And what had happened? Riding to Bury he had been intercepted by the King’s guard, ordered to return to his lodgings and after a few days it was announced that he was dead. He had fallen sick and died. The people simply did not believe that he had died from natural causes.

The weather was bad, of course—many people had died of cold—it had been the worst winter many remembered; the Thames had been frozen and so had almost every river in the country. The Duke had lived too well for the years not to have taken some toll of him. But sudden death? No.

The day after his death his body was exhibited. The lords and the knights of the Parliament and the people flocked to see it. There was no sign of foul play. There were dark hints about Edward the Second who had died mysteriously in Berkeley Castle. They had inserted a red hot poker into him, destroyed his internal organs, and there had been no sign of foul play on his body except that expression of agony on his cold, still face. It was all very well for his enemies to express their grief and send Gloucester’s body to be taken in pomp to St. Albans to be laid in the fair vault which had been prepared for him during his lifetime. It was not good enough. The people would not believe that he had died by natural causes.

Moreover the servants of his household had been arrested. They were accused of plotting to make Duke Humphrey King. Gloucester’s illegitimate son known as Arthur was arrested with them and he, including four others, was condemned to die the traitor’s death.

Henry was very unhappy. He could not help feeling relieved that that arch-troublemaker Gloucester had been removed but at the same time he hated the thought of men being subjected to the horrible traitors’ death.

‘They have plotted against you,’ Margaret reminded him.

‘If they have done so it was at Gloucester’s orders,’ said Henry. ‘He was the one to be blamed.’

‘Well, he has paid the price now.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Henry quickly.

‘I mean that God has taken him in the midst of his iniquities.’

‘I hope a priest was with him at the end."

‘Oh Henry,’ laughed Margaret, ‘will you always love your enemies?’

Suffolk came to see them. He did not want to talk of the rumours which were growing. They were too embarrassing. It was quite absurd to link his name with Margaret’s. Alice could laugh at the idea. Others might not.

But he saw that if the members of Gloucester’s household w ere condemned it would be tantamount to saying that there had been a plot, and if there had, it would seem that Gloucester might well have been murdered.

He laid the matter before the King. ‘The Duke of Gloucester died as he acted throughout his life,’ he said. ‘By which I mean he died to cause the most inconvenience to those around him. I do not believe there was a plot against the crown. If there was people will say that Gloucester was murdered...without trial. That is not so. If there was no plot then it seems very probable that Gloucester died a natural death which would be the happiest solution. My lord, I think our best plan is to free these servants of the late Duke.’

Nothing could please Henry better. Now he would not be disturbed by the revolting things that would be done to those men. He grasped at the idea.

‘Let us free them,’ he said. ‘They have been punished enough by contemplating a terrible fate. Yes, let them go free. There was no plot. My uncle died of his years and the strain he had put on them by a life of debauchery.’

So they were freed. But that did not stop the rumours.

The people still adhered to the story that Gloucester had been murdered. He was the enemy of the Duke of Suffolk, and the Queen had shown that she hated him.

The Queen had helped plan the murder, they whispered, and if she had not actually carried it out she was as guilty as those who had.

So Margaret, who had ridden through the streets of London to the acclaim of the people and the waving of daisies, was now-branded ‘Adulteress. Murderess. And French!’


* * *

Margaret found it difficult to understand the change in the attitude of the people towards her. When she rode out she was greeted with sullen stares. They did not abuse her. They whispered as she passed by, and she looked in vain for the daisies.

Bewildered and hurt, she demanded of Alice: ‘Why do they blame me for Gloucester’s death?’

They will always blame someone.’ Alice consoled her. ‘They blame William, too.’

‘It is true that I hated him.’ said Margaret. ‘But others must have done so too.’

‘The people always look for scapegoats in high places,’ Alice reminded her.

‘It makes me unhappy and...uneasy.’

Yes, thought Alice, it should do that.

She said: ‘You will have to act very carefully now. You must not show your pleasure in his death.’

