Shakespeare's Kings (87 page)

The spirit called up for the Duchess of Gloucester in Act I, when asked about the fate of Somerset, had said, 'Let him shun castles'; that prophecy was now fulfilled.

Encouraged by the young Clifford, King Henry and Queen Margaret take flight - another fantasy of Shakespeare's, since in fact they spent the night at St Albans and returned to London only the following day. M
eanwhile York, Prince Ri
chard, Warwick, Salisbury and their followers congratulate themselves on their victory. Much emphasis is laid - as it was in V.i, when he withdrew his allegiance to King Henry - on Salisbury's advanced age:

And like rich hangings in a homely house,

So was his will in his old feeble body.

It comes as a mildly unpleasant shock to discover that at the time of the
Battle
poor Salisbury was just fifty-five.

king edward
.

Once more we sit in England's royal throne,

Repur
chas'd with the blood of enemies.

What valiant foemen, like to autumn's corn,

Have we mow'd down in tops of all their pride!

Three Dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd

For hardy and undoubted champions;

Two Cliffords, as the father and the son;

And two Northumberlands - two braver men

Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound;

With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and Montague,

That in their chains fettered the kingly lion

And made the forest tremble when they roar'd.

Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat

And made our footstool of security.

king henry vi part iii

The opening scene of
The Third Part of King Henry VI,
beginning as it does with a post-mortem on the battle of St Albans by the Yorkist leaders and ending with the Duke of York's claim to the throne and what is tantamount to a declaration of war by Queen Margaret, covers a historical period of five and a half years. Those years were marked by two brief but extremely bloody battles, at Blore Heath and Northampton, both ending in victory for the house of York; by various grand but ultimately unsuccessful gestures of conciliation; by a minor war in the West Country; by a Lancastrian attack on Calais and a Yorkist raid on Sandwich; by the increasingly rapid slide of the entire country into anarchy and civil war; and finally by the correspondingly growing authority and ambition
of the
Queen. Margaret of Anjou was, according to a contemporary, 'a great and intense
ly active woman, for she spares
no
pains
to
pursue
her
business
towards
an
end
and
conclusion
favourable to
her
power'.
The
loss
of
her
most
faithful
ally
the
Duke
of
Suffolk seems
only
to
have
strengthened
her
resolve:
realizing
that
nothing could
be
expected
from
her
hopeless
husband,
she
was
gradually
carving out
an
individual
power
base
for
herself
and
gathering
the
reins
of government
into
her
own
ruthless
but
capable
hands.

The
other
bright
star
clearly
in
the
ascendant
was
that
of
the
Earl of
Warwick.
He
remained,
during
those
five
and
a
half
years,
the unswervingly
loyal
right-hand
man
of
the
Duke
of
York;
but
his
sheer panache
had
earned
him
a
reputation
which
far
outshone
that
of
his uncle.
He
had
commanded
the
army
at
Northampton,
when
Richard had
been
once
again
away
in
Ireland;
he
seemed,
moreover,
to
be equally
at
home
on
land
and
sea.
What
other
Governor
of
Calais, refused
by
the
Exchequer
in
London
sufficient
funds
to
pay
his
own garrison,
would
have
built
up
a
fleet
often
ships
of
his
own
and
begun a
new
career
as
an
outstandingly
successful
pirate,
capturing
six
Spanish ships
in
the
Channel
and
even
daring
to
attack
the
great
Hanseatic
Bay Fleet
on
its
annual
journey
between
the
Atlantic
coast
of
France
and the
League
towns
of
North
Germany
and
the
Baltic?

Not
until
October
1460
was
the
partnership
of
Warwick
and
Richard of
York
put
under
serious
strain.
In
the
previous
month
Richard
had returned
from
Ireland,
landing
near
Chester;
and
as
he
made
his
way south,
gathering
supporters
as
he
went,
he
made
it
clear
that
this,
his fourth
march
on
the
capital,
was
very
different
from
its
predecessors. Previously
he
had
always
emphasized
his
loyalty
to
the
King;
this
time he
had
come
openly
to
claim
the
crown.
When
he
reached
Abingdon, we
are
told,
'he
sent
for
trumpeters
and
clarioners
to
escort
him
to London,
and
there
he
gave
them
banners
with
the
royal
arms
of
England without
any
diversity
and
commanded
his
sword
to
be
borne
upright before
him.'
Arriving
on
10
October
with
500
men
at
the
Palace
of Westminster,
'he
went
straight
through
the
great
hall
until
he
came
to the
chamber
where
the
king,
with
the
commons,
was
accustomed
to hold
his
parliament.
There
he
strode
up
to
the
throne
and
put
his
hand on
its
cushion
just
as
though
he
were
a
man
about
to
take
possession of
what
was
rightfully
his.
He
kept
it
there
for
a
while,
then,
withdrawing it,
he
turned
to
the
people
and,
standing
quietly
under
the
canopy
of state,
waited
expecta
ntly
for
their
applause.'

There
was
none.
Warwick
in
particular
was
furious.
But
York
had
crossed his Rubicon. Laying before the House of Lords his formal claim to the throne, based as it was upon his direct descent from Henry III, he now demanded that Parliament should pass judgement on his case. The Lords, much embarrassed but probably encouraged by Warwick, pointed out that they themselves, as well as the Duke, had taken repeated oaths of allegiance to King Henry VI. York retorted that Henry owed his crown only to his grandfather, who was a usurper; it followed that none of the last three monarchs had any legal right to the throne. Finally he accepted a compromise, which was embodied in what was known as the Act of Accord of
24
October
1460:
Henry was to retain his position during his lifetime, but would be succeeded on his death by York and York's heirs in perpetuity. (The Duke was at this time forty-nine, ten years older than the King; but Henry's precarious health suggested that the succession would occur sooner rather than later.)