The Red Rose of Anjou (13 page)

Margaret was pleased to be summoned by the King. She had become very fond of him. He was always kind and treated her as though she were his daughter. He had made a great effort to give her a splendid wedding and, although she knew that this was to impress the English, at the same time he had delighted to please her. Moreover he had brought about the marriage of Ferri and Yolande, for if he had not made it his business René would have found excuses to put it off again.

He received her informally and kissed her tenderly. Agnès did the same.

‘So,’ said the King, ‘we now have before us the Queen of England. How does it feel to be a Queen?’

‘I am scarce that yet.’

‘‘Tis true you have not seen your bridegroom and have had to take old Suffolk in his stead.’

‘The Marquess of Suffolk has been a good friend to me, as has the Marchioness.’

‘It is well that you make friends. You may need them when you get to your new home. So you have taken a fancy to the Suffolks. And the Talbots too, I believe.’

‘I have found them to be very kind to me.’

‘So they should be...to their Queen. It is going to be a difficult path you have to follow. Sometimes it is necessary to pursue a devious policy. You are very young and there are those who will seek to exploit your youth. You will have to be watchful, Margaret.’

‘I know that it is not going to be easy...’

‘But you are a clever girl. Often I see your grandmother in you and your mother has always had my greatest admiration. You are another such as they are, and I can tell you that
you will find the King easily led. Margaret, make sure you are the one to lead him.’

‘Do you think he will listen to me?’

‘Of a certainty he will. You will be the nearest to him. He is a gentle person, they tell me. He does not care for brilliant ceremonies and all the pomp of kingship. He is a good young man. You will have no difficulty with him. It is those around him of whom you will have to be watchful. You must influence him in the choice of those close to him and let me tell you something I have learned: walk very warily at first. Let them see you as the young girl...the child...a little bewildered by her new home, anxious to please. But all the time you will be watchful. Make sure you are friendly with those closest to the King. At the moment he is ruled by them. One of whom you will be particularly careful is the Duke of Gloucester. He was against the marriage, and he will be unfriendly to you. He will try to prove that it was a mistake. Watch him but do not be afraid of him. If you are clever there will be nothing to fear from him. He is popular—for some odd reason—but his wife was accused of witchcraft which she was using to destroy the King. He is losing his power, but watch him.’

‘I will do as you say, dear uncle. I can see I shall have to learn a great deal.’

‘Then you have made the first step. Is that not so, Agnès?’

‘Yes,’ said Agnès, ‘the first lesson is always learning that there is much to be learned.’

‘It is never wise,’ went on the King, ‘to give too much power to the nobles. Then they will vie with each other. It sets up rivalries between them. It is better to give posts of authority to those who come from less exalted beginnings and have shown by their talents that they can excel in them. Above all, dear child, remember that you are French. Never forget your native land.’

‘I could never do that. I shall always love France. England will be my adopted country but France is my own.’

‘That is right,’ said the King. ‘And your marriage has brought about a truce between us. They wanted a peace but they shall not have that until they withdraw all claims to the crown of France. In the meantime they are holding on to Maine and Anjou. Margaret, they must give up these provinces and in particular Maine. Only when Maine is in our hands can we be certain of driving them out of France. You must persuade the King to give up Maine.’

‘You could not take it?’

‘At great expense of life and money and then perhaps not succeed. No, I want them to give it back to us in exchange for peace.’

‘I will do what I can...for France,’ said Margaret.

‘Bless you, my child,’ said the King. ‘Our love and faith go with you.’

###

It was time to leave and her father very solemnly handed her over to the Marquess and Marchioness of Suffolk. The King was present and he was seen to wipe away a tear when he took his niece into his arms and kissed her tenderly.

He whispered to her as he held her against him, ‘Remember us. Remember France.’

And she replied: ‘I will. Oh, I promise I will.’

