He turned away from George and looked out at the Thames flowing by just below the castle walls. He gazed along the water to the grey walls of the Tower and prayed fervently that all would go well for Edward and a resentment arose in him against George who seemed so pleased at the prospect of trouble, at his mother who was so haughty and declared she would not see the lowborn Queen, and towards Warwick who dared to think he knew better than the King!

Edward meanwhile was delighted with his bride. He was relieved too that the secret was out. If he had a chance to go back he would do exactly the same again. It was hard to define what it was about Elizabeth which so enthralled him. She was by no means passionate; she was aloof, cold even; he sometimes wondered whether her hold over him was that she presented a continual challenge. He was always attempting to arouse something which was not there. And of course she was incomparably beautiful – strangely enough in a different mould from beauties who had attracted him in the past. Her clear-cut features were as Hastings had once said, like those of a statue; and he was never quite sure what was going on behind those beautiful blue-grey heavy-lidded eyes. With her long luxuriant hair falling about her firm white body she moved him as he had never been moved before and he could say to himself: A plague on Louis. A plague on Warwick. Neither of them is going to stop my having Elizabeth.

Rather unexpectedly Warwick had decided not to offer any reprimand and long lecture on the harm that had been done. That was wise of Warwick. Edward would have been ready for him and Warwick would have learned once and for all that the King was no longer his to command. Warwick stayed silent, and when presented to Elizabeth showed all the respect that Edward, or even Elizabeth, could have asked.

Warwick had given his anger time to simmer down and it was no longer at boiling point and therefore dangerous. It was there, as deep and strong as ever, but under control. He could see what had happened and blamed himself for not realising it was coming. Edward was on the point of breaking away and would do so on this delicate matter of his marriage. The weakening chain must be repaired quickly and an appropriate moment chosen to slip on the leading-reins.

In the meantime he would show Edward that he accepted Elizabeth as Queen and would do his best to repair any damage that had been done to relations with France. He would try not to show how bitterly he resented having been made to look foolish in the eyes of the King of France who by this clandestine marriage had proved that he, Warwick, was not in the King’s confidence.

‘I made him. I put him on the throne. He would be nothing without me.’ So he had ranted to his Countess.

To Edward he smiled affably and discussed the arrangements for the Queen’s coronation.

First Edward wanted to present her to the nobles of the land and he would do that in Reading Abbey.

‘It is meet and fitting,’ he said, ‘that Clarence should lead her in. As heir presumptive to the throne it is his place to do that.’

Edward was smiling complacently. He was certain that soon there would be an heir to push Clarence aside. Both he and Elizabeth had proved – as he had told his mother – that they were not likely to be barren.

Warwick smiled grimly to himself. He could imagine Clarence’s feelings. That boy had ambitions. He had half hoped that Edward would never marry and then his own great ambition would be realised.

Not you, thought Warwick. I would prefer Richard – a good serious boy, loyal to his brother. I could mould him. But Clarence ... no, too vain. Too much superficial charm that is soon shown to be worthless. Clarence is no good. But that woman and Edward will have a brood of children I doubt not, for Edward will go to the making of them with an enthusiasm he has for little else. So Clarence was to lead her in. His mother was furious, but he had to do it. He had to obey the King rather than his mother. It was an amusing situation. They’ll not endure it, he thought. Warwick is seething. So are some of the others. They are setting up together against the Woodvilles already.

And here was the Queen. There was no doubt of her beauty. It was breath-taking. She was the sort of woman who was naturally regal. She was tall and therefore looked well beside Edward. He dwarfed most women. Her glorious hair fell about her shoulders and down to her knees and on her head was a crown of gems the points of which were formed in the shape of fleur-de-lys. She held her head high but her heavy lids were drawn down over her eyes and she looked at no one. Her gown was of blue, that colour which suited her above all others, and it was decorated with stripes of gold brocade; the sleeves were tight and the bodice close-fitting; and there was an ermine border about the skirt. Her shoes were very pointed and she picked her way daintily but with sure-footed resolution towards the nobles who were waiting to do homage to her.

