Prologue: 1442
Scales Hall, Norfolk, England
"Bessie, what ails my Lady Mother?" I ask my nursemaid, peering up at her frowning countenance. My Lady Mother's sobs travel down the stairs; she sounds like one of those unfortunate souls who is racked at the Tower. Of course, she would never be suspected of treason as those people are; my family is loyal to the crown, and My Lord Father is always talking of how high in King Henry's esteem he is, on his visits home. My Lady Mother's sudden scream jolts me almost through the window of my bedchamber and out into the frozen moat below.
"Thomas!" she wails. My eyes open wider; this is both the name of my Lord Father and my pesky older brother.
"Bessie, I must go to her at once!" I cry. Before she can stop me, I have gathered up my skirts and rushed to my Lady Mother's bedchamber. I walk in on her in a most dishevelled state, rocking backwards and forwards on her chair, clutching her rosary beads, with her maids Agnes and Kateren beside her. She looks up, tears streaking down her face, blanched snow white. She has no headdress atop her hair, not even slippers on her shaking feet. She is just in her shift, and I have never seen her in such a state, not even after her last miscarriage, when another of my little brothers or sisters went to Heaven. I begin to tremble.
"Lady Mother?" I whisper, as a silence befalls the room. Agnes and Kateren glance at one another. My Lady Mother places a quivering hand to her mouth.
"Would you like us to leave, My Lady?" Agnes says, and my Lady Mother nods. They curtsey and scurry out, and I am left alone with this shivering wreck, who beckons me to her. I step forward slowly, feeling as if I am walking towards my own Doomsday, which, perhaps I am.
"Oh Elizabeth, my dear child," she says in a hoarse voice. I clutch a balled fist to my heart, suddenly feeling a stab of fear.
"There is some news I must- I must tell you. Your brother Thomas-" she gulps, face creasing up, "He has gone to Heaven. He died in his sleep last night." I blink, staring at her like a block of ice. My brother- my loud, boisterous, mischievous brother?
She shakes me rather violently, eyes wide. "You do understand what this means?"
"Yes, Lady Mother, but what I do not understand is why my brother would not go to purgatory. He was always wicked to me- he tried to push me in the fishponds and chased me in the dovecote."
My Lady Mother lets out a little scream, rising from her seat. Obviously having heard, Agnes and Kateren peer around the bedchamber door with warning glances, eyes widening at My Lady Mother's poised hand. I stand stock still as she lowers it, blinking back furious tears. She was going to strike me... Clearly, I should not have said that.
"Oh goodness, oh goodness." She pauses to let out another strangled sob through gritted teeth, "Elizabeth, you cannot speak ill of the dead. He was your brother- your-your only brother."
She then turns sharply to Agnes and Kateren. "Well, has a messenger been sent to tell my Lord Husband? It is imperative he knows. He needs to know. He needs to know." They shake their heads, bowing them slightly. I know that My Lord Father is in Rouen, over the seas, standing with the honour of godfather to his friend Richard, Duke of York's son, when his own has just died. Thomas is dead. My brother is dead. I only saw him last week- how can this have happened? Why did no person tell me? How can death claim one so quickly? I thought the fever was abating...
"And Sir Richard Wydeville's wife Jacquetta had her daughter Elizabeth in mind for Thomas' hand in marriage. We were talking of these plans only last week... Such fruitless, fruitless plans now," my Lady Mother murmurs to herself.
"Elizabeth?" I look up, trying to make sense of all these events.
"Not you, little Elizabeth Wydeville," she snaps, a
Scales Hall, Norfolk, England
"Bessie, what ails my Lady Mother?" I ask my nursemaid, peering up at her frowning countenance. My Lady Mother's sobs travel down the stairs; she sounds like one of those unfortunate souls who is racked at the Tower. Of course, she would never be suspected of treason as those people are; my family is loyal to the crown, and My Lord Father is always talking of how high in King Henry's esteem he is, on his visits home. My Lady Mother's sudden scream jolts me almost through the window of my bedchamber and out into the frozen moat below.
"Thomas!" she wails. My eyes open wider; this is both the name of my Lord Father and my pesky older brother.