When the cavalcade went out from the castle, the King rode with Margaret for two leagues and then he said he must take his last farewell of her. They embraced and they were both weeping.

‘You are going to one of the greatest thrones of Europe, my dear niece,’ said Charles, ‘but it is scarcely worthy of you.’

‘I will try to do what is right,’ she told him. ‘And I shall always love you and France.’

The King was genuinely moved and after one last embrace turned and rode sadly back to Nancy.

René and Isabelle rode on with her. The parting with them would come later; and as they rode along it occurred to them that their daughter was very young and that they were placing her in the court of intrigue in a country which was not entirely in favour of receiving her.

They reached Bar where they were to part and when the moment came they could not speak—not one of them. They could only look mutely at each other lest their pent feelings should escape and they give way to grief.

As she rode away, not daring to look back at her father, Alice brought her horse to ride beside her. She said nothing but her sympathy and this gesture touched Margaret deeply. It meant that she had said goodbye to her family but she still had friends.

There was a long way to go yet. Her party consisted of the most important people in England, led as it was by the Marquess and Marchioness of Suffolk and the Earl and Countess of Shrewsbury. The Earl of Wiltshire was also there with the Lords Greystock and Clifford. The English were as determined as the French had been to make a good impression and had sent not only guards but all the servants which the young Queen might have need of on her journey; and besides knights and squires there were carvers, grooms and servants to perform any task which she might require of them. The wages of these people in addition to the food which had to be provided for them had cost the King of England more than five thousand pounds which had to be found from a very depleted exchequer and showed, said those who knew the state of his finances, how very eager he was for the French marriage.

When the party arrived in Paris the people were out to cheer and there was a meeting in the streets between Charles Due d’Orléans and the Queen. The people were delighted and cheered madly. The Queen was so young, so appealing, so beautiful. Our little Daisy, they called her and everyone carried daisies—some of which were made of paper; and it was all in honour of the little Queen. There was a service in Notre Dame where a Te Deum was sung and there was great rejoicing in the street for the people saw in this marriage a prospect of peace; and that was what they longed for more than anything.

When the party left Paris the Due d’Orléans rode with it to Pontoise. This was an important point of the journey because it was at the border between the French and the English possessions in France. And there waiting to welcome her was Richard, Duke of York.

This was her first meeting with a man who considered himself as royal as the King. He was descended from Edward the Third by both parents, for his father had been the son of Edmund Langley, the King’s fifth son; and his mother was the daughter of Roger Mortimer, grandson of Lionel Duke of Clarence. He had come to join the party and conduct her to England.

He was immensely proud and although he was courteous, Margaret thought him arrogant and she did not like him as she had the Suffolks and Shrewsbury. However, he was a man of great importance in England and must be close to the King. She remembered what her mentor the King of France had told her and tried to win the friendship of the Duke of York.

At Pontoise she must say goodbye to the last of her personal attendants, also to her brother John and the Due d’Alençon who had accompanied her so far. She was now entirely among the English.

In a barge decorated especially for her with a fine display of daisies she sailed down the Seine to Rouen and there she was received with great acclaim.

She was taken into the city in a litter lavishly decorated with more daisies. The Marquess of Suffolk, who had stood for the King in the proxy ceremony, rode ahead of her litter, and the Duke of York and the Earl of Shrewsbury were on either side of her. The other members of the party followed behind.

She must rest awhile in Rouen and therefore perform the ceremonies which were expected of her.

Alice proved to be a good friend for Margaret was very soon in difficulty over money. René, always financially pressed himself and with many debts which he could never hope to settle, had not been able to provide her with the money she would need to defray the cost of the journey which it was her responsibility to pay.

When Alice told her that it was the custom in Rouen for royal brides to give to the poor certain articles of clothing according to her age, she was bewildered.

‘Clothing,’ she cried. ‘What sort of clothing?’

‘A gown of some sort and a pair of shoes...the shoes are very important. You must give these. The people expect it.’