Margaret shrugged her shoulders. She found it very hard to hide her feelings and she could not but feel relieved by the death of Gloucester.

She went to Grafton to see the Cardinal. He would have advice to offer her.

She was horrified to find him in his bed. He looked very ill—far worse than when she had last seen him.

She felt she could not burden him with her troubles. In any case he seemed too ill to listen to them. He was pleased to see her though and she sat by his bedside and tried to be cheerful.

He must get better, she told him. She needed him.

‘You will do well,’ he said. ‘You will look after the King.’

Only once did he mention Gloucester. ‘That trouble-maker has gone,’ he said. ‘Well, it was a fitting end. Do you know I have been told that some have accused me of having a part in his death.’ His face creased into a smile. ‘You see me in no fit state to do murder.’

‘They will say anything...anything!’ cried Margaret vehemently.

‘Indeed it is so. But these things are quickly forgotten. They look round. "Who was Gloucester’s enemy?" they say. "Oh...the Cardinal." Everyone knew of the enmity between us. It had been there for years. I always saw what a menace he was to the crown, to England. A pity others did not see it also. His brother Bedford did. Well, he has gone now. He can make no more trouble here on earth. And you, dear child, forgive my temerity in speaking to my Queen thus, but you are to me a very dear child and I love you and have great faith in you. You can be exactly what our King needs. He loves you. Who would not? You must guide him always, dear lady. Care for the King always...He will need your care. He is surrounded by enemies...but the greatest of them is dead now. Take care of him...’

‘I will, I will,’ said Margaret fervently. ‘But you talk as though you are going to leave us. You are not. I forbid it. You will stay with us. I need you.’

‘God bless you,’ said the Cardinal.

She sat by his bed but she could see how tired he was. He tried to struggle up when she left but she would not have it. She bent over and kissed him.

‘I shall come to you again...soon,’ she said.

But she did not for within a few weeks the Cardinal was dead.

Her grief was great. She had lost her worst enemy she believed and so soon after her best friend.


* * *

Alice was very worried. She did not like the rumours which were circulating about Gloucester’s death. She spoke to her husband about it.

‘You worry unduly,’ he assured her. ‘Gloucester’s death is the best thing that could happen to us.’

‘Yes, it would have been if he had died without mystery.’

‘The mystery will be forgotten shortly. In the meantime there is much to gain. Gloucester was rich and what will happen to his estates? His wife, a captive suspected of plotting against the King’s life through witchcraft, can claim nothing. There will be his estates to dispose of We shall do not badly out of that, I promise you.’

I was not thinking of estates,’ said Alice.

‘As I said you worry yourself unduly. All will be well. Margaret will have some of the estates but we shall have our share.’

Alice shivered.

‘What is the matter with you?’

‘Nothing. If you say all is well, all is well.’

He looked at her seriously. He was very fond of Alice and had never regretted their marriage. She had given him two sons and a daughter and it had been a very successful union. She was wise, too, and she did communicate a certain element of her apprehension to him. He admitted it at length.

‘Gloucester was my enemy,’ he said, ‘and Gloucester was a fool.’

‘Exactly,’ replied Alice. ‘You know now what I have in mind.’

‘There will be another enemy...less foolish perhaps.’

Alice nodded. ‘And you know who that will be.’

Suffolk replied in one syllable: ‘York.’

‘He will not be so reckless or so foolish as Gloucester.’

‘If the King could get an heir that would make it less easy for York.’

‘York will still be there. There is a purpose in him. He will bide his time.’

‘But if the Queen produces a son the people will love the child. Margaret will regain some of the popularity she has lost.’

‘If she gets a child.’

‘Is there no sign then?’

‘None. She would tell me if there were. I know that she is impatient and frustrated because she does not seem to be able to conceive.’

‘A child will make such a difference. The people might even take to wearing daisies again.’

‘We must pray for a child.’

‘With fervour. We need that child. In the meantime don’t fret about York. He must bide his time.’

‘And he will,’ said Alice.