Red and White: A Tale of the Wars of the Roses

by Emily Sarah Holt

CHAPTER VI.

THE MIST ON EASTER DAY.

"Such a day,

An old man sees but once in all his time."

—EDWIN ARNOLD.

In vain the "King-Maker" waited at Dover for the Queen. The west wind which had fallen a little in London, and thus excited their hopes, set in with more violence than before, and Marguerite, notwithstanding her agony of impatience, was bound hopelessly at Harfleur.

But though winds and waves fought against the coming of her who was so sorely needed, they seemed powerless to deter him against whose return all Lancastrians were praying. Backed by the secret machinations of the Duke of Burgundy, Edward embarked at Ter Veere on the second of March: and after twelve days' tossing, landed at Ravenspur on the fourteenth of that month. Did it strike him as a parallel coincidence that under the same circumstances, and at the same place, seventy years before, Henry of Lancaster had landed, softly announcing to the populace that he had no designs upon the Crown, and came only to recover his own inheritance? Probably it did, for he imitated his predecessor's tactics in every particular. He came only to secure his duchy of York, as he sweetly assured the people of Holderness when they opposed his landing. Surely they would allow him to proceed to his own property—to his own city? He was the truest subject King Henry had, nor would he ever have been otherwise but for the inciting of that wicked Earl of Warwick. He stuck the ostrich feather in his cap—the badge of Prince Edward,—and solemnly swore eternal allegiance to King Henry. The honest folks in Holderness were completely won by this fine-spoken man. They fell back, and let him ride on to York.

But York was held by a Clifford,—sternest of all families adherent to the House of Lancaster. It was the head of that House—the "Bloody Clifford,"—who, just ten years before, had gleefully cut off the head of Edward's father, had crowned it with a paper crown, and set it high on Micklegate Bar. He, too, had stabbed young Rutland—the best of the York brothers—in cold blood after the battle of Wakefield. As Edward came up to York, the ghastly heads upon Micklegate Bar, the foremost of which was his own father's, seemed to be the only friends to welcome him. But though Edward could assume sentiment exquisitely, when he expected it to pay, he was not in reality much under its influence. There was no softening at his heart when he rode up to Micklegate, and sounded his horn for a parley, and proudly desired York to open her gates to her Duke. The old Lord Clifford would have known better than to rest any faith on the fair words of the Rose of Rouen. But his kinsman Mr. Thomas was not so wary. He consented to a parley. And when Edward, at the close of his eloquent and well-studied speech, ended by flinging up the ostrich-feathered cap into the air, with the loyal cry of "A, King Harry! A, King and Prince Edward!" the Governor and citizens of York were won. Beguiled, not conquered, they offered to let him pass southward on condition that he would swear his allegiance. Edward, Jesuit to the core, was ready to swear any thing. Had they promised to escort him to London with an army on condition of his swearing to restore the worship of Jupiter, the probability is that he would have accepted the oath with graceful complacency. Micklegate was thrown open, and Edward with his band passed through, and marched towards London.

The reconquest of England was an easier matter to Edward of York than it had been to Henry of Lancaster. Three months had elapsed between the landing and coronation of the former; one was enough for the latter. There were traitors in the Lancastrian camp, whose hearts were always ready to desert, and who only required to hear that Edward had landed to induce an immediate and public declaration in his behalf. Foremost of these was the heavily perjured Clarence, with whom his sister of Burgundy had been secretly tampering. Edward was now at the head of a very small band, consisting of nine hundred English and three hundred Flemings. With him were his faithful friend Lord Hastings, Lord Say, and a few more distinguished persons. But by the time he came to Nottingham, Sir William Stanley and Sir William Norris had joined him with four hundred more; and with men slowly coming in to him along the line of march, he arrived at Leicester. Here was Warwick waiting for him. A battle was imminent, when letters from Clarence reached Warwick, stating that he was on his way from London to join him, and begging him not to fight until he came. Warwick committed the fatal blunder of compliance. Humanly speaking, had he engaged in battle at once, the probability is that Edward would have been easily driven out of England.

It was not until the 25th of March that the news of Edward's landing reached London. The language of the grant of Tutbury and many other manors to Clarence on the 23rd, intimates that no such information had reached King Henry on that day. But on Lady Day a proclamation was issued appointing Clarence, Warwick, and others, to gather the King's subjects and to defend the kingdom, "against our enemies and adversaries of Flanders, Burgundy, and other parts, by the excitation, procuration, and inducement of our great adversary and rebel, Edward, of late the false, traitorous, and usurping occupant of our crown and dignity."[#] Two days later, the young Prince of Wales was created Viceroy of England against "Edward our rebel, who, with subjects of Burgundy and Flanders, has landed in the north."[#]

[#] Patent Roll, 49 Hen. VI.

[#] Patent Roll, 49 Hen. VI.