THE QUEEN'S FLIGHT AND RETURN.
When Margaret of Anjou, from the rising ground at Northampton, saw
her knights and nobles bite the dust, and descried the banner of
Richard Plantagenet borne in triumph through the broken ranks of the
Lancastrian army, she mounted in haste and fled with her son toward the
bishopric of Durham. Changing her mind, however, the unfortunate queen
drew her rein, turned aside, and made for North Wales.
The way was beset with danger. As Margaret was passing through
Lancashire she was robbed of her jewels; and while, with bitter
feelings, pursuing her flight through Cheshire she was attacked by a
retainer of Sir William Stanley. Having escaped these perils, and been
joined by Somerset, the fair Anjouite sought refuge in Harleck Castle,
which had been built on the site of an ancient British fortress by
the first Edward, and which was held for that mighty monarch's feeble
descendant by a Welsh captain who rejoiced in the name of Davydd ap
Jefan ap Einion.
The Castle of Harleck stood on a lofty cliff, the base of which
was then washed by the ocean, though now a marshy tract of ground
intervenes. From the sea, with such a rock to scale, the strong-hold
was well-nigh impregnable; while on the land side it was defended by
massive walls, by a large fosse, and by round towers and turrets,
which covered every approach. Owen Glendower had, during four years,
maintained the place against the fifth Henry; and the sturdy "Davydd"
would not have shrunk from defending it against a Yorkist army, even if
led by Warwick in person.
At Harleck Margaret passed months, brooding over the past, uncertain
as to the present, and anxious about the future. At times, indeed,
she must have forgotten her misfortunes, as, from the battlements of
the castle, she gazed with the eye of a poetess over the intervening
mountains to where the peaks of Snowdon seem to mingle with the clouds.
At length she was startled by intelligence of the settlement made by
Parliament, and by a summons from York, as Protector, to appear at
Westminster with her son.
Margaret might well crimson with shame and anger. The terms on which
the dispute between York and Lancaster had been compromised recalled
all the injurious rumors as to the birth of her son; and her maternal
feelings were shocked at the exclusion of the boy-prince from the
throne he had been born to inherit.[6] Submission was, under these
circumstances, impossible to such a woman. She was not yet thirty,
decidedly too young to abandon hope; and she was conscious of having
already, in seasons of danger, exhibited that energy which is hope in
action. The idea of yet trampling in the dust the three magnates by
whom she had been humbled, took possession of her mind; and, unaided
save by beauty, eloquence, and those accomplishments which, fifteen
years earlier, had made her famous at the courts of Europe, she started
for the north with the determination of regaining the crown which she
had already found so thorny. The distressed queen embarked on the
Menai; and her destination was Scotland.
One day in the autumn of 1460, James, King of Scots, the second of his
name, while attempting to wrest Roxburgh Castle from the English, was
killed by the bursting of a cannon, and succeeded by his son, a boy in
his seventh year. The obsequies of the deceased monarch were scarcely
celebrated, when intelligence reached the Scottish court that Margaret
of Anjou had, with her son, arrived at Dumfries; that she had met with
a reception befitting a royal personage; and that she had taken up her
residence in the College of Lincluden.
Mary of Gueldres, the widowed Queen of Scots, was about Margaret's
own age. Moreover, Mary was a princess of great beauty, of masculine
talent, and of the blood royal of France. Surrounded by the iron barons
of a rude country, her position was not quite so pleasant as a bed
of roses; and she could hardly help sympathizing with the desolate
condition of her distant kinswoman. Hastening with her son to Dumfries,
she held a conference that lasted for twelve days.
At the conference of Lincluden every thing went smoothly. Much wine was
consumed. A close friendship was formed between the queens. A marriage
was projected between the Prince of Wales and a princess of Scotland.
Margaret's spirit rose high; her hopes revived; and encouraged by
promises of aid, she resolved on no less desperate an adventure than
marching to London and rescuing her husband from the grasp of "the
Triumvirate."
The enterprise decided on, no time was lost. An army was mustered in
the frontier counties with a rapidity which, it would seem, York and
his friends had never regarded as possible. The great barons of the
north, however, had never manifested any tenderness for the White Rose;
and they remembered with indignation that hitherto their southern
peers had carried every thing before them. Eager to vindicate their
importance, and inspired by Margaret with an enthusiasm almost equal to
her own, the Nevilles of Westmoreland, the Percies of Northumberland,
and the Cliffords of Cumberland, summoned their fighting men, and at
the same time endeavored, by promises of plunder south of the Trent, to
allure the foraying clans to their standard.
The Borderers boasted that their property was in their swords; and they
were seldom slow to ride when the prospect of booty was presented to
their imaginations. They went to church as seldom as the twenty-ninth
of February comes into the calendar, and never happened to comprehend
that there was a seventh commandment. When on forays, they took every
thing that was not too heavy; and were sometimes far from satisfied
with the exception. Such men hailed with delight the prospect of
plundering the rich South. From peels and castellated houses they came,
wearing rusting armor, and mounted on lean steeds, but steady of heart,
stout of hand, and ready, without thought of fear, to charge against
knight or noble, no matter how proof his mail or high his renown in
arms. The Borderers cared nothing for York or Lancaster; and would have
fought as readily for the White Rose as the Red. But the spoil south of
the Trent was a noble prize; and they gathered to the queen's standard
like eagles to their prey.
Finding herself at the head of eighteen thousand men, Margaret of
Anjou pressed boldly southward. Even the season was such as would have
daunted an ordinary woman. When operations commenced, the year 1460 was
about to expire; the grass had withered; the streams were darkened with
the rains of December; the leaves had fallen; and the wind whistled
through the naked branches of the trees. Margaret, far from shrinking,
defied all hardships; and the spectacle of a queen, so young and
beautiful, enduring fatigue and daring danger, excited the admiration
and increased loyalty of her adherents. With every inclination to
execute a signal revenge, she appeared before the gates of York; and
marched from that city toward Sandal Castle.