The Reluctant Queen

Mesalliance

Looking back over my life I often think how strange it is that a woman such as myself should have so little control over her own destiny.

I was the daughter of a man who at the time of my birth was one of the most important men in the country. In truth I might even say the most important for he was even greater than the king. He was indeed known as the Kingmaker. Then I was the affianced wife of a Prince of Wales and later a queen. What a glittering fate that would appear to be, yet now that my life is coming to an end, I realise that it was lived in the shadows. I moved or perhaps it would be more correct to say I was moved -into important positions, but always for the benefit of others -except, I like to think, in marriage to the man who became King of England. It was certainly my wish and I hope his that I should become his queen. And now I have come to the time when I must ask myself for how long?

But I must go back to the very beginning. Who would have believed that a man such as my father could fail to beget the son he so ardently desired and had only been able to produce two girls my sister, Isabel, and myself? His grandfather, Richard, Earl of Westmorland, had had twenty-three children from his two marriages. But perhaps my father found consolation in the fact that even girls have their uses. They can form alliances which can be of inestimable value. My father was a man to make the most of his advantages.

It was different with my mother. I believe she was very satisfied with her two daughters, as is often the way with mothers who come to believe that the offspring they have are just what they wanted. At least my father could not have been disappointed in his marriage, for through my mother had come the greater part of his wealth; she had been Anne Beauchamp, heiress to vast lands and fortune, and she had brought him the earldom of Warwick.

She lavished great care on Isabel and me, which was necessary, I suppose, because neither of us was robust. The three of us were very happy together, whether we were at Middleham Castle, Warwick Castle, Cawood, or Warwick Court in London.

We saw our father infrequently, but when he did come the atmosphere changed completely. Bustle, excitement, apprehension prevailed. Men wearing the emblem of the Ragged Staff were everywhere, and, of course, there was my father's dominating presence. He took some interest in us girls, which was surprising. I sometimes thought he might have been a family man if he had not been so ambitious to rule the country, through the king of his making. My childhood memories are of comings and goings, some of which affected us and then we could be off to other family residences at a moment's notice.

Isabel was my senior by nearly five years and she often tried to explain to me what was going on, but when she herself did not understand she refused to admit it and relied on her invention. When my father departed with his followers, we would be at peace again.

Of all our homes I loved Middleham best. It was situated in the heart of wild and open country in the North Riding of Yorkshire -and it will always be home to me.

It was at Middleham Castle that I first met Richard of Gloucester, when he was sent to my father to learn the arts of war and chivalry; and it was there that the bonds of something deeper than friendship were forged between us.

I was five years old when a momentous event occurred. Isabel, then ten, told me about it.

"There is a new king on the throne." she said.

"It is all because of the War of the Roses. The White Rose is for York ... that is the good one. That's us. Then there is the Red Rose of Lancaster. That is the wicked one for silly old Henry and his horrible Queen Margaret. They are not King and Queen any more because our father does not like them. So he has made our cousin Edward king and he is now called Edward the Fourth."

"Does our father say who is to be king then?" I asked.

"Of course. He is the Kingmaker. Wicked Queen Margaret killed King Edward's father at Wakefield. She cut off his head and put a paper crown on it to mock him because he had wanted to be king instead of silly Henry, and she stuck his head on the walls of York. Our father was very cross about it and he would not let her be queen any more Edward is king instead."

This was in a way a version of what had happened at Wakefield, for the battle had been a decisive one in the War of the Roses. Edward, however, had not such a strong claim to the throne as Henry, who was the son of King Henry the Fifth and therefore in the direct line: but Edward's father was descended from King Edward the Third through both his father and mother through Lionel, Duke of Clarence, who was the old king's second son and Edmund, Duke of York, who was his fifth. Richard told me all this during one of our talks when I was a little older.

Most people, except those absolutely dedicated to the cause of Lancaster, must have thought it preferable to have a king like Edward than one such as Henry. Edward was young, strong and outstandingly handsome he was a giant among men and a king the people could admire and be proud of.

He was also Richard's brother and because of the deep bonds of friendship between King Edward and the man who had put him on the throne my father it was decided that Richard should be sent to Middleham to be brought up under the guidance of the Earl of Warwick. Thus it was we met.

I remember the first time I saw him. He was sitting alone and despondent. He was very pale; he looked tired and was staring rather gloomily straight ahead.

I said: "Hello. I know who you are. You are the king's brother."

He turned to look at me. I could see that he was not very pleased by the intrusion and was wishing that I would go away.

"Yes," he answered. I am, and you are the earl's daughter the younger one."

"How long are you going to live with us?"

"Until I have learned all that I have to learn."

"There are always people here learning what my father can teach them."

He nodded.

"I know Francis Lovell and Robert Percy," I said.

"Do you?"

"Yes. I know them." "Sometimes I watch you all riding in the mock tournaments. There must be a lot to learn."

There is a great deal to learn."

"It must make you very tired."

"I am not tired." he said firmly.

I knew he was, so I said nothing and we were silent, he staring ahead, I think, willing me to go away.

I watched him, thinking of his father's head being cut off and stuck on the walls of York City.

He stood up suddenly and said: "I have to go. Goodbye."

"Goodbye," I said; and he went away.

