Jacquetta said nothing. She was thinking of the day she had met her husband, of his good looks and his charm, their romance which had swept her, a not unambitious young woman, off her feet. Their marriage had been an idyll. He had been everything she had known he would be. And now he was dead. She thought of that dear head which she had loved so well, being placed on a block and wantonly and so cruelly severed from his body. And John too. Her beloved son! She loved her children none the less because of the great affection she had for her husband. They were a clan the Woodvilles, the triumph of one was the triumph of them all as they had seen on the marriage of their sister. The Queen of England had applied herself assiduously to the betterment of her family from the moment she was able to do so. This dear John who had been with his father when they were murdered had recently married the old Dowager Duchess of Norfolk and become one of the richest men in the country. Now it was of no avail. All that money, all those vast possessions which had gone with the poor old lady bride were nothing to him now.
The sorrows of one were the sorrows of all as with the triumphs and she knew that Elizabeth, sitting there so quiet, so restrained, was fighting an emotion as bitter as her own.
It was Elizabeth who spoke first: 'Curse Warwick,' she said. 'I shall not rest until his head is parted from his body. He shall answer for this. Every time I see him I shall see my beloved father and mv brother and remember what he did to them.'
George Neville Archbishop of York had arrived at Olney close to Coventry and presented himself to the King.
He was most respectful. He came, he said, on behalf of his brother the Earl of Warwick and wished to conduct the King to him. With the Earl was the Duke of Clarence, both the King's
faithful lieges. They were concerned for his safety and had come to guard him.
Edward laughed. 'Not long ago they were fighhng against me.'
'Nay, my lord/ said the suave Archbishop, 'you are mistaken. My brother's great concern was for your safety. He told the people of London that he was riding to your aid. Your brother the Duke of Clarence joins him in this.'
Richard who was with the King said: 'You are traitors all of you.'
Edward laid a hand on his arm.
'I see/ he said, 'that you are determined to make me your prisoner.'
Richard stepped towards the Archbishop and again Edward restrained him.
'What would you have of me?' he asked.
'That you accompany me to my brother.'
Edward knew that he was in their power. He had been foolish and foolishness could be disastrous. He had been dilatory; he had refused to see danger when it stared him in the face. Well, now he must answer for his folly. It was a temporary set-back. He was sure of that. Warwick was not a great general. Edward had little respect for his performance in the field. It was cunning strategy at which Warwick excelled. He had the ability to turn defeat into victory by some acrton which was totally unexpected by the other side. He must try to imitate Warwick's strategy. Therefore he would go along with him. He would pretend to believe in his fidelity even though his betrayal was clearly obvious.
'I will come with you,' he said. 'I will see Warwick.'
The Archbishop bowed his head. 'Then we should leave without delay.' He turned to Richard and Hastings who had taken up their stand on either side of the King.
Richard was a boy of seventeen or so and he looked younger because of his delicate stature. Warwick had said 'Let Richard go.' As for Hastings, well he was Warwick's brother-in-law. He had always thought that with a little persuasion he might win Hastings to his side. That was if he saw that Edward's cause was hopeless. So George Neville had had instructions to send Richard and Hastings away. Let them go free, find their way to where they wished to go. It was only Edward he wanted.
Sadly Richard said goodbye to his brother and rode away with
Hastings, and Edward allowed himself to be conducted to Coventry where Warwick awaited him.
Warwick was naturally triumphant.
'Here is a sorry state of affairs/ he said. 'You know, Edward, I wish you no harm.'
'Nay,' replied Edward easily, 'you only wish to make me your prisoner.'
'You and I should never have allowed a wedge to be put between us.'
'I do not put it there, Richard.'
'Oh 'twas others, 1 grant you. The merry Woodvilles. Edward, it is no use. You know what happens to kings who honour their favourites to the detriment of the realm.'
'What has the realm suffered?'
The realm has suffered because power has been placed in the hands of those incapable of handling it . . . and they are concerned only for material gain.'
'So many of us are, Richard.'
'There are some of us who love our country and would serve it asking no reward.'
'Show me such a man and I will make him my chancellor.'
'You are not in a posihon to make or unmake at this time, my lord.'
' 'Tis true. So I am your prisoner. What will you do with me? Have my head as you have that of my father-in-law?'
'It wounds me that you should even think of such a thing. I am your friend. I put you on the throne and you have spurned me for a pack of avaricious nobodies.'
'You put me up and you could put me down, is that what you mean?'
Warwick looked at him steadily and did not answer.
He is a power, thought Edward. I could not have governed in those first weeks without him. It is a pity that there should be this rift but it was either him or Elizabeth. Warwick was half resentful, half admiring of his attitude. Edward showed no fear. He could take him outside to the block and have his head as he had had those of Rivers and his son, and Edward knew it; but he sat there smiling blandly, accepting defeat which he was implying could only be temporary.
And if the tables were turned, what then? What would Warwick's fate be?
He would be forgiven, that was clear. Edward never liked dealing death. He only did it when it was expedient to do so.
'We are leaving for my castle of Warwick/ said the Earl, and within an hour the King was riding out beside the Earl, Warwick's prisoner.
There was a smile of triumph about Warwick's mouth. He had shown Edward that the King could not remain the King without the help of the Kingmaker.
For a short while it seemed as though Warwick was the ruler of England. He considered what had happened when previous kings had been desposed. In the cases of Edward the Second and Richard the Second Parliament had been called and there the fall of the King was solemnly declared.
He was not sure what should be done. The ideal action would be to put Edward back but as a puppet of the Warwick regime. Edward was the man for king—providing he followed Warwick's rule. The Woodvilles were being dismissed. That should be a beginning.
But Warwick had miscalculated somewhere. History did not necessarily repeat itself. Edward the Second and Richard the Second had been unpopular kings; Edward the Fourth was far from that. Although his favouring of the Woodvilles was similar to the action of the other two kings with their favourites, Edward had that essential masculinity, those outstanding good looks, that ability to charm his humblest subjects.
The people might not like the Woodvilles but they liked Edward very much.
Events therefore did not move to the pattern Warwick had expected. 'Where is the King? asked the people. 'The King is a prisoner,' was the answer. Then, decided the people, there was no more rule in the country. Rioting broke out in London and in some of the main cities and the country was soon in uproar.
Warwick moved the King to Middleham. Revolt was breaking out in the North; the Lancastrians started a rising of their own. This was disaster. Warwick had expected events to follow a pattern and they were making a new one of their own.