The Other Elizabeth

Chapter XXI: Spring-Summer 1458

And if one climbs either the Great Tower or runs up the gatehouse tower- Mortimer's Tower, and wrenches off their headdress and feels the wind tugging and pulling their hair, and their skirts pinning themselves to one side, one is able to see an army of green twiggy fingers and the glistening azure snake of water down below. If one turns around and averts their eyes, they can see a dense dark green forest climbing into the hills, and the hills are rolling and rolling into the distance, higher and higher, streaked by sunset ribbons and rays of cream and peach.

And if one then casts their eyes down below from the Great Tower, they would see the busy courtyard down below. Wheels of wagons trundling against the cobblestones; spices being delivered to the kitchens; peddlers and merchants come to sell their wares; stable hands rushing to take horses from the York children's tutors, newly arrived; gardeners carrying baskets of herbs, and servants rushing from one arched doorway to another... I have never been so enraptured by a homestead; the juxtaposition of the hectic, working castle and the splendour of the rippling river and the glowing stars of blossoms studded on the trees. Never have I realised that nature could aspire to me, worldly Elizabeth, than the gold-worked hangings in the great hall here, measuring at around ten feet each! I find myself encompassed, running wild, and lost in nature.

"Henry," I say, turning from my thoughts as we walk around the outer walls of the grounds, "We should rather walk towards the inner bailey, for we must tidy ourselves before we sup, and there is only half an hour in which to do so." I turn to him, and stop, for so caught up in my thoughts did I not notice he had fallen to weeping again! What an awful wife I am!

"Henry!" I let out an anguished cry, tugging at his shirtsleeve. He pulls away, eyes flashing, wiping his face with his arm.

"The sun was merely hurting my eyes." I glance at the block of grey above us and look him most sceptically.

"Henry, you are a man, and you are crying. (He winces at this.) Some matter must be greatly plaguing you. Prithee-nay, I beseech you, I entreat you, I command you, you must tell me!" What can be so wrong for him to be weeping in such a public place? How do I counter this problem, when we are so estranged from one another? Does he not think I cry too, that I lay curled in a ball in my bedchamber, clutching my stomach, and letting out ugly moans, for my child? Our child.

"As you said, Elizabeth, we must make for the inner bailey." He turns curtly and walks off toward it. I hasten to catch up with him.

"Henry, please!" My words fall deaf to his ears as he paces faster. With a sigh, I crossly stride across the grass after his retreating figure, holding up my skirts. Why can he not tell me? Does he not... trust me? Are we so estranged? Is it because I do not feel the same towards him as I once did? We are a man and woman now. Some might say a barren couple.

Once inside the inner bailey, I walk past the kitchens, and almost create chaos by walking into one of the women headed for the laundry on the opposing side; eluding her, and almost entangling myself in the bridle of a priest's horse in the meantime, for there are two chapels, St Paul's, and St. Mary Magdalene's, situated in this castle. The Duke has two chapels in his own castle. Two! We now live in great splendour, and amongst great splendour, and already have I begun to speculate which of mine, or Sir Henry's manors, would even compensate a trifle once our stay is over. Henry is now a knight, yet it seems to make no difference to our lives, and he behaves no differently-he mutters once to me that he does not deserve such an honour...

I make my way to where our bedchambers are situated in the North Range, near to the circular tower that is St. Mary Magdalene's chapel. I have a small antechamber, and I find Bessie gently sleeping in the chair here. I smile with great fondness at her- she never seemingly does age- she is just Bessie, my faithful confidante, with her round, freckled face and flyaway blonde wisps, but when I find her asleep with her latest embroidery strewn in her lap, I do realise that she is becoming older, as we all have.