After that I was more interested in the boys who came to be brought up at Middleham. They were all highly born, of course, and they were made to work very hard and continually. It was necessary, Isabel told me, because they had to become knights and fight in the war and there were always wars, so there had to be men trained to fight in them. These boys who were learning would all have to go to war and probably have their heads cut off and stuck up somewhere.

The boys lived like the soldiers my father always had with him wherever he went. They slept together and ate together; and there was a comptroller of the household whom they must obey. They had so much to learn; not only must they be proficient in the arts of war but they had to learn how to behave in the presence of ladies, so there were times when they came to the solarium or the great hall where we were assembled at that time to converse with my mother, Isabel and myself. They might play chess, or some musical instrument or dance.

I would look for the small dark boy who, I believed, preferred even the strenuous exercises of the fields and moors to those social occasions. It was different with Francis Lovell. He was very good-looking and merry, so Isabel usually made sure that she talked to him. I did not feel in the least envious. I had a great desire to learn more about Richard.

My mother smiled to see us together.

"He is a strange boy," she said.

"He is not easy to know. But at least he is the king's brother."

I said I thought Richard did not really want to talk to anyone.

"No," she said.

"That's true. But I think if he has to talk to someone he would rather it were you."

I felt a surge of pleasure at that until Isabel told me that it was because I was the youngest and did not count for much.

Poor Richard! He was often very tired. When I saw him coming in wearing his heavy armour, I was very sorry for him. He was different from the other boys; they had more sturdy bodies. Richard never complained; he would have fiercely denied his fatigue, but I noticed it, and I liked him the more because of his stoical attitude.

I knew by that time that he wanted to be strong and learn everything that would make him of use to the brother whom he adored. It was a hard life these boys were expected to live. I supposed it was necessary if they were to be prepared for arduous battle; but perhaps now that we had the wonderful Edward on the throne he would keep the peace. But of course they must always be prepared.

Sometimes, if the exercises were taking place in the castle grounds, we would watch. We saw the mock battles when the boys fought each other in the field with swords or even battle axes; sometimes they rode out in heavy armour for some exercise on the moors. It was all part of the training. And when they came back they must clean themselves, take supper, and in the early evening join the ladies for conversation, singing or dancing.

I often thought what a brave spirit Richard had; and what a tragedy it was that he had been given such a frail body.

In the beginning I knew he hoped that I would not seek him out, but after a while I fancied he used to look for me. My mother, who had a kindly heart and felt deeply for the young and all the trials they had to face in life, was somewhat pleased.

"I think they overwork him." she said.

"He is smaller than the other boys. Perhaps he will shoot up with the years. Some do. It is strange as his brothers are such fine tall men. As for the king, he stands head and shoulders above most." She smiled in that indulgent way people did when they spoke of the king.

"But I like to see you two friendly."

He used to dance with me. He was not very good and I pretended not to notice. I think he appreciated that.

I said: "I believe men should not dance well. It is not quite manly to do so."

"My brother dances well." he said.

"When he takes to the floor everyone is captivated by his performance. And he is the most manly man that ever lived." He glowed when he talked of his brother. When he was tired and obviously so relieved to take off his heavy armour, I would ask him questions about his brother and the tiredness would disappear. King Edward was his ideal. According to Richard, he was perfect in every way. I soon discovered that Richard's dearest wish was to be exactly like this brother. That wish was futile. Edward, it seemed, was all that Richard was not. I thought later that it was an indication of something unusual in his nature that he should so admire someone who was the absolute antithesis to himself.

There was a special seat at Middleham; it was cut out of the stone wall; shrubs grew round it so that it was comparatively secluded. He made it his special refuge; he would go there to recover from those exhausting exercises. He wanted to be apart from the other boys who naturally looked down on one who was not as strong as they were; and after the manner of the young they would not hesitate to call attention to this.

I used to join him there. At first good manners prevented him from asking me to leave, and he tolerated me; after a while I think he was sometimes glad of my company, for there was one day when I was unable to go to him and the next time he mentioned the fact with something like reproach in his voice. Then I knew he was pleased to be with me.

It was from him that I learned something of what was going on in the country.

Tell me about the Wars of the Roses ... about mad Henry and fierce Margaret and how it all came about," I said; and I settled back to listen.

The trouble is between the Houses of York and Lancaster," he explained.

"It would never have arisen if Henry the Sixth had been a real king. Kings must be strong like my brother. Henry is mad. It is not surprising. His French grandfather was mad and had to be put away for long periods. And the worst thing was that he married Margaret of Anjou. She is haughty, domineering and the people hate her. They do not like her two chief ministers -Suffolk and Somerset either. And in '53, when Henry and Margaret had a son, it looked as though the Lancastrians would be on the throne for a very long time. It was not good. A mad king, an arrogant foreigner for a queen and a child heir. Your father was against them. He was for the House of York. After all, we are related. Our mother is your father's aunt. She was one of twenty-three children ... the youngest, you see. There is a family bond. It was natural that he should support the House of York. The Percys are for Lancaster and the Nevilles do not like the Percys. They both regard themselves as Lord of the North."

"I am glad we are on your side, Richard," I said.

"I should not have liked to be with mad Henry and fierce Margaret."

