Margaret responded graciously and was exceedingly glad that Alice had noticed how ill equipped she would have been to face such a brilliant assembly. She could never be grateful enough for Alice’s care—nor for that of the Marquess. I shall insist that they are duly rewarded, she promised herself Henry will be willing to do anything that I ask him to.

Another party had arrived at Blackheath. This was led by a man of great importance. She could not help but be aware of that. It was apparent in the looks of almost near reverence in the faces of those about her. They were astonished too. He was old but handsome in a raddled way; he was most splendidly attired and the livery of his attendants was dazzling.

He rode up to the Queen, bowed low and made a fulsome speech of welcome.

Margaret was responding with her usual grace when the King said: ‘My lady, I should present you to my uncle the Duke of Gloucester.’

The Duke of Gloucester! The enemy! She could see the wise old face of her uncle Charles; she could hear his voice: ‘You will have to beware of the Duke of Gloucester.’

She was too young to have learned to hide her feelings. This was the man who had done everything to oppose her marriage. He was going to try to undermine her. His wife was in captivity because she had made a waxen image of Henry with the purpose of destroying him. The enemy indeed.

‘I thank you, my lord, for coming to welcome me,’ she said coldly and turned away.

Everyone about her was aware of the snub to mighty Gloucester and knowing he had inherited his share of the famous Plantagenet temper, they awaited developments in an awed silence.

Gloucester however did not appear to notice the slight. He was very gracious and when he wished to be, in spite of his ravaged looks, he could he charming.

‘What a pleasure,’ he said, ‘to find our Queen so beautiful. The King is a man to be envied for more than his dominions.’

‘There are always those to envy kings,’ said Margaret. ‘It is to be expected, and accepted as long as they do not attempt to replace them.’

Margaret had always had a ready tongue and it was something she had never learned to control, in her grandmother’s household she had never been seriously provoked; but she had heard so much about Gloucester’s opposition to her marriage and she was too young to hide her resentment.

‘Ah,’ said Gloucester, ‘that is wisdom indeed. But who, my lady, would not wish to be in the King’s place now that he possesses such a blooming bride?’

‘You are gracious.’

‘My lady, I would welcome you to the country, which I am sure you will rule well...with the King.’

He had turned so that his magnificently caparisoned horse was side by side with hers.

‘It would give me great pleasure,’ he said, ‘if you would rest at my Palace of Greenwich for some refreshment before proceeding into London. The people are going to love you so much that they may impede your progress with their cheers and their pageants. They all wish to show you how delighted they are that you have come to us.’

Margaret was about to say that she was in no need of refreshment and had no intention of resting at his Palace of Greenwich when the King said: ‘That is gracious of you, uncle. The Queen will enjoy seeing Greenwich.’

There was nothing .she could say after that but she did not glance at the Duke riding beside her and she wondered that Henry could be so affable to one who, everyone said, was his enemy.

The Duke riding beside her was smiling gaily. He talked to her about Greenwich and how fond of the place he had become since it had passed to him through his Beaufort uncle. Not the Cardinal whom she had met but his brother Thomas, Duke of Exeter.

‘I was granted a further two hundred acres in which to make a park. I have done this so we have some good hunting there. You like the chase, my lady?’

‘I do.’

‘Then you will find great pleasure in some of our forests. I always say we have the best in the world. When I was granted the land I had to agree to embattle the manor, and make a tower and a ditch...and all this I have done. So I shall proudly welcome you to Greenwich.’

She rode along in silence, her colour heightened, her head held high.

So they paused at Greenwich and afterwards made their way through Southwark and into the City of London. The pageants so astonished and delighted her that she forgot the unpleasant encounter with Gloucester. London had surpassed itself. The citizens revelled in pageantry and this show they were putting on to welcome the Queen was a prelude to all the rejoicing that would take place at the coronation.

All the tableaux and scenes which were enacted were for the union of Henry and Margaret and the theme was that for which they had all been longing. Peace. It was true they had all believed that peace would come with the conquest of France. There had been a time some twenty years before when that dream had seemed to be at hand. And then Henry the Fifth had died suddenly, cut down in his prime, and since then the scene had changed.

