The Red Rose of Anjou

MYSTERIOUS DEATH

Margaret was happy. Henry was all she could have wished and he was devoted to her. He had had her emblem of the daisy shown in every possible place; it had even been enameled and engraved on his plate.

‘The young fool is besotted by the French wench,’ commented Gloucester.

He would have his revenge, though. He would be equal with them all. He had never managed to outwit that wily old bird the Cardinal, nor Suffolk; but he would have done but for that unfortunate matter over Eleanor and the waxen image. He often wondered not how such a clever woman could have become involved in such practices but how she could have been so careless as to have been caught. She had been working for his advancement, of course. She had wanted to see him on the throne.

He would have been there but for people like the Cardinal and Suffolk. They thought they were clever arranging this French marriage but they had not seen the end of that yet. All they had was a temporary truce, and the French would soon be making further demands. He could see it coming.

Meanwhile, Margaret reveled in her role as Queen. She dazzled Henry with her prettiness and her quick wit. She visited the Cardinal at his mansion of Waltham and there she was received with great pleasure.

The old man delighted in her youthful charm. She was such a dainty creature and he was amused to think that such a delicate-seeming person could conceal a woman of strong will which she undoubtedly was.

But she was willing to submit that will to him.

‘I know,’ she told him, ‘that there is so much I have to learn and I want you to teach me.’

This seemed the utmost wisdom to the Cardinal for in spite of the adulation she was receiving she realized her shortcomings and she could not have sought a better teacher.

His old eyes misted over as he watched the beautiful young creature and she raised her blue eyes to his and said: I shall never forget our first meeting. I knew then that you would be my friend.’

‘You are so young and yet from the first I saw your latent wisdom,’ said the Cardinal. ‘There is no one on earth I would rather see than you beside the King on the throne.’

‘I hope I may come and see you often now that you do not always find it easy to come to Court.’

‘What a plague old age is when a beautiful Queen invites a man to Court and he is too infirm to take advantage of the honour. My dearest lady, whenever you come to see me I shall deem it the greatest honour that could befall me.’

Margaret enjoyed such compliments, particularly coming from this old man of the Church who was, she had quickly sensed even now, the most important man in England.

He talked to her of affairs in England. He said that what England needed was peace and he was sure the King realized this. She was heartily in agreement with that because it was exactly what her uncle the King of France wanted. The trouble, she knew, was that he wanted it on certain terms which the English might not be prepared to give.

He talked of Gloucester. His hatred for the Duke was in every inflection of his voice, every gesture, every expression which flitted across the old face.

‘Gloucester has been at the root of all our trouble. In his first marriage he offended Burgundy when Burgundy’s friendship was of vital importance to us. He was a menace to his brother Bedford, as fine a man as ever came out of England and almost as great a soldier as his brother the late King. T’was a pity Gloucester was not strangled at birth. He has caused nothing but trouble in this realm.’

I hate him,’ said Margaret vehemently. ‘So does Henry. He doubles the guards when he is around.’

‘You must be wary of him. He hates your marriage. He wanted the King to have one of the daughters of the Count of Armagnac. He does not want peace. He wants to continue the war.’

‘Did his wife plot against the King?’

‘Yes, she made waxen images with a witch and some soothsayers. They got their just deserts. She has been a captive ever since.’

‘Why was Gloucester allowed to go free?’

‘He was not suspected of plotting against the King’s life.’

‘I feel sure he was involved. Henry thinks so.’

‘Well, that is Gloucester. Be careful of him. He will harm you if he can. You have a good friend in the Marquess of Suffolk.’

‘I have, and the Marchioness is my dearest friend.’

‘Cling to them. And the Shrewsburys. Kings and Queens have many enemies.’

‘They will not get the better of me,’ said Margaret.

When she next came to Waltham the Cardinal showed her a chamber he had had prepared for her. He called it the Queen’s Chamber and the Cardinal had gone to great expense to furnish it elaborately with hangings of cloth and of gold from Damascus.

Margaret was delighted with it. She felt that with such friends as the Cardinal and the Suffolks she cared nothing for her enemies. And she was not going to put up any pretence of liking them. She would make it very clear to the Duke of Gloucester that she regarded him as an enemy.

Margaret was delighted with the friends who rallied round her. With such as them what had she to fear from a few enemies? She was already assembling what was known as the Court Party, and she insisted on Alice’s being in constant attendance.

