Daughter of York (8 page)

Concerned, Margaret said, “Edward tells me you were wounded at Towton field, sir. I see it pains you still.”

“’Tis nothing, in truth. A flesh wound to the leg, and it heals gradually.” He grinned. “I am unused to sitting on the ground, ’tis all. You thought I was looking for sympathy from a lady, perhaps? I
am
a poet, ’tis true, but I have not tried my hand at mummery yet!”

Margaret laughed up at him. “Good day, my lord. I should like to read some of your verses.” She added shyly, “Certes, if you share them.”

“I would have to know you a good deal better before inflicting them on you, Lady Margaret,” he murmured, bowing over her outstretched hand. “Good day to you.”

Margaret was unprepared for the fire that ran up her arm to her heart as he kissed her fingers. She drew in a sharp breath but covered it with a cough. Anthony turned and walked away, his short cote swinging rhythmically around his knees and his head held high.

“L
EAVE US!”
E
DWARD’S
shouted command was heard clearly in Margaret’s chamber three doors away. It was not the first time she and her ladies had heard angry outbursts from the new king. Cecily informed her that the king of France had made good on a promise to aid Queen Margaret and had laid siege to one of the Channel Islands, and the news had reached Edward not long after his arrival at Shene. It was feared that an invasion of England would be France’s next move. A few Lancastrian lords were thought to be inciting the West Country to insurrection against Edward, so Edward had sent troops to the area to resist the French—who never came.

Today, the messengers had brought news of an even more alarming nature. Queen Margaret and her son, Edouard, had led an army of Scots over the border to Carlisle, and after laying waste to the land, they threatened the city. Powerful Lancastrians in the north had rallied to her banner and were preparing to march south and reclaim the throne for Henry, left out of harm’s way over the border in Scotland.

“Christ’s nails! When will I be rid of that she-wolf,” Edward growled later, when the family ate supper in the royal apartments. The atmosphere was tense, and Edward’s attendants kept a respectful distance, talking with Cecily’s ladies. “Where is Warwick when I need him?”

“Hush, my son,” Cecily soothed. “My lord of Warwick gives you good service. You would not be where you are now without him. You know he is loyally serving you from Middleham. I warrant he is on the march now to rout the queen.”

Edward grunted. “
Oui, ma mère
, you are probably right. But I cannot sit idly by while the bitch is snapping at our heels. I have given orders for my coronation to be brought forward, and we will postpone the parliament until November so I may join Warwick in the north.”

Cecily raised an almost invisible eyebrow. “How soon do you propose
to be crowned, Edward? I thought the Relic Sunday date was set. You will stretch the poor lord marshal to his breaking point, if you do not give him sufficient time to crown you with all due ceremony!”

“May he rot in hell!” Edward swore, and then apologized to his horrified mother. “Mowbray is a stalwart; he will be ready on the twenty-eighth.”

“The twenty-eighth? Have you taken leave of your senses? That is no more than a sennight hence. How can we be ready so soon?”

“When have you cared how you look, mother?” Edward grinned at her. “You are the most beautiful woman at court, and you do not know it.”

“Pah! Flatterer,” Cecily retorted and then caught George twisting Richard’s arm painfully over a sweetmeat. Richard’s face was grim as he silently bore the torture, not wanting Edward to see him weak.

“Let Dickon be, George!” Cecily cried. “You deserve a whipping for that!”

“Nay, mother,” piped up Richard, rubbing his arm. “It did not hurt, I promise you. And I will pay him back one, you see if I don’t.” He stuck his tongue out at George, snatched the sweetmeat and turned away. George put his thumb on his nose and waggled his fingers at Richard.

Edward frowned. “Do they squabble like this often?”

“All the time,” Margaret said, looking up from her book. “It is tiresome, and I wish they would grow up!”

“Mistress Nose-in-a-Book, Nose-in-a-Book,” the two boys chorused. Margaret flung a red damask cushion at them.

“Enough!” roared Edward, rising suddenly out of his chair. His siblings cringed, and the conversation at the back of the room stopped. “If we fight among ourselves like this, how do you think others will serve us? We must be united. Our father taught us to love and respect one another, and I will see his wishes carried out. ’Tis difficult enough to hold on to what we have earned through fighting others. We do not need to fight each other. Dickon and George, shake hands immediately! And Margaret, you are the eldest; you must set an example.”

