Plantagenet Princess, Tudor Queen: The Story of Elizabeth of York

by Samantha Wilcoxson

  The lines at the corners of Elizabeth Woodville’s eyes deepened and her lips grew thin. “What of your brothers? Do you have not a care that this man you claim to love has murdered them?”

  Elizabeth closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her mother still believed this to be true. Cecily was starting to believe it, too. The rumors still flew around the kingdom that Richard had put his nephews to death to secure his hold on the crown. She could not bring herself to believe it. Her father had trusted Richard, and so did she.

  “I do not believe that they have been murdered.”

  Rather than responding in anger, Elizabeth’s mother simply looked tired. “I will not argue this case with you any longer. God will choose the victor, and therefore your husband, when Henry invades this summer.”

  Elizabeth ran to her mother and threw herself on the floor at her feet. “Mother, you know of invasion plans? We must go to the King at once!”

  “Surely he knows. The man certainly employs spies and does not require information from me.” She dismissed further comments with a wave of her hand. “Of course Henry will attempt to take the crown. It is what his mother, Margaret Stanley, insists is his destiny. While I do not share your love of Richard, or your trust in him, I am willing to wait and support the victor of God’s choosing.”

  There was no point in saying more. After a rushed and shallow curtsey, Elizabeth hastened from the room with golden hair and flowing fabric trailing behind her.

  ~~~~

  Three days later, trunks and crates were scattered through Elizabeth’s rooms with servants scuttling about to fill them with her belongings. She had rushed to Richard to inform him of what she had heard only to find out that her mother was correct. He knew. He was spurred into action by the fact that news had reached her and that her mother was planning on welcoming Tudor with open arms should he miraculously be successful. He decided that she and her unmarried sisters would follow her brothers north.

  She blinked tears from her eyes as she watched her gowns being carefully folded and packed. Had she been foolish to think he would propose marriage? Elizabeth wondered if Richard believed that she, too, was planning to lovingly welcome Tudor. She hoped that she never had cause to meet the man in her life!

  The one bright light in this forced exile, for she could see it as nothing else, was that she was likely to be able to visit her brothers soon. Though she did not know exactly where Richard had set up their residence, she knew that her party was being sent to Sherriff Hutton. Her cousins, the children of Richard’s brother George, the young Earl of Warwick, and his sister, Margaret, would be joining them. She hoped that they would not be such a distance apart that she must still be kept from her brothers.

  A knock at the door broke into her thoughts of the boys with red-gold hair like their father’s.

  “Yes, who is there?” Before the question was asked her sister’s head peeked through the doorframe.

  Elizabeth quickly stumbled around the scattered obstacles to embrace Cecily. “I am so glad to get to see you before I leave!”

  “And I would not let you leave without a proper farewell.”

  Tears stood on Cecily’s cheeks when Elizabeth released her hold on her. “Cecily, whatever is the matter?”

  Not able to stop the flow of tears, Cecily gave them free reign and stooped to seat herself on the closest trunk. She held up her hand to indicate that she needed a minute to compose herself. Elizabeth waited impatiently, wringing her hands as Cecily struggled to compose herself.

  “I am afraid that I will never see you again,” Cecily finally admitted. “Like our brothers.”

  “Oh, Cecily!” Elizabeth pulled her younger sister and best friend into her arms with a firm grip. “You have nothing to concern yourself with! I am going with a full escort and our cousin of Warwick.” Cecily had recently been married to Ralph Scrope and would not be joining her unmarried sisters on their journey north.

  “It is true that he is not sneaking you away from London as he did with Edward and Richard, but I cannot help but be frightened. I love you so, Bess!”

  Squeezing her even tighter, Elizabeth replied, “And I love you, more than anyone else, my sweet sister.” She freed her grip enough to look into Cecily’s eyes that were shining with tears. “I promise you that there is nothing to fear. Tudor’s planned invasion will amount to nothing more than a minor headache. Then I hope that I and our brothers will be able to return to court.”

  “You really still believe him don’t you? I admit that I thought the worst when I heard that he was sending you away with Edward. After all, our cousin of Warwick has the strongest claim to the throne after our brothers.”

  Elizabeth did not admit out loud that she had not thought about it quite that way. Maybe Cecily and her mother were right and she was being too trusting. It was too late for doubts. “I have no concerns whatsoever,” she stated firmly. “I will return once this threat is crushed.” Attempting a lighter tone, she added, “We can hardly have Henry Tudor succeeding in abducting me and forcing me into this insane marriage he has proposed!”

  Cecily did not smile but did seem somewhat reassured. She placed a kiss on her sister’s cheek. She hoped that it was not for the last time. “Thank you for your confident words, Bess. God go with you.”

  Elizabeth did not let her moment of doubt linger. Soon she was travelling through the countryside, taking deep breaths of cool air filled with scents of greenery. During the trip she found herself drawn to her young cousin who reminded her of her absent brothers. Edward of Warwick proved to be a delightful traveling companion, and they took advantage of the opportunity to get to know one another better. At other times, her thoughts strayed to visions of the wedding that she hoped would take place once Richard had dealt with the Welsh milksop.

