Chapter 193: Despair
March, 1467
“The King of France has married the York girl.” Margaret said, reading the letter that had come from her father.
“So quickly?” Edmund Beaufort, 3rd Duke of Somerset asked.
“Yes. It seems he saw an image of her and wanted to marry her as soon as he could.” Margaret said.
“So, what does this mean, Majesty?” Somerset asked.
Yes, what did it mean? That was a very good question and one that she wasn’t sure she had a clear answer to. Her father had said that he could convince the King of France to lend them support, but if the man was married to a York girl, how forthcoming that support would be, she did not know.
“We will have to wait and see. If their marriage is successful, then I think it would be best to abandon France. If their marriage is not successful, then perhaps we can hope.” Margaret said diplomatically.
Thankfully Somerset was smart enough to know what she meant, and therefore didn’t ask her to elaborate. Instead, he focused on something else. “York does seem to have consolidated his hold domestically. His reforms to the army process have been well received.”
Margaret dreaded to hear how he’d done that. Timidly she asked. “How so?”
“The King’s Lieutenancy Act that we heard about months ago has finally been implemented. The first of the King’s Lieutenants are heading to their posts as we speak.” Somerset said.
Margaret took a breath. So, the old ways had died then? When she had tried to introduce something similar her husband’s councillors had opposed her every step of the way. But when a young pup introduced it, the Kingdom demurred. She bristled at that.
“So, what does this mean for us in the long term?” Margaret asked. She knew what it meant in the short term. They would have to lay off unless they wanted to cause more headaches for those supporters they had left.
“We are going to have to try and undermine the Yorkist system from within, but it will be harder to do if we know that we can’t rely on the old loyalties.” Somerset said.
“You think those loyalties will change quite so quickly?” Trollope asked. The man had appeared in Nantes one day, after years of being in the shadows, and had quickly latched himself onto the council. Margaret wasn’t really sure if she trusted him or not though. He seemed far too slippery.
“Given that most of the King’s old allies have either died or been buried under so much paperwork that they will never emerge, and that their old hotspots have been taken up by Yorkist lords, I think so, yes.” Somerset said, gloomily.
“I would count them out quite so quickly, Your Grace.” Trollope said. “Oxford is in the heart of the Yorkist court, and we know that he has not quite been reconciled with the Yorkist boy. Northumberland still has influence in the north, and your sisters are serving as regents for Westmorland and Buckingham.”
“Trollope is right, Edmund.” Margaret said. Seizing on the last bit of hope that she could formally find. “All is not lost yet.”
Somerset frowned. “I do not know whether it is wise to count on my sisters. They care more for their own children than any loyalty to the King.”
Margaret couldn’t blame them for that. She wanted to protect her son as much as possible, but the only way she could really see herself being able to do that was by having him seated on the throne. That was why she said. “Oxford is still there at least.”
“Even his loyalty is doubtful, Majesty.” Somerset said. “He was the one who introduced the bill that saw my cousin restored to the succession.”
Margaret exhaled, frustrated. That bill had passed Parliament with no worries at all, and it had also hamstrung her options. Oxford, introducing it had been a stroke of genius, no doubt the Yorkist Beaufort woman had suggested that. Given Oxford’s former devotion to Margaret’s husband, the fact that he had introduced it would no doubt show that he had committed to the Yorkist cause. Hindering whatever hopes that Margaret might have had of using lingering trust.
“So, what do we do?” Margaret asked, her frustration making her voice higher.
“I have a working idea, Your Majesty.” Trollope said.
Margaret looked at him eyebrows raised. “And what is this idea?”
“It is a work in progress, but it will require me to travel back to England, Majesty.” Trollope said.
Margaret’s immediate instinct was to say no. Trollope hadn’t told her what his idea was, and if he needed to go back to England, he would probably turn coat. But, she didn’t know what else to do. So, she said. “I shall speak with the Duke and ensure that you get the necessary documents to board a Breton Ship.”
“Thank you, Majesty.” Trollope said.
Margaret nodded, she just hoped that this wasn’t a mistake.