The Wars of the Roses - Alison Weir [253]
On the 15th the rebels retreated quietly enough to Blackheath, where they regrouped. However, at news that the King was advancing at the head of 30,000 men, all their courage melted away, and they decided that they should disperse. The Duke of Gloucester, riding ahead of the King’s main force, received Fauconberg’s submission. Nothing now stood in the way of Edward’s triumphal return to London.
On Tuesday 21 May, the King was formally welcomed by the Lord Mayor and the city fathers at Islington and then, accompanied by a larger retinue than was usual, which included almost the entire peerage of England, he rode into the capital, says Croyland, ‘ordering his standards to be unfurled and borne before him. Many who saw this were surprised and amazed, for no enemy remained to be dealt with, but this prudent prince was familiar with the untrustworthy ways of the people of Kent and resolved not to lay down his arms until he had punished those rebellious men, which he did soon after.’ He also knighted those who had distinguished themselves in the defence of London.
Praise of the King ‘sounded through all lands’ and the Londoners were enthusiastic in their acclaim of his triumph, cheering exuberantly and crying out blessings upon him. He had emerged victorious after a brilliant campaign, during the course of which he had eliminated most of his enemies. His success had not only been due to his speed, tenacity and daring, but also to his outstanding abilities as a general and his deployment of men of calibre in positions of command.
But if there was triumph in London that day, there was also the manifestation of tragedy, for ahead of the King in the procession was borne a litter in which sat Margaret of Anjou, exposed to the derision and taunts of the crowds and tasting the bitter dregs of humiliation and grief. As she passed, bystanders flung mud and stones at her and yelled abuse.
Henry VI was still in the Tower, but Fauconberg, by rising in the name of Lancaster, had virtually signed his death warrant. With Prince Edward dead, Edward IV no doubt felt that there was every justification for removing the deposed King. While Henry lived, there would always be further military confrontations involving pointless loss of life and consumption of the Crown’s revenues, and with these demands on his purse and his energies, Edward IV could not hope to make progress with his programme of reconstruction. There was no point in allowing civil war to continue unchecked. Therefore Henry must die.
‘And in the same night that King Edward came to London,’ wrote Warkworth, whose account is contemporary, ‘King Henry, being in ward in prison in the Tower of London, was put to death, between eleven and twelve of the clock, being then at the Tower, the Duke of Gloucester.’ Tradition has it that Henry’s murderer came upon him as he knelt at prayer in a deep niche in the eastern wall of his chamber in the Wakefield Tower, a room in which the crown jewels were later displayed.
The official account of his death in the Arrivall states that Henry reacted to news of the death of his son, the capture of his wife and the bitter certainty that his cause was ’utterly despaired of with ‘so great despite, ire and indignation that, of pure displeasure and melancholy he died’. Few were deceived by this. The Milanese ambassador in Paris soon heard that King Edward had ’caused King Henry to be secretly assassinated in the Tower. He has, in short, chosen to crush the seed’. Commines had reason to believe that it was Gloucester who ‘killed poor King Henry with his own hand, or else caused him to be killed in his presence’, while Vergil states that by the time of Henry VII it was generally believed that ‘Gloucester killed him with a sword’. Whatever Richard of Gloucester’s involvement – and it seems probable, from Warkworth’s significant mention of him, that his purpose at the Tower that night was to