arrangement with them that might prove detrimental to his future.”
“Blood of Christ!” Warwick growled. “Charles and Francis are a pair of petty princes with less sense between them than one of Louis’ hounds. We can’t do better than a close alliance with France.”
I thought: Don’t let him browbeat you, Edward. You are the king. Assert yourself.
“Things have changed, cousin. You seem to forget that we first sought a truce with Louis to prevent both France and Scotland from aiding Lancaster,” Edward said patiently. “Now, with the destruction of our enemies and a truce with the Scots, I can see no benefit whatsoever in a close alliance with France. My policy is to keep Louis neutral without entering into any close alliance with him that would enable him to make war on Burgundy. Burgundy and Brittany are my best weapons against him, just as Scotland is his best weapon against me. Or, rather, it was until I blunted it last spring with a fifteen year truce,” he added smugly.
I plucked a grape from a dish beside me and popped it into his mouth, whereupon he caught my hand and dropped a kiss into my palm. We turned back to Warwick, surprising a look of derision before he stamped over to a window and stood rigidly, his back to the king and I in what was a flagrant breach of lese majesty. They fell silent. It was not a comfortable silence, as it ought to be between friends who have shared much.
My father had told me it was Louis’ habit to try to suborn the great men of his adversaries. Further, he said Warwick was so enmeshed in Louis’ toils that when it came to French affairs he had little value to the king. For all the times they had discussed the matter, Warwick had not yet accepted that Edward was dead set against any kind of close alliance with France and in favor of friendship with Burgundy. Or perhaps it would be more true to say that he simply regarded any opinion that ran counter to his own as invalid.
It was the considered opinion of the residents of Grafton that Warwick’s policy was entirely wrong. The people hated the French and Louis with a visceral hatred imbibed with their mother’s milk. They cherished it, and would never be persuaded to give it up. They would rather have another Agincourt than a truce with France, and with a young and energetic soldier-king on the throne they just might get it. All Warwick could see was the prestige that would accrue to his already prestigious name, both at home and abroad, if he should bring about an accord between His Christian Majesty and our king.
“You enjoy it, don’t you?” I said, when we were alone. I wasn’t being deliberately provocative. The king was deeply involved in foreign relations and I wanted to understand. He was pleased by my interest in politics, gratified because it proved he had not wed an intellectually dull woman.
“Fortunately, I have a penchant for enjoyment. Whatever life offers, we might as well make the best of it. European politics are complex. Every day sees new shifts and changes, so every day I have to adjust my own policies to meet new exigencies, and while I can afford to snub Louis by not sending ambassadors today, tomorrow I might be on my knees begging for his friendship. It’s like a giant chess game, except that I cannot hope to sweep my opponents from the board, merely to hold them in check. I enjoy Louis too. He’s a bizarre character, cunning as a fox. He’ll keep my wits sharp.”
………..
My husband was a tireless worker. The only times I had him to myself, were when he came to my apartment, which he did every night to sit chatting with my ladies and watching as my tiring woman unbound my hair and let it tumble down my back. Such was his pleasure in my hair that sometimes he would dismiss her and take up the brush himself, much to the amusement of my ladies. He said it was like moon-glow and liked to see it cascading
“Blood of Christ!” Warwick growled. “Charles and Francis are a pair of petty princes with less sense between them than one of Louis’ hounds. We can’t do better than a close alliance with France.”
I thought: Don’t let him browbeat you, Edward. You are the king. Assert yourself.
“Things have changed, cousin. You seem to forget that we first sought a truce with Louis to prevent both France and Scotland from aiding Lancaster,” Edward said patiently. “Now, with the destruction of our enemies and a truce with the Scots, I can see no benefit whatsoever in a close alliance with France. My policy is to keep Louis neutral without entering into any close alliance with him that would enable him to make war on Burgundy. Burgundy and Brittany are my best weapons against him, just as Scotland is his best weapon against me. Or, rather, it was until I blunted it last spring with a fifteen year truce,” he added smugly.
I plucked a grape from a dish beside me and popped it into his mouth, whereupon he caught my hand and dropped a kiss into my palm. We turned back to Warwick, surprising a look of derision before he stamped over to a window and stood rigidly, his back to the king and I in what was a flagrant breach of lese majesty. They fell silent. It was not a comfortable silence, as it ought to be between friends who have shared much.
My father had told me it was Louis’ habit to try to suborn the great men of his adversaries. Further, he said Warwick was so enmeshed in Louis’ toils that when it came to French affairs he had little value to the king. For all the times they had discussed the matter, Warwick had not yet accepted that Edward was dead set against any kind of close alliance with France and in favor of friendship with Burgundy. Or perhaps it would be more true to say that he simply regarded any opinion that ran counter to his own as invalid.
It was the considered opinion of the residents of Grafton that Warwick’s policy was entirely wrong. The people hated the French and Louis with a visceral hatred imbibed with their mother’s milk. They cherished it, and would never be persuaded to give it up. They would rather have another Agincourt than a truce with France, and with a young and energetic soldier-king on the throne they just might get it. All Warwick could see was the prestige that would accrue to his already prestigious name, both at home and abroad, if he should bring about an accord between His Christian Majesty and our king.
“You enjoy it, don’t you?” I said, when we were alone. I wasn’t being deliberately provocative. The king was deeply involved in foreign relations and I wanted to understand. He was pleased by my interest in politics, gratified because it proved he had not wed an intellectually dull woman.
“Fortunately, I have a penchant for enjoyment. Whatever life offers, we might as well make the best of it. European politics are complex. Every day sees new shifts and changes, so every day I have to adjust my own policies to meet new exigencies, and while I can afford to snub Louis by not sending ambassadors today, tomorrow I might be on my knees begging for his friendship. It’s like a giant chess game, except that I cannot hope to sweep my opponents from the board, merely to hold them in check. I enjoy Louis too. He’s a bizarre character, cunning as a fox. He’ll keep my wits sharp.”
………..
My husband was a tireless worker. The only times I had him to myself, were when he came to my apartment, which he did every night to sit chatting with my ladies and watching as my tiring woman unbound my hair and let it tumble down my back. Such was his pleasure in my hair that sometimes he would dismiss her and take up the brush himself, much to the amusement of my ladies. He said it was like moon-glow and liked to see it cascading
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