Rebellion (40 page)

And so it had happened.
And now Jasper was bringing him to London.

It was astonishing. A miracle. So much had
happened that was unlooked for. And now this.

‘We had better get ready to move to London,'
her husband said.

Yes, they would move – of course they would.
To the London house they had recently acquired. It was small, but quite adequate to
entertain Jasper. And her son.

She rested the letter against her chin and
closed her eyes. She was smiling.

‘What else does he say?' asked Henry.

While he read it she began making her
plans.

The tide had turned in her favour at last.
Not because of her own efforts, but for reasons she could not possibly have foreseen.
Warwick, of all people, had brought it about. He had invaded the country, put one king
to flight and restored another. And now her son was coming back to her.

‘It says here,' her husband said, ‘that
Jasper expects to have all his old titles and offices restored to him.'

‘Yes, of course,' she said absently,
thinking that her son would have changed so much since she last saw him. He was nearly
fourteen.

‘All his old offices,' her husband said,
‘and wardships.'

She looked at him, uncomprehending.

‘
I expect that his majesty will restore
to me all titles, offices, lands and wardships as before
,' he read. ‘And he
says that Lady Herbert handed your son over to his custody.'

‘But that would be temporary,' she said. ‘I
will have custody now.'

Henry said nothing.

They both knew that before all the battles,
before Towton, Jasper Tudor had been given custody of her son. A chill passed through
her.

‘But he knows,' she said,
‘he knows that my son should come back here – to me.'

‘He is older now,' her husband said, and she
knew he was right. At fourteen, boys entered the service of the king. They did not
return home to their mothers.

That was why Jasper was taking him to
London, not Woking.

‘But you will see him more frequently now,'
her husband said. ‘There will be no further problems of access.

‘Don't let it spoil his visit,' he said,
when she did not reply. ‘It's a great thing that has happened – and there are many
things to arrange,' he added, looking distracted now. ‘I myself will have to see the
king.'

And suddenly she knew what he was thinking:
that he had pledged himself to King Edward; had fought for him, in fact, at Stamford,
just a few months ago, at the battle now known as Losecoat Field.

Although he could hardly say he had fought;
he had not killed or injured anyone, and had returned to her entirely unharmed.

She had been overjoyed to see him; she'd
wept for joy. She'd spent three weeks expecting news of his death, or that he would
return badly injured, or that all the old scars from Towton would have flared again in
his soul. ‘How?' she'd asked him. ‘What happened?'

And he'd told her that Sir Robert's army had
fled the field, leaving their shields, surcoats, jackets and anything else that
identified them as the enemy behind them. Edward's army had given chase, overtaking many
and slaughtering them as they ran. Henry had given chase with the rest, staying close to
the trees. When anyone was looking he had driven his lance downwards into piles of
clothing, hoping that no one would notice there was no body inside.

She'd covered her face with her hands at
this and he'd thought she was crying again. But when she lifted her face he could see
that she was laughing. ‘All that good cloth,' she said, barely able to speak,
‘ruined!'

And though it wasn't really funny, and he
still had to tell
Margaret's mother that her stepson and grandson had
been executed, Henry was forced to smile and finally to laugh. He was no warrior, but he
had survived the field.

Neither of them was laughing now, because
once again he'd served on the wrong side.

‘The king does not bear grudges,' she said,
but they both knew that Warwick did. Not only for the battle but for their legal dispute
over Kendal.

‘It isn't
fair
,' she said, sounding
even to her own ears like a child. Henry said nothing. He'd gone to battle with King
Edward to convince him of his loyalty. Now he would have to prove his loyalty to a
different king. Even if King Henry was disposed to grant them custody of her son, the
Earl of Warwick would probably prevent it. And there would be Jasper himself to deal
with.

The flush of joy she'd experienced on
reading the letter had turned to ashes now. Was she always to be subject to these
reversals of fortune?

She would see her son, and then he would be
taken from her again.

Not if she could help it.

Her husband touched her shoulder. ‘You
should write to Jasper,' he said.

Yes, she would write. Already in her mind
she was marshalling her arguments. Her son was still young, he did not have to go into
service just yet. She had lived so long without him – surely he could stay with her a
little while?

She rose with sudden energy, looking for
paper. She was not defeated yet.

The morning of their departure from Woking
dawned bright and cold; so clear that stars still stippled the sky as it paled. Frost
whitened the rooftops of London and glittered on the pavements, but over the Thames the
sky flushed to a fiery rose.

She spent the morning in a fever of
expectation, checking the
food, sending for different wine, until her
husband told her to rest, or she would have a headache. But she couldn't rest and by the
afternoon she could indeed feel a headache coming on. But it didn't matter and she
didn't care.

She saw the carriage, and Jasper getting out
of it, then she flew down the stairs.

She ran past Jasper – fortunately her
husband was greeting him – because just behind him, hovering a little undecidedly, was
her boy Henry, her son.

She saw recognition flicker in his eyes and
he bowed formally, but she clasped his face in her hands and kissed him once, twice, on
either cheek. Then she put her arms round him and hugged him, burying her face in his
neck.

She felt rather than saw him glance towards
his uncle. Then he put his arms round her, not tightly, not hugging, but as if allowing
the idea of her to enter his arms.

He was so tall – several inches taller than
her!

She released him at last and held his face
again. He was smiling tentatively. ‘My son,' she said, and his smile broadened, reaching
his eyes. She took his arm and turned to face Jasper, who was watching them with his
frowning smile. ‘You're very welcome,' she said, and all the usual greetings were
made.

They ate extensively: roast pork, capon,
stuffed perch. Jasper told them that he had to meet the king the next day, at Whitehall,
and the king had expressed the desire to meet his nephew, her son.

