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

by Samantha Wilcoxson

  “You do not believe it could be Richard either?” he asked, needing her reassurance.

  “I do not.”

  He leaned over and laid his head upon her breast. She combed her fingers through his thinning hair and comforted him as if he were her child.

  ~~~~

  “Margaret, I would like to accompany you the next time you visit your brother.”

  Margaret looked somewhat taken aback by the unexpected request. Elizabeth’s visits to Edward had become less frequent as his time of imprisonment lengthened. Assuming that her cousin was plagued by guilt, Margaret had ceased inviting her.

  “Of course, Bess,” Margaret replied, attempting to keep her voice neutral. “I was planning to visit Edward tomorrow and take him some new books.”

  “Is there anything else he needs?”

  His freedom. Margaret wished that she could say it, but knew that it was not within Elizabeth’s power. “He does require ways to fill his time. It is difficult for a boy his age to be alone without entertainment.”

  Elizabeth pursed her lips and fingered a fold of her skirt while she thought. “What of a dog?”

  “I do not know what his gaolers would think of that.”

  “But, Edward,” Elizabeth pressed. “He would be delighted, would he not?”

  Finally, Margaret caught Elizabeth’s excitement. “Yes, Bess. He undoubtedly would be.”

  The next day saw the cousins set out to visit Edward at the Tower, carrying satchels of books and treats and a puppy nipping at their heels. Elizabeth chastised herself for staying away so long when she saw the way Edward’s eyes lit up when she entered his room, but it did not compare to the burst of joy when his new cellmate jumped into his arms.

  “Edward, I have missed you,” Elizabeth said, pulling him into a tight embrace.

  “I miss you, too, Bess. I’m sure that you are busy being queen,” he said without anger.

  “I am blessed with a forgiving cousin,” Elizabeth ruffled the hair of the boy and the dog in turn. “Are you kept well?”

  “Yes, I have my books. Margaret is always nice to bring me things, and I get outside when I can.”

  “I will make sure that you are given adequate time in the courtyard.” Edward was a boy, not a criminal. She saw little reason for him to be kept under close guard, or kept at all for that matter.

  “Bess, remember when we built that fort out of branches and weeds?”

  Edward did not have to remind her of their time in the north. It entered her mind whenever she was too weak to push it aside. It made her question whether she was doing the right thing, marrying Henry and allowing Edward to remain in the Tower, whenever she brought out those memories.

  “It was great fun,” she said in a low whisper that carried more emotion than Edward’s question required.

  Margaret’s eyes flashed to Elizabeth, and she vowed that she would no longer let Henry’s actions create a wall between them.

  After spending the afternoon discussing happier times, Elizabeth gave strict directions to Edward’s guards that he was to have time outdoors each day. This would be in their interest as well, she had informed them, since he had a dog that would need to be exercised. The stern face she had put forth to them evaporated into a girlish smile when she turned to Margaret. They left the Tower with much lighter hearts than they had arrived with.

  As they strolled through the gardens before returning to Elizabeth’s rooms, Elizabeth was happy to have what she believed to be happy news to impart.

  “Margaret, I believe that Henry has a match in mind for you.”

  Her forehead creased and eyes narrowed, Margaret seemed to take a moment to understand what Elizabeth was saying. The moment the truth dawned on her was obvious as her expression shifted to wide eyed wonder.

  Elizabeth laughed as she pulled the younger woman to her side. “You know of Richard Pole, he is Henry’s Constable of Harlech and Montgomery castles, and I believe I may have even seen you casting admiring glances his way.”

  Margaret blushed and turned her head away. She had not believed that Henry would think of a marriage for her with Edward in prison and Cecily still unmarried. She also had not thought her observations of Sir Richard Pole were so obvious.

  “He is acceptable to you?”

  “Quite, your grace,” Margaret managed to mumble as conflicting emotions held her tongue captive. She felt Elizabeth’s hand on her cheek and forced herself to look up.

  “I believe that he will make you quite happy, and you deserve happiness and a loving household.”

  “Thank you, Bess. But what about Edward?”

  Elizabeth released a sigh upon hearing the question she knew Margaret would ask. Gently pushing back a few strands of auburn hair that had strayed from Margaret’s veil, she gave voice to her prepared response. “You cannot put your life on hold because of Edward’s situation. I will continue to encourage Henry to release him, but, in the meantime, your future has been determined. The Welsh countryside will be a welcome change, and you can write to Edward frequently. I will take over your visits to him.”

  Seeing the torn look on Margaret’s face, Elizabeth continued. “You must look to the path that God has laid out for you until it becomes clear what his plans are for your brother. It is all either of us can do.”

  Finally, a hesitant smile reached Margaret’s lips. “He is acceptable to me, Bess. Sir Richard, I mean. Quite acceptable.”

