The Other Elizabeth

Chapter I: Christmastide 1445

Chapter I: Christmastide 1445 

Scales Hall, Norfolk, England

Three years have passed since my brother Thomas died and my Lady Mother has miscarried another two babies. She has spent many nights on her knees in St Mary's Chapel and has seen many wise women who have given her herbs and potions that promise to make a strong, healthy baby. I am obviously such a disappointing daughter that she would risk being found a witch, like Eleanor Cobham, Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester's former wife, and be made to walk in her shift across hot coals in front of a bawdy crowd of London peasants. My Father hasn't brought home any interesting scandals such as that from the illustrious court in London of recent, no interesting politics (but when are politics ever interesting) apart from some boresome peace treaty with France.

My Lady Mother has also been kept busy commissioning new gowns- she received a summons from King Henry's new Queen to become her lady-in-waiting. The King finally decided to marry – and he did so to the fifteen-year-old Marguerite, daughter of the Duke of Anjou, in another place far away in France, on the twenty-third of April at Titchfield Abbey, earlier this year. I am immensely jealous that my Mother shall get to go to court- and of all the sumptuous rolls of cloth for her gowns. She shall be in the company of a Queen! There is no luckier thing in the whole of Christendom!

"Can't I go, Lady Mother, please, I-"

"How many times, Elizabeth, you're far too young."

"Elizabeth!" my maid Bessie is calling me now, "the Lord your Father has arrived!" I jump from the window seat, my face lit up. My Lady Mother feared he would not make it in time, on these shoddy roads, fighting through flurries of snow. I hear him ordering a Yule Log to be brought to the fire in the banqueting hall, for it is Christmas Eve. Without even straightening my skirts, I run down the stairs to the Great Hall and hurl myself at him.

"Lord Father! You are home! Have you brought me gifts from London? Do you not think I have grown? For certain I have, for all my kirtles reach my mid-calves!" He blinks and then frowns. I crane my neck up at him, wide-eyed. He has been gone for such a long time!

"Elizabeth!" My Lady Mother laughs, with a tremor. I turn around, my interest quickly dissipating as they look down on me with hardened expressions, although my Lord Father permanently has lines carved into his forehead, for he was a Lieutenant in France and was taken prisoner there also, which sounds very frightening and something as a girl I am glad I will never have to experience indeed.

"Ooh, there's the Yule Log!" I cry, as four of the manservants haul it in, faces as red as the flames wiggling from the fire, "Am I allowed to festoon it with ribbons?" My Lord and Lady share a quick glance.

"Mayhap you will find some ribbons in the solar," my Lady Mother says a little stiffly. I skip off back upstairs, shrugging off her cold manner; it is Christmas Day tomorrow, and we shall all make merry! 

*****

It is finally Christmas Day! It is my favourite event of the year, because I know there will be a splendid banquet, lots of mummers and the opportunity to witness my Lord Father drunk! My Lady Mother has been keeping the servants busy in preparation for Christmastide; there has been the beating of tapestries, the scattering of fresh rushes, the festooning of evergreens. I take pride of place at the table, only third best to My Lord and Lady, on the raised dais. Next to me are my father's kinsfolk, the Howards, Tyndales, de Veres, Burghs, Knyvetts, Greys and Percys, for we are the only surviving male line of de Scales, and I will soon be ending that. Then there are my father's half-sisters, Aunt Lizzy and Aunt Margret to me, although Margret's husband, Richard de Vere, is trying to avoid catching attention of My Lord, because he owes one thousand marks to him and his stepdaughter Elizabeth Grey. Or so the gossips are saying. Mayhap they are just merry on ale, which they have spilled all over the sparkling white new cloth covering the table.