"It would have been the wrong side to be on, for we are the winners, and once the people realise what it is like to have Edward for a king they will want no other."

"Sometimes the people cannot judge what is best for them, and sometimes they have to accept what king they are given."

"That is true, but my brother and your father will see that they will accept the king they are given."

"It is most exciting. I can see why you want to excel at all the things you have to do. They will be necessary if you have to go to war for your brother."

He smiled. I had said exactly what was in his mind.

He grew animated talking about the battles. St. Albans, Blore Heath, Northampton. Wakefield made him both sad and angry. I ventured to put out a hand and touch his because I knew he was thinking of his father's death and the ignoble treatment he had received.

"Wakefield has been avenged." he said.

"And then ... St. Albans."

Tell me about St. Albans."

This was the second battle which had taken place at St. Albans. It was truly brilliant strategy on the part of your father. His army was beaten in the field. Margaret thought she was secure. But your father joined up with my brother and they decided that they would not accept defeat and would march to London and there proclaim my brother king."

"But you said they had been beaten."

"That was at St. Albans. But the Lancastrians were unpopular. It was not Henry whom they hated. He was a poor sad creature. It was his overbearing wife. And when the news of the defeat of St. Albans reached London the people were afraid of being in the hands of the Lancastrians. They knew what it would mean if the rough soldiers came to London. There would be trouble in the streets houses would be ransacked, wives and daughters of the citizens misused. They were burying their valuables and were in a state of great anxiety. So your father decided to get to London first to save the city from the Lancastrian soldiers many of whom were mercenaries intent on gaining spoils for their efforts. It was a clever idea. Your father with my brother marched on the capital. They persuaded the people that they came in peace to save them from inevitable pillage and to ask them if they would accept Edward of York as their king."

"And they were welcomed," I cried, having heard something of this from Isabel.

"It is true. The important citizens were called together and asked if they thought Henry and Margaret fit to rule them. At this there was an immediate response in the negative. And would they take Edward of York to be their king? They cried, Yea, yea, yea. Oh, how I wish I had been there!"

"Where were you?" I asked.

I, with my mother and my brother George and sister Margaret, were all on a ship bound for the Low Countries. When my mother heard about the defeat at St. Albans she had thought she must get us out of the country. Of course, I was not old enough then to fight for my brother, but now I am older I shall soon be able to. As soon as we heard the news that my brother was the accepted king we returned home."

I listened enthralled proud that I was the daughter of the man who had made this glorious victory possible. My father and Richard's brother stood together. No wonder Richard and I were friends.

He seemed to share that thought for he turned to me and smiled warmly.

"Of course," he went on, "there had to be a lot of fighting after that. Margaret had really won the battle of St. Albans. It was just clever strategy which had won the day for us. There had to be the battle of Towton where we finally beat them and after that there was no doubt that my brother was truly king."

"With my father helping him to rule."

They are kinsmen and allies."

"As we are. Let us always remember that."

"Yes," he said.

"Let us always remember."

It was October. The leaves of the trees were already turned to bronze and there was a strong smell of autumn in the air.

I loved such days. Isabel and I often rode out with some of the boys and I usually found myself with Richard. He was looking better; he was becoming very skilful in all the martial arts and I admired him more than ever because I knew he had to make an extra effort to equal the others. He did tell me once, in a rare moment of confidence, that sometimes his shoulder was painful after the exercises. But when I asked afterwards if it were better, he frowned and I knew he did not like me to refer to it, so I did not ask again. I knew he was regretting mentioning it to me in the first place.

Returning to the castle one day, we found great activity. I knew at once by the number of men in the courtyard and about the castle that my father had come home.

My mother hurried to us as we arrived.

She said: "Your father is here. There is bad news. The enemy has landed at Bamborough."

She looked very grave.

"There will be fighting," she went on.

"We have had a comparatively long respite but it seems that is over and we are to start again. Is there to be no end of it?"

But it was no time to brood on such a question. We were surrounded by my father's followers. When he was home the number of people in the castle was great. When I was older I understood how he boosted his popularity with his extreme wealth. He used his money to create an image of power wherever he went. When we were in Warwick Court in London his followers thronged the streets; they were in all the taverns and market places so that everyone should know great Warwick was in town. In the kitchens of Warwick Court oxen, pigs and lambs were roasted whole and any man was welcome to take away as much meat as he could carry on his knife. So it was not surprising that people rejoiced to see Warwick in town, and my father evidently considered it was a small price to pay for his popularity and to hear the shouts of "A Warwick" every time the emblem of the Ragged Staff was seen: and whenever the great man himself appeared, it was as though he were indeed the king. My father was a vain man. His great ambition was to rule the country, and as this could never be acceptable because he was not royal, he would do it through the king of his choice. He appeared not to realise that his power came through his vast wealth much of which had been brought to him by his wife and not because of his wisdom and achievement.

But at this time he was at the height of his glory. The king he had made was on the throne and there seemed every indication that, pleasure-loving as the young king was, my father had every chance of fulfilling his ambitions.

Now he must bring all his efforts to defeating the invading forces of Margaret. Henry did not count; he was a poor, half-mad puppet. Margaret was the enemy. It was a pity Henry had married such a forceful woman.

