The fatal choice was made for war, and the war had now been raging for fourteen years. The wheel of Fortune had turned rapidly and capriciously, but York had on the whole been uppermost. To the majority of ordinary Englishmen who cared at least as much for peace and prosperity as politics, "the King" had meant Edward IV. since 1461. England at that weary hour cared more for rest than she cared to know who gave it to her. Edward, on his part, had "indulged himself in ease and pleasure"[#]—which was what he most valued—and might have continued to do so if he had kept on good terms with Warwick. For let Edward or Henry be termed the King, it was Warwick who "had all Englond at his bedyng," and the man who offended this master of kings was not likely to be king much longer. Edward had sent Warwick to France to negotiate for his marriage to Bona of Savoy, the Queen's sister, and while the envoy was away, the master fell into the toils of the fair face and golden hair and sweet purring ways of the Lady Grey of Groby. As Edward had passed his life on the easy principle of never denying himself any thing, he acted consistently in marrying the lady. Considering how few ever do so, he had probably not realised that this easy principle is apt to turn in later life into the sharpest of scourges. Warwick came home in a furious passion, and carried his power, influence, and army instantly over to the side of Lancaster. No man likes being made to "look small," and least of all could it be brooked by a man of Warwick's character and position. Edward paid very dearly for his golden-haired bride, and whether the purchase was worth the amount it cost may be considered extremely doubtful. Elizabeth Grey was not like Marguerite of Anjou, a far-seeing, self-less, large-hearted woman. Her mental horizon was exceedingly minute. She was chiefly concerned, like the creature she most resembled, to obtain the warmest spot of the hearthrug for herself. Very delightful to stroke and pet when all goes well, such quadrupeds—and such women—are capable of becoming extremely uncomfortable companions in certain combinations of circumstances.
[#] Comines.
Edward was not the only person who paid that heavy bill which he ran up with so light a heart. Only one small instalment of it was discharged by him. A heavier one was due from Queen Elizabeth, wrung out through long years of anguish and desolation: another from their innocent boys, discharged in their life's blood. The least amount, perhaps, was exacted from the most undeserving sharer in the penalty—that young Warwickshire girl who was Edward's real wife by canon law, and whose strong love proved equal to the fiery ordeal of saving his honour and ensuring what seemed his happiness at the cost of all her own. It cost her life as well. Edward had the cruelty and baseness to call her into court to deny their marriage. He knew her well enough to dare to do it. And she came, calm and self-restrained, and perjured her soul because she thought it would make him happier and save his good name. Hers was of no moment. Then she passed out of sight, and the overstrained string snapped, and nothing was left to vex the triumphant monarch. Only God saw a nameless green grave in a country churchyard. And when He comes to make inquisition for blood, when every thing that was hidden shall be known, I think it will be found that He did not forget Elizabeth Lucy.
Yet Edward did not escape quite without reproach. One person endeavoured to prevent this sin and shame, and it was a very unlikely person. The voice of Proud Cis was the only one raised against it, and her interference, futile though it was, is the best action of her life. From the far north Edward received the passionate reproaches of his mother for this dastardly action. They did not deter him from its accomplishment: but let the fact be remembered to Cicely's honour.[#]
[#] Some writers have disputed, and more have ignored, these miserable transactions. Surely the interference of Cicely, and the language of Comines, who was a personal acquaintance of the royal family, may fairly be held to prove the point.
Two months before the story begins, Warwick had taken advantage of some quarrel between Edward and his brother George of Clarence to allure the latter to the Lancastrian cause. He offered him an enormous bribe to come over, being his elder daughter Isabel, with one half of her mother's vast inheritance. It must not be forgotten that all Warwick's titles were derived from females. He was Earl of Salisbury in succession to his mother, and Earl of Warwick only by courtesy, in right of his wife. His two daughters, Isabel and Anne, were his only children, and the richest heiresses in the kingdom. They were both extremely beautiful girls, but Isabel was considered the lovelier. Clarence, who kept neither a heart nor a conscience, was ready to do any thing, good, bad, or indifferent, which promised to promote his own advancement in this world. He accepted Warwick's offer; and was now therefore in arms against his brother, and a member of Warwick's household at Middleham Castle, of which household Frideswide Marston was about to form an item.
CHAPTER II.
LILIES AMONG THE THORNS.
"Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart."—WORDSWORTH.
"Aye, perchance that may serve. What cost it by the yard?"