  ~~~~

  Sherriff Hutton finally appeared in the distance, its four strong towers standing like sentinels at each corner. Elizabeth’s fingers clasped Edward’s arm as she leaned over to point out their new home to him.

  “There it is, Edward! Sherriff Hutton. Of course, you must have been here before.” Sometimes Elizabeth had a difficult time connecting this docile cousin to her memories of her blustering uncle George, his father. He had matched her father in looks but never in personality. His scheming and betrayals had finally ended in his execution in 1478. At the time she had been too young to question her father’s decision. Now, as she looked at the profile of her cousin, she wondered if she could ever order the execution of a close family member.

  “I have,” Edward replied. “I think so.” He wrinkled his forehead in thought. Edward was ten years old, but Elizabeth was sure that her younger siblings had been more advanced in their thinking at that age. Of course, Edward had been somewhat neglected since being left an orphan at three years old, an orphan that everyone chose to forget had the strongest claim to the throne.

  “No matter,” Elizabeth assured him with her arm around his thin shoulders. “We shall enjoy our time here until our uncle Richard comes to collect us.” She squeezed him to her, bringing a smile of contentment to his face and crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I cannot wait until we can explore the grounds! What do you look forward to, Edward?”

  This time he required no time to think. “The stables!” He looked at her with such happiness in his bright blue eyes that she wondered when was the last time someone had asked him what he would enjoy. “Do you think they may have puppies, Elizabeth? And I would love to ride out on a pony. Could I learn to brush the horses when they come in from riding?” he asked in a whirlwind of excitement.

  “Well, it’s not a typical pastime for one of noble blood,” Elizabeth laughed. “But I’m sure that we can find a kind stable boy to take you under his wing.”

  Edward chattered on about the adventures that he and Elizabeth would have together until their caravan pulled into Sherriff Hutton’s courtyard. The opportunity to give her love and attention to another young person clearly in need of a friend was a sa
lve to Elizabeth’s emotional wounds.

  After settling into her rooms, Elizabeth sought out Edward. Did she enjoy his company because he reminded her of her own younger brothers or because she felt he must be a something like her father was as a child? A little of both, she decided.

  “Edward, shall we go on an adventure?” she asked him with her voice filled with the promise of excitement.

  “Oh, yes, Elizabeth!” he exclaimed jumping down from the alcove bench he had been seated on. Spindly legs carried him quickly to her side and reddish blonde hair fell into his eyes when he gazed up at her.

  She brushed the hair from his face and leaned down to be eye to eye with him. “You must call me Bess since we are cousins and such good friends.”

  A smile full of joy and crooked teeth was her reward. He took her hand and they strode toward the courtyard.

