by Jean Plaidy
Cecilia going ahead with the Queen looked back and to her horror saw what was happening. Elizabeth knew something was wrong but she went serenely on. Nothing must mar this day. The King would expect her to play her part like a queen.
Cecilia was deeply disturbed; she knew she would never forget that brief glimpse of those people who were descending on the cloth like so many wild animals.
Every vestige of the cloth had disappeared in a very short time, but those who had fallen in the affray had to be carried away as unobtrusively as possible while in the Abbey the ceremony continued. The King with his mother was watching from an enclosed box between the altar and the pulpit. He had said that he wished to witness the ceremony but in no way did he want to take attention from the Queen.
So was Elizabeth of York crowned Queen of England and so, said many, were the Houses of York and Lancaster entirely united forever.
The company then returned to Westminster Hall where the banquet was to be held. The King and his mother did not join the Queen at table but, as they had in the Abbey, watched the proceedings from an enclosed box.
That, thought Cecilia, was taking it a little far. Was it implied that the people would be so overawed by his presence that they would forget the Queen? She did not think that likely. In fact it seemed clear that although the King was accepted, the Queen’s popularity was greater than his. Perhaps that was why he wished to hide himself.
With the King one could never be sure.
She was certain that she must marry John before the King had knowledge of it, for who knew what devious methods he might employ to prevent it if he knew in advance.
She had persuaded John that if they were to marry they must do so in secret.
“I do not think that I am of such great interest to the King now that my sister has borne him a son,” she insisted.
Lord Wells was deeply enamored of the young Princess, and somewhat surprised that she should feel the same about him. He was not a young man but Cecilia was a serious-minded girl and she was determined to choose her own husband.
He was in favor with the King for his family had always been ardent supporters of the Lancastrian cause. His father had died with the Lancastrian army at Towton and at that time his estates had been confiscated by Edward. John’s elder brother Richard was killed during Warwick’s rising leaving John the heir to the estates should they be released. Edward had been notoriously lenient to his enemies and John somehow came into favor during the years of peace. He was present at the coronation of Richard the Third but had never favored that monarch and had been a firm supporter of Henry for there was a family connection with the Countess of Richmond.
Henry had not forgotten his services when he came to the throne and had given him two castles and several grants of manors; moreover the family estates had been restored to him; he had been given the title of viscount and the King clearly trusted him.
It was for this reason that he believed Henry might not frown too deeply on the marriage once it was accomplished although, as Cecilia said, if his permission were asked it would very likely not be given and then marriage would be quite out of the question.
So Cecilia and he were married secretly and gave themselves up to the joy of being together; but of course the marriage could not remain a secret and Cecilia decided that she would tell her sister and ask her to pass on the news to the King.
Elizabeth was in a very happy mood. The coronation had been a great success; she found the King less formidable than he had seemed at first. He appeared to be growing fond of her. She adored her little Arthur though she saw very little of him; she was less worried about her mother now that a match was proposed for her, and there was an atmosphere of peace and serenity all about her.
Cecilia came to see her. There was a change in her. She seemed as though she were very happy about something, and yet at the same time a little apprehensive.
“I wanted to talk to you . . . as a sister,” she said.
“My dear Cecilia,” replied the Queen, “am I not always your good sister?”
“You look very happy today.”
“I am. Henry was so pleased with the coronation . . . apart from those people who got crushed to death.”
“Imagine risking your life for a piece of cloth!”
“I suppose it meant something more than that to them. Cecilia, Henry has been so generous to me. He has given me a grant of seven lordships and manors.”
“Seven. Why it was seven he took from our mother.”
“Our mother forfeited the right. . . .”
“I know. I know.”
Cecilia looked at her sister intently. “He has given you Waltham . . . has he?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“Waltham, Magna, Badewe, Mashbury. Dunmow, Lighe and Farnham.”
Cecilia began to laugh. “He has given you those which he took from our mother.”
“Why should he not? They were available.”
“No reason at all. But it is all so neat. And it keeps them in the family.”
“I think it is very good of the King.”
“To take them from our mother?”
“Our mother was fortunate. She could have been accused of treason. I consider he has been most generous . . . to us both.”
Cecilia thought: Be careful. Don’t alienate her. You need her help.
“Elizabeth,” she said. “I have something to tell you. I want you to do something for me.”
Elizabeth smiled. She really is a sweet-natured and generous creature, thought Cecilia. I should remember that when I criticize her.
“If it is possible . . .”began Cecilia.
“Tell me.”
“I . . . want you to speak to the King on my behalf.”
Little lights of alarm were in the lovely eyes; they were no longer quite so serene.
“Oh sister, what have you done?”
“I have married.”
“Cecilia!”
“Yes, you may well look shocked. I was determined to marry where I wanted to and I have done it.”
“But . . .”
“I know as the Queen’s sister . . . sister-in-law to the King . . . I should have had his consent. Well, I did not, Elizabeth.”
