The royal exile was now impatient to be in England, and there was at least one man who prayed earnestly for the success of his enterprise. This was Louis de Bruges, who—to his credit be it told—had throughout displayed toward the fugitive monarch, in an age of selfishness and servility, a generosity worthy of those great days of chivalry which boasted of the Black Prince and John de Valois. After having given all the aid he could to Edward in regard to ships and money, Louis still appears to have thought he had not done enough. To complete his courtesy, therefore, he offered to accompany the banished king to England, and aid in overcoming his enemies in the battles that were inevitable. This last sacrifice to friendship Edward declined to accept; but he was touched by such a proof of esteem, and pressed his host strongly to come once more to England, and give him an opportunity of requiting so much hospitality. After an affectionate farewell, the king and the stadtholder parted; and Edward, having embarked, sailed toward England, with the determination either to reoccupy a regal throne or to fill a warrior's grave.
Edward's fleet sailed from Vere, in Walcheren, and, after a prosperous voyage, approached Cromer, on the coast of Norfolk. Hoping much from the influence of the Mowbrays, and eager to set his foot on English soil, the king sent Sir Robert Chamberlaine and another knight ashore to ascertain the ideas of the Duke of Norfolk. But little did Edward know of the position of his friends. The province was entirely under the influence of Oxford; and the Mowbrays, so far from retaining any power, appear to have been glad, indeed, of that earl's protection. "The duke and duchess," says John Paston, writing to his mother, "now sue to him as humbly as ever I did to them, inasmuch that my Lord of Oxford shall have the rule of them and theirs, by their own desire and great means." The answer brought back by Edward's knights was not, therefore, satisfactory. Indeed, Oxford had just been in Norfolk, to assure himself that no precautions were omitted; and the coast was so vigilantly guarded by his brother, George De Vere, that an attempt to land would have been rushing on certain destruction.
Disappointed, but not dismayed, the king ordered the mariners to steer northward; and a violent storm scattered his fleet. Persevering, however, with his single ship, Edward, after having been tossed by winds and storms for forty-eight hours, sailed into the Humber, and on the 14th of March, 1471, effected a landing at Ravenspur, where, in other days, Henry of Bolingbroke had set foot when he came to deprive the second Richard of his crown and his life. Having passed the night at the village hard by, the king was next morning joined by his friends, who had landed on another part of the coast.
Edward now set his face southward; but he soon found that, on the shores of England, he was almost as far from his object as he had been on the coast of Walcheren. The people of the north were decidedly hostile; and at York he was brought to a stand-still. It was an age, however, when men sported with oaths as children do with playthings; and Edward's conscience was by no means more tender than those of his neighbors. To smooth his way, he solemnly swore only to claim the dukedom of York, not to make any attempt to recover the crown; and, moreover, he carried his dissimulation so far as to proclaim King Henry and assume the ostrich feather, which was the cognizance of the Lancastrian Prince of Wales.
After leaving York, however, a formidable obstacle presented itself in the shape of Pontefract Castle, where Montagu lay with an army. But the marquis, deceived, it would seem, by a letter from the false Clarence, made no attempt to bar Edward's progress; and, once across the Trent, the king threw off his disguise, and rallied the people of the south to his standard. At Coventry, into which Warwick had retired to await the arrival of Clarence with twelve thousand men, Edward, halting before the walls, challenged the earl to decide their quarrel by single combat. The king-maker, however, treated this piece of knightly bravado with contempt; and Edward, having in vain endeavored to bring his great foe to battle by threatening the town of Warwick, was fain to throw himself between the earl and the capital.
All this time Warwick's danger was much greater than he supposed, for the negotiations of the female embassador sent to Angers were bearing fruit; and Gloucester had held a secret conference with Clarence in the false duke's camp. The consequences of this interview soon appeared. Clarence, reconciled to his brothers, seized an early opportunity of making his soldiers put the White Rose on their gorgets instead of the Red, and then, with colors flying and trumpets sounding, marched to Edward's camp.
The king, thus re-enforced, pressed courageously toward London. Perhaps he entertained little doubt of a favorable reception; for he knew full well that the interest he had among the city dames, and the immense sums he owed their husbands—sums never likely to pay unless in the event of a restoration—made London friendly to his cause; and he knew, moreover, that thousands of his partisans were in the sanctuaries, ready to come forth and don the White Rose whenever the banner of York waved in the spring breeze before the city gates.
It appears that Warwick, ere leaving London, had placed the capital and the king under the auspices of his brother, George Neville, Archbishop of York. On hearing of Edward's approach, the archbishop made an effort to discharge his duty, mounted Henry of Windsor on horseback, and caused him to ride from St. Paul's to Walbrook to enlist the sympathies of the citizens. But during the last six months the feelings of the populace had undergone a considerable change, and the spectacle of the monk-monarch on his palfrey failed to elicit any thing like enthusiasm. Seeing how the political wind blew, the ambitious prelate resolved to abandon his brother's cause, and dispatched a message to Edward asking to be received into favor.
The archbishop was assured of a pardon; and the way having thus been cleared, the king, on Thursday, the 11th of April, entered the city. After riding to St. Paul's, he repaired to the bishop's palace, and thither, to his presence, came the archbishop, leading Henry by the hand. Having taken possession of his captive, Edward rode to Westminster, rendered thanks to God in the Abbey for his restoration, conducted his wife and infant son from the sanctuary to Baynard's Castle, passed next day, Good Friday, in that palace of Duke Humphrey, and then braced on his armor to battle for his crown.