The great news was that the king would be coming to Middleham to join my father for the march to Bamborough.

I had never seen Richard so excited.

I said to him: "I am longing to see the king. I want to see for myself that he is all you say he is."

"He is all of that and more. Whatever I said of him could not be praise enough. He will be going into battle. How I wish I could go with him."

"One day you will," I replied and he nodded happily.

My father wanted the most lavish feast prepared something to outshine even Warwick's standards. The king would be at the castle only one night, for the next day at dawn he and my father, with their armies, would be marching to Bamborough.

Servants dashed hither and thither; my mother gave orders in the kitchens; and Isabel and I were instructed how to behave. We must be a credit to our father.

"I long to see the king," said Isabel.

"They say he is the most handsome man in the kingdom."

We heard his approach when he must have been some distance away, and

Isabel and I were in the turret with some of the ladies waiting. And then we saw the cavalcade and the king was riding at the head of it.

Reports of him had not been exaggerated. He was magnificent. Our mother, who joined us, said: "We must go down there to greet the king," and with her we went down to the courtyard. Our father was at the gate of the castle and we joined him there.

The king had leaped from his horse and advanced towards us. I had never seen such a good-looking man. He was very tall and there was an immense vitality about him; his features were clear cut and perfectly formed: but his greatest charm was that air of affability, his warm, friendly smile and I discovered that was for everyone, even the humblest; he looked on all men as though they were his friends and all women as though he longed to be their lover. It was what is called charm; and it would always bring people to his side.

"Ah, friend Warwick!" He beamed on my father and I glowed with pride. That look conveyed love and reliance; and I could see that my father was greatly gratified. Later I realised that he regarded the king as his creature, the puppet to do his will; handsome, gracious, made to be loved by the people; the facade behind which lurked the true ruler of the country, for the king, given what he wanted a life of luxury, easy living, and above all women would be content for the Earl of Warwick to rule England. That was what my father thought at the time.

"My gracious lord," he said, "may I present my lady wife."

"Countess." murmured the king.

"My mother was about to kneel but he had caught her and, putting his hands on her shoulders, kissed her on the lips.

"Your pardon, Warwick." went on the king.

"Temptation was too great."

And there was my mother blushing, smiling, a victim of his enchantment.

"My daughters, Isabel and Anne, my lord."

"Charming, charming." And before Isabel could kneel, he had taken her hand and was kissing it. Then he turned and did the same to me.

He said something about my father's being the most fortunate of men and from that moment we were all caught up in his spell. I understood how he had enslaved Richard.

There was feasting in the great hall, but my father was grave, no doubt thinking of Queen Margaret and wondering how many men had landed with her and whether they should leave immediately for Bamborough. The king showed little concern and none would have believed from his demeanour that he might be on the point of losing his kingdom.

When the meal was over my father conducted the king to the bedchamber which had been prepared for him. They would be leaving at dawn for Bamborough. I was awakened in the early morning by the clattering of horses' hoofs and voices below. And then all was quiet.

They were anxious days. My mother talked to us about the state of affairs in the country more than she ever had before. I think it was because she was afraid. With a Yorkist king on the throne we were all safe; but that could change suddenly. When I was very young, there had been an occasion when we had all had to leave with great speed for Calais, of which town my father held the captaincy. That was when, briefly, Henry was king again.

Now I was eight years old and Isabel thirteen of an age, I suppose, to understand a little of what was going on around us. Perhaps my mother thought that she should prepare us for a possible change in our fortunes.

"It is Margaret," she said, as we sat over our needlework.

"She is a persistent woman, and now she has a son who, she hopes, will inherit the throne one day and she is determined that he should do so."

"My father will never allow that," said Isabel.

"It might be beyond his control. There will be battles ... and if it should go against him ... oh, how I wish we could all be at peace!"

"We were until this woman landed," said Isabel.

"She is the kind of woman who will never give up. She knows what she wants and is determined to get it and that is the throne of England."

To get it she will have to beat our father and that she can never do," said Isabel firmly.

"It has been done before," our mother reminded her.

"But my father soon changed it."

"He would be pleased to hear your confidence in him."

"He is the king really."

"Hush, child! You should not say such a thing."

"But one must speak the truth."

"One must adhere to the truth but when it is dangerous to mention it it is better not to do so."

"My father will soon have won," said Isabel stoutly.

"I do not want to go to Calais again."

"Alas, Isabel, it might not be what we want but what is thrust upon us."

I wondered why my mother was so apprehensive, and it occurred to me that it was because she was so much wiser than Isabel.

"S." she went on.

"We must pray for victory while we prepare for defeat."

After that she talked to us often about the situation.

"It was a pity Edward the Third had so many sons," she said.

"It makes too many claimants to the throne. Strange, is it not, that men crave for sons." She looked a little sad and I felt I ought to apologise for being a daughter as well as Isabel, but I was glad to be reminded that some men could have too many.

Poor Henry. She felt sorry for him. She was sure he did not want the crown. He would have been happy with religion, a life of contemplation. She had heard it said of him that he wished to be a monk or enter the Church. Perhaps if he had done that he would not have gone mad in the first place. And now he suffered from periodic attacks of insanity. It was the case of his grandfather, Charles the Mad of France, all over again. She wondered whether if his madness had come to him through his mother, the family that lady was reputed to have had with Owen Tudor was equally affected.