“But why . . . ?”
“You may well ask. For the simple reason that I feared that consent might not have been given if we asked for it.”
“Who is it?”
“Lord Wells.”
Elizabeth looked faintly relieved. “The King has a good opinion of him.”
“And should have. His family have firmly supported Lancaster for years. Elizabeth, will you please speak to the King for me? Will you plead for us? Tell him that we love each other, that no other will do for us, and that he must approve of what we have done.”
Elizabeth was uneasy. The King was not going to like this, and she was to be the one to tell him. How could Cecilia? Why did she not wait? She had always been so firm in her opinions; it had never been possible to shift her from them—for Elizabeth at least.
Elizabeth was sorry for her sister. She was fond of her family. They had been a very loving community. Deep in her heart she was worried about her mother. She fervently wished that people would live in peace with each other and not do things which were a source of irritation to others. She had to hide her anxieties about her mother . . . and now here was Cecilia. She did not know how the King would deal with the matter. She was afraid to anger him—although she had never seen him in anger. She remembered the violent rages of her father. They had not happened often and they were soon over, but he did have more than a touch of what was called the old Plantagenet temper. Henry had none of that. He was always calm, cold almost. She often felt that he considered carefully everything he said before he uttered it.
How he would feel about Cecilia she was not sure. She had had a notion that he was not anxious for her to marry. He had never mentioned a husband for her since their own marriage; and she had noticed that there was never any spec
ial place for Cecilia at functions.
Cecilia was now looking at her anxiously. She could see that she would have to take this matter to the King and it would be better for him to hear quietly through her than through any other source for it would not be easy to keep such a matter secret for long.
She said: “I will tell him, Cecilia.”
Cecilia had taken her hand and was looking at her earnestly.
“And you will explain that we love each other . . . that John wanted to ask the King but I would not have that. It was I who thought that if we were married first it would be too late to stop us.”
“I will tell him that, Cecilia. I will try to explain.”
“Thank you, sister.”
Cecilia kissed the Queen on the forehead.
She said: “It is almost as though we were little again. You and I were always good friends, Elizabeth. Do you remember . . . how we thought the others were such babies?” Elizabeth nodded. “And now you are Queen. It is strange but we always thought that Edward . . .”
Elizabeth flinched. It was foolish to bring up their young brothers at this time. Perhaps at any time. Nobody wanted to think of them now. Their disappearance must remain a mystery. To try to solve it might bring forth some evidence which certain people might find embarrassing.
Cecilia went on: “I know the King will listen to you. I am sure he must love you dearly.”
“He does,” said Elizabeth firmly. At another time Cecilia might have said that he loved the alliance they had been able to make between the two houses, but not now. This was not the time.
It seemed only in the bedchamber that the Queen could be alone with the King.
Elizabeth’s women had departed. She was in her long white nightgown, her golden hair in two long plaits giving her a childish look. Soon the King would come in and she was preparing what she would say to him.
When he came there was that somewhat forced smile on his pale face. He was always gentle and kind; it seemed to her that he was grateful for his good fortune in becoming King but was always on the alert lest someone should take the crown from him. He was fond of her. She had in certain moments of self-revelation wondered how fond, or whether his fondness was for what she stood for, not for her person.
She had asked for nothing for herself. She did not want jewels or extravagant pageants. Moreover she knew that Henry would never have given them. He had explained to her that the exchequer was in an unhealthy state. Her father had been extravagant but because of the pension he had had for some years from the King of France he had made the country prosperous. But that pension had stopped before his death. Uneasy times had followed his death; the perpetual unrest culminating in the Battle of Bosworth had impoverished the country. He was determined to crush extravagance, and she would not dream of asking for unnecessary luxuries.
But she would have liked to ask for her mother to come back to Court, though she accepted the fact that it would be impossible because her mother had really committed an act of treason.
Now there was this matter of Cecilia’s marriage.
He came to her smiling. He would lead her to the bed and they would make further attempts to get another child. It was the ritual when they were together. She believed that Henry had no greater liking for the act than she had for they were both aware of a certain relief when it was over, though it brought with it a sense of achievement which they hoped would be rewarded and a certain respite gained. Sometimes she thought of her father and all his mistresses. How different he must have been!
“Henry,” she said, “there is something I have to tell you. I hope it will not anger you.”
He was alarmed. She sensed that rather than saw it. He never showed his feelings but she was aware that she had made him uneasy.
She said quickly: “It is my sister, Cecilia. I am afraid she has acted rather foolishly.”
“How so?” he asked.
“She has married.”
He looked puzzled. But she could not tell whether he was angry or not.
She said quickly: “To Lord Wells.”
