Plantagenet Princess, Tudor Queen: The Story of Elizabeth of York

by Samantha Wilcoxson

  A small smile touched Emma’s lips, but she was afraid of York schemes and was surprised that Elizabeth would take after her mother in this way.

  “What sort of scheme?” Her eyes were downcast and she wondered what she was doing questioning the woman everyone knew to be the next queen of England.

  Elizabeth laughed and squeezed Emma’s hands. “This is just why you are perfect to be with me,” she reassured the timid girl. “It is God’s work, and I would have you to help me above any other.”

  A new light came into Emma’s eyes. “That sounds wonderful, my lady.”

  Elizabeth pulled Emma to sit by her on the trunk. “We will have to be slightly dishonest in order to complete our mission,” she admitted. “As you know, we are not allowed beyond the castle walls due to the sweating sickness.” She paused to gauge Emma’s response. She looked determined and unafraid to do what Elizabeth was asking. “I would like to take food and clothes to those who are unable to leave their houses, coin to the many who have lost their men, and especially prayer to those who are suffering.”

  “Of course, my lady.”

  Elizabeth was encouraged by the admiration she saw in Emma’s eyes. Formerly, she had looked at her with the standard respect due to her rank, now she looked at her with the mutual esteem of a sister in Christ.

  “I will need you to choose two valets that are trustworthy to carry the goods that I would deliver,” Elizabeth continued.

  Emma nodded in agreement.

  “I would like to leave immediately following the midday meal. We are unlikely to be missed during that time.”

  “We will be ready,” Emma said with a new confidence in her voice. “Thank you for thinking of me, my lady.”

  They exchanged a look of mutual admiration and camaraderie in their conspiring before silently moving away to their individual preparations.

  That afternoon, the two women met again in Elizabeth’s room and Emma smiled at the modest gown that Elizabeth was wearing. “Wherever did you find it?” she asked.

  “I’ve not only lived in palaces,” Elizabeth said. In her mind she was picturing herself at Sherriff Hutton wearing this dress as she and Edward ran through the grasses of the moors with his puppy chasing after them. She forced the thought away to focus on the task at hand. “You have found reliable boys to assist us?”

  “Yes,” Emma nodded as she adjusted Elizabeth’s hair and gown. “My cousin, Alfred, and his friend. I’ve not met the friend, but Alfred vouches for him. Alfred is a devoted Christian,” she said by way of reassurance.

  “I trust your judgment,” Elizabeth said. “The goods are in a small pull-cart just outside. They know not to wear their royal livery?”

  “Oh, yes. Do not worry, my lady. The right hand will not know what the left is doing.”

  Elizabeth smiled at Emma’s application of scripture. “Let us be gone then.”

  The women snuck down a little used stairway to an even less used exit through the palace wall. There was Elizabeth’s cart stacked high with goods. She and Emma had each placed purses heavy with small coins around their waist and under their cloaks. They smiled at each other conspiratorially as they closed the door behind them. They were in forbidden area now.

  Two young men of about fourteen years of age stood near the cart, and Elizabeth knew them to be Alfred and his friend when Emma embraced the taller of the two. Their familial relationship was not at all evident in their appearance, Alfred’s golden blond head already six inches above Emma’s dull brown one. His blue eyes glittered with excitement over being involved in a quest both secret and honorable. He broke from Emma’s embrace and stepped forward.

  “My lady, Princess Elizabeth, I am honored,” he said as he knelt before him.

  “Be blessed,” she said raising him up. “I am pleased to share this day with you. Thank you for helping us.”

  “We wouldn’t miss it!” he exclaimed, sounding more like a boy now than a man. He motioned his friend forward. “This is Francis,” he said. “Also trustworthy and a servant of Christ.”

  Francis came forward more awkwardly and knelt silently before Elizabeth.

  “God’s blessings,” she said with a light hand on his dark locks. He examined her with intelligent eyes, and she knew that he took in more than he spoke. He reminded her of Richard, but she refused to think of that just now.

  He rose and said, “God be with you also, my lady.”