"Bessie, I must go to her at once!" I cry. Before she can stop me, I have gathered up my skirts and rushed to my Lady Mother's bedchamber. I walk in on her in a most dishevelled state, rocking backwards and forwards on her chair, clutching her rosary beads, with her maids Agnes and Kateren beside her. She looks up, tears streaking down her face, blanched snow white. She has no headdress atop her hair, not even slippers on her shaking feet. She is just in her shift, and I have never seen her in such a state, not even after her last miscarriage, when another of my little brothers or sisters went to Heaven. I begin to tremble.
"Lady Mother?" I whisper, as a silence befalls the room. Agnes and Kateren glance at one another. My Lady Mother places a quivering hand to her mouth.
"Would you like us to leave, My Lady?" Agnes says, and my Lady Mother nods. They curtsey and scurry out, and I am left alone with this shivering wreck, who beckons me to her. I step forward slowly, feeling as if I am walking towards my own Doomsday, which, perhaps I am.
"Oh Elizabeth, my dear child," she says in a hoarse voice. I clutch a balled fist to my heart, suddenly feeling a stab of fear.
"There is some news I must- I must tell you. Your brother Thomas-" she gulps, face creasing up, "He has gone to Heaven. He died in his sleep last night." I blink, staring at her like a block of ice. My brother- my loud, boisterous, mischievous brother?
She shakes me rather violently, eyes wide. "You do understand what this means?"
"Yes, Lady Mother, but what I do not understand is why my brother would not go to purgatory. He was always wicked to me- he tried to push me in the fishponds and chased me in the dovecote."
My Lady Mother lets out a little scream, rising from her seat. Obviously having heard, Agnes and Kateren peer around the bedchamber door with warning glances, eyes widening at My Lady Mother's poised hand. I stand stock still as she lowers it, blinking back furious tears. She was going to strike me... Clearly, I should not have said that.
"Oh goodness, oh goodness." She pauses to let out another strangled sob through gritted teeth, "Elizabeth, you cannot speak ill of the dead. He was your brother- your-your only brother."
She then turns sharply to Agnes and Kateren. "Well, has a messenger been sent to tell my Lord Husband? It is imperative he knows. He needs to know. He needs to know." They shake their heads, bowing them slightly. I know that My Lord Father is in Rouen, over the seas, standing with the honour of godfather to his friend Richard, Duke of York's son, when his own has just died. Thomas is dead. My brother is dead. I only saw him last week- how can this have happened? Why did no person tell me? How can death claim one so quickly? I thought the fever was abating...
"And Sir Richard Wydeville's wife Jacquetta had her daughter Elizabeth in mind for Thomas' hand in marriage. We were talking of these plans only last week... Such fruitless, fruitless plans now," my Lady Mother murmurs to herself.
"Elizabeth?" I look up, trying to make sense of all these events.
"Not you, little Elizabeth Wydeville," she snaps, as Kateren hands a cup of ale to her.
"Elizabeth Wydeville," I repeat the enchanting name, rolling each syllable over my tongue, "Elizabeth Wydeville." Then I blink, because suddenly it truly hits me that my brother, however wicked I think he may be, is dead, he is dead, and I am the heir, my Lord Father's only heir, unless my Lady Mother conceives again, and everything I know is irrevocably changed. I start weeping, but that name sticks in my head, almost like a soothing chant as the chapel bell tolls out for my brother's untimely death.
Elizabeth Wydeville, Elizabeth Wydeville, Elizabeth Wydeville...
s Kateren hands a cup of ale to her.
"Elizabeth Wydeville," I repeat the enchanting name, rolling each syllable over my tongue, "Elizabeth Wydeville." Then I blink, because suddenly it truly hits me that my brother, however wicked I think he may be, is dead, he is dead, and I am the heir, my Lord Father's only heir, unless my Lady Mother conceives again, and everything I know is irrevocably changed. I start weeping, but that name sticks in my head, almost like a soothing chant as the chapel bell tolls out for my brother's untimely death.
Elizabeth Wydeville, Elizabeth Wydeville, Elizabeth Wydeville...