An hour later, he was once more secured in his old dungeon in the Tower.
The gates of London were thrown open, and the northern army of Edward poured into the City. The Sanctuary was visited, and the Countess of March and her infant son, now suddenly become the Queen and the Prince, were installed in Westminster Palace with fitting ceremony. The reign of Henry VI. was over, and the eleventh year of Edward IV. had begun.
The restored monarch was grace and graciousness to all around him. While he took care to propitiate and make friends of those who had hitherto been enemies, Edward did not, like his descendant Charles II., commit the fatal mistake of overlooking and neglecting to reward his friends. He gave away twenty tuns of wine (not forgetting to spend some £2800 on himself), replaced his old officers in their respective state positions, and made up for the forced abstinence and shabbiness of his recent life by buying a new service of plate, ordering twenty-one gold collars (doubtless for presents to his friends who had proved faithful in adversity), purchasing horses, and providing six new and gorgeous garments—a robe of tawny satin, a doublet of purple satin, two jackets of cloth of gold, and two "habits" of black damask and crimson velvet—for his wardrobe. He further expended in alms the munificent sum of £3 3*s*. 4*d*. The Queen does not appear to have required any new clothes, since provisions and wood are alone bought for her.[#]
[#] Issue Roll, Easter term, 11 Edw. IV.
So quietly had this mighty reversion of state affairs been effected, that the citizens of London were unconscious that any thing was happening until they saw the army of Edward IV. marching along their streets. Then, of course, it was too late to express an adverse opinion, had they wished to do so.
The necessary imprisonment of that honourable man, Archbishop Neville, extended only to a few days. He was received into favour on the day to which his pardon reached, but was not released from the Tower until a little later.
And then, when it was too late, the wind changed. Three times had Queen Marguerite set forth from Harfleur, and three times was she driven back on the French coast. Now, just when all was over which her coming might have prevented, on the 24th of March, she was able to embark, and she landed at Weymouth on Saturday night, the 13th of April, which was Easter Eve. Can we come to any conclusion but that of the contemporary letter-writer, that "God hath showed Himself marvellously like Him that made us all, and can undo again when Him list?" It was not immediately upon landing that the mournful news of her husband's capture and deposition met her. The news was to be far worse before it should reach her. She proceeded inland about thirteen miles, as far as the Abbey of Cerne, and there awaited the ceremonies of Easter. The Prince was with her—unconscious of his proclamation as Viceroy of England, as well as of the downfall of all his hopes—the Princess, and their respective suites.
While Marguerite and her companions knelt at mass that Easter morning in the chancel of Cerne Abbey, with the last hope springing in their hearts which they were ever to know, scenes very unbefitting Easter-tide were taking place in and near the metropolis.
No sooner had Warwick heard of the return of Edward than he came dashing down from the north, and with Exeter,[#] Somerset, Montague, Oxford, and forty thousand men, marched to take the field at Barnet. Exeter and Somerset wished to wait until the Prince should come up, as they had heard of his landing: but this Warwick refused to do. He was doubtful of the good faith of Somerset, who had ere this shown himself remarkably devoid of that quality; to which motive on Warwick's part Comines adds another—"the hatred he bore to Queen Marguerite."
[#] Where and when Exeter had joined Warwick we have no information. It is only known that he was in London on the 14th of February, and that he came with Warwick from the north on the 13th of April.