She ended up by telling us that our father was a very clever man; he was the most important and powerful man in England and while he was in control England would be safe. On the other hand, we must not think it would be too easy. There were enemies all around us and we must be prepared.

But on this occasion we were saved from disaster. Messengers arrived at the castle. When news had reached Margaret that the Earl of Warwick, with the king, was marching on Bamborough, she immediately abandoned all thought of fighting and took to her ships. God must be looking after the Yorkists, for He sent a storm which shattered her fleet.

It was victory. But not entirely. More news came. Margaret had escaped and had arrived at Berwick with her son: she was well and ready to fight another day.

Having seen the magnificent Edward, I wanted to know more of him and his family, and Richard was not averse to telling me about them, which surprised me, he being so reticent about most things. But he was very proud of his family.

I said: "I thought your brother, the king, was all that you said of him." That pleased him, of course, and put him into a communicative mood.

"I have another brother, too," he said.

"George. He is almost as wonderful as Edward ... only just not quite. And I have a sister Margaret. She is a wonderful person."

"How lucky to have so many brothers and a sister when I only have Isabel."

"There were seven of us," he said.

"Four boys and three girls."

"Seven! Quite a large family."

"Large families are good to have."

"Sometimes there can be too many sons who claim the throne," I said, remembering my mother's words.

He ignored that and went on: "It is those about my own age whom I saw most of. My brother Edmund was with my father when he was killed at Wakefield." His voice shook a little. I doubted he would ever forget that terrible event.

"Then I had two sisters, Anne and Elizabeth. They were sent away to be brought up in some other noble house. Edward and Edmund were at Ludlow. I stayed at Fotheringay with the younger ones George and Margaret. George is three years older than I. My brother made him Duke of Clarence when he made me Duke of Gloucester."

"Tell me about George and Margaret."

"George is very handsome and everybody loves him."

"As tall and handsome as Edward?"

"Oh, not quite. Nobody could be. But he is very good-looking and clever."

"And Margaret?"

"She is three years older than George."

"And beautiful, I suppose."

"Yes, she is very beautiful."

"But not as beautiful as Edward."

"Not quite."

I laughed.

"It is always "not quite"."

"Well, although they are very handsome, they are ..."

"... not quite as perfect as the king."

"If you are going to laugh at my family, I shall not tell you any more about them."

"I was not laughing. I was only admiring. Please tell me some more."

"Well, what do you want to know?"

"I want to hear about when you were a very little boy."

"My father was always away from home fighting."

"Fathers always are."

"My mother was often with him."

"What is your mother like?" I stopped myself saying, "Beautiful, of course, though not quite so beautiful as Edward." But I restrained myself. I did not want to anger him. He was rational about most things, though perhaps taking a somewhat morose view of life, he was fanatically devoted to his family and appeared to consider all the members of it far above ordinary mortals.

"My mother is truly beautiful," he said.

"When she was young she was known as the Rose of Raby. She and my father were devoted to each other and she travelled with him whenever it was possible. She could not be with him in battle naturally, but often when he was fighting, she would be somewhere near, so that she could see him often."

"And she had all those children?"

He nodded.

"We were all in awe of her ... more so than we were of our father. Edward is very like her ... in looks, and George perhaps more so. He was Margaret's favourite. I used to wish that I were. Margaret was very kind to us both but it was clear that she loved George best. He was always doing something which was forbidden and although she used to scold him she would make excuses for him and she always told him that, however wicked he was, she loved him just the same. She was good to me. Oh, but it was different with George. Well, he was tall and strong and golden-haired. I was never like that ... not like him and Edward ... Margaret did not mean it to show ... but it did."

Poor Richard, I thought.

"Well, you were lucky to have a big family," I said.

"I wish I had some brothers."

He admitted that it was good.

"Especially in war," he added.

"Families stand together."

"Not always. Brothers fight over crowns and things."

"We never would. We are a united family. Oh, how I wish I were old enough to go and fight with Edward!"

"Well, you will one day."

I used to think a lot about Richard. What a pity he was not tall and handsome. It must be particularly galling, having been born into such a perfect family. I wanted to see them all ... George, Margaret and the Rose of Raby. It all sounded so romantic and exciting.

Christmas was on the way. My father was absent most of the time, for although Margaret had eluded capture at Bamborough she was still around to make trouble, and there were several castles in the North which were still in Lancastrian hands. My father and the king were making war on these.

A messenger came to the castle with news from the king. He was ill and at Durham Castle. It was not a serious illness but his physicians said he should take a short rest. He wanted his brother, Richard, to come to Durham and spend Christmas with him.

To my chagrin and Richard's great joy, he left Middleham to spend the festive season with his brother.

My mother was growing less apprehensive. The storm had passed, but she was ever on the alert for danger.

I said to Isabel: "I suppose there could be times when people do not have to worry and the king who is on the throne is left in peace."

"That would be rather dull." she replied.

"And what about our father? How could he be a kingmaker if there was not any need to make a king and keep him on the throne?"

"I think our mother would like it better."