  “We are off then,” Elizabeth said. She led the way with Emma walking close beside her. Alfred and Francis followed, pulling the heavy cart.

  Emma did not ask how Elizabeth knew where to go. Sometimes it was evident from the sadness that seemed to emanate from a home that was little more than a shack. Eventually, children began approaching them on the street as word of their good deeds quickly spread ahead of them. Elizabeth and Emma each shared a blessing with those they approached before filling their arms with food, clothes, blankets, and some coin.

  Elizabeth knocked on the door that she knew to be the home of her missing page. It had not been easy to obtain the information or the goods that she distributed this day, but the smiles on the faces of the dirty children, worn out housewives, and ill husbands filled her with joy and satisfaction. She prayed for the boy within the small wood frame house as she waited for the door to open.

  A woman who couldn’t be more than thirty but appeared twenty years older cracked open the door. “What is it?” she demanded. Then her eyes widened at the party on her step. Even in her least fancy gown, Elizabeth was clearly of noble blood. “You don’t want to be here, my lady!” she exclaimed in fear. “We’ve got the sweats!”

  “I understand,” Elizabeth said. She put forth a hand as if to touch the woman, but, seeing her cringe away, she withdrew it. “How is young Edwin?” she asked.

  The woman’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m afraid he is not going to be in this world for much longer, my lady.”

  Elizabeth gestured to Alfred and Francis to bring forth a sack of goods. “I would leave you with these items as they may help. Could I see him?” she asked. She heard the gasps of those around her, but she felt that she must encourage the boy and pray at his side.

  “Oh no, my lady! It wouldn’t be right, even at the best of times, for you to enter such a place as this,” Edwin’s mother insisted.

  “Scripture tells us that there is indeed a time and place for every activity under heaven,” Elizabeth countered.

  Edwin’s mother didn’t know how to respond to this without sounding like a heretic. Emma came to her rescue.

  “Surely it would be acceptable for me to see the boy. I am sure that Princess Elizabeth just wishes for a prayer to be said over the boy.” She glanced at Elizabeth for approval and received a small nod.

  “Well, I don’t know.” The poor woman was overwhelmed with the circumstances surrounding her.

  Emma took the bulging sack from her cousin. “I will bring in these goods that Edwin is in need of.”

  Relenting to the need to open the door further to allow in the parcel, Edwin’s mother also accepted Emma into her home. Emma glanced back at Elizabeth with her eyes full of confidence and joy that Elizabeth had never seen in them within the palace before closing the door gently behind her.

  Elizabeth watched the door for a moment. She closed her eyes asking God to bless this house before turning to Alfred and Francis.

  “Let’s canvass these houses,” she said gesturing to the area surrounding Edwin’s home. “For others in need while we await Emma’s return.”

  “They are likely all in need,” said Francis as he gazed at the ramshackle homes surrounding them.

  “You are right, of course,” Elizabeth admitted. “Let’s prepare a sack for each.”

  By the time they had packed and delivered goods to the ten closest houses, Emma emerged from Edwin’s home with an aura of peace about her.

  “How did he appear?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Not well,” Emma admitted. “But I do belie
ve he was encouraged by my presence and your gifts.”

  “Then this has been well worth it,” Elizabeth whispered.

  “Yes, it certainly has been,” Emma agreed.

  Three days later, Edwin was back at his post in Elizabeth’s household. One of his first tasks was to deliver a letter, handwritten by the princess. She regretted to inform Emma’s family that their daughter had died of the sweating sickness.

  December 1485

  Westminster Palace was in a flurry of preparations once again. Henry Tudor had begun his reign with celebrations that almost felt staged to remind the people of his majesty on a monthly basis. Dressmakers, bakers, musicians, and a swarm of others rushed through the castle with the hope of their work bringing them into the king’s favor. Though still in mourning for Emma, Elizabeth was pleased that one of the events that would soon be taking place was her marriage to Henry.

  While being measured and fit for the perfect gown, her mind still drifted away to the families she had seen that day with Emma. How many had died? Had they really made any impact? Was Emma’s sacrifice to mean anything?

