The Other Elizabeth

Chapter XXVII: June-July 1460

I never thought of the eventuality of either my Lord Father or her dying, oh God forbid it, and now... 'tis slowly happening. I am not ready. I know not what is worse- hearing of Henry's death so suddenly, or watching my Mother slip away so slowly, and having the time to prepare. I regret our times spent quarrelling and almost forgive her for the feelings of loveless-ness she imparted into me as a child. She is not a woman of stone; she is a woman of great heartbreak and strength, who actually fought for me a great deal, and loved me from afar. And now I have turned into a younger version of her - cuckolded, seeing our husbands with another, and the shared pain of losing children that were so precious, the inability to produce an heir, the great feelings of inadequacy and failure... An heir...

I have heard naught from or about Anthony, whom I dearly hope is alive. I could not possibly know whom else to marry in the eventuality. Not one of my kinsmen, for sure, they are all snivelling boys, not handsome gallants such as Anthony. Besides, I would have no such money for a papal dispensation either. My Lady Jacquetta is rather hopeful of formally sealing the match and the uniting of our two families, sending word whenever she can. I wonder whether I shall truly fall in love with Anthony- or if our marriage will end up turning into one of business, as most are, yet I hate to think of it in such a way. I am older now, but my thoughts of troubadours, richness, glory- they never cease to fade.

"Another letter," Agnes says, red in the face, and panting, as she enters my Mother's bedchamber. My heart leaps every time, for I pray it is word of Anthony, that he has been released, and he is on his way to claim me. I refuse to accept that the Yorkists would have suddenly slain him and his father. Edward, the youth Edward, my friend, cannot have committed such a wicked act! My kinsman, my Father's godson, would not slay my only chance of happiness, the man who saved me from the pillaging at Ludlow, a knight in bloody armour. Anthony has done naught, naught wrong. I only wish I could save him- but the idea is preposterous- how would I go about such a task, when I know not whether he be in Calais, France, or Heaven?

I sigh, but a smile weakly crosses my face as I recognise my dear friend Lady Eleanor's penmanship, small and sharp. Lizzie- oh, how I do wish so many did not address me thus- I do not want to be reminded of Henry when I am looking forward to my years with Anthony. Should I tell Anthony what happened? Lizzie, the cannons and guns have been fired from the Tower! I swallow, as my Mother looks over at me in wonderment. Cannons? The Lord your father, and my husband Lord Hungerford have refused the York army into the city, but alas, they are streaming through onto and over the bridges, as the city authorities have opened the gates with widened arms- they are hearing orations with the Lord Warwick at St Paul's Cathedral. Lizzie, I mean to cause you and my good kinswoman your lady mother no grief, but as commanders of the Tower, they are the object of ill-will, as they fight against the Yorkists- mostly comprised of Kentishmen, spurred on by the Archbishop of Canterbury- was he not your late husband's uncle? 'Tis fortunate that you are no longer bound by marriage to the York affinity!

Agnes and Kateren help my Mother to sit up in her bed as she leans forward. "What has transpired, Elizabeth?" Her voice is frail. I steady my breathing as I take in the last passage of her most foreboding letter. The Lord your father, I am most sorry to say, is the despised on the part of the Londoners. He has greatly injured many of the townspeople, burning them, sometimes killing them, bombarding down upon them wildfire, or as some may call it, open fire, with traces of gunpowder contained in it; chemical weapons as well as artillery in his attempt to fend off Warwick and Salisbury. There are reports of nigh 60,000 men, although many of the Yorkists are advancing north. The Duke of York is expected to invade, and Salisbury continues to besiege the Tower. I shall pray for your father, and I my husband.