Everyone’s eyes were on Warwick. He knelt before her. He took her hand and kissed it.

Clarence was disappointed. He was hoping for trouble.

Warwick could not have behaved more agreeably if the bride had been of his choice. No one would guess from his attitude how deeply the resentment was smouldering within him.


Just over a year after the secret marriage Elizabeth was crowned in Westminster Abbey.

It was Whitsunday and Elizabeth had been staying at Eltham Palace. Edward was keeping Court at the Palace of the Tower where he awaited the arrival of the Queen. As she came into London the mayor and the city leaders in all their colourful uniforms met her at Shooters Hill in order to form part of the procession which conducted her through Southwark to the Tower.

Edward was so proud of her, and he was delighted, too, that Warwick had after the first shock accepted her. If it occurred to him that Warwick might not be quite so reconciled as he appeared to be, Edward dismissed the thought. He hated trouble and all through his life he had pretended it did not exist, until the last minute when it had to be faced. Then he faced it with a nonchalance which was characteristic of him. He believed he could overcome every difficulty with his charm and grace – and often he did.

Elizabeth was carried from the Tower to the Abbey in her litter and the Londoners came out to marvel at her beauty and to look at the King whom they so much admired; and they thought the marriage was so romantic and just what they would have expected of their handsome King.

Edward was delighted that the Count of St Pol, the brother of Jacquetta, had accepted the invitation to attend the coronation because he gave a certain standing to the bride and reminded the people that although her father was a humble knight, her mother came from the noble House of Luxembourg. As for the Count who had vowed he never wanted to see his sister again, he was completely reconciled; his sister’s daughter having become Queen of England completely expiated her sin in marrying beneath her.

And after the coronation there was the grand banquet in Westminster Hall where the King sat beside his Queen and showed by his demeanour his immense satisfaction with the proceedings.

Jacquetta looked on with the utmost satisfaction. Who would have believed she could have brought Elizabeth to this?

It was wonderful. Already her daughter was bringing good fortune to the family. She and Elizabeth discussed at length the grand marriages there should be for the members of the family. There, close to the King, sat her daughter Catherine, now the Duchess of Buckingham, elevated through her marriage to the Duke into one of the richest and most important families in the land. So should it be for the others.

Very soon the Woodvilles should be the leading family in the country, outdoing even the Nevilles.

Perhaps the most satisfied woman in the country that day, apart from the bride, was the bride’s mother. It was a very different case with the bridegroom’s mother.

She had refused to attend the ceremony. She, Proud Cis, who at Fotheringay when her husband had been Protector of the Land had lived in the state of a Queen, with a receiving room where she gave audiences and where she had enforced royal etiquette on all those who came into contact with her – must now stand by and watch the low-born daughter of a chamberlain’s son take precedence over her!

No, Proud Cis would not accept Elizabeth Woodville as Queen.


Edward, however, was delighted with life. He was still in love with Elizabeth. There had already been minor infidelities it was true but they did not seem to matter. Elizabeth never asked about them. He wondered if she heard rumours for he had been rather indiscreet with a certain lady of the Court. Their affair had lasted a week before he was longing for the cool, aloof charms of Elizabeth.

He had discovered that he did not want his relationship with his Queen impaired in any way and he had suffered a qualm or so of uneasiness; but if she knew, and he thought she might, for those cool hooded eyes missed little, she gave no sign. When he muttered some excuses about his absences, she waved them aside.

‘I know full well that you will always have matters which take you from my side. I never forget that you are the King.’

He loved her more than ever. No reproaches! She just gave him cool calm understanding.

Her mother was often with her. He liked Jacquetta. There had always been a special friendship between them since she had been so helpful at the time of the marriage. People might say that it was her witchcraft which had made him so determined to get Elizabeth that he married her. He didn’t care. If witches were like Jacquetta then he could do with them in the kingdom.