An Island Story - H. E. Marshall (best books to read in your 20s .TXT) 📗
- Author: H. E. Marshall
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Queen Margaret had no mercy either. She seemed mad with revenge. She killed as many of the White Rose nobles as she could, and the White Rose cause seemed lost.
But although Richard, Duke of York, was dead, he had a son called Edward, who now became duke and the head of the White Rose party, and more terrible battles were fought.
The people hated the Queen for her cruelty and her wickedness. She had no money with which to pay her soldiers, so she allowed them to plunder, and they too were hated and feared wherever they went. The gates of London were closed against them, the people were refusing to give them even the plainest food.
But Edward of York was young, brave, and handsome, and, when he came to London with his army, the people threw open the gates to him welcoming him as their King.
Then the Bishop of Exeter, standing up among the great crowds who had gathered to meet him, reminded the people of all the cruel wrongs which they had suffered during Henry’s reign. “Will you have him still to rule over you?” he asked.
“No! No!” shouted the people. “No! No!”
“If you will not have Henry, whom will you have?” asked the bishop. “Will you serve, love, honor, and obey Edward, Earl of March and Duke of York, as your only King and sovereign lord?”
“Yes, yes,” shouted the people. “King Edward, King Edward, long live King Edward!”
So with shouting and cheering and clapping of hands the people chose Edward of York to be their King.
EDWARD IV.—THE STORY OF QUEEN MARGARET AND THE ROBBERS
IT was in 1461 A.D. that the people chose Edward IV. as their King, and so there were two kings in England—Henry VI. the head of the Red Rose, and Edward IV. the head of the White Rose party.
There could be no peace in the country so long as there were two kings each claiming the throne, so, without waiting to be crowned, Edward marched to meet the Red Rose army and to fight for the crown.
On a cold, bleak day in March the two forces met at Towton in Yorkshire, and fought amid a wild storm of wind and snow. For ten hours the battle raged. The white snow was stained and the river which flowed near ran red with blood, till it seemed as if the earth and the sky had taken sides with the red and white roses. Never since Hastings had such a terrible battle been fought on English ground.
The White Rose was victorious. Henry’s cause seemed utterly lost and he and his wife and their little son fled to Scotland.
If Henry had been left to himself he would have given up fighting for the crown, for he loved quiet and peace. But Queen Margaret loved power and would not rest until she had again won the kingdom. She got help from the French king and in three years was back in England once more.
But Edward and the great Earl of Warwick, who had helped to put Edward upon the throne, were too strong for Margaret, and she was utterly defeated.
Without a single friend or servant, Margaret and her little son, who was now about eleven years old, fled into the forest to hide. The night came on, it grew dark, and they lost their way among the winding paths. Hungry and tired, they did not know which way to turn. Afraid to stop, afraid to go on, starting and shrinking at every sound, they clung to each other trembling.
Presently they heard men’s voices and saw the glimmer of a fire. Margaret whispered to her little son to be very, very still, as they crept near to find out who these people were, whether friends or enemies.
Hidden by the trees, the Queen and her little boy came quite close to the fire and stood listening and watching.
In a few minutes they found out that these men were robbers. Holding the Prince tight by the hand, Queen Margaret made ready to run away. But suddenly one of the robbers looked towards them. He saw the glitter of jewels in the firelight. With a cry he made a spring at the Queen and, in spite of her screams and struggles, she was dragged into the circle round the fire.
“Ah, ah, what have we here?” cried one robber.
“A fine prize, truly,” said another.
“Here is gold enough,” said a third, roughly pulling at the chain round Margaret’s neck.
“Come, lady, we will have all these things,” he went on, pointing to her jewels.
The Queen began to take off her rings and jewels, for she was very much afraid. But one robber pushed the other aside. “Let be,” he said, “the prize is mine. I took her.”
“Nay, nay, share and share alike.”
“It is mine, I say.”
“I took her, I say, it is mine.”
So the robbers began to quarrel fiercely about the treasure, and while they quarreled, Margaret took the Prince in her arms and ran away.
Where she ran she did not know. On and on she went, stumbling through the dark forest. At last, breathless and weary, unable to go another step, she sank down on a grassy bank. Scarcely had she done so when another robber appeared.
Seeing no escape, Margaret went towards this robber putting the little Prince into his arms, “Friend,” she said, “take care of him, he is the son of your true King.”
