An Unknown Welshman
Page 30
Henry was the first to break it.
‘Madam,’ he said, ‘we do not purpose to spend this night in discomfort. The roses are very well but not, I think, in our bed!’
She looked at him startled, and seeing he was in earnest she slipped out and helped him to roll back the covers. In amicable silence they brushed the fragrant dried scraps to the floor, and climbed back again.
‘You have eaten little and drunk less today,’ said Henry, reaching for the wine and comfits. ‘Does it please you to join us?’
She was uncertain of her stomach, by reason of exhaustion and prolonged formality, and hesitated.
‘Elizabeth,’ said Henry kindly, ‘I am king of England and you are my wife, and shall shortly be queen. We have done all that our people required of us for one day. The time is now our own, and you and we may do as we please. This chamber is our private place and we shall rest and take joy in it. The ginger will aid your digestion and the wine make you merry.’
‘I will have Hippocras, my lord,’ she said softly, ‘and a piece of green ginger.’
‘And call me not your lord or your grace, while we are together, I beg of you. I am but Henry now, or Harry if that pleases you better.’
‘My father called me Bessie, even in company, my lord — Harry.’
She remembered that her father had been his enemy, and sipped her wine embarrassed. But he smiled and said the name was both pretty and plain in one.
‘You wear my ring always,’ she observed, heartened by the smile. ‘I am rejoiced it pleases you. And I shall embroider a mantle for you, and garnish your helmet with jewels, and embroider a cushion for your chair.’
‘And I shall give you all that you desire. A nightingale,’ he said, remembering his daydreams in France, ‘and a pair of clavichords, and a pomander box if you so wish.’
She clasped her hands round the gold cup, then a shadow passed over her mood.
‘Harry, they tell me you will let no paper pass without you sign it. And that — unlike my father, though I loved him too — you spend no more than is needful. I do commend you for it,’ she added hastily, ‘but what if, through no fault of my own, I spend more than you allow my household?’
‘Why then, Bessie, I must order you to the dungeon and feed you upon bread and water, until you mend your ways.’
Her open mouth made him laugh. His laugh made her smile.
‘But truly, my lord — Harry — what shall I do?’
He could see her, forehead puckered over accounts which would not balance, and kissed her hand affectionately.
‘I should help you from my privy purse, Bessie, and so make all well.’
‘I have been poor since my father died,’ she explained. ‘It is a fearful matter, Harry, to open a purse and find so little in it.’
‘And I have been poor since I was a child,’ he replied, ‘and lived on charity — and that is fearful too. So, Bessie, let us be happy while we may in this splendid chamber, and forget ill fortune. We shall be king and queen, and man and wife, together. So ruling one great family and one lesser one.’
She remembered the rough fellow in his sheepskin jacket, and laughed aloud.
‘There was a man in Cheapside today,’ she said, ‘that held a little urchin up and cried he had six sons, and wished me twice as many. And this I hope, my lord,’ she added earnestly, ‘to bear you many sons and so make safe your throne. For I am not wise in politics as is your lady mother. I cannot speak with you on the affairs of state as she does. So would I be your loving wife, and loving mother to our children, and pray God to give us long life and good health and a devout death.’
‘God grant all these things,’ he replied, touching her cup with his. Her guilelessness shamed him, who was devious and knew it. ‘I think that I shall love you for the virtue that I lack,’ he said humbly. ‘And think not that I want a queen to advise me. Betwixt the two of us, Bessie, though I listen to my mother’s counsel, I do as I think best. Only it were a sad lack of courtesy to tell her so — and once she gave me counsel better than I deserved.’
They were easy with each other now, on the comfort of the pillows, with the comfort of spiced wine in their stomachs, and the comfort of fire and candle-light, under the dull sheen of the tester.
‘We have waited for each other, madam, and been kept waiting, long enough. I think we know ourselves a little better than we did. We’ll warm cold policy with gentle hearts — and you shall be crowned queen, Bessie, as soon as England seems at rest.’
‘Your will is mine, my lord, and ever shall be.’
He kissed the long fingers and soft cheeks, and stroked the silver fall of hair.
‘If you would bear twelve princes, lady,’ he said, smiling, ‘we should wait no longer.’
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
My thanks go first to Major Kenneth Adams for saying ‘Now Henry Tudor had a very interesting early life!’ and so beginning the whole venture. The Borough Librarian of Merton, Mr E. J. Adsett, F.L.A., Mr Gordon Richards of the Wimbledon Park Branch, and their staff, surpassed even former efforts by producing a legion of books from all over the country for my research. The British Museum has filled inevitable gaps, and given me hours of opportunity for quiet study. Mr Laurence Nobes of Anglesey appointed himself researcher for much of the Welsh background, both giving and lending books. Miss Josephine Pullein-Thompson enlightened my ignorance on medieval horses, Wyatt Rawson produced information on a number of subjects, from Welsh myths to medieval costume. Miss Audrey Williamson not only lent but personally annotated books on medieval music, and offered her own treatise on Richard III for my interest. And no doubt I owe some gratitude to chance, for being Lancastrian born and bred and having a grandmother whose maiden name was Alice Maud Owen, which made sure whose side I was on.
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Copyright © The Estate of Jean Stubbs, 2018
First published in Great Britain in 1972 by Macmillan London Ltd.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events, other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.
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