year."
After Lord Stanley left, Margaret reread her son's letter with great care. She had already refused his first invitation to seek sanctuary in Brittany, saying she thought Lord Stanley would make an excellent husband. Her supposition had now been abundantly confirmed. What was more, it was clearly apparent that she would be able to exert a powerful influence on him. Margaret bit her lip. If Edward died and the realm passed quietly into the hands of his son, Henry would do well to marry Anne of Brittany. Probably he could come home safely after Edward's death, but to what? His estates belonged to others. He would always be suspect.
However, Margaret did not believe that Prince Edward would inherit peacefully from his father. Gloucester and the Woodvilles would never be willing to work together, and the prince would not be strong enough to keep the peace between them. If civil war came, Henry might have a chance if—and only if—he was unmarried and free to wed Edward's daughter.
Margaret took down a book she knew well and began to turn the pages. She went back to her writing desk, examined the quills there, chose a fine one and began to mark certain passages.
The reply Henry received to his announcement that a betrothal had been proposed between him and Anne of Brittany was so cryptic that he could scarcely understand it. He begged a leave of absence from court to bring Jasper back for the Christmas festivities, and he took the priest who had carried Margaret's message with him. Jasper read the short innocent letter he carried, listened twice to the equally innocent verbal message, and carefully scanned the marked passages in the religious text he brought. Gold coins chinked, and the priest was dismissed to be set on his way toward France in the morning.
"Well, uncle?" Henry asked impatiently.
"It may be that the Lady Margaret did not send that message. She is not usually addle-pated," Jasper said slowly.
"I thought of that, but who else would be so clever as to divide it so that it appears three innocent admonitions to a son? No, if someone else sent it to prevent my betrothal to Anne, would they not have been more anxious for a clearer message?"
"I suppose so. Also there is the matter of the time limit. That does not sound like an enemy."
"Then my mother expects something to happen in England within the next six months—something perhaps of more importance to me than marriage to the heiress of Brittany. What, in the name of God, uncle? What could be that important?"
Their eyes met and Jasper nodded his agreement. "Edward's death—only that." Then he frowned. "I still do not see why that should prevent you from marrying Anne of Brittany. If your mother thinks your estates and title will be restored by Edward's son, that would merely enhance your chances in Brittany. What is more, the betrothal here, which would assure Edward's heir that you would stay safe abroad, would increase your chances for restoration."
Henry stood up and began to pace the room restlessly. Brittany was only a duchy, it was true, but its duke ruled as independently as any king. As the husband of a bride nearly twenty years younger than himself, it could be presumed that he, not she, would rule in spite of the fact that the right was hers. If his mother wished him to delay his commitment to become Anne's husband, it was only because she envisioned for him a position of even greater importance.
"Your mother has butterflies in her head," Jasper growled, proving that his mind was running along the same track as Henry's. "It is true that Gloucester, Buckingham, Hastings, and the Woodvilles are bitter enemies who will pull England apart when Edward dies, but Edward has two healthy sons for them to struggle over. Not one of those factions would even glance at you."
"I would agree, except that my mother does not have butterflies in her head—ever. She knows something we do not know. Perhaps something too dangerous to trust to any
After Lord Stanley left, Margaret reread her son's letter with great care. She had already refused his first invitation to seek sanctuary in Brittany, saying she thought Lord Stanley would make an excellent husband. Her supposition had now been abundantly confirmed. What was more, it was clearly apparent that she would be able to exert a powerful influence on him. Margaret bit her lip. If Edward died and the realm passed quietly into the hands of his son, Henry would do well to marry Anne of Brittany. Probably he could come home safely after Edward's death, but to what? His estates belonged to others. He would always be suspect.
However, Margaret did not believe that Prince Edward would inherit peacefully from his father. Gloucester and the Woodvilles would never be willing to work together, and the prince would not be strong enough to keep the peace between them. If civil war came, Henry might have a chance if—and only if—he was unmarried and free to wed Edward's daughter.
Margaret took down a book she knew well and began to turn the pages. She went back to her writing desk, examined the quills there, chose a fine one and began to mark certain passages.
The reply Henry received to his announcement that a betrothal had been proposed between him and Anne of Brittany was so cryptic that he could scarcely understand it. He begged a leave of absence from court to bring Jasper back for the Christmas festivities, and he took the priest who had carried Margaret's message with him. Jasper read the short innocent letter he carried, listened twice to the equally innocent verbal message, and carefully scanned the marked passages in the religious text he brought. Gold coins chinked, and the priest was dismissed to be set on his way toward France in the morning.
"Well, uncle?" Henry asked impatiently.
"It may be that the Lady Margaret did not send that message. She is not usually addle-pated," Jasper said slowly.
"I thought of that, but who else would be so clever as to divide it so that it appears three innocent admonitions to a son? No, if someone else sent it to prevent my betrothal to Anne, would they not have been more anxious for a clearer message?"
"I suppose so. Also there is the matter of the time limit. That does not sound like an enemy."
"Then my mother expects something to happen in England within the next six months—something perhaps of more importance to me than marriage to the heiress of Brittany. What, in the name of God, uncle? What could be that important?"
Their eyes met and Jasper nodded his agreement. "Edward's death—only that." Then he frowned. "I still do not see why that should prevent you from marrying Anne of Brittany. If your mother thinks your estates and title will be restored by Edward's son, that would merely enhance your chances in Brittany. What is more, the betrothal here, which would assure Edward's heir that you would stay safe abroad, would increase your chances for restoration."
Henry stood up and began to pace the room restlessly. Brittany was only a duchy, it was true, but its duke ruled as independently as any king. As the husband of a bride nearly twenty years younger than himself, it could be presumed that he, not she, would rule in spite of the fact that the right was hers. If his mother wished him to delay his commitment to become Anne's husband, it was only because she envisioned for him a position of even greater importance.
"Your mother has butterflies in her head," Jasper growled, proving that his mind was running along the same track as Henry's. "It is true that Gloucester, Buckingham, Hastings, and the Woodvilles are bitter enemies who will pull England apart when Edward dies, but Edward has two healthy sons for them to struggle over. Not one of those factions would even glance at you."
"I would agree, except that my mother does not have butterflies in her head—ever. She knows something we do not know. Perhaps something too dangerous to trust to any
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