"And every day would be the same. Lessons, needlework, riding, walking. Whereas now people come here. One never knows when the soldiers will come ... and you can wonder what will happen next."

"I still think it would be rather pleasant." I said.

That's because you are so young." she said in her usual contempt for my youth.

I missed Richard. He had not returned after spending Christmas with his brother. Our father came home for periods and there would be the usual activity: entertaining went on and there were often a great many people at the castle for whom lavish meals were provided. I often wondered how many of these people who paid such homage to my father would have done so without the benefits they received. Many of them came to the castle from France.

This made Isabel very excited. She was always reminding me of her age, for she was very proud of being nearly five years older than I." was ten at this time so she must have been nearly fifteen. It was an age when the daughters of powerful men were found husbands.

Desperately Isabel longed for a husband. There was no one else to talk to about this except her little sister; so it was to me that she talked.

"You realise, do you not, that our father is the most powerful man in the kingdom. He is also the richest. What does that mean?"

That he is the most powerful and richest man in the kingdom, I suppose."

"Idiot! It means that we are great heiresses. I more than you because I'm the elder. I suppose there will be something for you, too ... quite a lot, as a matter of fact. Our parents have no sons. So it will come to us."

"I had not thought of that."

"You don't think of anything but being with Richard of Gloucester. Mind you, he is the brother of the king. But I wouldn't want a brother. I would want a king. And why shouldn't I? After all, I am great Warwick's daughter ... his elder daughter ... so what if ...?"

"What?"

"Didn't you think the king was the most handsome man you ever saw?"

"Why yes, I suppose he is. I cannot think of anyone else "Well just suppose "Do you mean ...?"

Her eyes were sparkling. Then she said: "After all, who made him king? If my father didn't like what he did, he could say, "You are no longer king. I'll put Henry back." "

"Henry already has a wife ... Margaret... the one they all hate."

"I was not thinking of marrying, Henry, stupid. Oh, I do wish you has a little more sense."

"But you are thinking of marrying Richard's brother."

"Do not tell anyone. It would not do to talk."

"Has our mother said ...?"

"Nobody has said anything. I'm just telling you. I am just saying it could be." "Richard would be your brother-in-law."

"Richard is not important. He is too young and too small. He might do for you."

"What do you mean do for me?"

"Well, if I married the king it would be rather nice if you married his brother. Particularly as I think you like him better than anyone else. And I think he likes you, too, because he talks to you."

I was pleased.

"Yes, I agreed.

"He does. I wonder when he will be coming back."

Isabel was not interested in that. She was dreaming of herself as Queen of England.

Our father came home for a while and there were more visitors from France, and it was obvious that he was very pleased to have them in the castle. They brought letters for him. Isabel and I wondered whether my father might be arranging a match for her in France.

"Poor Edward will be disappointed," I said.

She glowered at me.

"I might be Queen of France."

"I believe the King of France is an old man and already has a wife."

"Well, he'll have a son, won't he? I expect I'm for him."

She was certain that that was what the messengers were arranging. It was a bitter blow when she discovered how wrong she was.

My mother talked to us often while we did our needlework. Isabel was old enough to know what was going on; and it could be true that they were trying to find a suitable husband for her. My turn for that was a little way ahead, for which I was thankful. I often saw my mother looking at Isabel anxiously and I knew she was thinking of the fate of young girls who were thrust into marriage before they knew what it was all about: and with her daughter it would have to be a marriage of state.. One day Isabel said to our mother: "Why are there so many French at the castle these days, my lady?"

My mother looked up from the altar cloth which she was embroidering and said: "The King of France is very anxious to be friends with your father."

"I know." Isabel smirked.

"Is there some special reason?"

"I believe that the King of France is a very wily man," went on my mother.

"They call him the Spider King."

"Are spiders wily?" I asked.

"So many people are afraid of him," said my mother.

"Many people have a fear of spiders. I suppose it is because they lie in wait for their prey and watch them being caught in the sticky web and then the spider comes out and makes his victim powerless."

"It sounds horrible," I said, looking at Isabel. She was thinking of marriage, of course. How would she like to be in a family at the head of which was such a man?

"The King of France," went on my mother, "likes to be on good terms with the important men in all countries which might affect him, so that he can have good friends all around him. That is why he seeks your father. He has only been on the throne for three years. He became King of France at very much the same time as your father made Edward King of England. He is full of admiration for your father's management of this country. That is gratifying and pleases your father mightily. Not only is he pleased to be on good terms with such an important country as France, but France is the country where Margaret takes shelter. Your father is always hoping that out of friendship for him, Louis may agree to a treaty which would prevent Margaret's taking refuge in his country."

Isabel yawned slightly. Then she said with animation: "I was wondering whether my father is trying to arrange a marriage."

My mother looked at her sharply.

"Have you been listening at doors, Isabel?" she asked, for Isabel had occasionally been discovered in such situations.

"No, no, my lady. I just wondered."

"Well, I will tell you, but you must speak of this to no one. Your father is trying to arrange a marriage." I was aware of Isabel: she was leaning forward, her hands clenched.

"For the king," my mother went on.

Isabel looked blank. What could the king's marriage have to do with France? Her eyes were already darkening with disappointment.