The boys meekly shook hands, and Margaret turned the color of the cushion.

Cecily rose, curtseyed to her son and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. “
Bonne nuit,
Edward, I will take these baggages away to bed and leave you in peace.”

“A fair night to you, too,
ma chère mère.
Margaret, I pray you stay awhile. I would talk to you.”

An usher opened the door for Cecily, and she shooed the boys out before her and was followed by her ladies. Margaret sat straight and still, wondering if she was to be punished for her cushion-throwing. Edward waved his attendants away after filling two cups with wine.

“Have them prepare the all-night, Jack,” Edward called after Sir John Howard, the last to leave the room. “I shall not be long. And tell them to make sure the bread is fresher than last evening’s!”

“Aye, your grace,” Howard assented, bowing.

Edward handed Margaret one of the cups and sprawled his six-foot-three-inch body on a velvet settle, twirling his own cup between his big hands, causing a sapphire to flash in the candlelight. Edward’s expression softened as he surveyed her, and Margaret relaxed a little.

“Do you like being a royal princess, Meggie?” he asked.

“I do not feel any different, Edward. How am I supposed to feel?”

“Proud! Proud our family has finally achieved what was rightfully ours all these years,” he insisted. “But you are right to be modest, little sister.”

“Not so little,” retorted Margaret. “I am as tall as Mother, as you love to point out.”

“Aye, you are, you are,” chuckled Edward. “And though no one will ever hold a candle to her, you have your own beauty, Meg. ’Tis in your eyes and your spirit. I believe you are as intelligent as a woman can be!”

“Ned! Do you really believe men are always more intelligent than women? What of King Henry and his queen? From everything I have heard, I know which one is more boil-brained!” Margaret’s ire was roused. “Besides, who has been talking to you about my intelligence?”

“Anthony Woodville, my dear.” Edward let that sink in while he watched, amused, as Margaret colored. “Aye, he spoke highly of you the other day. I hope you have not been flirting with him, Meg. He’s a married man, you know. Although,” he muttered as an aside, “Eliza Scales sounds as dull as ditchwater and a sickly hag.”

“I have no interest in Sir Anthony, Ned! We had a pleasant conversation about King Arthur, that was all,” Margaret protested.

“Ho, ho! No interest, eh? Then why the blush,
ma soeur
!” He leaned
forward conspiratorially. “Listen, Margaret, I have learned to take my pleasures as they are presented. I may die in battle or be murdered in my bed tomorrow. I love women and women love me. If you choose to dally with Sir Anthony and are discreet, you will not be rebuked by me!”

Margaret was shocked into dropping her jaw. Edward had obviously escaped Cecily’s lectures about chastity and morality that she, George and Richard had been subjected to time and time again. Why, he must be in peril of his mortal soul! But he didn’t look very worried about it, she admitted. She chose to say nothing but smiled back at him, hoping to elicit more confidences. She was awed and fascinated by the assured ease with which her big brother grasped life by the horns. She wanted so much to be like him, and yet …

“Just be careful, Meg. In truth, I will be needing you for some future marriage negotiations, and a virginal bride is usually part of the bargain.”

“Ned!” was all Margaret could manage. She felt the familiar icy fingers of fear brush her heart with the mention of marriage. Why must I be used as a pawn, she wondered miserably. Surely it would not be so if I were a commoner.

She was startled from her thoughts by Edward’s next statement. “I see you looking at men, Meg. I know you have carnal feelings like me. We are alike, you and I, so I am just asking you to be careful.” He smiled at her embarrassment. “And I have a favor to ask of you.”

Relieved that he was not asking her to admit to those carnal feelings, she nodded readily. “What favor, my lord? You have only to ask.”

“Although Mother will still rule the roost”—the siblings grinned in unison—“she has no desire to act as my hostess until I take a wife. As soon as she feels you are ready to take her place, you will serve me in that capacity, and she will keep her court at Baynard’s. You will have your own household when the time comes. We shall miss her, but she says she has lost interest in being my helpmate since Father died. Unless she knows I have need of her, she prefers to keep her own company.”