  ~~~~

  The next time Elizabeth spoke to her husband, the circumstances were more encouraging. Although rumors of rebels gathering in the north continued, Henry had not yet moved to put the revolt down. Soon he would be leaving to do so, and Elizabeth relished their time together before he must leave her again. They walked hand in hand through the garden enjoying the scents of spring.

  “I have decided upon a husband for your sister,” Henry said.

  “For Cecily?”

  He laughed. “Well, not for Catherine or Bridget, who are not yet ten years old.”

  “Of course,” she said, laughing at herself. “I had just not thought about the subject for some time. She will be thrilled!”

  “I do hope so. I have chosen John Welles, my mother’s half-brother.

  Elizabeth was thoughtful as she tried to remember what she could about Viscount Welles. He must be close to twenty years older than Cecily, but that was not necessarily a problem. He seemed healthy and successful. His close blood relationship to the king was a point in his favor, of course, but he also was not too highly ranked, which would please Cecily.

  “I’m sure he is a wise choice.”

  “I am glad it pleases you,” Henry said. “I will present the idea to John as soon as possible.”

  “You have not asked him?”

  “No, I thought to ask your opinion first.”

  Elizabeth squeezed his hand. “I am honored, your grace.”

  He looked sideways at her to see the playful smile on her face.

  “I would be certain that I have the approval of my queen,” he said, turning toward her.

  “Your queen?”

  “Yes. Your coronation has been put off long enough as well. We shall have you crowned in November when travel to London is made easier by weather and crops are all put up for winter.”

  “Oh, Henry!” she exclaimed and flung herself into his arms. “This does mean so much to me.” She refused to be hurt by the months that had gone by before her crowning was scheduled, but would be happy that planning would begin.

  He kissed her ardently before replying. “It is about time,” he admitted. “You are a patient and generous wife.”

  “I trust you, Henry.”

  She did not add that she was aware of his mother’s conspiring to delay her coronation, most notably until she had proven that she could produce an heir. Let her be content with them both then. Henry had adhered to her wishes, and Elizabeth had given birth to a perfect baby boy. The Lady Margaret had no further reasons to put the occasion off.
/>   He took her into his arms again, and no more words were spoken.

  June 1487

  Henry had left to put down the revolt in the north. Fervent York supporters gathered around the boy that they knew could not possibly be either Richard, duke of York, or Edward, earl of Warwick. Elizabeth still wasn’t sure what their end goal was. A prince who combined the houses of Lancaster and York was heir to the throne. How could they not support him?

  She was crushed when word started filtering back to her about who was involved in the rebellion. Her cousin, John de la Pole, the earl of Lincoln, began to appear as the leader of the revolt. He was son to her father’s sister, Elizabeth, and had been named Richard’s heir when his son died. Elizabeth wondered if he was fighting now in the name of this false prince in order to take the crown that had been once promised to him. She was stunned that he was willing to take it from her son’s head in the process. Fighting against Henry was one thing, but Arthur had as much York blood as John did.

  Surprising many die hard Yorkists, John had reconciled himself to Henry’s reign after Richard’s defeat. Rather than pressing his own claim as Richard’s heir, he had served at Henry’s court for over a year before disappearing. It was discovered that he had fled to Margaret of Burgundy, sister of Richard III and Edward IV. From there, he began his work as a rebel.

  The young pretender had been crowned as Edward VI in Dublin on May 24th. Apparently they had decided that he was Edward of Warwick rather than claiming her brother’s identity. The ridiculousness of it made anger rise in Elizabeth’s chest. John certainly knew that the true earl of Warwick was held in the Tower of London, so what was his real goal? What had Henry done to drive him away?

