Rebellion (33 page)

The carriage moved slowly through streets
that were crowded with armed guards, and with people begging or crying out their wares
like so many birds. She could only sit in it with her sinking heart as she travelled
back to her husband, who had been right all along.

The Earl of Warwick, as astute a man
as ever was Ulysses, is at the king's side and from what they say the king is not at
liberty to go where he wishes.

Newsletter from London, August 1469

He did everything required of him, cheerfully
signing all the documents Warwick gave him. He signed several proclamations against
civil disobedience, because everywhere his loyal subjects were rioting and rising
up.

The men who attended him were subdued and
deferential. They were afraid of the consequences of keeping their king in captivity.
But he was unfailingly good-humoured and courteous towards them.

One of them, a man called Davies, seemed
willing to keep him informed. Brought him extra blankets and wine, a book to read.
Remember this when you are restored to power
, he seemed to be saying.
Do not have me executed for treason.

He learned from this man that Warwick had
cancelled the parliament in York. Clarence and the archbishop had been sent to London to
try to arrange one there, and to keep the peace. By the end of August all the lords had
assembled in the capital and
were threatening to rebel against the
earl. The king's smile became broader.

His wife was safe, apparently. The queen had
been allowed to remain in the royal apartments of the Tower of London with their
daughters. But he learned from Warwick himself that her mother had been charged with
witchcraft.

‘Witchcraft? On what grounds?'

‘For practising the black arts.'

‘Has she been raising the dead?'

Warwick didn't answer. He was leaning
against the window. ‘It is funny, is it not,' he said, ‘how different the land looks
when one rules it?'

The king didn't rise to this. He said, ‘She
cannot be a very effective witch if she has been imprisoned.'

‘It is widely believed that you would not
have chosen as you did if you had been in your right mind.'

This again. Warwick would not rest until
every one of his wife's family had been destroyed.

‘Widely believed by you.'

‘And many others,' Warwick said, turning to
him. ‘There are many who cannot believe that you would risk your crown and your nation
on a mad whim.'

‘You cannot seriously think I was under a
spell.'

Warwick's expression remained unchanged.
‘What then? Were you struck by one of Cupid's arrows?'

The king made an impatient movement. ‘No,'
said Warwick, his gaze sharpening. ‘You could have had any of the princesses of Europe –
not France if you were determined to slight that nation – though God knows you set me up
for long enough there – but you could have had Isabella of Castile, or the Scottish
queen. Instead you marry a low-born widow. And promote her family above everyone in the
kingdom.'

He was advancing towards the king now, his
voice sinking almost to a whisper. Edward could see that his eyes were
red-rimmed and staring. He did not look well, the king thought. Or maybe it was just
that his mask had slipped.

‘You have evidence, I suppose.'

‘I suppose I do.'

‘You can
prove
that I was
bewitched?'

‘Were there no other pretty women in
England?' Warwick said, bending over him. ‘No blacksmith's daughter or alehouse scrubber
you could have raised up? Was your eye not caught by anyone else? I seem to remember
that it was – on many occasions. Did it not occur to you to marry them?'

The king remained silent, looking
thoughtfully at Warwick.

‘In any case,' the earl said, ‘we have
certain items, charms and figurines.'

The king felt a pang of fear. ‘Has it come
to this?' he said. ‘Faking evidence now?'

‘You have brought it to this,' said Warwick,
‘with your incontinent fervour.'

‘Ah, Warwick.'

‘I confess I was hoping for a different
outcome,' said the earl. ‘But you cannot expect me to stand by while my own family is
slighted and these commoners rise. It seems to me that some kind of spell must have been
cast.'

The king raised his hands and dropped them
again. ‘And you, Warwick?' he said. ‘Who has cast a spell on you?'

They stared at one another and the king saw
something pinched and hawkish in his cousin's face.
I should have killed you when I
had the chance
, his eyes said. Because now, with half the country up in arms,
he could not kill the king.

The protracted silence was interrupted by a
knock on the door. It was one of Warwick's own men, and the earl went out to talk to
him.

That was the last time the king saw his
cousin alone. But he had plenty of time in the week that followed to reflect on why he
was not more depressed by the situation. It was as though
something
had changed in him that night in Olney, when he had first realized he was alone. As
though he had given something up, or surrendered to the will of God.

Priests were always telling him to surrender
to the will of God; whatever that was. One was not supposed to know, of course – that
was part of the game. He had always looked askance at such theologizing. And he was not
normally given to introspection. But then he was not normally kept prisoner in his own
land, by his own brother and cousin.

Something had altered, and if he had to say
what he would probably say it was the will, not of God, but of the people. Because
surely that was fate if anything was, the accumulated intent and desires of all the
people in the land. And all the people who had gone before them whose legacy of thoughts
and wishes and hopes was like a great tide into which they were all born and were borne
along. He did not feel he could exercise any power over so large a force. And yet it did
seem to be turning in his favour now. He knew it and so did Warwick. That was why his
cousin's face registered so much strain. The king's popularity had been at its lowest
ebb before the earl had captured him.

Warwick's brother, the Archbishop George,
came to him next. He bowed, though his eyes were cold. ‘We need your presence in York,'
he said.

