Rebellion (25 page)

This troubled the earl very much but
he did not show his anger for he was especially astute and cunning. When the French
ambassadors were all lodged, the earl went to Westminster to the king …

Jean de Waurin

But Edward had refused to acknowledge
him. He'd simply gazed around the room as if Warwick wasn't there.

At first the earl could not believe this was
happening, before all the other lords in the room.

‘My lord,' he said, ‘the French ambassadors
want to see you. And it ill becomes one king to keep another waiting.'

Nothing.

The silence in the room
was palpable. No one would meet his eye. After several moments he turned abruptly and
walked out.

He could feel the outrage burning in his
gut. His anger, usually of the slow and festering kind, boiled up inside him so that he
could hardly see.

The next day he returned to Westminster with
all the French lords.

When the king learned of their
arrival he sent from his chamber his brother Clarence, accompanied by Lord Hastings
and his brother-in-law [Anthony] Woodville, who came to them on the stage where they
landed from the barge [and] told them that the king would appoint men to communicate
with them touching their proposals for he could not do it himself because of other
matters that had come to him. As they returned in their barges the Earl of Warwick
was so angry that he could not refrain from saying to the Admiral of France, ‘Have
you not seen the traitors who surround the king?'

Jean de Waurin

He said it loudly, to make sure he
was heard, and the admiral in turn said something about being avenged on them. And
Warwick said, still more loudly as the barge pulled away, ‘
Know that these are the
men for whom my brother has been deprived of the office of Chancellor, and of the
seal.
'

He glanced back to make sure they were
listening, and saw Anthony Woodville, Lord Scales, a man for whom he had conceived a
rich and festering hatred, standing with Lord Hastings, who was Warwick's
brother-in-law, but the king's man nonetheless. And beside them stood the king's
brother, Clarence, who of them all had the grace to look troubled. But as he watched,
Lord Scales laid his hand on Clarence's shoulder as if to claim him and they turned
away.

And Warwick turned away also. But all the
way back he was deaf to the complaints of the ambassadors, and the rough music
of the river, and to everything except for the rage clamouring in his
head and heart.

After this embassy had left, the king
and queen went to Windsor, where they stayed fully six weeks, chiefly because the
king did not wish to communicate with the French … While the king was at
Windsor … there came to London the Duke of Clarence to talk with the Earl of
Warwick on the matter of the embassy … the Duke of Clarence said that it was
not his fault and the earl said he knew that very well. Then they spoke of the
circle round the king saying that he had hardly any of the blood royal at court and
that [the queen's] family dominated everything … and the duke asked the earl
how they could remedy this. Then the Earl of Warwick replied that if the duke would
trust him, he would make him king of England …

Jean de Waurin

Clarence's face had flushed, then
turned pale, then flushed again. His eyes seemed to grow darker and more glittering. He
lifted his chin. ‘If you think the country will support me, I will be king,' he
said.

In that moment Warwick had a vivid memory of
the day, more than six years ago, when he had ridden from London to Oxford to tell the
young Edward that all the citizens wanted him to be their king.

‘Well then, I will be their king,' he'd
said.

Looking now at his younger brother, Warwick
was struck by both the similarity and the difference between them. Clarence was not
quite eighteen, as his brother had been not quite nineteen, when he took the throne.
They were a similar height, and handsome in a similar way. But Clarence was different
from his brother: less substantial, perhaps, or less shrewd, but that could not be
helped. In fact, he, Warwick, was counting on it. It was not Warwick's fault if this
young man could not see the consequences of the game he was playing. Or even whose game
it was.

After that encounter he
had waited almost six weeks in London, trying to placate the French lords, travelling to
Windsor and Canterbury to attempt to gain an interview with the king. At the end of that
time the embassy had left, more than a little disconsolate at their treatment, and
taking Warwick's reputation with them. For who in France would now believe that he had
any influence at all with the English king?

He had retreated to his northern estates and
recruited as many men as possible to his private army, even though the king had
forbidden the nobles of the land to recruit. Only a series of interventions from his
brothers – George, who was still archbishop, and John, Lord Montague – had prevented him
from declaring outright war.

Meanwhile, Lord Scales was the king's new
ambassador. Through his incompetent mediation the king had agreed to pay a dowry of no
less than 200,000 crowns for his sister's wedding. He had been forced to insist on
another tax in parliament when he had so recently promised them to
live off his
own.

Warwick did not attend this parliament. He
remained in his castle at Middleham, writing to King Louis to express his extreme regret
over the outcome of the French visit, but assuring him that the current agreement was
not compromised. He maintained contact as far as he could with those who were close to
Edward, so that he could let Louis know of Edward's plans. He remained absent from the
great council at Kingston upon Thames where the betrothal of Princess Margaret to Duke
Charles of Burgundy was formally announced. And he refused, absolutely, to underwrite
the dowry.

It seemed to him that he had been thwarted
by Edward on all fronts: the marriage of his daughters and his role as ambassador to
foreign nations, especially France. Even his ambition to extend his landed interests in
Wales had been blocked by the king's favourite, William Herbert, who continued to
receive grants and tenure of property there, and whose son had married the queen's
sister.

William Herbert, who had
once been Warwick's own officer, was now his greatest rival. Which was why, when the spy
was arrested by Herbert's men, Warwick knew it was a trap.