"Yes, the King of France is eager that his sister-in-law, Bona of Savoy, should be Queen of England, and whom should he ask to arrange this but your father?"

Poor Isabel! My mother did not notice how shocked she was and went on: "It is time the king was married. We need heirs to the throne. It is always good for kings to have their children when they are young. One never knows what is going to happen, particularly in these terrible times. Who would have thought that Henry the Fifth would have died when he did a young man, so strong, so brave, the conqueror of France? Oh, if only he had lived! And then he left poor Henry, his only son. Sometimes I feel sorry for that poor man. Only don't tell anyone I said so. However, the point is that the king should marry. I am sure the marriage will be fruitful and everyone will be happier to know there are little heirs to the throne. So that is what your father is so eager to arrange with the French visitors."

We went on with our needlework and Isabel was very silent.

But when we were alone, I could not resist saying: "So, you were wrong. The marriage was for the king, but not with you."

"All this stupid war," said Isabel.

"All this looking after Edward. Our father made him king. It is time he gave some thought to his daughters."

Poor Isabel! It was a great disappointment. She had so looked forward to being Queen of England, or at least Dauphine of France.

A few weeks after Christmas our father left home to attend the funeral of our kinswoman, the Countess of Salisbury. This was to take place in Bisham Abbey in Buckinghamshire, and all the greatest nobles of the land would be there to pay tribute to her, or perhaps it would be more correct to say to the Earl of Warwick. I was not sure whether the king would attend but I guessed that Richard would be there.

And when my father returned to Middleham, to my delight Richard came with him. His brother George, Duke of Clarence, was also a member of the party.

It was our first meeting with George who was to play such an important part in our lives.

Richard introduced him proudly and it was obvious that he had great respect for his brother. It did not match the admiration he had for Edward, but it was a deep affection. Knowing Richard, I could understand why. George bore a certain resemblance to Edward. He was tall and extremely handsome; he had that easy charm which I had recognised in his brother. He was affable to everyone, easy-going, laughing a great deal and giving the impression of enjoying life in every way.

I soon discovered though that he had a grudge against fate which was that he had not been born the eldest son. I believe that sentiment was common enough among the sons of great men: they all wanted to be heir to the title, lands and wealth which their father had enjoyed. And, of course, in addition to all that in this case there was the crown.

Isabel was attracted to him from the beginning and he was very attentive to her. If he resembled his brother Edward, he would be like that with all girls, of course; but I was glad, for his coming made up for the disappointment she had recently received about marriage. Isabel was longing for that state. She wanted a grand title, riches and power perhaps. That would not be surprising, considering her father's veneration for these assets, and George was the brother of the king.

Richard seemed to have grown much older during that Christmas he had spent with the king. His brother had talked to him often and Richard had learned a great deal about the state of the country and some of this Richard passed on to me. He had an even greater desire to serve his brother. I had no doubt that the king had promised him it should not be long before he did so. He must spend just a few more months under the guidance of the king's good friend, the Earl of Warwick, and then he would be ready.

My father was determined to show the Duke of Clarence that he was very welcome at Middleham. Or perhaps he wanted to remind him of his wealth and power. I was just beginning to realise how important it was to my father that people should be made aware of this.

I believe the hospitality shown to the Duke of Clarence was no less grand than that set before the king himself; there was feasting, dancing and great merriment every evening; and mock tournaments had been arranged to take place in the tilt yard for their pleasure. Clarence enjoyed this as he was very skilled and usually came out the victor. This may have been arranged, for my father would want to show his distinguished visitor that he was an honoured guest which would include allowing him to win. But perhaps it was rarely that this had to be maneuvered, for Clarence was very skilled, a superb horseman, and adroit with the sword achieving all his triumphs with an effortlessness which won the admiration of the ladies, and in particular Isabel.In fact, Clarence was remarkably like his elder brother, winning people to his side with charm, only as Richard said not quite as perfect. But of course, in Richard's eyes nobody could be.

Richard was obliged to join in the displays. I used to sit with my mother, Isabel and the ladies watching, and while I did so, I would pray that he would win and not show the fatigue he must be feeling.

We talked now and then together, but not so much as we had now that his brother was there to spend a good deal of time with him.

I asked him about Christmas and learned that it had been very enjoyable and that he and the king had been together most of the time.

He told me what a moving ceremony there had been at Fotheringay whither he and the king had gone immediately after Christmas.

"Both my father and brother were murdered on December the thirtieth, three years before, and we have a ceremony to remember their deaths every thirtieth of January, just one month by calendar after the date of their deaths. It is a very solemn occasion in which the entire family joins."

"Does that not bring it all back too bitterly?"

"It is important that we do not forget."

"But you could not forget. I know it is always in your mind." He nodded gravely.

"I wish you could have been there, Anne." he went on.

"We had a hearse covered in golden suns. The sun is our emblem, you know ... the Sun of York. There were silver roses and banners showing Christ seated on a rainbow and others with angels in gold. It was wonderful." I "And your mother? Does this not make her very sad?"

"It makes her very sad but she insists on being present. She is very proud of our family especially now that Edward is king,! She knows it is what our father would have wished. He did not get the crown for himself but it came to Edward."