‘I will take him,' she said at once. Jasper
paused and she looked to her husband for support.

‘We have not yet welcomed the king,' he
observed.

‘You can meet with him first,' she said,
‘and we will bring Henry later.'

Jasper prevaricated. ‘It will have to be
arranged,' he said. ‘The king will have to be told.'

‘You can tell him,' Margaret said.

There it was; the spark of hostility that
had always been
between them. Jasper pulled the corners of his mouth
down. ‘It may not suit the king,' he said, and Margaret felt a surge of irritation. Had
she not been the king's sister?

As usual her husband stepped in.

‘We will wait outside,' he said, ‘and you
can send us a message. If it does not suit the king, we'll leave Henry with you.'

And so it was arranged.

She had not seen the king for many years.
She knew, of course, about all the ordeals he'd suffered but even so she was shocked at
the change in him. He looked like an old, old man. His hair was entirely white, his
flesh yellowing and loose. It hung from the bone as if the bones themselves were
shrinking. Even the structure of his face had changed: the cheeks were hollow, the teeth
more prominent and yellowish-brown. It was like the face of a skull.

But he was finely arrayed, wearing a
coronet, and all his lords were around him.

Margaret's husband had remained outside.
They had agreed on this, because he had not yet begged pardon for having fought on King
Edward's side.

She'd told her son what to do, but not what
to expect. She hoped he would not seem surprised, or act awkwardly in any way. He seemed
much smaller here, in this great room. Taller than her, of course, but not as tall as
either of his uncles.

He stepped forward and knelt before the
king. ‘Your majesty,' he said. And the king looked at him with that ethereal light in
his eyes and said nothing, as though he was amazed.

When the king saw the child …
he is reported to have said to the earls there present, ‘This truly is he unto whom
we and our adversaries must yield and give over the dominion of the kingdom.' Thus
the holy man showed it would come to pass that Henry should in time enjoy the
kingdom.

Polydore Vergil

The king's mouth
worked for a little while before the words came. ‘Is it the prince?' he said. ‘Is it the
prince who will rule after me?'

A murmur passed through the assembled lords
and Jasper stepped forward hastily. ‘No, sire – it is your nephew, Edmund's son,' he
said. ‘I have brought our nephew to meet you as you desired.'

And the expression in the king's eyes
changed to one of uncertain recognition. ‘Edmund,' he said.

‘This is his son, Henry Tudor,' Jasper said.
‘Earl of Richmond.'

At last the king extended his hand, and
Henry made a move to kiss it, but at the last moment the king rested it on his head, as
if in blessing.

‘He is a very fine prince,' he said to
everyone in general, and a kind of exhalation passed around the room.

Margaret sank into her deepest curtsy,
murmuring the formalities. Then she raised her head and looked at the king. ‘We hope
with all our hearts that your majesty will soon be restored to health,' she said, and a
ripple of doubt or unease passed through the lords. It was not proper to acknowledge the
king's illness unless he had first acknowledged it himself. No one in this new regime
had as yet acknowledged that the king might not be fit to rule. She could feel Jasper
frowning at her. But the king himself smiled as though surprised and pleased.

‘Thank you, dearest sister,' he said.

Only on the way home did she reflect that
she had spoken to reassure the king that neither she nor her husband had at any point
thought about
the prince who would rule after him.

Light fell in shimmering sheets across the
river, altered by the shadows of great boats. The water was now bright as a shield when
it catches the sun, now impenetrably dull. She pointed out all the buildings to her son
as they passed and he leaned towards her to catch what she said. There was still that
slight formality
between them, that politeness. But she stood very
close to him as if protecting him from what the king had said.
He is a very fine
prince.

It was a mistake only, it did not signify.
It had been a long time since he'd seen his own son.

Still, it was true that only the king and
his son stood between her son and the throne. And the king was not well – anyone could
see that. She glanced up a little anxiously at her son and touched his arm so that he
looked down at her and smiled.

That evening Sir Richard Tunstall was coming
back with Jasper to dine with them. This man, who had endured years of siege at Harlech
and then been saved from execution by William Herbert, was now King Henry's chamberlain,
responsible for all access to the king. It was a good indication that the king intended
to forgive her husband. Of course, there might be another reason why Jasper was bringing
him, and this was causing her unease. But it did not do to anticipate trouble, she told
herself, as the boat pulled into its mooring.

Sir Richard sat back, closing his eyes like
a cat. ‘Your table does you credit, Countess,' he said, then, ‘His majesty is most
impressed with your son.'

Margaret smiled. ‘It was very good of him to
see us at all,' she said.

‘He's a fine young man,' Sir Richard said.
‘Lord Herbert trained him well.'

‘He fulfilled his duty,' she said, then,
glancing at her son, was dismayed to see a shadow pass across his face.
He misses
them
, she thought.

‘Lord Herbert was good to me,' he said, ‘and
Lady Herbert –' He stopped, as if preventing himself from saying,
she was like a
mother to me.

‘We would have trained him too,' Margaret
said.

‘Of course, of course,' Sir Richard said.
Then, leaning closer to
Henry, he continued, ‘I hear he gave you your
first taste of battle, eh? How did you like that?'

Henry's first taste of battle had been at
Harlech, against Sir Richard. He glanced at Jasper, not at Margaret or her husband,
before replying. ‘It was –' He looked around, then down. ‘I don't remember much about
it.'

‘That's how it often is, the first time,'
said Sir Richard. ‘And you were on the wrong side, of course – a pity about that. But
still – an excellent experience. Now, however, you can serve your rightful king,' he
went on. ‘How would you like that?'

Margaret did not like the way this was
going, but Henry said there was nothing he would like better.