Arthur

Chapter 27

Elizabeth of York; London, England. February 1502.

 

Catherine Gordon excused herself from her duties, claiming she was too sick. I did not complain, neither did I refused her request. However, I knew her sickness was nothing but fear. She was only a woman in a world ruled by men, a widow of a claimant, whose child had been taken from her. She had nothing, yet she could lose everything.

But I knew Catherine would not fear for too long. What she had confided to me had a great value and it would give consistency to my plan. It was precisely what I needed to hear. I wrote a letter to Cecily that night, in our own special code, and trusted her pageboy, who was conveniently at court after bringing me a basket or oranges from my dear sister, to deliver it safely, without passing through unwanted hands.

I was anxious to hear from Cecily; as Queen, it would be too dangerous for me to be the heart of the plan, but my sister fit this role perfectly. We needed to wait, though, for news would not arrive as fast as we wished, if we wanted them to come in first-hand.

At the beginning of February, Henry decided it would be a fair idea to plan Arthur’s next coming to court. My husband and his mother could not hide their disappointment on the fact that Catalina was not yet with child. There was no rush, I thought, for both of them were still very young, and there was a healthy reigning King. But Lady Margaret was an everlasting perfectionist and demanded it from everyone surrounded her.

“You must write to her, asking her about her heath.” She instructed me one day, when we were at her chambers with the ladies, after she sent me a pleading invitation for a tea.

“Why don’t you do it yourself, Milady?” I asked, putting down my teacup, without looking at her.

I imagined she would reply angrily or rudely, but she merely frowned. “I have, but the Princess… well, I much rather believe she is too busy to reply to letters soon enough.”

I had to bite my cheeks to contain the laugh. Catalina, bless her heart, was avoiding to let Lady Margaret to know everything about her, and keeping her own privacy safe. Needless to say it bothered the old crone more than she could express.

“I would be much happier if I knew there was a child in her belly before spring ends.” She commented, coldly.

“Happier?” I thought. “How can you be happier if you were never truly happy?”

“A child is always a bless.” I replied indifferently.

“Even more of a bless if this child is an heir to the throne of England.” She said. “We need to secure our line, Elizabeth.”

“Secure our line? Excuse me, milady, for I believe the age has caused you a momentary loss of memory; but I had given the King three healthy, strong boys, and three beautiful daughters, though it has pleased God to take my boy Edmund and my girl Elizabeth.” I felt my voice tremble a bit, but soon recovered. “Nevertheless, He left me with two sons, two Princes of England, both equally healthy and fair. Arthur is only a bit more than a child, so is his wife. There is plenty of time for both of them to get our nursery full of babies. And, if God forbid, something happens to my Arthur, well, you will be happy we have Harry.”

Lady Margaret Beaufort looked at me as if she had tasted lemon; I smiled softly, and sipped my tea. The ladies were visibly paying much attention to our talk, even though they pretended to be doing their needlework.

“I am aware of all that, Elizabeth.” She said, grinding her teeth. “But I must remind you that the sooner you have children, the better. I was married off when I was twelve, the same year I was with child, and gave birth in the next year.”

“Indeed, milady, you did.” I smiled. “And what a great accomplishment. However, may I remind you, you had only one child. You started as young as it can be possible, but it did not help to fill the Tudor nursery, did it? My mother was sixteen when she had her first son. And she had twelve children- that’s right, twelve, not that you are not aware of it. I was married when I was a nineteen, and had six children thus far!”

“I gave birth to the King of England!” She said, her face turning red.

“Well, I gave birth to the next King of England.” I replied, standing up. The ladies stood up quickly to curtsy, and Lady Margaret had no choice but to stand up as well. “Thank you for the tea, Milady.”

She curtseyed as brief as she dared, and I turned my back to her and left, smiling, but feeling a great hatred for that pathetic woman. I wish I had had Catalina’s nerve from the beginning, and never allowed her to believe she can control me.

Lady Margaret believed she knew it all; but I knew better.

A few days later, I got a brief letter from Cecily, brought by her trustworthy pageboy, hidden among a great basket of fresh apples.

“Bess – our man has been successful on the first stage. I sent him instructions as agreed and he will write in a week to let us know what he has found. Meanwhile, make sure M.P will follow our plan as well. Sissy – ”

I burnt the note, and watched it turn into ashes in my fireplace. So, there it was, I thought. I felt an odd sensation with the thought that soon I would maybe cease to be Queen of England. I wondered what my mother would think of it, and smiled.

“Long live the Queen.” I whispered. “Long live the King.”