The Other Elizabeth

Chapter XI: Lammastide 1450

The loaf blessing and the thanking to God of our beautiful, wondrous, holy bread completed, there are many new loves springing from the grains of the new harvest, spinning about with the Morris dancers on the green. My Lord and Lady observe the scene; I can see him muttering and frowning as I whirl around, headdress flying off, my own golden corn flying free, laughing giddily, and sitting on the grass with Florence and the village children, teaching them how to make a corn dolly. I even make one myself, one that is not torn apart by Thomas and sneered at. I confess I hardly remember him now- it was almost eight years ago. I wonder what he would think of his niece, or who he would be wed to. Would he have his own children now, and my Isabel would have little cousins? I do not care if anyone is remarking upon my behaviour; I am wild and free, I am myself, finally, I am not worrying, and laughter echoes in my ears. 

We return to the manor to a jovial feast. There are, of course, many loaves of bread. There is wine- English wine, for a silly lord named the Duke of Somerset lost another of our lands, Caen, to the French last month, and trading has been uneasy. He must indeed be a very poor commander of his troops! It appears nothing has changed at court, even after the rebellion- this Somerset replaces the dead Suffolk as the King and Queen's favourite. Or so I hear upon eavesdropping on My Lord and Lady. I learn her brother Richard plans on coming back to court from Ireland, where he is Lieutenant there, to see what is happening, and "demand his due payment," Isabel whispers. 'Tis good she is so deep in conversation, for John, Thomas, and Edward are swearing at each other in French and Latin. This goes unnoticed, for William and Henry are partaking in awkward conversation to my left about how William desires to be knighted, and prove his worth. If anyone wanted to become a knight, I would believe it to be so the three boys in front of me; at around twelve, ten and eight each, they are to be found always gabbling excitedly about sword fighting.

I finish my pork, which Edward sprinkled with nutmeg, for he thought it would be funny, take a sip of wine, and reach out for some figs.

"Elizabeth, what think you?" Henry and William turn to me, and I am distracted from a rather worrying conversation between My Lord and Lady, their eyes landing upon me.

"I know Scales sent Kempe to parley with Cade, and my brother of York indeed favours this chancellor, but does he-"

"What think I upon what matter?" I say hazily, straining to hear their hushed tones. What is happening that I do not know of involving my Father, and to do with the Cade rebellion?

"Whether-" But I never get to hear what they desire my opinion on. At that moment, one of the doors bangs open that leads off to a passageway. Everyone turns around, pausing. A silence befalls the room, even from the villagers on the lower tables. The woman standing there is panting, face flushed. She wrings her hands together, sobbing.

"My Lord, My Lady." She looks at me. "M-m-mistress."

I stare. In that instant I know.

"No. No. No." I begin to convulse. My chest heaves as I quake. Pray, please let this be a night-fright, a horrible, horrible night-fright.

"I am so very sorry," Jane whispers. I remain frozen, my eyes fixated upon her, jaw slack. A sob escapes my mouth. My heart thuds in a chest that feels most strained. It hurts. Everything hurts. I cannot breathe. My mouth opens and shuts as tears slide down my cheeks. I clench the edge of the table. The family all cast their eyes upon myself and Henry, who is staring at Jane, unmoving. This cannot be true. This cannot be happening. How can this be occurring?

I slowly push myself up from my seat. I try to breathe- but it just comes out like a horse's pants, getting faster and louder until I cannot stop. My throat becomes rasp, my own heavy breathing churning in my ears like the wheels turning rhythmically on a wagon. The great hall seems to tilt, and I clutch onto the table. My whole upper body rises up. A dagger cuts open my chest. I clench the table, bending over, crying out silently. I feel Henry's arms come on my shoulders, as I begin to screech.