "The men were afraid. They began to tell... and then they were afraid."

  "How dared they keep back anything?"

  "They feared to hurt you."

  "What else?" she demanded.

  I was silent.

  "Not you, too, Anne Neville." she cried.

  "You must not withhold news from me."

  Still I was silent.

  Her eyes were wild. It was as though she were on the verge of madness. I thought, how can I tell her that her son is dead?

  She must have read my thoughts. I had told her the field was lost. She knew that in any case from the men. What worse news could there be, and where was Edward? Why had he not come? I think she knew in that moment.

  I had never seen such blank despair. I wanted to comfort her but I did not know how.

  She said quietly: "It is Edward."

  I nodded.

  "What? Captured?" There was hope in her voice.

  Still I was silent.

  Tell me, in God's name, tell me."

  The men may be wrong," I said.

  "What did they tell you?"

  That they saw him."

  "Yes ... yes." "He was slain."

  "Then he is dead. My son is dead!"

  I had gone to her. I put my arms round her.

  "The men were wrong." I said.

  "You know how these stories get around."

  She sat on the pallet and stared ahead. I saw the tears on her cheeks.

  "He was everything to me," she murmured.

  "When he came ... he was the best thing that ever happened to me. He was bright and beautiful. I used to watch him when he was a little boy ... watched him for the madness of his father. But there was no madness. He was bright and beautiful. He would have made a great king. He would have made up for everything. He is not dead. He cannot be dead." I said: "The men were wrong. It was something they heard.

  They must have been wrong."

  She turned on me angrily.

  "Then where is he? If he were alive, he would have come here. He knew I was here. He would have come to me. I have lost him. Nothing matters any more. Oh, God in Heaven, why did You not take me first ... not my bright and beautiful son?"

  "We must not grieve. We shall hear more news later."

  She said: "Yes, we shall hear more news. But in my heart I know. Never more shall I see his dear face. This is your loss too, my daughter. I have begun to think of you as my daughter. You were to have been his bride. You have lost a husband even as I have lost a son." She gripped my hands and I said again: "It could be untrue. We must remember that."

  She shook her head.

  "I know. It is the end. Why did we do this? First Warwick and now Edward ... my Edward. Nothing was worth it. York could have the crown ... if they had left me my son." I could think of no way of comforting her. She had loved him.

  She was fiercer in love even than in hatred. Sometimes I had wondered whether she had cherished him so fiercely because he would be king and bring the House of Lancaster back to rule, but now I knew that she loved him not only as the one who was to restore her pride and fulfill her ambitions, but as a son. She said: "Leave me now. I would be alone. Leave me to my grief."

  I wanted to remind her that we had only the soldiers' word for this. There could be a mistake. But she was not listening. All I could do was leave her alone with her grief.

  The next day there was confirmation. The prince had indeed been killed in battle. The Lancastrians had been defeated. The Duke of Somerset and several important leaders had been captured and executed without delay. The Lancastrians had been completely routed: and King Edward of York had come back to stay.

  The advice given to us was that we should stay in the religious house in which we were now sheltering. We had to remember that we were the declared enemies of the triumphant king and our fate would be uncertain. So, for the time being, we should remain where we were.

  It was sad to see the grief of the queen and yet even as I did so I was saying to myself: I am free. That which I most dreaded will never come to pass.

  My future was indeed uncertain. Perhaps I should be sent to the Tower. I was one of the king's enemies. So was my mother. Isabel, however, was on the winning side because Clarence had changed loyalties just in time.

  Anything could happen to me; but all I could think of was that I need no longer dread my marriage.

  Another dreary day passed. I knew that something must happen soon. I thought of the grey walls of the Tower of London which I had passed so many times and which had never failed to fill me with dread. Some prisoners spent years of their lives there without knowing for what reason. That would not be the case with us.

  Margaret was so numbed by grief that I believed she did not care what became of her. It was different with me. I was fifteen years old; my life was just beginning and I could not bear to think of its being spent in some damp, dark prison. I had escaped from a fate which terrified me. Could it be to fall into one equally undesirable?

  So I lived through those hours, startled at every sound, ears alert for arrivals.

  They came at last. The guards surrounded
the house and their captain confronted the nuns. I heard their voices below and went to the queen. She was sitting in a chair, a book of Holy Writ in her hands. I said: "There are guards here. They have surely come for us." She nodded. I could see then that she did not care what became of her.

  "There is nothing we can do," I said.

  She closed the book and stood up for the guards were at the door. Two of them came into the room.

  "You are Margaret, one-time Queen of England, and Lady Anne Neville," said one. Margaret looked at them with haughty disdain and said: "That is so."

  "You are to prepare to leave. Be ready please in half an hour." They had spoken courteously but firmly. Then they left us. Margaret sat staring before her. I went to her and tool hands.

  "We must obey them." I said gently.

  She gave a harsh laugh.

  "Yes," she said.

  "We are the prisoners now."

  The nuns watched us pityingly as were taken away. I guessed they thought it would be death or imprisonment for us.

  As we rode off I thought the countryside looked beautiful; the grass and trees seemed brighter than ever before. That was because I was telling myself that this might be the last time I saw them. I wondered what it was like to feel the axe on one's neck. One quick blow ... and then oblivion perhaps.

  Fifteen years is not very long to live. It seems a pity to learn a little about life and then to be forced to leave it.

  I looked at the queen; she still seemed indifferent to what was happening. Perhaps she truly did not care. All she could think of was that Edward was dead ... her bright beautiful boy on whom her hopes had been fixed. Now there was only poor sad Henry for her. Did she wonder what would become of her? If so, she gave no sign. And so we rode with that dismal cavalcade to where we had no idea.

  At last in the distance we saw the city of Coventry and when we reached it we came to rest before a grey stone building.