Free Daughter of York by Anne Easter Smith Page B

earlier that week. “He and his brother, Sir John Neville, are Edward’s finest generals. Warwick can never be king, and, in truth, I fear he may be a little envious of your brother’s crowning. ’Tis well he remains where he is most needed.”
    Margaret now studied the youngest Neville, who appeared to have an intelligent face but none of the swagger of his brother about him. A plain man, she decided.
    “My lords, ladies, pray silence for his grace, King Edward,” he cried. As chancellor, the Great Seal of England was in his care, and he wore his office with honor, as befitted his noble family.
    All eyes turned to the table on the dais. Edward pushed his chair back and stood towering over his chancellor. On his chin-length hair was a simple gold crown set with a huge amethyst. His fingers were covered with rings of every precious stone, and he wore an elaborate gold collar that hung from his broad shoulders. The guests rose as one and bowed from their benches. Edward waved them down.
    “My loyal subjects, my friends! I greet you well and you are right welcome at our table. Tonight I honor my family: my mother, her grace, the duchess of York, to whom I give all obeisance and devotion!” He bowed low to Cecily.
    “My dearest sisters, Anne, Elizabeth and Margaret, God be with you all!” He toasted them, grinning over his goblet. “I warrant Margaret will expect me to find a royal bed for her now I am king!” he said behind his hand, and the company roared, thumping the tables.
    Margaret didn’t hear what he said next, for her blood was boiling. She stared at her plate as Edward droned on, thanking this person and that, and when she finally raised her head, she looked straight into the sympathetic eyes of Anthony Woodville, seated at the next table. Her heart leaped into her throat, and, feeling herself blush, she cast her eyes down again.
    Edward sat down amidst cheering. The chancellor stepped forward and raised his goblet. “God save the king!” he cried over the din. Benches scraped back as the company rose, cups were held high and the shout was taken up on all sides: “ À York! God save the king! God save King Edward!”
    It was done. Edward was crowned, and England now had two anointed kings.

4
    1463
    “Scotland? I don’t want to go to Scotland!” Margaret cried. “There are savages in Scotland. I have heard you say so yourself. How could you promise me to King James, Ned? ’Tis not fair!”
    Edward sat in his favorite chair, made especially for his large frame, and fixed his hooded blue eyes on his sister’s distraught face. He let her rant. She was right, there were savages in Scotland, he agreed, but her marriage to James might tame them, he suggested. That really riled her, and she stamped her foot, unaware of the attention she had drawn to herself from the courtiers and foreign dignitaries at the other end of the long antechamber.
    “Taisez-vous, ma chère soeur,” Edward commanded her with quiet authority. “We do not need the whole court to hear our business.”
    The French emissary was looking particularly interested, and a flicker of a smile flitted over Edward’s face as he noticed. More loudly he called, “Lord Hastings, I pray you allow me some private time with my sister.”
    Hastings, Edward’s chamberlain, bowed and herded everyone out of the audience chamber. Margaret plucked at her skirt nervously as shewatched the courtiers give Edward reverence and leave. For two years she had enjoyed the life of a royal princess with no real responsibilities except to be the gracious hostess at Edward’s table and court festivities. She had flirted with young courtiers, danced her feet off, availed herself of Edward’s growing library and had almost forgotten that one day she would hear Edward’s plan for her; and perhaps that day was come. For all that time, however, she had never put Anthony Woodville far from her thoughts, although the man had not often been at court. When he had, he