Alice was delighted, but she was wise enough to know that the joyous feeling which at the time prevailed throughout the country could not last. Her husband was worried, too.

‘It is only a truce, that’s what they don’t realize,’ he said. ‘There has to be a reckoning soon and then the question of Maine and Anjou will arise again. When the people know what price we have had to pay for peace they will blame me.’

‘They must not do so,’ cried Alice. ‘What have you done but what you consider best for England?’

‘My dear, one’s intentions get little consideration. If one is successful one is a noble hero; if one fails, a villain.’

‘Oh come, William,’ said Alice. ‘You are strong enough to stand against them.’

‘I fear Gloucester.’

‘He has not the same power these days.’

‘He could always make trouble and now his friendship with York is growing.’

‘York. What is his grievance?’

‘That he doesn’t wear the crown.’

‘Why this is a nonsense.’

‘It would seem so. But he reckons he comes nearer through Clarence than Lancaster does through John of Gaunt.’

‘That is going back a good way.’

‘That matters not. There is a certain reason in it.’

‘Oh, no, it is too far back.’

‘As you say, it is far back and there are closer matters with which to concern myself. I have to face the Parliament. Well, I can tell them that the delegation will be coming to England to discuss the truce and that in the meantime I am advising the strengthening of the frontiers round Maine.’

‘That should please them.’

‘For the time being. But the reckoning is coming. I want them to know that whatever is arranged it is none of my doing.’

Alice looked at him a little dubiously. She did not remind him that when a man set out to guide a country’s policy, to be the most important minister in the land, he would surely be blamed if anything went wrong.

‘The Queen settles in happily, it seems,’ she said to change the subject.

‘Is she really beginning to lead the King?’

‘I can see it coming. She was born to lead and he to be led so the outcome is inevitable.’

‘Alice, try to restrain her a little.’

‘It is difficult. She is honest by nature. She finds it hard not to speak her mind. She lets it be known that she regards Gloucester with something like venom. She is sure that he is plotting to destroy the King.’

‘She is probably right but she should not say these things. Gloucester will show his hand if she goes much farther. At the moment he is pretending to support the marriage—which we know full well he did everything he could to prevent. I distrust him in this mood.’

‘Margaret does not yet understand the devious ways of statesmen.’

‘She must learn to, Alice.’

Alice lifted her shoulders. ‘She is a lady of very strong views. She will go her own way, I think.’

‘If anyone can influence her, you can.’

‘She is fiercely loyal. She is affectionate. But she will not prevaricate. No matter what one tried to make her she would always be Margaret of Anjou.’

‘And the King?’

‘He thinks that the words which fall from her lips are pure wisdom.’

‘She has managed to enchant him.’

‘He loves her strength. It appeals to his weakness. And she is very pretty but small and that seems to make her especially attractive to a man like Henry. He feels protective when he looks at her, knowing all the time that he will rely on her to protect him.’

‘Well, Alice, we must pray that we can extricate ourselves from this situation with skill so that we are not blamed for any of the demands which will have to be made.’

It seemed that he might do so, for when in the Parliament he explained that although there was no real peace with France, only a truce, that the frontiers of Maine and Anjou were being strengthened and that a delegation was coming to England, he was applauded.

The Commons congratulated him on the manner in which he had conducted affairs, and when the Duke of Gloucester moved a motion to the same effect in the Lords, he felt he had come through very well indeed.

But very quickly he became more uneasy than ever. When Gloucester complimented him he ought to be very wary indeed.

It was, he knew, only a respite.

The French Embassy had arrived in England.

From the City they came by barge to Westminster where Henry, with Margaret, was waiting to receive them. With them were the Duke of Gloucester, the Duke of Buckingham and the Earl of Warwick. Margaret was very interested to meet this last nobleman for Henry had told her a great deal about his tutor, the Earl of Warwick, and he appeared to have had a great affection for that stern old man. This was not that Earl of Warwick, however, but a very ambitious young man of about seventeen or eighteen, a certain Richard Neville who had come to the title through his marriage with old Warwick’s daughter Anne Beauchamp. Also present were the Archbishops of Canterbury and York. The French Embassy was headed by the Counts of Vendôme and Laval and the Archbishop of Rheims.