  “Shall we ask first about the kennels or the stable?” she asked him.

  “Hmmm…” Edward wrinkled his freckled nose when thinking, and the action pulled at Elizabeth’s heart it reminded her so much of her brother of the same name. “Puppies! Let’s see if there are puppies!” Having made his decision, he released her hand to run in the direction that seemed likeliest to him to contain the kennels.

  Laughing, Elizabeth gathered her skirts to quickly follow him.

  “You must have the nose of a hunting dog yourself!” Elizabeth said after finding Edward sitting on the kennel floor surrounded by a litter of puppies. “Found them right away, did you?”

  “Look at this one, Bess,” he said holding up a wiggling brown pup that took the opportunity to lick Edward’s nose. He giggled and held the tiny dog to his chest in unabashed pleasure. “This one is my favorite.”

  “And how have you decided that already?” Elizabeth asked as she attempted to crouch down to his level without ruining the fabric of her dress.

  “She likes me,” he stated simply.

  Elizabeth reached out and ruffled his silky hair. To take happiness from life’s simple blessings. If only more people could be as easily contented as Edward.

  Upon reaching her bed that evening, Elizabeth meditated on the young earl of Warwick. Was he a naturally happy and simple little boy or had the lack of love in his life made a pup’s kiss an exorbitant act of affection to him? She was determined that he would never again feel that none cared for him.

  Their weeks at Sherriff Hutton went by quickly as the cousins enjoyed the summer weather and many places to explore. Their days became filled with riding on the moors, finding hidden nooks in the castle, and playing with Edward’s dog – for the little brown pup had fallen in love with Edward as much as he had with her that first day. Any other adventure the two could imagine was explored until they fell into bed in exhaustion each night. Only when Elizabeth had a few quiet moments to herself did she remember that she had hoped to visit her brothers while in residence in the north. She still did not know exactly where Richard had sent them, only that they should be close. She wasn’t sure who she could ask now that she was here. Who would Richard have confided in?

  She resolved to make the time special for Edward, until such a time as she could obtain information about her brothers. The chapel at Sherriff Hutton was a place that they frequently visited to pray for the success and health of their uncle Richard. News took days to reach them when anyone remembered that they were there and may like to hear of it. Elizabeth heard that there were rumors of Henry Tudor attempting to land on English soil. Of her uncle’s public denial that he had any plans to marry her, she was not informed.

  August 1485

  Edward found Bess on her knees in the chapel. He did not wonder why he found her there more often as the weeks turned into months but simply took a place at her side as he said his own silent prayers: keep King Richard safe, give his sister Margaret good health, and let him stay here with Bess as long as he can.

  Elizabeth crossed herself and stood, still gazing at the crucifix on the altar. Dear God, please grant your servant Richard victory and send him here to gather us, she prayed. Edward mimicked her motions without the tension and worry that covered Elizabeth’s countenance.

  Sounds of horses and chaos in the courtyard filled their ears as they turned to leave the chapel. Excitement lit up Edward’s face as he had no thoughts of the riders possibly bringing bad news. The gladness that Elizabeth expressed was forced, but Edward didn’t notice.

  “Wait!” she said grabbing his hand when he made to run down the corridor. “Let’s observe from here.” She directed him to a narrow opening that looked down upon the courtyard. She peered at the banners and emblems on the men’s horses, but the lack of wind left the banner unfurled and she couldn’t quite make out the small medallions. The colors were not Richard’s.

  She felt as if an anchor had been dropped into her stomach as one of the banners caught enough breeze for her to recognize it as that of Henry Tudor.

  Elizabeth turned so that her back was against the wall and slid to the floor with a moan.

  What did this mean? Richard defeated? Impossible!

  Edward kneeled next to her, still oblivious to the reason for her distress. “What is it, Bess? Whose men are they?”

  His face was all innocence and trust. Elizabeth looked blankly at him and wondered when her tears would fall. The crushing weight inside her made her question her ability to stand.

