Poor child, she thought. She is bewildered. She always thought she was meant for Richard of Gloucester and so did we all. But the fortunes of women sway with the fortunes of war.
Anne knelt before the haughty woman whose face showed
signs of great beauty now ravaged by grief, rage, frustration— emotions felt so intensely that they had left their mark on her.
Margaret of Anjou was a most unhappy woman. She had come to England with dreams of greatness; she had ruled her weak-minded husband and loved him in a way; and she had suffered the bitter hopelessness of exile, going from place to place, relying on others for even the means to live and for a woman of her nature that was perhaps the greatest ordeal of all.
Now her greatest enemy who, she believed, was responsible for her woes had come offering the olive branch. What an effort it had taken to accept it. She had wanted to fling it back in his face; and indeed had submitted him to some humiliation before she would accept. Warwick was a man of ambition and he was ready to kneel in humility if necessary to achieve his ends. And he had done so, for at last she had subdued her pride because her only hope lay in this man and what he could do for her.
She had made him swear upon the true cross in Angers Cathedral that Henry VI was the only King of England and that he would bring him back to the throne. He was to be a figurehead for all knew that he was too far gone in senility to rule. The Prince should be the Regent. And she knew who would be the power behind the Regency. That was inevitable. Why should Warwick fight for her unless he was going to get something out of it?
And that was not all. His daughter was to marry the Prince. So Anne Neville would be Queen of England.
It was a big price to ask. But what a reward it would be if they were successful. It was worth the price. To be back there, to be Queen again. Naturally she must pay highly for that.
Warwick's daughter, her daughter-in-law! It was ironical; it was comical. But she said fiercely, the marriage shall not take place until Warwick has recovered the throne for Henry.
There would have to be a betrothal, of course. But she was agreeable to that and she would quite happily give her son to this girl, though he was worthy of the most high-born princess—in exchange for Warwick's help in recovering the throne.
So here was the girl.
Pale, pretty, charming in a way, and so young. As young as Margaret had been when she came to England. How full of hope she had been then; the daughter of an impoverished man with the somewhat empty title of King, she had realized her good
fortune. This girl's fate was similar yet it was her father's power and riches which had brought her to this stage.
'Rise, my dear/ she said. 'Come close to me.'
She looked into the pale oval face, at the eyes which were shadowed with apprehension and the heart of Margaret of Anjou which alternated from being as hard as stone to being as soft as butter, began to melt.
'There is no need to fear,' she said. 'You are to be with me until we can return to England. You are to be the bride of the finest young man in the world. There.'
She drew her forward and kissed her cheek.
She might hate the father—even though he was her ally now— but she could not hate this pale trembling girl.
There was a formal meeting between Anne and her husband-to-be. Edward was handsome, slim and nearly eighteen years old. He looked curiously at Anne and taking her hand kissed it in accordance with what was expected of him.
Edward had no great desire to marry but he knew this marriage was necessary and it had to be this girl because her father was the great Kingmaker who could put men on the throne and then take the throne away from them. He had been brought up to hate him because his mother had always said it was Warwick who had made Edward King. It was particularly galling to her because after the second battle of St Albans which she had won, Warwick had marched to London and claimed the throne for Edward.
That was all past history and now a glittering prospect was opening before them. To make it a possibility certain unpleasant conditions had been demanded. One was friendship with Warwick; another was the Prince's marriage to his daughter.
But at their meeting he was agreeably surprised. She looked so gentle, so eager to please. She was pale and delicate-looking but he did not mind that. Although he himself was handsome his features were of a somewhat effeminate mould. He knew this had worried his mother who had wanted to make a warrior of him. For that reason she had made him be present when he was quite young at a bloody execution. In fact she had asked him to give the verdict on two men whom she considered had betrayed her. He vividly recalled saying what he knew was expected of him: 'Let us have their heads.'
And the execution had been carried out in his sight. He had known then that heads were not only hacked off. There was blood ... so much blood.
Yet he had sat through it and his mother had said she was proud of him. He had to do those things because his handsome face would have done for a girl as well as a boy and he had to show that he made up in warlike spirit for what he lacked in strong and masculine looks.
And now here was Anne Neville—a quiet, self-effacing girl. He was glad of that. He would have expected the daughter of Warwick to be a forceful lady . . . someone rather like his mother.
'So they are going to marry us/ he said.
He spoke in a friendly way and she sensed that he was as apprehensive as she was. There was an immediate rapport between them. Anne smiled and her smile beauhfied her face, wiping away the fear.
She is very pretty, thought the Prince. Perhaps it is not so bad after all. . . even though she is Warwick's daughter.
She thought: He looks kind, so it is not so bad . . . even though he is not Richard.
At the end of July the ceremony of betrothal took place in the Cathedral of Angers. The marriage would be celebrated, Margaret of Anjou had declared, when her husband Henry the King was safely on the throne.
The ceremony was binding however and although she was not yet quite a wife, Anne regarded the young Prince as her husband.
The Countess was delighted that Margaret had taken a liking to her daughter and she herself was finding it easier than she had believed possible to feel friendly towards the Queen.
Warwick had left for England to put his plan into action and they were all waiting with eagerness for the result. Because it was Warwick's plan and Warwick was in charge of its success, incredible as it was, they found it easy to believe that it would succeed.
In the meantime the King of France was determined to show them that he was their friend. This of course was due to the fact that the Duke of Burgundy was Edward's ally and the friendship between those two had become stronger since the marriage of Edward's sister Margaret with the Duke.
I
In Sanctuary 129
They did not intend to stay in Angers and after Warwick's departure they left for Paris. Louis had sent a guard of honour to escort them and Margaret entered Paris as a Queen. With her were her son, Anne, and the Countess of Warwick. She was happier than she had been for years.
All she wanted now was to hear that Warwick's plan had succeeded and that she with the Prince was to return to England to take up their rightful positions there.
The streets of Paris were gaily decorated on the orders of the King and they took up their residence at the Palace of St Pol, where they lived in luxury which was all the more appreciated because of the hardships they had all so recently suffered.
Time passed slowly and each day they waited eagerly for news.