by To Hold the Crown: The Story of King Henry VII;Elizabeth of York
“I can see that the idea is not repulsive to you, my lady.”
“These proposed marriages often come to nothing,” she said. “My daughter was to have married into Scotland. How strange that the offer should now be made to me.”
“The King feels sure that James of Scotland will be overjoyed at the prospect.”
“We shall see,” said the Queen, and graciously inclined her head to indicate that the interview was at an end.
She wanted to be alone to consider the suggestion. She had not really committed herself. She could always abandon the project if she had a mind to. At the moment it added a certain spice to life. Queen of Scotland! She was amused to contemplate the trouble she could bring to the King of England if she were ever in that position.
Elizabeth the Queen came riding into London with her sisters Cecilia and Anne. They were all excited because Elizabeth was about to be crowned.
“A queen is not a real queen until she is crowned,” said Anne. “You will be a real queen now, Elizabeth.”
“I wonder why it has been delayed so long,” added Cecilia.
“The King has his reasons,” replied the Queen serenely.
That is the answer her mother-in-law has taught her, thought Cecilia, and it applies every time the King’s conduct is questioned. Since her marriage Elizabeth has become a shadow of the King and his mother. I should never allow that to happen to me.
No indeed she would not. She was thinking of John Wells. She knew that he was a good deal older than she was, but she did not care. In his company she felt elated yet at peace; she felt contented and had a great desire to be with him. Was that love? She believed it was. She had explained her feelings to him and he had confirmed this. Moreover he felt the same contentment with her.
She knew that he was the husband she wanted. Her mother had often said that the King would soon be marrying her off and she would not be surprised if Cecilia was soon making some alliance which the King thought would be good for him. I won’t be, thought Cecilia. Elizabeth married him. That is enough. Elizabeth doesn’t mind being married to him. She is ready to agree that everything he does is right. That is good enough; she has done the family duty toward him. I will marry where I will.
She shuddered to think that she might now be miles away from John Wells. She might be in Scotland for they had once wanted to marry her to little Prince James of Scotland. And now there was rumor that her mother was being offered to that little Prince’s father. We are bandied about like a parcel of goods with no thought for our feelings, she thought. We are unimportant… . Well, some of us are. They will find the Princess Cecilia different.
They were to stay first of all at the Hospital of St. Mary in Bishopsgate from where, the Queen told them, they would watch the King’s entry into the capital.
“It will be a triumphant march,” said Anne, “because the King has defeated the scullion boy. Shall we ever see him, do you think, Elizabeth? I should very much like to see him.”
“It seems hardly likely that you will,” replied the Queen. “And if you did you would find he looked exactly like every other little scullion.”
“I think he would look a little different,” said Cecilia. “After all he must have had something about him for them to decide to use him in the first place.”
“Let us not discuss the silly boy,” said the Queen. “I find it all most distasteful. The King has shown his contempt for him and was it not benevolent of him to let him go free?”
Cecilia was silent. She was thinking: I shall marry John. What will the King say then? Whatever it is, Elizabeth will tell me it is right. I shall not care if we are banished. I am sure John will not either.
“After the coronation,” said Elizabeth, “I shall be more often in the company of the King.”
“Rendered worthy by the act of crowning,” added Cecilia. “Yet you are the daughter of a King whereas he …”
“He is descended from the great kings Arthur and Cadwallader. Do not forget that.”
Dear Elizabeth, thought Cecilia. She is bemused. Not by love of the King I’d swear. By a love of peace. A desire that everything shall go smoothly around her. That is good enough when one has everything one wants. Perhaps I shall be like that when I am married to John.
“I have heard it whispered,” Anne was saying, “that the House of York is not treated with the same respect as that of Lancaster.”
“You should not listen to whispers,” the Queen told her.
The people of London were growing vociferous in their welcome of Elizabeth. She made a charming picture riding with her two sisters who were as good-looking as she was herself, and the cheers were prolonged. The Queen bore a striking resemblance to her dead father. Her long golden hair hung loose about her shoulders in the style which showed it to its best advantage; her oval face was a little on the plump side, which with her pink and white complexion gave her a look of glowing health; her forehead was high like her father’s; if she was not quite as beautiful as her mother had been she lacked Elizabeth Woodville’s arrogance and that gentle rather self-deprecating smile appealed to them. There was more warmth in it than her husband could ever show them. The fact was the people were pleased with Elizabeth of York. “Long live the Queen!” they cried.
They liked her sisters too—beautiful girls both, with the same high foreheads and long flowing golden hair. Their beloved King Edward had indeed passed on his handsome looks to his family. It was to be hoped that the children of this noble lady would take after her family rather than that of the Tudor.