Well, if this was not great victory, it was peace and peace would mean an end to the exorbitant taxation which had been crippling trade and making them all poor.

At the bridge at Southwark the pageant represented Peace and Plenty. There was one puppet display with Justice and Peace as the figures. These approached each other and after much juggling met in the kiss of peace. Then Saint Margaret appeared; and there were dancers and children reciting and in the hair of every girl was a daisy.

It was a great triumph. Henry was delighted with the impression she had made on the people and refused to have his spirits lowered by the knowledge that they were cheering a peace which had not yet been made. The marriage had taken place, yes... but the only concession which had been agreed on was a truce. We must have peace, Cardinal Beaufort had said; and Henry agreed with him.

‘My brother would rise up and curse you if he could,’ was Gloucester’s comment. ‘Peace. Never. We are going to fight on until we put the French crown where it belongs: on the head of the King of England.’

Gloucester was hot-headed. He always had been. But why had he come to Blackheath and been so affable? And Margaret had shown her contempt for him. He must explain to her.

He did.

‘I could not understand,’ she told him, ‘how you could have been so gracious to him. He is no friend of yours.’

‘That I know well. I don’t trust him. I always double the guards when he is near. I am sure he would do me some harm if he could.’

‘And yet you behaved as though he were your very dear uncle!’

‘He was playing a part, Margaret. I had to play one too.’

‘I could not hide what I felt.’

He smiled at her tenderly. ‘You are so good, so honest. But, my dearest, Gloucester is a dangerous man. He has his followers. He has always been a favourite with the Londoners.’

‘Then the Londoners are false to you.’

‘Indeed not. You saw their welcome. They are powerful, you know. They stand on their own at times...If they express their disapproval we have to be wary.’

‘And you...a King.’

Henry laughed. ‘Dear Margaret, you are wise and clever. But you have something to learn.’

She did not answer but she thought: ‘I will never accept those who are my enemies. I will not pretend to love them.’

Meanwhile Gloucester was discussing the Queen with the Duke of York. There was a bond between them. They both believed they had a claim to the throne. Gloucester would have to wait for his nephew to die; but York descending on both sides of the family from Edward the Third and through his mother from the Duke of Clarence who had been older than John of Gaunt, secretly believed he had a higher claim than Henry himself. So Gloucester felt he could be sure of York’s agreement.

‘She slighted me,’ said Gloucester. ‘I wonder I did not ride off right away. The impulse to do so was there. But I restrained myself

‘You restrained yourself admirably. We were all astounded. You seemed as though you positively admired the girl.’

‘She is pretty enough, I grant you. But there is a strong will there. I can see our Henry will be as wax in her hands.’

‘Then it will be the Queen with whom we have to deal.’

Gloucester clenched his fist. ‘I will think twice before I submit to the will of a woman...and a French one at that. This is a disastrous marriage. We have given away so much and gained what? A French Queen! Mark my words, we shall be called upon to give away more. We should be waging war on France, not making a marriage with her.’

‘We have gained little, it is true. Minorca, Majorca! Empty titles! And they are after Maine...?’

‘I tell you this,’ said the Duke of Gloucester, ‘I shall not allow the daughter of so-called King René to insult me with impunity.’

‘The little girl will have to learn her place,’ agreed York, ‘and that means that although she is allowed to sit on a throne and wear a crown on her pretty head she will have to take account of her noble subjects.’

‘Ah yes, our dainty little Queen has much to learn.’

At the end of May the coronation took place. It was a splendid occasion and the people crowded to Westminster to have a share in it. There was rejoicing throughout the capital and in spite of the fact that the royal exchequer had to be drained to its dregs to provide for it, all seemed very satisfied.

Wine flowed from the conduits in the streets of London; the people danced and sang.

‘This marriage means peace,’ they declared. ‘Peace at last. Long live King Henry and his pretty little Queen.’