Margaret was stunned. She had not envisioned life without Cecily at her elbow, showing her the way. “Certes, ’tis hard to believe, Ned,” she exclaimed. “George, Dickon and I still need her. You cannot let her go. Edward, please!”

“Me, stop as stubborn a woman as Proud Cis? I may be able to win battles, Meg, but those are simple skirmishes compared with battling our lady mother! Nay, her mind is made up. With your sisters Anne and Elizabeth having ducal households of their own to manage, Mother and I believe you will, with their help, serve the court well—until I find myself a suitable bride, that is.” He grimaced at the thought.

As Ann and Jane prepared her for bed a little while later, Margaret’s mind was in a whirl. First lady at court! She would be a queen of sorts. Holy Mother of God, she panicked, and I told him aye! At her prayers that night, she begged the sweet Virgin to keep her mother from retiring until Edward found a queen. Then she allowed thoughts of Anthony Woodville to flit through her head as she snuggled into her feather pillow and breathed the scent of sweet herbs tucked into it. Anthony’s face became confused with John Harper’s, and a smile curled her mouth as she drifted into slumber.

T
HE SUN SHONE
on Edward’s triumphant entry into London on the last Friday of June. He started at Lambeth Palace, then rode across London Bridge and along Eastcheap and Tower Street to his royal apartments in the Tower of London. Then on Saturday afternoon, like every king of England before him, Edward, mounted on a richly caparisoned horse, wended his way from William the Conqueror’s palace through the city streets to Westminster, accompanied by the newly dubbed knights of the Bath. Among the knights, clothed in blue gowns with white silk hoods, were the small figures of George and Richard. George strutted purposefully behind Edward, nodding graciously from left to right at the cheering crowds. Cecily, Margaret and her sisters watched from the canopied dais set up in Westminster Palace’s courtyard in front of the great hall.

“I am assuming Edward has told George he is to be duke of Clarence,” Cecily said. “Look at him, as proud as a peacock!” The description could have fitted his mother as her eyes followed George.

Margaret, too, had been watching George with affection. She thought he had never looked so handsome. He should always wear blue, she decided.

“Ah, but Dickon is more humbled by his knightly honor. See, he stares straight ahead with his hands in prayer. He’s a solemn little boy, in truth,
but I like him.” Elizabeth, duchess of Suffolk, looked fondly at her youngest sibling. “He does not demand attention as George does. And he is kind-hearted.”

A fanfare of trumpets caused Edward’s horse to shy, but its master’s hands expertly calmed it. The whole household was lined up to greet Edward, and the great bells of the abbey pealed over the acres of palace buildings and grounds and over the river beyond the walls. The noise was deafening, and Margaret shivered with excitement. Edward rode up to the steps of the dais, dismounted and bowed low to his mother, sweeping off his purple velvet bonnet. Cecily inclined her head, descended the stairs and took his arm to be led into the great hall.

The palace was abuzz with activity the morning of the coronation a day later, and those at Prime thanked God for another fair day. Margaret was given several responsibilities before she was finally able to dress for the ceremony. Edward had given her permission to come out of mourning for her father after six months, and she had chosen a shimmering blue cloth of silver for her gown, trimmed at hem and neckline with marten, the train of which trailed several feet behind her. Her butterfly hennin was sewn with pearls and draped with a silver veil. Edward had given each of his sisters a necklace for the occasion, and hers was graceful loops of sapphires and pearls that draped delicately at the nape of her neck. She decorated each finger with rings and stood back to study herself in the full-length polished copper mirror.

“Today you will rival even the beautiful Elizabeth Lucy, my lady!” Ann gushed, citing an acknowledged beauty at court and one of Edward’s mistresses. Jane murmured agreement, but Margaret could see the girl was really admiring her own reflection over Margaret’s shoulder. Margaret sighed. These two were respectful but silly, and she knew they were there only because they were the daughters of loyal friends of her father’s, William Herbert and Robert Percy. I would so love to find a true friend to confide in, she thought yet again. Old Anne had been a gentle influence in her childhood, and she had had fun with George on many occasions, but in all the turmoil of her parents’ lives during the past five years, Margaret’s circle of friends had been limited to her mother’s ladies and these two simpering girls. Let us hope they find husbands soon, she mused, but she smiled her thanks at them for their compliments.