  She had certainly felt so. Though she lay suffering and dying, Emma had seemed at peace with the work that God had given her during her short life, and she was prepared to meet him. Elizabeth had not been permitted to visit Emma and had managed to sneak away only once to beg her forgiveness for her part in bringing the illness upon her.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, your grace,” Emma had said.

  “Emma, I feel as though it is my fault that . . . .”

  “That I am dying?” Emma finished for her, and Elizabeth bowed her head, not wanting to face the truth. “It is alright, my lady. I go to meet our God and will welcome you one day.”

  Tears filled Elizabeth’s eyes and words would not come. She sat quietly holding Emma’s hand until she fell asleep. Saying a blessing over her for the last time, she returned to the castle and never saw her again.

  Elizabeth was shaken from her memories by her sister’s approach.

  “My beautiful sister!” Cecily exclaimed as she firmly embraced her.

  “How wonderful to see you,” Elizabeth said. She was glad that Cecily seemed in good spirits despite Henry’s annulment of her marriage to Ralph Scrope. It was a topic that would be left unmentioned today.

  “I see that you will soon be queen,” Cecily said as she eyed the preparations going on around them.

  “To be Henry’s wife,” Elizabeth corrected. “Henry has decided not to have my coronation as part of the event.”

  Cecily’s eyes widened at the news. “Not to be crowned? What does he mean by this?”

  “I am uncertain,” Elizabeth admitted.

  “It will be his mother’s doing, I can assure you.”

  Elizabeth raised her eyebrows to her sister. “It matters not,” she assured her. “I will be content with being his wife and eventually a mother. The ceremony is unimportant.”

  “Certainly you do not believe that,” Cecily insisted. “It is an insult for you to not be crowned. He has already postponed the wedding long enough to send the message that he claims his throne by his own right.”

  “It is only insulting if I chose to be insulted,” Elizabeth insisted. “I will not look for trouble where none need exist. I am certain that he will have me crowned when the time is right.” She looked at Cecily’s doubting face and desired to lighten the mood. “Maybe that will be next month’s ceremony.”