The hard, rough man, accustomed only to murder and rob, felt sorry for the poor, tired lady and her little boy. He held the Prince in his arms saying, “Lady, I will not hurt you. Come with me and I will show you where you can rest safely.”
The robber led the Queen and Prince through the forest till he came to his secret cave. There he fed them and kept them safe for some days, and at last took them to the shore, where they found a ship in which to sail over the sea.
But King Henry was not so fortunate. He escaped and hid in various places for nearly a year, but he was discovered at last and taken prisoner to London.
As he rode a prisoner into the city, he was met by the Earl of Warwick, and the poor unfortunate King was made to ride through the streets like a common criminal, with his feet tied under his horse. Then he was shut up in the Tower of London.
EDWARD IV.—THE STORY OF THE KING-MAKER
EDWARD IV. now felt quite sure of the throne, and he married secretly a beautiful lady called Elizabeth Woodville. When this marriage became known, the Earl of Warwick was very angry, because he thought the King should have married some one more great and powerful.
The Earl of Warwick himself was so great and powerful that he was called the King-maker, and he had done much to make Edward king.
Edward soon acted in many ways which displeased the earl, and they quarreled, and plots were formed to drive Edward from the throne. Among the people who plotted against him was the Duke of Clarence, King Edward’s own brother.
At last the Earl of Warwick became so angry with Edward that he took him prisoner, and shut him up in a castle called Middleham. So there were two kings in England, both of them prisoners.
The King-maker, having made and unmade the King, now ruled the country himself for a year. He really had intended to make the Duke of Clarence king, but he found that even he was not powerful enough to do that.
In about a year’s time Warwick set Edward free again and, strange to say, they made up their quarrels, and were friends once more.
But in a very short time they again quarreled; so badly this time that the Earl of Warwick, who had fought so hard for the White Rose of York, forsook it and joined the Red Rose of Lancaster. He went to France, where Margaret and her son were, and offered to help them to conquer England and place Henry again on the throne.
So one morning Edward awoke to hear the Red Rose war-cry, and two friends, running into his room, begged him to fly. “For,” they said, “even in your own army we know not who is true and who is false, many like Warwick having turned traitor.”
Hardly waiting to dress, without money or armor, Edward threw himself upon his horse and rode as fast as possible to the coast. There he found some ships, and with a few friends and two or three hundred faithful soldiers, he sailed over to Holland.
They were very poor, had no money nor goods nor indeed anything except the clothes they wore. Edward, who had one day been King of England, Wales and Ireland, found himself the next a homeless, penniless wanderer. And Warwick, in little more than a week, had deposed the King whom he had helped to set on the throne, and had placed Henry VI. once more there.
Henry was brought out of prison and dressed in beautiful robes, and, riding upon a splendid horse, was led through the town, while the people cheered and shouted, “God save the King! Long live King Harry!” Did he remember that the last time he rode through the same streets it had been as a wretched prisoner, bound and disgraced by the very man who now set him again on the throne? and did he remember that the people, who now cheered, had then cursed and laughed at him?
Although Henry was once more on the throne, he could not rule. He was like a wooden doll in the hands of a clever man such as the Earl of Warwick, and it was the earl and the Duke of Clarence who ruled.
Henry would have been far happier had he been left alone to his books and prayers. He loved peace, yet he was made the cause of war by the proud and powerful men and women around him.
Edward had been obliged to fly from the country penniless and almost friendless, yet he did not despair. He persuaded the Duke of Burgundy to help him, and soon returned to England with an army.
No sooner had he landed than people began to flock to him. By the time he reached Barnet, near London, he had a large army.
No sooner had he landed than people began to flock to him. By the time he reached Barnet, near London, he had a large army. Many who had joined Warwick now forsook him and returned to Edward, among them Edward’s own brother, the Duke of Clarence, who brought twelve thousand men with him. There seemed to be no faith nor loyalty in those days. It was hard to know who was friend and who was foe.
At Barnet, on Easter Day, 14th April 1471 A.D., another terrible battle was fought. What made it more terrible was that it was begun and ended in a thick mist. In the white dimness, which wrapped both armies, it was difficult to know the Red Rose from the White, and indeed at one time the Red Rose fought against themselves. King Edward’s men wore a golden sun embroidered upon their coats. The Duke of Oxford’s men, who were fighting for King Henry, wore a golden star. In the mist the Red Rose soldiers, mistaking the star for the
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