Edward did what he often did in such circumstances, he turned away from what was unpleasant—more than that in this case. . . alarming.
He must think of Scotland.
After the meeting with Albany at Fotheringay, Richard returned to the North and it was not long before the attack began.
Richard was a clever commander and in a short time he was besieging Berwick. In the South, Edward expressed great satisfaction with the Scottish campaign and he arranged for special couriers to bring him the news because it was such a pleasure to receive it. He had great faith in his brother and Richard's successes could stop his thinking of what was happening in France.
All through the autumn Edward revelled in the news. Richard was triumphant. He had left troops at Berwick to continue with the siege and marched on Edinburgh. James was at his mercy; the Scots were ready to treat for peace and even promised that if Edward did not wish his daughter Cecily to marry the heir of Scotland they would refund the instalments of the dowry which had already been paid.
There were more messages from Burgundy. Maximilian was fighting valiantly but he needed help. Edward must come to his aid.
Edward turned away to read the despatches from Scotland.
By this time however Richard was realizing that he could not keep up his supply lines and good general that he was decided that the only sensible action was to return. He had taught the Scots a lesson; there would be no more raids across the border for a while; but there was one thing Scotsmen were determined on. They would not accept Albany as their King.
Richard rehred to Berwick where the siege was still in progress; realizing that Edward would not want to go on paying a large army he dismissed many of the men, keeping only a strong enough force to take Berwick which he promptly did.
Edward was delighted with the campaign.
He sent a special courier to Richard.
T want you to come to Court,' he said. 'I want to tell you myself how much I appreciate what you have done. I want to honour you. I want all men to honour you . . . my beloved and faithful brother.'
There should be feasting in Westminster. It was a time for rejoicing. The conquering hero should be feted.
Richard had more than subdued the Scots, he had given Edward those Northern victories to think of when he might have been very plagued by the news from Burgundy.
They would keep Christmas at Westminster he told Elizabeth and he wanted it to be a season all would remember.
Preparations were in progress, there should be special banquets, balls and a morality play performed in the great hall. The guest of honour should be his brother Richard. He wanted everyone to understand how he relied on his brother.
Elizabeth was a little sullen when Richard's name was mentioned. She would have liked to whisper a word of crihcism regarding him in the King's ear, but she was wise enough to know how that would be received.
T am glad,' she told her brother Anthony, 'that he seems to be so enamoured of his life in the North. It keeps him away most of the time. As for Anne, she is a poor creature; she always looks to me as though she is fading away—^and they say the boy is not very strong either.'
'We shall doubtless see them at Christmas,' said Anthony, who was suffering from a disappointment because his proposed marriage to the Scottish princess seemed to be going the same way as that which was once suggested with the Duchess of Burgundy.
Poor Anthony, thought Elizabeth. He needed a wife. She could easily find an heiress for him but she really*wanted someone royal like Margaret of Scotland or Mary of Burgundy.
Poor Mary, she was no more now, and her husband Maximilian was not in a very happy state. Elizabeth knew that they were always sending frantic calls for help to Edward and she wondered what would have happened if Anthony had married Mary. Would he be in the same position as Maximilian was now?
She shrugged her shoulders. She could always brush off her disappointments and look for new fields of conquest.
Messengers had arrived with more news from Burgundy.
The King received the despatches but did not open them immediately. He did not want to hear disturbing news.
He talked to Elizabeth of the coming Christmas and as he talked his fingers curled about the papers. He supposed he must see what they contained. Who knew, it might be good news.
Good news from Burgundy! What good news could there possibly be? That Maximilian had miraculously found the arms and money he needed from somewhere. Where? Elizabeth was watching him. She knew that he was delaying reading the
messages. She pretended not to notice and went on to discuss a new dance the girls were learning.
'Elizabeth hopes that you will dance with her/ she said.
'Ah yes . . . that I will. She is a delightful creature.'
'Oh, Madame la Dauphine has her fair share of good looks.'
He could delay no longer. He broke the seals. It was from Margaret.
The words danced before his eyes. He was not seeing correctly. It could not possibly be. Maximilian had capitulated. He could no longer hold out. He was making terms for peace with the King of France. In this treaty Louis had agreed that the Dauphin should marry Maximilian's daughter and bring the provinces of Burgundy and Artois under French domination.
Red mist swam before Edward's eyes; his heart was beating with thundering hammer-like strokes.
The Dauphin for Margaret of Burgundy. But the Dauphin was for Elizabeth. He could hear his wife's voice going on and on in his head. 'Madame la Dauphine . . . Madame la Dauphine . . . .' No. His lips formed the word. It must not be. The Dauphin was for Elizabeth, Madame la Dauphine. His Elizabeth. His daughter. There could be no other Madame la Dauphine. And Louis had done this . . . arrogantly, insolently, without even warning him. Louis knew how great his desire for this match had been. He knew what it meant to him. Perhaps he had heard how, ever since it had been decided on, young Elizabeth had been known as Madame la Dauphine. Perhaps he had laughed slyly. And he had done this . . . brushed the King of England aside as though he were of no importance!
And what of the pension? What need to pay the pension now that he no longer feared Burgundy? What need to pretend this unnatural friendship existed? Oh he should have acted differently. He should have foreseen this. He should have sent everything he possibly could to prevent Maximilian being beaten by Louis.
At this most important stage of his career he had made a, great mistake. He had been too complacent. He should have seen disaster coming. He had but he had refused to look at it. He had pretended it wasn't there. And now ... it had come upon him. He had lost the marriage. He had lost the pension. An instalment was overdue now. No wonder for the first time Louis had held up payments. He should have seen it coming. And now here it was
presented to him in such a way that he could no longer pretend not to see it.
He had failed . . . wretchedly. He felt sick, sorry and ashamed. The old spider had got the better of him at last.
The maddening thing was that he might have prevented it.
'Edward . . . Edward. . . .'It was Elizabeth's voice seeming to come to him from a long way off. 'Edward . . . Edward.'
Red mists swam before his eyes and then blackness seemed to envelop him.
The King had had a slight seizure brought on by shock, but his strong body and immense will-power enabled him to shake off the effects and he declared that the Christmas celebrations should go on as planned.
In fact they should be more lavish than ever; he wanted the Court to say that this Christmas was the most magnificent of his reign.