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She wanted nothing more than an end to this war. They had betrothed her to the Prince and she believed that they might live in some sort of harmony together. She was not forceful like Margaret and would not attempt to impose her will on anyone. She often thought of Richard of Gloucester and this odd turn of fate which had set them on different sides. Richard would be beside his brother whatever happened; and she of course had to be on her father's.
Yet I care nothing for their wars, she thought.
How different was Margaret. A pleasant relationship had grown up between them which was strange because they were so different—she so docile, Margaret so fierce. Poor Margaret! It had been a fearful blow to her when she had heard that Warwick was dead. She was rather frightening in her rages, when she cursed everything and everyone in sight.
And now she had gone off with the troops to fight against Edward, and that other Edward, A
At this moment the battle was raging and at any time she might know the result.
She went to the top of the house and looked out on the road. She sat there for a long hme . . . waihng.
Then at last she saw them coming ... a bedraggled party . . . and riding with them was Margaret and she knew that tragedy had struck.
Margaret was overwhelmed by her grief. This was the end. It was painful to see a proud woman so bereft of everything but her sorrow.
Her son was dead . . . killed in battle, and she would never be
the same again. Much of the fire had gone from her and she had become an old woman.
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'All that youth ... all that beauty . . . gone . . . gone/ she mourned. They murdered him. They could have left me my son. We are lost. There can be nothing more. They have my husband in the Tower . . . they have killed my son. All my hope was in him. ... I have lost my beautiful boy and you my child have lost your husband.'
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But she could not remain passive for long. She rose. She began to call curses on everyone, but most of all on the man she called the Usurper. 'Edward who calls himself King ... he has murdered my beautiful son and may his soul rot in hell.'
It was foolish to give way to her anger for there were those to carry an account of her curses to Edward. He was usually lenient to his enemies but she made him uneasy with her curses; and the death of the Prince had brought about new complications which were occupying his thoughts. Henry had been safe while Edward lived for to have removed Henry would have been of no avail while his son was there to step into his shoes. But now there was no Lancastrian heir. There was only a half-imbecile recluse between Edward and safety.
All the same Margaret must be silenced. Fortunately the people had always hated her and without her son and her husband she would be no danger at all.
While he was considering these matters news came to him of an insurrection which had broken out in the North. He started to march north but had only got as far as Coventry when he heard that the Bastard Falconbridge had landed in England and was marching on London. This man was an illegitimate son of William Neville Baron of Falconbridge whom Warwick had made Captain of his navy, the duty of which was to cruise about the Cha
Hearing that Falconbridge had come through Kent recruiting
men to follow him and fight for King Henry, and that he had reached Aldgate and when refused admission by the Londoners had set fire to the eastern outskirts of the city, Elizabeth was terrified. Her brother Earl Rivers advised her not to go into Sanctuary this time but to stay in the Tower which was well fortified for he was sure that Edward would soon arrive to quell this petty revolt.
He was right and when the Bastard realized that Edward's mighty and victorious army was marching against him and that the battle of Tewkesbury had decided that the cause of the Red Rose was lost, he knew that his only chance lay in flight.
He scattered his followers and they escaped as well as they could, the Bastard himself reaching Southampton where he was captured, taken to Middleham and there beheaded.
It was the end of resistance, and Edward could now count himself victorious. There was only Margaret, whom he intended to hold captive, and poor mad Henry in the Tower.
Margaret and A
Edward was cheered wildly by the people of London. This procession, this triumphant entry meant that the war was over. This big handsome man was their King and he was the King they wanted because he could bring prosperity and peace back to the country.
And there were the captives—arrogant Margaret who brought trouble from the moment she stepped ashore as Henry's bride and with her poor pale little A
There were jeers for Margaret and no great sympathy for A
handsome King and Queen have graced a throne.
So all was well. Peace had come. Edward had vanquished his enemy. Was this the end then of the Wars of the Roses?
They believed so and as they were heartily sick of wars they cheered the man who had brought them peace.
Back to the Palace of the Tower. There to rest after the procession. Margaret and A
Richard was on one side of the King, Elizabeth on the other. Edward felt a deep affection for this brother who had never shown anything but loyalty to him; it was wonderful to have someone whom he could trust.
But Richard was sad. The sight of A
Edward was saying: 'Young Edward is dead. There is only Henry now.'
'And he is a near imbecile,' murmured Hastings.
'A figurehead still!' mused Edward. 'They were rising in the North in his name. There will never be complete peace while that name can be used to give traitors a reason for rising.'