In a small village near Coventry Sir Anthony Woodville had collected
about two thousand men, chiefly composed of the tenants and vassals of
the new nobility, who regarded the brilliant Anthony as their head.
The leaders were gallant and ambitious gentlemen, as they who arrive
at fortunes above their birth mostly are; but their vassals were
little to be trusted. For in that day clanship was still strong, and
these followers had been bred in allegiance to Lancastrian lords,
whose confiscated estates were granted to the Yorkist favourites. The
shout that welcomed the arrival of the king was therefore feeble and
lukewarm; and, disconcerted by so chilling a reception, he dismounted,
in less elevated spirits than those in which he had left Olney, at the
pavilion of his brother-in-law.

The mourning-dress of Anthony, his countenance saddened by the
barbarous execution of his father and brother, did not tend to cheer
the king.

But Woodville's account of the queen's grief and horror at the
afflictions of her House, and of Jacquetta's indignation at the foul
language which the report of her practices put into the popular mouth,
served to endear to the king's mind the family that he considered
unduly persecuted. Even in the coldest breasts affection is fanned by
opposition, and the more the queen's kindred were assailed, the more
obstinately Edward clung to them. By suiting his humour, by winking
at his gallantries, by a submissive sweetness of temper, which soothed
his own hasty moods, and contrasted with the rough pride of Warwick
and the peevish fickleness of Clarence, Elizabeth had completely wound
herself into the king's heart. And the charming graces, the elegant
accomplishments, of Anthony Woodville were too harmonious with the
character of Edward, who in all--except truth and honour--was the