‘But how many garments and pairs of shoes must I provide?’

‘As many as the years you have lived. In your case it will be fifteen. Oh, do not worry. We have arranged everything and the gowns and the shoes are all ready. They will be handed over as soon as they are paid for. The people of Rouen never trust anyone...even Queens.’

‘I can see they are a wise people,’ said Margaret a little grimly, ‘for frankly, Alice, I cannot pay for these things. If I do I shall not be able to continue the journey. There are other expenses yet.’

‘Your father will pay, I doubt not.’

‘Alice,’ said Margaret slowly, ‘my father can never pay. He is deeply in debt now and has been for as long as I can remember.’

‘I shall have to lend you the money,’ said Alice.

‘I will put some of my silver in pawn with you. You shall hold it until I can pay you back.’

‘There is no need...’ began Alice.

But Margaret silenced her. ‘I do not want to build up debts,’ she said firmly. ‘I do not want to be careless with other people’s money. I fear my father has always been like that and see what has happened to him. He is always warding off some creditor. Not that he minds. He is sublimely indifferent to such matters. Oh, he is the dearest man, the finest man...I love him very much, but he does have this characteristic...and I do not want to be like that.’

So Alice took the silver and found the money for the garments and shoes, and more also for there were all sorts of people to pay on the way and the Queen could not begin by making a bad impression by not paying her dues.

At last they came to Barfleur where two ships lay in the bay awaiting them. One was the
Cokke John of Cherbourg
in which Margaret and her immediate entourage were to sail and the other,
Mary of Hampton
, was for the rest of the party.

It was a short journey across the Channel for the strong southeast wind blew them over, but it was exceedingly uncomfortable and almost as soon as they had left the shore Margaret was dreadfully sick.

Most of the party were ill but not as violently so as Margaret. Alice, feeling dreadfully ill herself, tried to minister to her but Margaret could only murmur: ‘I never before felt so ill. I just want to die.’

It was a great relief to all when land was in sight.

Alice bent over Margaret and whispered: ‘We have arrived. This sickness will rapidly pass once we are on dry land.’

All the same she went to call her husband for the Queen seemed to her to be suffering from something more than the effects of the sea.

There was great consternation for spots were beginning to show themselves on Margaret’s face. Alice opened her gown and saw that they were also on her chest.

‘God help us,’ she cried. ‘The Queen is suffering from a plague.’

The Marquess told his wife to wrap the Queen in a blanket and he would carry her ashore. Alice did as she was bid and taking the Queen in his arms Suffolk waded through the sea with her to the beach. From the town came the sounds of revelry and many people having seen the ship lying off the land had come down to greet her.

There was a hushed silence as Suffolk placed her in a litter and took her with all speed to a convent in the town of Portsmouth. This convent was known as Godde’s House, and there the doctors attended her and under their instructions the nuns nursed her.

There was great consternation for it was believed that the Queen was suffering from the dreaded small pox which would almost certainly mean her death or at best her disfigurement, so it was with tremendous relief that after a few days Margaret appeared to be suffering not from small pox but a mild form of chicken pox and the spots began to disappear without leaving any mark behind them and she herself, under the care of the nuns, began to recover.

Meantime Henry, all impatience, came riding to Southampton and immediately sent for Suffolk to hear the latest news of the Queen.

‘She is recovering, my lord,’ said Suffolk. ‘We have all been so anxious, but the Queen’s illness was not what we feared. There is nothing but a minor outbreak of some pox and she is recovering fast.’

‘I wish to see her. Does she know I am here?’

I think not, my lord. But you may rest assured she is as eager to see you as you are to see her.’

Fearful that he might find her hideously disfigured and might not be able to hide his revulsion, Henry said on impulse: ‘I will not come to her as the King. I wish you to tell her that I am a squire who has brought a message for her from the King. Then I may see her as she is...naturally...without ceremony, you understand.’