The Lancastrian Queen

Chapter 6

May  30th of 1445; Westminster Abbey, London, England.

 

London loved their new queen; the Londoners had not seen her arrival or the marriage of the King, so the coronation was supposed to be a great ceremony, to compensate. Therefore, no money was spared for Marguerite d’Anjou. The best rooms in the Tower of London were prepared for her, since it was tradition for the queen to spend the couple of days prior her coronation in the Tower. She had ordered a new gown, of an exquisite and new tone of red, as vibrant as blood, embroidered with gold. She looked like a flame, with her hair falling down her shoulders, curling in the edges.

The streets had been impeccably washed and cleaned, and golden fountains of wine had been placed at every corner, for the pleasure of the people. Children were dressed in white with furred wings in the back of the gowns, and they threw rose petals in the way. The carriage that brought the little queen matched her greatness, carefully designed with golden ornaments. The white horses slowly carried her all the Tower to the Abbey, as she was greeted by her people, flowers threw at her, her name being shouter with joy and applause.

Finally, the holy oil was poured in her chest and forehead, and the Archbishop handed her the golden orb and scepter of England. Marguerite looked very serious the whole time, knowing how important that moment was; not only was she becoming the only and undeniable Queen of England, she was also becoming a sacred being, above humans, closer to God. That meant she was only behind the angels in the great hierarchy of Heaven. The Archbishop presented her crown to the North, to the South, and finally, placed it carefully in her fair head, proclaiming her Margaret, Queen of England, Lady of Ireland and Duchess of Aquitaine.

“How are you feeling, Your Majesty?” Jacquetta whispered to the Queen during the feast.

“I feel wonderful. And there is no need for you to call me ‘Your Majesty’, Jacquetta. You are my kinswoman and my closest friend. I do not want any formalities between us.”

The Duchess, who had been the one chosen to carry the Queen’s train for the coronation, smiled with delight of the honour.

“I am very happy to hear you consider me your friend, Marguerite.”

“Not Marguerite either, Jacquetta; I am not Marguerite d’Anjou anymore. I have become an Englishwoman today. You will call me Margaret. Margaret of Anjou, Queen of England.”

“Margaret,” Jacquetta corrected herself. “It is a happy day.”

“The happiest. I am the happiest Queen.”

Indeed she was, for the looks of it. Margaret smiled to the King, served the best pieces of the meal first to his favourites, enjoyed the whole feast royally, with such elegance and pride that were uncommon of a fifteen year old.

“Sir William de la Pole, milady,” Henry introduced the tall man beside him, who had come to congratulate the Queen. “I believe you have seen him before, of course.”

“Ah, of course!” Margaret smiled, offering the man her hand. “The Duke of Suffolk! Of course I remember, you were on my wedding day, beside my husband, as well as every day!”

“I aim only to serve, Your Grace,” the man replied, kissing her hand. “And I congratulate you for your most happy day. You look graceful, a Queen indeed.”

“You flatter me,” she nodded. “I believe I have to thank you for this. After all, if it was not because of your marvelous intervention and skills, the contract of my marriage would never been sealed, and this day would never have happened. I thank you, Sir William.”

“It was my pleasure, Your Grace.”

“Believe me, I know how to be a good friend. I never forget those who prove to be my friends,” she concluded with a sweet smile. He bowed his head and walked away.

“Ah!” King Henry said, happily. “There he is! This is the Earl of Somerset, milady, and my good friend, Edmund Beaufort.”

A tall, good looking man approached the throne with a distinctive charming walk. He smiled at the Queen and bowed low. Margaret examined him holding her breath; the man was possibly on his twenties, and very handsome. His dark hair curling to his shoulders and the provocative smile gave him a youthful look, but the light eyes had a strong shine that gave no doubt that he was a man, a reliable, loyal man.

“Sir Edmund,” Margaret whispered, offering him her hand. He touched it and kindly placed a kiss on it. The slight touch of his lips on her skin made the Queen tremble.

“It is an honour to finally meet you, Your Grace,” he replied, cheerfully. “I had heard about your beauty, but I see they were wrong.”

“Beg your pardon?” The Queen blushed, surprised.

“Yes; they did not do justice to your beauty. It’s beyond every word I have heard. If it was not for the fact your beauty indeed transcend words, I’d advise your husband to have their heads chopped off for not being fair to you.”

At that, Margaret blushed even more, letting a delightful laughter escape her mouth.

“You are charming, Sir Edmund. I see why my husband likes you.”

“I speak nothing but the truth, ask him.”

“Edmund is one of my most trusted men,” Henry said, proudly. “He is as faithful as a dog, though he refuses to let anyone scratch his belly.”

“You know that is not true, my King. If the right person asks, I might as well let her.” The Earl winked mischievously, making everyone around him laugh.

“And a ladies-man,” King Henry added. “I should put you in the Tower of London and accuse you of breaking the heart of half of the court.”

“And I would plead not-guilty!” He proclaimed.

“What is your defense?”

“My defense, my beloved King, is that I do not break their hearts; on the contrary, I give them love! However, I am a generous man, and it breaks my heart to leave any woman without my attention. Every graceful lady deserves it. Sadly, they don’t know how to share!”

This time, the laughter was even more audible, and even Margaret felt her body at ease.

“You’re a great advocate, Edmund,” The King shook his head. “But that wouldn’t change the accusation.”

“If there are beautiful women in the Tower, my King, I will go there myself, without an accusation!”

More laughter; Margaret noticed how Edmund of Somerset was the life and joy of the court. The ladies on the other side of the room looked at him with both admiration and desire.

“I am glad you’re back in court. Any friend of my husband is my friend as well,” Margaret said, nodding to him. “Welcome, Sir Edmund.”

Edmund bowed low, grinning like a boy, and stepped back. The young Queen watched him from her throne the rest of day.