It soon became very clear that there was only one condition which the King of France would consider in making peace and that was the surrender of Maine. It was the great issue. He knew, and the English knew, that once that province was surrendered the English hope of claiming the French crown would be over.

When they were alone Margaret discussed the matter with Henry.

‘You want peace,’ she said. ‘You should give up Maine. I know my uncle well. If he says that is the only condition, he will insist on it. He means it.’

‘Oh, he means it,’ said Henry. ‘I have no doubt of that. If it rested with me alone I would say: Take Maine, let us have no more war. No more loss of life. No more high taxation. But the people...what will they say? My father gained so much. They have come to expect victories.’

‘They have had very few of late.’

‘No, not since the Maid came. But they believe that will pass. This war, you see, has been going on and on and up and down. It is down now but they think it will go up again.’

‘And yet they protest about paying taxes for it.’

‘People always protest about paying taxes. They want the war to end...but victoriously for us.’

‘Henry, the English are beaten.’

‘The English are never beaten until the last battle.’

‘Do not have any more battles. They are useless, Henry. They bring you no good.’

‘I know. War is waste of men and materials. People should be enjoying the beauties of life. But what can I do?’

‘Give up Maine,’ said Margaret softly.

Gloucester was gleeful. The Cardinal was a sick man and had had to retire from affairs. One enemy the less, thought Gloucester.

He now concentrated his attack on Suffolk.

Suffolk was a friend of the French. He had brought the Frenchwoman over. He was going to sell English possessions in France to the French just to buy the King a pretty French wife.

Were the people going to stand by and allow this to happen? Gloucester knew how to set up a whispering campaign. He was going to bring Suffolk down and perhaps the King and Queen. Who knew what would happen then? Perhaps his dream would be realized. He was the next of kin.

York believed that he had a chance. York before Lancaster! He was a very ambitious man. During the negotiations for the marriage of Margaret and the King, York had been in correspondence with the King of France trying to arrange a marriage for his eldest son Edward with one of Charles’s daughters. Young Edward must be about three years old. Oh yes, York was ambitious all right and he had his eyes firmly fixed on the throne.

All very good. He would be a good adversary of Suffolk.

Gloucester went to see York. He was getting friendly with him. So it was when men had a similar aim, although the goal might not be the same for they were both after the crown.

‘What think you of this conference?’ he asked York.

‘The French are asking for the return of Maine and Anjou.’

‘And what say you as a soldier to that?’

‘That it is tantamount to saying goodbye to the crown of France.’

‘So say I. But we have married our King to a French Princess, have we not, and this is the price asked for her. The price of peace and Margaret.’

‘We already have her. Maine is for peace.’

The two men fell silent, then Gloucester said: ‘Our little Queen is very partial to Suffolk.’

‘She would be. She looks upon him as the maker of her marriage.’

‘Very fond of Suffolk.’

‘And his wife.’

‘But particularly Suffolk.’

‘You don’t mean...?’

‘Why not? She is young and lusty and I doubt Henry can give a good account of himself.’

‘Nay...Suffolk is devoted to Alice Chaucer and Alice is Margaret’s dear friend.’

‘What has that to do with the matter? This devotion to Suffolk can be for only one reason.’

‘Suffolk is an old man.’

‘Some girls like a little maturity, particularly when they are saddled with a young boy.’

‘The King is hardly that.’

‘In manners he is.’

‘I can’t believe it.’

‘How explain this devotion then?’

‘Well, he brought her over. He arranged her marriage. He was the first Englishman she had contact with...He and the Cardinal. She is devoted to the Cardinal too.’

‘I believe there is a special relationship between Suffolk and Margaret.’

York shrugged his shoulders. He was a little impatient. Gloucester had always been a fool, always plunging into wild adventures. Now he was letting his imagination run away with him.

Nevertheless within a very short time the scandal was being whispered in the taverns. ‘Have you heard...? Well, it must be true. I heard it from someone at Court. Yes...the Queen and whom do you think...Suffolk!’

The Queen Suffolk’s mistress! It was incredible. Could it be believed? She looked so young and innocent. ‘But,’ it was said, ‘you know the French. After all she is French. She is one with the enemy.’

‘They say the French are demanding that we give up all King Henry gained. He would turn in his grave.’

‘But we won’t. We can’t. The Duke of Gloucester will see to that.’