Not that they were against their King. By no means. He appeared to be strong, and they knew a strong king was what the country needed. He had settled this unfortunate rebellion of Lambert Simnel and had amused them by making the leader of the insurrection a scullion in his kitchens. In fact the story provoked laughter whenever it was mentioned. They merely liked the rosy handsome looks of York rather than the dour ones of Lancaster. And this was a great occasion. The crowning of their Queen.
Seated at a window of St. Mary’s Hospital the Queen, with her two sisters beside her, watched the King’s entry into the city. He came as the victor of the battle of Stoke where he had annihilated the rebels, and his triumphant procession through the capital was meant to tell the people that they could hope for peace in his time. He was going to be a strong ruler; he was going to put an end to wars; and although this last little fracas was a contemptible effort to break the peace, he had quickly suppressed it. Moreover he had not wanted revenge. He would be a strong but benevolent king; they would realize that when they considered his treatment of Lambert Simnel.
“It is sad that our mother is not here,” murmured Anne. “I wonder what she is thinking in Bermondsey.”
“That she was foolish to plot against the King, I doubt not,” said Elizabeth.
Cecilia thought: She is no longer like our sister. She has become merely the King’s wife. They shall never mold me as they have her. I will do as I please. I will marry John.
“The King has taken her estates from her,” she said. “She will be so sad for they meant a lot to her. And it was only last year that the lordships and manors were granted to her.”
Anne murmured softly: “Waltham, Magna, Badewe, Mashbury …”
“Dunmow, Lighe and Farnham,” finished Cecilia. “I remember how elated she was when they were granted to her. She kept repeating them over and over again as though to learn them by heart … which we did too.”
“She was very unwise to receive that priest,” said the Queen severely. “The King reluctantly decided that she must be taught a lesson.”
“I could almost believe,” said Cecilia, “that it is the Countess of Richmond sitting there and not our sister.”
The Queen shrugged her shoulders impatiently. It was nearly time for the King to arrive and she could hear the tumult in the streets a little way off.
The King came into Bishopsgate and when he reached the Hospital of St. Mary he paused and looked up
at the window at which the Queen sat with her sisters.
He gave Elizabeth one of his rare smiles, and she returned it with a look of genuine love, which delighted the crowd. He could trust Elizabeth to do what was expected of her.
The crowd roared its approval. Henry acknowledged the cheers and passed on.
He was thinking that Empson and Dudley were right. The coronation of the Queen was what the people wanted. Now they were going to have it. Moreover if he could bring off this marriage of Elizabeth Woodville with the King of Scotland he would have rid himself of that most tiresome woman.
The King conducted the Queen to Greenwich Palace leaving her there while he returned to the Tower of London. In accordance with tradition she must come without him to the capital for the ceremony of crowning and he must be at the Tower of London, waiting to welcome her when she arrived.
She must sail down the river with the most glorious pageantry which could be devised. It would be an expense, Empson had said, and he, no less than the King, deplored expense; but there were occasions when rules of economy must be waived and reasonable sums laid out if the result of spending money was to have the desired effect.
It was a misty November day when the Queen left Greenwich, but no one seemed to care very much about the weather. The people were determined to enjoy themselves and they set about doing so with gusto, for here was their handsome Queen at the center of one of the colorful pageants which they had grown accustomed to during the reign of that incomparable monarch King Edward the Fourth.
Elizabeth was seated in her barge with her sisters and some of her ladies, there were craft of all description on the river that day; moreover people had massed on the banks to witness the progress of the pageant as it sailed along the Thames. The civic companies all had their barges on the river but what gave especial pleasure to the Queen was the presence of the students of Lincoln’s Inn in the Barge of the Bachelors, for they had decided to do honor to the House of Tudor and Elizabeth realized how this would delight the King. He was always gratified by such gestures although he did not show it. But there were those rare occasions when the people seemed really glad to welcome the Tudor; and that was what the Bachelors were doing now for they had erected a red dragon in their barge and on his side was a notice that he was the Red Dragon of Cadwallader. Henry, of course, prided himself in his descent from Cadwallader so this could only be construed as a special tribute to him. The people thoroughly appreciated the dragon and roared with delight as fire spouted from his mouth and fell into the river. Moreover as the Barge of the Bachelors sailed along close to that of the Queen several students strummed their lutes and others sang songs of Wales.
“The King will see that when we approach the Tower,” said the Queen to Cecilia. “It will put him in a good humor.”
“He should already be in that,” said Anne. “He should be pleased because at last it is his Queen’s coronation.”
Poor Anne is a little put out because our mother is not here, thought Elizabeth. But she would have been if she had not angered the King by seeing that foolish priest. The Countess is right, she does interfere too much. And it makes us all unhappy because she is more or less in restraint. It will be good for everyone if this Scottish marriage comes about.
But she was a little sad thinking that she might have to say good-bye to her mother. Theirs had always been a close family and it was hard to remember always that she must not allow her mother to guide her when she had the very excellent Countess to do that.