He remained silent for a few seconds. Cecilia married to Wells! He was not at all put out. He had been watchful of Cecilia. In his mind had been the thought that he might have had to put her in Elizabeth’s place. He was a man who calculated all eventualities. Life had made that necessary in the past and once a habit was formed with him, it generally continued. Moreover it was as necessary now as it had ever been. He had visualized Elizabeth’s dying in childbed as so many women did and perhaps the baby with her. Then there would have been no alternative but marriage with Elizabeth’s sister Cecilia. Cecilia was the one. The others were too young. So therefore he had kept Cecilia in the background. He had made sure that she should not be offered on the marriage market. He had looked upon her as a reserve. And now . . . she had married John Wells.
Wells came of a family which had always been loyal to him. He liked John Wells.
“You do not speak,” said Elizabeth, watching him fearfully.
“I am taken by surprise.”
“Of course it was very wrong of them.”
“But natural I suppose. We have been inclined to think of Cecilia as a child. She has shown us that she is not that.”
“Oh Henry . . . are you . . . ?”
He said: “What’s done is done.”
He was thinking: I am safe now. I have Arthur. As long as I have an heir who is half York and half Lancaster all is well. It is a pity Arthur is not more robust. However, it is no use thinking of Cecilia now. There is Anne . . . Very young as yet. But Elizabeth is still here . . . and strong. . . .
He had always kept a firm control on his emotions and that habit never failed him. Always he liked time to think, what is best for Henry Tudor? what is safe for Henry Tudor? while his quick shrewd mind worked out the answer for him. He believed that he had come as far as he had because of this.
He said now: “Why are you trembling, Elizabeth? You must not be afraid. You are not afraid of me, are you?”
She lowered her eyes. She could not tell a blatant lie.
“You must not be. You did right to tell me. I should not have liked to hear this from another source. But it is done. I trust John Wells. He has always been a good servant to us. Perhaps I shall tell him that he has been a little hasty. You may like to tell your sister that. Well, then let us wish them happiness and a fruitful marriage, eh . . . ?”
“You are so good,” she said with tears in her eyes. “I shall never forget that scullion boy . . . and now Cecilia.”
“Lord and Lady Wells would not relish being compared with Lambert Simnel, my dear. Now . . . let us to bed.”
The Death of
a Queen
n her nunnery at Bermondsey Elizabeth Woodville heard of her daughter Cecilia’s marriage and that the King had accepted it with a philosophical shrug of the shoulders.
This meant, Elizabeth knew, that he felt secure now Arthur was progressing well. Oh why should she be kept from her grandchild! Why should she be kept here? What an end to a career of such brilliance! But looking back there had been many times like this when she had had to remain shut away from the world as the only way to preserve her life. She was tired of it. If the Queen could persuade the King to accept Cecilia’s marriage why could she not bring her mother back to Court?
The answer was simple. The first did not affect the King one whit; the second might. Henry Tudor will always take care of Henry Tudor, thought Elizabeth bitterly.
Every day she expected to hear news of Scotland. That James would agree she had no doubt. She had at one time been reckoned to be the most beautiful woman in England and beauty such as hers did not disappear; it became a little faded—a little subdued sounded better—but she was still a very beautiful woman and with the right clothes and environment could toss aside the years as though they were tennis balls.
To Scotland! She had heard the climate was dour and the manners of the people not the most gracious in the world, b
ut it would be better than remaining here, shut away from the Court, living in a kind of disgrace and with the knowledge that the King would always be suspicious of her if she went back to Court, and she could be sure that mother of his would never be far away.
Scotland was the best she could hope for, and why should she not make a success of her new role? She was not young, but nor was the King of Scotland. She calculated that he would be just under forty. Mature, very glad no doubt to have for his wife a beautiful woman who had been a Queen of England.
She would try to forget her family here. Elizabeth who had become the Queen; Cecilia who had married Lord Wells and now, she heard, had retired with him to the country; Anne who was just thirteen and who would soon be having a husband found for her; Catherine who was but eight years old and Bridget who was a year younger and destined for a nunnery. All girls left to her and two little boys lost forever. No, she must stop herself trying to solve that mystery. It would bring no good. All this she must forget. She must put the past behind her. She must think of the new life in Scotland.
It would be entirely new . . . a new world to conquer. Her spirits were lifted considerably. She felt almost as she had that day when she, the desperately impoverished widow, mother of two boys by the dead John Grey, had gone out to Whittlebury Forest and made a name for herself in history.
Now . . . here was another chance. Queen of Scotland. The more she thought of the past, the more she considered her prospects for the future, the more she felt that her salvation was in Scotland.
She read of Scotland; she studied the history of Scotland; and what a tumultuous history it had! The Scots seemed to be more warlike than the English and one noble house was for ever at odds with another.
It would be primitive of course. The Scottish castles were as drafty as the English ones and there was a colder climate with which to contend. She would need fur cloaks and rugs; she visualized great fires roaring in the rooms of the castles; she could bring a more gracious way of life to that unruly race.
Each day she became more and more eager to leave. She knew that the delay in receiving an answer from James was probably due to the fact that he was now engaged in a war.