The people were becoming convinced that something had been arranged while the French Embassy was in London, and it was being kept from them.

The Queen was persuading the King to agree to the French proposals. Of course she was. She was one of them. She was the enemy.

People no longer carried the daisy. Something was very wrong, and they blamed Margaret.

You could never trust the French, they said. Margaret’s brief popularity was at an end.

When Suffolk heard the rumours he knew without a doubt who had set them in motion. He was aware of the friendship between York and Gloucester. They were working up a case against him and the fact that they had brought Margaret’s name in showed clearly that they were trying to turn the King against him.

It was no use delaying. It was quite obvious that Maine would have to be given up. The Queen was persuading the King and the King wanted to please her and bring about peace.

It had to be. Suffolk would have agreed at once if he had not feared the effect on the people, knowing that they would make him the scapegoat. Gloucester would see to that. That he was already working his mischief was clear.

Suffolk came to see the King. It was not difficult to play on his fears, and he was always ready to believe the worst of Gloucester. That matter of the Duchess’s involvement with the Witch of Eye and the others had had a marked effect on Henry. He believed that one day his uncle would stage a coup, murder him and take the throne.

Therefore it was simple.

Gloucester had made a long speech in Parliament urging that the truce be violated. He was working up feeling against the French and that meant the King’s marriage.

‘You see. Sire,’ said Suffolk, ‘we have to take some action. We know well that he is in collusion with York. Gloucester at least may be plotting against your very person.’

‘It would not surprise me,’ said Henry. ‘His wife did it once and I believe he may well have been with her. He is waiting his chance to try again.’

‘Sire, in my opinion we should call him to face the Parliament and answer certain charges against him.’

The King hesitated. It was a pity that the Cardinal had retired to Waltham. He could go and see him, of course, but the old man was quite aloof from politics now.

Henry had to make his own decision.

‘Where is Gloucester now?’ he asked.

‘I have heard, my lord, that he is in Wales.’

‘In Wales? What would he be doing there?’

‘Stirring up trouble, doubtless. I have heard that he is getting together an army.’

‘To come against me! Oh, I am weary of this uncle of mine. He has been nothing but a menace for as long as I can remember.’

‘Bring him before Parliament and let him answer to the charges brought against him. Parliament will be meeting at

Bury on the tenth of February. Is it your wish, my lord, that Gloucester be summoned to attend?’

‘Yes,’ said the King, ‘that is my wish.’

So Gloucester was summoned to Bury to attend the Parliament and answer certain charges which would be brought against him.

Gloucester was dead. The country was stunned. They knew, of course, that he had been murdered. In the towns and the countryside they talked of it.

The news spread rapidly. He had been riding through Lavenham to Bury. Many had seen him—just the same as usual, splendidly dressed, smiling and acknowledging the cheers of the people, certain of his popularity. Many of them knew that he was something of a rogue but they liked his roguery. The King was a saint, they said. Everyone could not be that and saints were uncomfortable people. Yes, they liked a rogue and for all his debaucheries and follies Gloucester had kept his place in their hearts. His marriage to a woman who was humble compared with him, his devotion to her, was appealing. It persisted and even now he was trying to obtain her release. Yes, Gloucester was a popular figure.

And what had happened? Riding to Bury he had been intercepted by the King’s guard, ordered to return to his lodgings and after a few days it was announced that he was dead. He had fallen sick and died. The people simply did not believe that he had died from natural causes.

The weather was bad, of course—many people had died of cold—it had been the worst winter many remembered; the Thames had been frozen and so had almost every river in the country. The Duke had lived too well for the years not to have taken some toll of him. But sudden death? No.

The day after his death his body was exhibited. The lords and the knights of the Parliament and the people flocked to see it. There was no sign of foul play. There were dark hints about Edward the Second who had died mysteriously in Berkeley Castle. They had inserted a red hot poker into him, destroyed his internal organs, and there had been no sign of foul play on his body except that expression of agony on his cold, still face. It was all very well for his enemies to express their grief and send Gloucester’s body to be taken in pomp to St. Albans to be laid in the fair vault which had been prepared for him during his lifetime. It was not good enough. The people would not believe that he had died by natural causes.

Moreover the servants of his household had been arrested. They were accused of plotting to make Duke Humphrey King. Gloucester’s illegitimate son known as Arthur was arrested with them and he, including four others, was condemned to die the traitor’s death.