She must not have sad thoughts on her coronation day so she must remember that if her mother was in her present position it was due to her own fault.
Now she could see the gray walls of the Tower. Soon the King would be greeting her. She would rest in the Tower for the night and from there she would go to Westminster and the ceremony of coronation.
Her sisters were with her when she was dressed for the journey from the Tower to Westminster Palace where she would spend the night and from there, on the next day, go to the Abbey.
She looked beautiful and remarkably like her mother had at her age, except that there was a humility about her that Elizabeth Woodville had never possessed even before she rose to a throne.
Already the crowds were gathering in the streets. The people of London were anxious to see more of her. They had grumbled because, although she was the Queen, they believed the King had contrived to keep her away from them. But it seemed that they had misunderstood. She had become pregnant immediately after her marriage and often ladies did not wish to show themselves in that state and this would seem particularly true of such a modest one as the Queen obviously was. It was not so long since little Arthur had been born, and now she was emerging. They would see her often with the King now, and today they would watch the procession to Westminster Palace and the next day the coronation itself.
There she was in her kirtle of white cloth of gold and her mantle of the same material edged with royal ermine; and her beautiful golden hair was caught in a golden caul and about her brow was a simple gold circlet.
She might not have the perfect features of her mother but she had a warmth which that arrogant lady had lacked. Moreover she managed at the same time to have a look of her royal father and that was enough to endear the people to her.
As she left the Tower her train was carried by her sister Cecilia who, some said, was even more beautiful than the Queen; she certainly had the same golden looks and magnificent long flowing hair. Walking beside the Queen was the King’s uncle Jasper Tudor whom Henry had made Grand Steward, so eager was he to do him honor; and there was Lord Stanley, husband of the Queen’s mother-in-law who had now been created Earl of Derby and whose brother Sir William Stanley had played such a decisive part at the battle of Bosworth by changing sides at the crucial moment. A not very noble act, but it had brought about peace and what the people of London wanted more than anything now was peace.
There might be many staunch Lancastrians but York was represented too. The King had not been so foolish as to leave them out; and even the Duchess of Suffolk was there, which was an indication of how merciful the King could be, for it was her son, John de la Pole, Earl of Lincoln who had sought to set up Lambert Simnel and who had been slain at Stoke.
For the rest of the journey the Queen was to travel by litter and this was brought forward. She sat in it smiling at the people as she passed through the streets under the canopy, which was held by the four knights of the Bath whom Henry had recently created.
It was comforting to Elizabeth to see how the people liked her. They had hung out gaily colored material from their windows; they leaned forward to strew leaves and sweet-smelling herbs in her path; and every now and then the procession was halted while bands of children stepped forward to sing her praises.
It was very gratifying; and tired but exalted, she reached Westminster Palace.
There she could spend a quiet night in preparation for the next day’s ordeal.
Cecilia was with her when they dressed her.
“You look very grand,” she said. “Not like our sister anymore.”
“I am the same beneath all these fine robes, Cecilia.”
Not quite, thought Cecilia. You are the King’s wife now.
Did Elizabeth still remember those dreary days in Sanctuary at the time when Richard had taken the crown, when they had not known from one day to the next what their fate would be? Had she forgotten how even their father had had to fight to keep his crown … and that it was always the Lancastrians against whom he fought? Now she was one of them. Of course that had to be and marriage between the two houses was better than war. But Elizabeth seemed to have changed sides. In fact she could see no point of view but that of the King. Had it something to do with the mystic ritual of the marriage bed?
I shall find out, Cecilia told herself. And she knew then that she was going to marry John … in secret of course, for to announce her intentions openly would most certainly mean that they would be frustrated.
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How beautiful Elizabeth looked in her kirtle of purple velvet edged with ermine with her magnificent hair loose, flowing from the circlet of gold studded with pearls and stones of several colors, which they had placed on her head.
She looks so serene, thought Cecilia, as though coronations were commonplace with her. She has no will of her own, now; only that of her husband and her mother-in-law. They decided what she must do and Elizabeth mildly did it. Perhaps that was a happy state to be in. Elizabeth certainly looked happy. Did she ever think of anything but pleasing her husband, submitting to his embraces in order to do her duty and produce one child after another, for that was how it would be, Cecilia was sure.
They had entered Westminster Hall, there to wait that moment when they would set out for the Abbey. The way from the Hall to the Abbey was carpeted with striped cloth, which the people regarded as their own perquisite, for after the Queen had walked on it they were at liberty to cut off pieces which would then be theirs.
So eager were the people to get their pieces of the material that no sooner had the Queen walked over it with her trainbearers than they dashed forward and started to cut the cloth. The ladies who were following were terrified to find themselves surrounded by the rush of people, shouting, abusing each other and even trampling those who had fallen under foot. Fortunately some of the lords, having seen what was happening, rushed forward to rescue the ladies, which they did just in time.
