The Dragon and the Rose Read Free Page A

Warwick's present policy had been rejected by Edward IV because he knew it would be unpopular. But Edward, York or no, had been a wise king. Jasper said as much to Margaret and Henry in a fit of temper. They must go to London at once.
    It was necessary that Henry meet the king. Still, he was not prepared for feeble Henry's shambling figure, the loose lips, the dazed eyes. Years of captivity had done nothing to improve Henry VI, who was able to pay attention for only a few minutes when sternly addressed. Yet he did so when Henry Tudor was presented to him, gazing into the fourteen-year-old's face and seeing there something that pleased him.
    A trembling hand came to rest on the kneeling boy's head. "A likely young man. See how calm his eye, how well-shaped his head. A regal manner for one so young. Rise up, Henry Tudor."
    Henry looked at his namesake with despair. Was not a king special, even if he were not clever? What was here to reverence? Here were fine garments; but even they hung all awry. No, not even the shell of appearance.
    "You know," the king continued in his wandering way, "my grandfather was earl of Richmond, also." He had forgotten that Henry no longer held the title. "He was attainted once, even exiled, but he came back and won the throne from that bad king, Richard II." The king's eyes widened with fear. He giggled. "You would not do that, boy, would you?"
    Henry did not hear his mother's intake of breath nor see Jasper take a half step forward. "You are my uncle," he said clearly, "and I must love you. It is not my right, as it was Henry IV's of blessed memory, and Richard II is long dead. "
    When they were alone, Margaret complimented her son. "You pleased me well, Henry. You gave a right good answer. What made you think of it?"
    "The king sounded suspicious of me, so I reminded him of our blood bond. For the other matter—that is history known to all. It could not hurt to repeat it." But Henry did not smile with pleasure as he usually did when his mother praised him. "Mother, I am a child no longer. It is time that we talk of kings." He turned away from her, walked to a window and stared unseeing out at the formal garden. "I cannot love or respect this king," he murmured.
    Who could? Margaret wondered, but she said only, "Your uncle the king is a good man. He is kind and gentle and wishes much to do right." Henry remained at the window. His mother went to him and placed her hands upon his shoulders. "Henry, the best king is one who rules by himself after listening to all his advisers. But there are other ways a realm may be guided aright. In any case, it is wrong to break the line of descent. Think how much blood has been spilled because of this shifting from the true line."
    "And is bloodshed always bad? Why, then, are men taught to fight?"
    Margaret turned her son round and kissed his brow. "Such questions! Yes, it is bad, but it may be done for a good cause. The Devil inspires some men to evil. Must not we put this evil down? Henry, if some man forced his way in here and wished to beat me or dishonor me before your eyes—" Her son's hand shot to his smallsword's hilt. "Ay," she laughed, laying a finger on the hand that clutched the sword, "to shed blood protecting your mother, would that be bad?"
    "But, mother, your body gave me life! You nursed me and fed me."
    "Has not your country done the same? Does not this land give you all things? Is it not also a mother to you?"
    Henry jerked free of her hand. "Yes, and I love that mother also. Is it right to give her such a husband as—as this king?"

    But Henry VI was not to be king for long. The young Tudor saw the Lancastrian party with its ineffectual leader split into factions in the face of rumors that Edward was gathering forces to return. Jasper's frantic efforts to steady the king and smooth over differences among the Lancastrian nobles merely carved the worry lines deeper between his brows and hardened his grim mouth. Rumor proved true. In March,