A man had been captured in Wales, taking
letters from Queen Margaret to Harlech Castle. Lord Herbert had sent him to the king
and, when he was questioned, he'd accused many men of treason, including the Earl of
Warwick, who, he said, was in league with the queen.

The king summoned him to London, but Warwick
penned a swift reply. He would not go to be accused like any common traitor while so
many of his enemies were at court. He did not know how or why the king could take this
matter seriously, he wrote. It was clearly an attempt to destroy him.

Edward's response came equally swiftly. A
safe-conduct to court.

The Earl of Warwick looked at it and
laughed. It was not clear to him why he was laughing, the situation was serious enough.
He looked out of the window, at the faint sunshine interspersed with rain.

It was the end, he thought. The end of
everything.

Or it was a beginning.

As he looked out over the plains of his
estate the Earl of Warwick felt as though he was looking down on the entire course of
his life, from a vast perspective like that of a hawk.

He could see how, for almost all of it, he
had moved along predetermined tracks, laid out for him by the great accidents of
history; the time, the place and the estate into which he had been born. For most of his
life he'd served the conflicting demands of king and country and family. When one king
had proved ruinous to the nation he'd helped to undo that king and replace him with
another. No one doubted that this new king was indebted to the earl for his crown.
Everyone knew he was the Kingmaker.

But now that king had turned against him he
was no longer bound by the bonds of obligation, fealty or honour. He was, perhaps for
the first time in his life, free.

It had a powerful appeal,
this new sense of freedom. But he would have to manage it carefully. He left the window
and returned to his table.

He wrote to the king, thanking him for the
safe-conduct but reiterating that he could not possibly come to court since it was not
the journey he was worried about but his enemies there. As a concession to the charges
made against him he added that he had not at any time had any dealings with the ‘foreign
woman, Margaret of Anjou'. If his majesty would reflect on the history of his dealings
with that unfortunate émigrée he would see how preposterous the allegation was.

He sealed the letter and sent it back by the
same courier who had brought him the safe-conduct. Then the next day he moved to Sheriff
Hutton.

He rode through the streets accompanied by
600 liveried retainers. Crowds ran to meet him, crying, ‘Warwick! Warwick!' Some flung
flowers at his feet, others scrambled for the coins his steward scattered among them.
All were hoping for further demonstrations of largesse. Before he entered the gates of
his castle he turned to the crowds then half rose in the saddle and bowed to the people
as if bowing to his king. So it was to the sound of wild cheering that he rode into the
entrance of Sheriff Hutton.

And a few days later the king's embassy
arrived. Several of the king's lawyers and guards had brought the accuser himself. Who
broke down under Warwick's caustic interrogation and confessed that the earl had in no
way been involved or implicated in Lancastrian plans. The king's lawyers took him back
to London together with this confession. Temporarily the matter was resolved.

Yet it was not easily forgotten. Warwick
knew the king had made a concession in sending his accuser to him rather than having the
earl arrested and brought to court. He knew this meant that the king did not want open
warfare yet.

And why? Because he was the Kingmaker. He
commanded almost the same loyalty and wealth as the king himself. So the
king, wisely, had backed down. If Warwick wanted, he could probably
still return to his old allegiance.

Yet also there was the king of France, who
had offered Warwick his own duchy. In his recent letter Louis had urged the earl to
direct his efforts towards undermining the English king.

That he could certainly do.

But it would be a step too far for him to
work towards restoring the old regime that he had helped to destroy. It would be
admitting, in effect, that he had been wrong. And if they lost, he would lose
everything.

Then there was Clarence, of course.

Warwick's brother, the archbishop, was
already negotiating with Rome to obtain a dispensation for the marriage of Warwick's
daughter to the king's brother. He was well placed to acquire this dispensation because
he was tipped to become cardinal. And once they received it, Clarence and Isabel could
be married without the king's consent.

There it was, the third alternative. He
could see it clearly from his new, empyrean perspective. The Kingmaker would turn his
attention to Clarence.

The Earl of Warwick's insatiable mind
could not be content, and yet … there was none in England of half the
possessions that he had … He was Great Chamberlain of England, chief admiral
and captain of Calais and Lieutenant of Ireland and yet he desired more. He
counselled and enticed the Duke of Clarence to marry his eldest daughter Isabel
without the advice of King Edward. Wherefore the king took a great displeasure with
them both and … after that day there was never perfect love between them.

Hearne's Fragment

Clarence had been summoned to the king, then
kept waiting. Then he had been allowed into the room and everyone else had been sent
out, which the duke did not think was a good thing.

He had knelt, of course, and was still
kneeling. And still the king had not said one word.

After what seemed a long time Clarence
looked up and laughed, a little artificially, but the king did not smile. His face
seemed heavier somehow, and impassive as stone. Clarence laughed again. He would show no
fear.

Then, breaking all the protocol of court, he
spoke first.

‘Is there a reason, brother, why you are
keeping me here?'

Slowly the king lifted a goblet of wine. He
had not offered Clarence any wine.

‘Have I – offended you in some way?'

The king drank and returned the goblet to
the table. His face was flushed. He did not say that he had not given Clarence
permission to speak or to address him so familiarly. He said, ‘I have heard many rumours
about you.'