Henry was very unhappy. He could not help feeling relieved that that arch-troublemaker Gloucester had been removed but at the same time he hated the thought of men being subjected to the horrible traitors’ death.

‘They have plotted against you,’ Margaret reminded him.

‘If they have done so it was at Gloucester’s orders,’ said Henry. ‘He was the one to be blamed.’

‘Well, he has paid the price now.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Henry quickly.

‘I mean that God has taken him in the midst of his iniquities.’

‘I hope a priest was with him at the end."

‘Oh Henry,’ laughed Margaret, ‘will you always love your enemies?’

Suffolk came to see them. He did not want to talk of the rumours which were growing. They were too embarrassing. It was quite absurd to link his name with Margaret’s. Alice could laugh at the idea. Others might not.

But he saw that if the members of Gloucester’s household w ere condemned it would be tantamount to saying that there had been a plot, and if there had, it would seem that Gloucester might well have been murdered.

He laid the matter before the King. ‘The Duke of Gloucester died as he acted throughout his life,’ he said. ‘By which I mean he died to cause the most inconvenience to those around him. I do not believe there was a plot against the crown. If there was people will say that Gloucester was murdered...without trial. That is not so. If there was no plot then it seems very probable that Gloucester died a natural death which would be the happiest solution. My lord, I think our best plan is to free these servants of the late Duke.’

Nothing could please Henry better. Now he would not be disturbed by the revolting things that would be done to those men. He grasped at the idea.

‘Let us free them,’ he said. ‘They have been punished enough by contemplating a terrible fate. Yes, let them go free. There was no plot. My uncle died of his years and the strain he had put on them by a life of debauchery.’

So they were freed. But that did not stop the rumours.

The people still adhered to the story that Gloucester had been murdered. He was the enemy of the Duke of Suffolk, and the Queen had shown that she hated him.

The Queen had helped plan the murder, they whispered, and if she had not actually carried it out she was as guilty as those who had.

So Margaret, who had ridden through the streets of London to the acclaim of the people and the waving of daisies, was now-branded ‘Adulteress. Murderess. And French!’

Margaret found it difficult to understand the change in the attitude of the people towards her. When she rode out she was greeted with sullen stares. They did not abuse her. They whispered as she passed by, and she looked in vain for the daisies.

Bewildered and hurt, she demanded of Alice: ‘Why do they blame me for Gloucester’s death?’

They will always blame someone.’ Alice consoled her. ‘They blame William, too.’

‘It is true that I hated him.’ said Margaret. ‘But others must have done so too.’

‘The people always look for scapegoats in high places,’ Alice reminded her.

‘It makes me unhappy and...uneasy.’

Yes, thought Alice, it should do that.

She said: ‘You will have to act very carefully now. You must not show your pleasure in his death.’

Margaret shrugged her shoulders. She found it very hard to hide her feelings and she could not but feel relieved by the death of Gloucester.

She went to Grafton to see the Cardinal. He would have advice to offer her.

She was horrified to find him in his bed. He looked very ill—far worse than when she had last seen him.

She felt she could not burden him with her troubles. In any case he seemed too ill to listen to them. He was pleased to see her though and she sat by his bedside and tried to be cheerful.

He must get better, she told him. She needed him.

‘You will do well,’ he said. ‘You will look after the King.’

Only once did he mention Gloucester. ‘That trouble-maker has gone,’ he said. ‘Well, it was a fitting end. Do you know I have been told that some have accused me of having a part in his death.’ His face creased into a smile. ‘You see me in no fit state to do murder.’

‘They will say anything...anything!’ cried Margaret vehemently.

‘Indeed it is so. But these things are quickly forgotten. They look round. "Who was Gloucester’s enemy?" they say. "Oh...the Cardinal." Everyone knew of the enmity between us. It had been there for years. I always saw what a menace he was to the crown, to England. A pity others did not see it also. His brother Bedford did. Well, he has gone now. He can make no more trouble here on earth. And you, dear child, forgive my temerity in speaking to my Queen thus, but you are to me a very dear child and I love you and have great faith in you. You can be exactly what our King needs. He loves you. Who would not? You must guide him always, dear lady. Care for the King always...He will need your care. He is surrounded by enemies...but the greatest of them is dead now. Take care of him...’