He paused and I knew he was thinking, as I was, of that head on the walls of York wearing the paper crown which had meant the temporary triumph of the House of Lancaster. A short-lived one, it was true. But now here was glorious Edward the incomparable King of England. There were tears in Richard's eyes and I was happy because he did not mind that I saw them. I knew he would have been ashamed and angry if anyone else had.

During that spring and summer Richard was often away from Middleham. The king would send for him and most joyfully he went. I was continually hoping that he would come back and was always quietly happy when he did. He would tell me of his exploits with the king; how Edward had given him his own company of followers; how good his brother was to him; how honoured he was to be the brother of such a king.

Isabel told me that the king was more fond of Richard than he was of George, which was not fair to George, he being the elder. Richard, was, after all, only a boy, and small for his age not in the least like his brothers. But Edward liked his adoration, for really Richard was quite blatant about it. As a matter of fact the king had given more honours to Richard than he had to George.

"Who told you that?" I asked.

"George, of course."

"You seem to have become very friendly with him," I replied.

She smiled secretively and I went on: The king gives honours to Richard because he is so loyal."

"George is clever and handsome and if Richard were not the king's brother no one would take any notice of him."

"You don't know Richard."

"You're so young," retorted Isabel contemptuously. I think George is very attractive. It is a pity he is not the eldest. Then he would be king."

There were dreams in her eyes. I thought, she is thinking of George as a future husband.

That was an uneasy spring followed by an uneasy summer. I supposed it would always be like that until Margaret was completely defeated. There were Lancastrian risings throughout the country and my father would be away for long periods of time, and when there were arrivals at the castle my mother would be fearful of what news they might bring. With good reason. Fortunately there were more Yorkist victories than setbacks and a great deal of the credit must be given to our family.

At Hedgeley Moor my uncle John Neville, Lord Montague, greatly outnumbered by the Lancastrians, defeated them and shortly afterwards at Hexham delivered the final blow. It was a great success for the House of Neville and it was generally accepted that the Earl of Warwick was making the throne safe for Edward. I had never seen my father so contented. He had achieved the very pinnacle of power; his dream had come true. He had made Edward king and so he thought he could not have chosen a better man to suit his plans. Edward was the perfect king: affable to the people, greatly loved by them: he had all the charm and grace a king should have. Moreover he was pleasure-loving, which would prevent his meddling in state affairs which was exactly what my father wanted. The king should be amused while, in his name, the Earl of Warwick ruled the country.

It was late September. We had come to a period of comparative peace. After the defeat at Hedgeley Moor and Hexham, Margaret I fled the country; the Lancastrians were in disarray.

My father returned to us contentedly. His family were receiving the honours they deserved. After his magnificent performance at Hedgeley Moor, John was given the Earldom of Northumberland. George Neville, at that time Chancellor and Bishop of Exeter, was to be made Archbishop of York. This was what my father wanted his family in high places with himself at the head of the state to be called on should his help be needed, while Edward remained the charming representative, doing Warwick's will as though it were his own with the grace and charm of which he was capable. It was a dream come true. Then came the awakening.

It was a late September day. How well I remember it! We had arisen as usual and Isabel and I had spent the morning at our lessons and in the afternoon ridden out with the grooms for a short period of exercise. We were in the solarium with our mother and some of the ladies when there were sounds of arrival from below. My mother rose from her chair and went towards the door, but before she could reach it my father strode into the solarium.

I had never seen him look as he did. He had apparently coir straight from a long journey, but where were his followers? Eve as the thought entered my mind I heard the sounds of the arrival below. He must have ridden on ahead of them.

My mother immediately dismissed the ladies. They left' needlework where it was and went swiftly out. She signed for us to follow them. We went to the door and Isabel caught my hand. She stood in a corner behind a screen and I stood with her.

Both my parents were so agitated that they did not notice we were there.

My mother stammered: "You have come from Reading?"

"Aye ... from Reading."

"Richard, what has happened?"

"Disaster," he said.

"Margaret?" whispered my mother.

"Worse," he said.

"Worse. The king has married."

"But it was his wedding you were going to discuss. You were arranging it."

"I know. I know. The effrontery! He is not what I thought. This has changed everything. The truth is, Anne, I did not know this man I set up. I have worked for him. I have made him what he is ... and what do I get in return? Ingratitude. Defiance. The Council is outraged, but of what avail? The deed is done. I should never have made him king."

Isabel and I were as still as statues. We had to stay and hear more.

The king married! He was to marry Bona of Savoy. Our father had arranged it.

My mother said: "Richard, what does this mean?"

My father was silent for a few seconds. Then he said slowly: "It means that all my work has been in vain. I have given my support to the wrong man. I have put him where he is, guiding him, shielding him. I have made him the king. And what does he do? He flouts me. He has married that woman while he was allowing me to negotiate with the King of France. He has made a fool of me. After I have put the crown on his head, he is showing me quite clearly that he intends to go his own foolish way."

"My dear," said my mother, "this has been a terrible blow. You have ridden far. You need rest. Then we can talk of it calmly. Please rest now, Richard."

He put his hand to his head.

"Everything that I have done," he murmured.

"Useless. I have put him there ... and now I see that I made the wrong choice!"

"He will regret it. He will soon be back with you."

"Aye!" said my father fiercely.

"He shall regret it."