  The sisters laughed together and Cecily did not bring up Elizabeth’s lack of crown again.

  ~~~~

  Elizabeth and Cecily sat together as the Yule log was dragged into the palace. The men had felled a huge ancient tree in order to have this log that was as wide as Elizabeth was tall. It was large enough to be lit tonight and remain burning throughout the twelve days of Christmastime. No less than ten men struggled to pull it into place as the court fool cart-wheeled around them singing his own irreverent Christmas songs. The looks on some of the men’s faces revealed that his antics were not appreciated, but he seemed not to notice.

  Conflicting feelings were at war within Elizabeth. On one hand, she wanted to be happy and excited for the wedding plans being made at this very moment for her to be joined with Henry. On the other, her lonely sister Cecily stood next to her with no further word of who Henry planned to match her to. He had annulled her marriage to Ralph Scrope but not yet indicated what he had in mind that had made the annulment necessary. How she tried to give Henry the benefit of the doubt, but there were so many doubts.

  “Shall we spend tomorrow evening with mother and Cat and Bridget?” Elizabeth asked Cecily.

  “That would be nice,” Cecily said in a way that Elizabeth wondered if she even realized what she was agreeing to.

  “Maybe we should ask Margaret and Edward, as well. I have not seen much of our Warwick cousins since arriving in London,” she added.

  “They would like that,” Cecily agreed absently.

  “Are you quite alright, sister?”

  Cecily focused on Elizabeth’s concerned face. “I apologize, Bess. Yes, I am fine,” she said. “I only wonder what our first Christmas together would have been like.”

  Elizabeth nodded and placed a supportive hand on her sister’s arm.

  “It would not have been grand, and we would not have been surrounded by groveling courtiers. It would have been wonderful,” Cecily ended in a whisper.

  “I am sure Henry has an ideal match in mind for you,” Elizabeth said, hoping it was true.

  Cecily blinked away the tears that had filled her eyes making them bright blue in the dim light. “I’m sure he does. Someone politically appropriate and distantly related, not just a man who will love me simply as a woman.”

  “Oh, Cecily,” Elizabeth whispered as she wrapped her younger sister in a loving embrace. “I will do all I can to find out, though you know that I know little even of my own wedding plans.”

  “At least you know they are being made,” Cecily said after forcing a false smile onto her face. “Thank you for trying. Any news would be greatly appreciated.”

  “Be strong, dear sister,” Elizabeth said, still holding firmly onto Cecily’s arms. “God will not give you more than you can bear and he would have you cast your concerns onto him.”

  Cecily sighed. “Of course, you are right, Bess. I do not stand as firmly in my faith as you do. Thank you for your support and encouragement. Henry is a lucky man.”

  “He is king.”

  “That is not what makes him blessed.”

  The next evening, Elizabeth was excited to be hosting her family for an intimate meal away from the main hall. She directed servants to place a table and chairs within her own rooms that would accommodate the seven of them and double checked the menu that she had settled on to ensure that everyone’s favorites were accounted for. Certain that everything was in place, she spun around cheerfully, eager for her guests to arrive.

  “Bess! Bess! We’re here!” announced five year old Bridget before entering the room.

  Elizabeth was ready to scoop her up into her arms when she ran in quite un-princess-like into the room. “Oh, Bridget! How I have missed your smiling face,” she said after a warm embrace. “I am very happy that you are here.”

  “And so is Cat and mama,” Bridget added unnecessarily for their mother and sister were standing directly behind her.

  “Then I shall greet them,” Elizabeth said with a final squeeze. “Cat, you are a beautiful young lady,” she said as she reached for her second youngest sister.

  A blush rose on the pale cheeks of six year old Catherine. “Thank you, Bess.”

  What happens to us between five and six years old that causes girls to all of a sudden grow up, Elizabeth wondered. Then again, Cat had always been more subdued than Bridget who seemed to find joy in every occasion.

  “Mother,” Elizabeth said in greeting as she bowed her head toward Elizabeth Woodville.

  “Dear daughter,” her mother responded mo
re warmly and leaned over to hold her daughter close. “I am happy to be with you.”

  “And I with you, mother,” Elizabeth whispered, surprised by the show of affection.

  Soon, Cecily, Margaret, and Edward had arrived as well and they sat down to a meal like that enjoyed by many families throughout London. For a short time, they could forget that they were the remnant of the York family.

  “Margaret says that you are going to be queen,” Edward stated.

  A smile tugged at Elizabeth’s lips. “Yes, cousin, I will marry the king next month.”

  “How is it that Henry is king?” Edward asked. The table grew quiet in response to the innocent question.

  Elizabeth took a deep breath before answering. “Well, Edward, you were with me when we heard the news that Henry’s troops had defeated our uncle Richard’s. That is how Henry is king.”

  “But isn’t our cousin, John, Richard’s heir,” he paused and looked thoughtful. “Wasn’t I?”

  “You mustn’t speak so,” Margaret admonished. “I’m sorry, Bess.”

  “Do not feel you need to apologize,” Elizabeth assured Margaret. “I know that you look out for your brother and you are a wonderful caretaker.” Then she turned to Edward. “Yes, John de la Pole was Richard’s heir, as were you at one time. However, since Richard lost the battle at Bosworth, it is through that defeat that Henry has taken the throne.”

  Edward scrunched up his face in thought, but clearly couldn’t straighten it all out. “Alright, Bess.”

  “I know you do not understand Edward, but it is the way of the world.”

  “Uncle Richard is in heaven with Anne and his Edward now,” Edward said as if that explained everything.

  “Ah, the faith of the little children,” Elizabeth said with a quiet laugh. “That he is, my darling.” Many people said that Edward of Warwick was slow or stupid, but Elizabeth wondered if many people wouldn’t be much happier if they shared his outlook.

  “Daughter, I am going to lease the Cheneygates House for your younger sisters and I,” Elizabeth’s mother said.