The king did not answer immediately. This
was the man responsible for arresting him in the first place.
I think you should
come with me now
, he'd said in Olney.
Nor do I think you can
refuse.

The king leaned back and put his hands
behind his head. ‘Do you?' he said.

‘We would like you to accompany us.'

‘Who is this “we”?'

George Neville's face, though broader and
flatter than his brother's, was very similar in the hostility of his glare. ‘My brother
requires you to join him at York.'

‘But he told me I was not to leave
here.'

George Neville began to
turn away. ‘You will be escorted there tomorrow.'

‘Am I not to hear why?'

The archbishop looked at him with absolute
dislike. ‘We will ride to York tomorrow,' he said, and left.

He learned more from Davies, who came with
his sword and armour. There was an uprising in the north – a Lancastrian rebellion. The
king laughed when he heard it was one of Warwick's own family. And the king's too –
Humphrey Neville of Brancepeth; one of the multitudinous descendants of the Earl of
Westmorland. He was a die-hard Lancastrian who had been attainted twice. Rumour had it
he had been living in a cave for five years.

‘There are always rebellions in the north,'
the king said. ‘I'm surprised Warwick cannot suppress it.'

Davies told him with apparent reluctance
that Warwick had tried to summon an army to suppress the rebellion but the lords had
refused to come until they had actual proof that the king was alive and well. And then,
Davies said in hushed tones, the earl's own men had started to desert.

The king hummed a little tune as he pulled
on his armour. ‘How do I look?' he asked. ‘I fear that I have grown unfit after so long
in captivity. Though I do not think I am any fatter. Not on this diet.'

Davies assured him he looked magnificent.
Every inch the king, he said. Edward looked at him with only moderate irony. He did not
especially like the man, yet once he was in power again he would have to reward him in
some way. That was one of the obligations of kingship.

They walked out together into the expansive
Yorkshire countryside. The king's hand rested on Davies' shoulder and Davies did not
seem to know whether to look discomfited or pleased. And the king rode away from
Middleham Castle in the company of Archbishop George. If not to liberty then at least to
York.
Where the people were overjoyed to see him. Trumpets blew, the
streets were bright with flags and banners and the citizens thronged to see him. Many
were crying.

The king grinned at the archbishop, then
spurred his horse forward into the crowds who parted and re-formed around him, lifting
up their hands to be touched. With some difficulty he made his way to the market.

Then the other lords arrived: Arundel,
Mountjoy, Essex, Hastings, his brother-in-law John de la Pole and his brother Richard,
Duke of Gloucester, all came to the marketplace to greet him. And pressed forward to do
him homage. Their retinues were waiting outside the city gates, ready to defeat the
enemy.

He'd thought that most of these lords had
deserted him at Olney, but now here they were; desperate to display their loyalty. It
seemed to the king that he had never seen nor appreciated the full beauty of loyalty
before, how it shone like a star in the darkness. He was visibly moved when he addressed
them. ‘Good people of York,' he cried, ‘I am gladdened by your love. I am washed and
healed by it, made better and whole. Now I will look to heal your wounds, restore you
and make you whole. Because you have made me a better and a stronger king!'

He could say little more for the uproar of
the crowd. The king was back, he had destroyed their enemies; now justice and right
would prevail. He looked out over their waving arms and saw his lords mounted and
waiting for him, and his brother Richard.

They made quick work of the Lancastrians,
these loyal men, while he remained in the archbishop's house in York. They returned
swiftly, bringing few prisoners, because they had slaughtered most of the rebels. But
Humphrey Neville and his brother they brought back with them, tied to a single horse.
And on 29 September both were beheaded in the king's presence, while the crowd bayed for
their blood. And chanted for him afterwards, so that Warwick, who was there also, looked
in a different direction
and would not catch his eye. But the crowds
would not stop chanting until he addressed them.

‘I must return to the capital,' he shouted.
‘To mend the kingdom and make it well. I must return to my throne!'

As he stepped down from the podium the
archbishop stood before him. ‘You are planning to leave then?' he said.

‘I am a little tired of captivity.'

‘We will accompany you.'

‘That will not be necessary,' the king said.
‘I will have company.'

The archbishop said something he could not
quite hear, about getting his men ready to leave.

‘But I am leaving now,' said the king.
‘
Nor do I think you can refuse.
'

And the archbishop stepped aside, with a
pained smile on his face.

On the way back to London he made plans with
those who accompanied him. He would give to his brother Richard power to secure those
castles in Wales that had fallen to the Welsh rebels since Herbert's death. That would
prevent Warwick from extending his territory there. And to thwart him in the north he
decided to release Lord Percy from his imprisonment in the Tower, and restore him to the
earldom of Northumberland, thus reducing Warwick's power in that county.

No further retribution would be taken for
the time being. The country needed peace, not war. He intended to wait and build up his
resources before he took any further measures against his brother or his cousin. Let
them wait and sweat.

He had more pressing matters to attend to.
He needed to call a council, restore order to the government, and release his wife and
her mother.

So he entered London, where the people were
demented with joy. The king felt the surge of joy rising to meet him as he entered the
gates. It was powerful enough to engulf him, to bear him
down. But he
gave himself up to it, riding into the thick of the crowds with his arms raised. The
tide had turned towards him, and away from Warwick. He was borne on it through the
streets to the Tower.