‘I will, I will,’ said Margaret fervently. ‘But you talk as though you are going to leave us. You are not. I forbid it. You will stay with us. I need you.’

‘God bless you,’ said the Cardinal.

She sat by his bed but she could see how tired he was. He tried to struggle up when she left but she would not have it. She bent over and kissed him.

‘I shall come to you again...soon,’ she said.

But she did not for within a few weeks the Cardinal was dead.

Her grief was great. She had lost her worst enemy she believed and so soon after her best friend.

Alice was very worried. She did not like the rumours which were circulating about Gloucester’s death. She spoke to her husband about it.

‘You worry unduly,’ he assured her. ‘Gloucester’s death is the best thing that could happen to us.’

‘Yes, it would have been if he had died without mystery.’

‘The mystery will be forgotten shortly. In the meantime there is much to gain. Gloucester was rich and what will happen to his estates? His wife, a captive suspected of plotting against the King’s life through witchcraft, can claim nothing. There will be his estates to dispose of We shall do not badly out of that, I promise you.’

I was not thinking of estates,’ said Alice.

‘As I said you worry yourself unduly. All will be well. Margaret will have some of the estates but we shall have our share.’

Alice shivered.

‘What is the matter with you?’

‘Nothing. If you say all is well, all is well.’

He looked at her seriously. He was very fond of Alice and had never regretted their marriage. She had given him two sons and a daughter and it had been a very successful union. She was wise, too, and she did communicate a certain element of her apprehension to him. He admitted it at length.

‘Gloucester was my enemy,’ he said, ‘and Gloucester was a fool.’

‘Exactly,’ replied Alice. ‘You know now what I have in mind.’

‘There will be another enemy...less foolish perhaps.’

Alice nodded. ‘And you know who that will be.’

Suffolk replied in one syllable: ‘York.’

‘He will not be so reckless or so foolish as Gloucester.’

‘If the King could get an heir that would make it less easy for York.’

‘York will still be there. There is a purpose in him. He will bide his time.’

‘But if the Queen produces a son the people will love the child. Margaret will regain some of the popularity she has lost.’

‘If she gets a child.’

‘Is there no sign then?’

‘None. She would tell me if there were. I know that she is impatient and frustrated because she does not seem to be able to conceive.’

‘A child will make such a difference. The people might even take to wearing daisies again.’

‘We must pray for a child.’

‘With fervour. We need that child. In the meantime don’t fret about York. He must bide his time.’

‘And he will,’ said Alice.

‘In the meantime there will be a child. There must...and why should there not be? They are both young and healthy. The King dotes on her and she is fond of the King. It will come. It is because they are over anxious that they fail.’

Alice laid her hand on his arm. ‘We must be watchful of York.’

Her husband nodded.

It was a few days later when he came back to her obviously in very high spirits.

‘News, my love,’ he said. ‘I think you will find it good.’

She looked at him expectantly.

‘York is to be banished to Ireland.’

‘Banished?’

‘Well, it is tantamount to that. He has been appointed to be the King’s Lieutenant there for ten years. That will put him out of the picture for a while.’

‘He must be furious.’

‘He is. But what can he do? He cannot say: I want to stay in England and make an attempt on the crown, now can he? He must submit with a good grace. I have an idea that he will delay his departure for as long as he can. Never mind. He must go to Ireland.’

‘Henry agreed?’

‘I only had to tell him it was a good thing and Margaret helped as I had previously explained everything to her.’

‘It seems that one must go to the Queen before the King.’

‘Well, that is true. Margaret means to rule, and Henry is only too pleased to let someone else take over the role that he never really wanted.’

‘It is very good news indeed.’

‘There is more to come. There are some weighty titles coming our way. I already have the Earldom of Pembroke.’

‘From Gloucester’s estate?’ added Alice quietly.

‘Well, yes, and not only that but Chamberlain and Constable of Dover and Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports. I am to be Admiral of England as well. What do you think of that?’

‘I am overwhelmed and so must you be with so many honours.’

‘And in addition, my lady Marchioness, how would you like to become a Duchess?’

‘So...that as well.’

‘Behold the Duke of Suffolk.’

‘The King must be very pleased with you. He must love you well.’

‘The King,’ said the new Duke of Suffolk, ‘and the Queen as well.’