  “Oh, Edward,” she whispered. “They are men of Henry Tudor.” Her words felt false to her own ears, and Edward furrowed his brow upon hearing them. Elizabeth gazed into space, not certain what she should do or what had happened. Were Henry’s men here to abduct her and force her to fulfill the betrothal promise that her mother had made? Where was Richard?

  “I can sneak down and listen in,” Edward said. Before she could stop him, he had scampered away.

  After a moment she realized that eavesdropping was likely her best chance at receiving complete information. She could not wait for one of the men to decide when and how much to tell her. The hidden alcove Edward would spy from was known to her as well. She forced herself to her feet to follow him there.

  Tudor’s men seemed in high spirits, not like men on the run from the king they had betrayed. Elizabeth clenched her hands in the fabric of her skirt in an attempt to keep them from shaking. She was sure that she would not like what she was about to hear.

  “We are here to escort the Princess Elizabeth and the Earl of Warwick to London,” a man Elizabeth did not recognize stated. He looked dirty and worn, but not distressed.

  “On whose authority do you make such a request?” asked the warden of Sherriff Hutton who certainly recognized the Tudor emblems.

  “On the authority of King Henry VII!” exclaimed the man proudly. He scanned the courtyard as he made this declaration, daring anyone present to declare their dissention.

  “King?” Elizabeth whispered, immediately realizing what the announcement inferred.

  “But uncle Richard is king,” Edward pointed out in his childlike way. What would this mean for Edward, with the Plantagenet blood in his veins?

  “He was,” she managed to whisper before the tears finally came.

  She held back a whimper as the men carried on.

  “King Henry VII?” questioned the warden. He was in the precarious position of needing to appear loyal to whomever held the most power.

  Tudor’s man took a step closer to the warden and made a point of looking down at him. “His grace, Henry Tudor was crowned on the twenty-second of August at Bosworth Field after the defeat of the usurper Richard of Gloucester.”

  Elizabeth could not listen to more. She ran from her hiding place careless of who saw her or knew what she had overheard. Richard dead! If Henry was king, she would be forced to marry him. She ran on ignoring the shouts following her out of the courtyard. She ran out onto the moor feeling the long grasses whip around her ankles. She wished that she could run away from Sherriff Hutton, away from England. Away from Henry Tudor.

  Her mo
ther would be pleased.

  A stitch formed in her side and she fell headlong to the ground with tears streaming down her face. The life that she thought she was going to have flashed before her eyes. Life with Richard. She sobbed and tore at the headpiece that had become loose, pulling it from her hair and taking her anger out on it as she shredded it in her hands. Her unbound hair spilled around her in the grass, but she paid no heed to the weeds it gathered as she thrashed in misery. She would be allowed only this one unguarded moment to vent her agony before the inevitable return to the castle where she would be expected to be the tactful princess.

  Speculation on how Richard had met his end flashed like cruel visions through her mind. He would have gone down fighting, of that she was certain. But how could things have gone so wrong? She prayed that he had not been treated dishonorably and had died quickly in battle. She was sure that was what he would have wanted. She received little comfort by believing it was true. How could it matter when he was gone? She tried to thank God for welcoming Richard into the heavenly realm, but only succeeded in being angry that he had been welcomed there too soon. God had taken so many of the people she loved.

  The tears that she thought would never stop truly only lasted a few minutes. Her hands ran over her face, wiping away tears and massaging the puffiness around her eyes. She did not know what she should do, only that she had to return to the castle. She and her sisters, along with Edward and Margaret, would be expected to welcome Henry as their savior. She must find strength.

  She determined first only to find the strength to stand. Then enough to return to her rooms. Maybe then she could pack her things. She must take one step at a time, and maybe by the time she reached London she would be prepared to be introduced to her prospective husband.

  Her first steps returned her to the Sherriff Hutton chapel where she begged God for the courage to face her future.