  The rebellion boiled over at Stoke on June 16th. The false Edward VI’s troops were led by the earl of Lincoln. John de Vere, earl of Oxford and long time supporter of Henry Tudor, led the king’s troops against Lincoln’s Irish mercenary forces. The Yorkists did not stand a chance against the strength of the loyal Lancastrians and those Yorkists who had decided to support their queen and the united royal family.

  When Elizabeth received word that John de la Pole had been one of the many killed in battle, she cried for him and for all the unnecessary losses she had experienced in her short life. He was one more good man gone far too early due to pride and the quest for glory. So many lives had been lost to the warring between Lancaster and York. It would end now because nobody remained to carry it on.

  ~~~~

  When Henry returned to London, he was welcomed by joyful crowds and a grateful wife. She was surprised at the intense feelings that coursed through her body as he embraced her. Their marriage had begun with love that she gave in obedience. The love she felt for him now was full and freely given.

  “Thank the Lord that you have returned victorious,” she said when he held her at arm’s length.

  “He was with us,” Henry agreed. “I am sorry about your cousin.”

  Elizabeth closed her eyes and pictured John, young, handsome, and impetuous. “He knew the path he was choosing when he rebelled against his rightful and anointed king.”

  Henry tilted her face upwards. “And I’m sure that knowing that makes his loss no less painful.”

  Elizabeth smiled through the tears threatening to spill. “You are an understanding husband, Henry. I thank God for placing us together.”

  “As do I,” he said, pulling her more firmly against his body.

  Henry left orders for horses to be cared for and men to be accommodated, so that he could retire with Elizabeth to her rooms. When they wanted to be alone, it was to her suite that they escaped since his rooms were still connected to his mother’s. Margaret took a fierce amount of pleasure in having Henry at her beck and call. Elizabeth took some comfort in the number of times Margaret used the connecting door only to find that Henry had decided to sleep in Elizabeth’s bed.

  This would be one of those nights. Elizabeth arranged for a bath to be brought up and prepared for her husband. As she did, she smiled at the memory of her parents disappearing to bathe when her father had returned victorious from exile. She had been jealous that her father’s love for her mother was greater than his love for her. Thankfulness overwhelmed her that she unexpectedly found herself in love in the same way. Henry was as completely different from her father as night from day, but Elizabeth had found that she appreciated some of these contrasts, though it did not make her love her father less.

  After Henry had been bathed quite completely, they relaxed in Elizabeth’s private sitting room with shutters opened to let in a cooling breeze. The sun shone in, and one could believe that all was right with the world, that hundreds of men had not just died fighting in a war that should have been over.

  Elizabeth poured the wine and arranged a plate of bread and cheese herself to eliminate the need of allowing anyone into the room. She felt at peace. At this moment, she was just a wife welcoming home her husband. Soon she was reminded that he was also the king.

  “Your mother will need to retire to Bermondsey,” he said in the abrupt way of one who hopes that unpleasant information said quickly will be better received.

  “A nunnery, why?”

  “There is evidence of her involvement.” Henry appeared to be speaking to his wine glass for his eyes refused to meet Elizabeth’s.

  “In what?” Before Henry answered, her heart dropped. She knew before he spoke.

  “She was assisting John de la Pole. My informants believe she sent letters to Margaret in Burgundy, encouraging her to assist. She provided cash for the Irish mercenaries. It remains unclear exactly how deep her involvement went.” After a pause within which Elizabeth remained silent, he added, “I will not have my mother-in-law tried for treason.”

  Elizabeth gasped. “She couldn’t have!” But as she said it, she knew that her mother could and had.

  Henry only shook his head. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I have tried to protect you from this, but she must be neutralized for the sake of our son.”

  “Her grandson,” Elizabeth whispered. “How could she plot against her grandson?”

  Henry wished that he had an answer when Elizabeth looked at him so pleadingly. Why indeed? Why was Elizabeth Woodville not pleased with her daughter on the throne and her grandson as heir?

  “Perhaps she will be more content after your coronation, but I will not wait. She must go to Bermondsey immediately.”

  Elizabeth did not argue. She was still trying to process the fact that her own mother had plotted against her. Her mother had insisted that Elizabeth marry Henry and assured her that this was the way to keep the York family on the throne and then arranged to destroy them. Maybe it was not only men who needed a war to feel alive.

  “Elizabeth, are you alright?” Henry placed a hand on her arm.

  She nodded. “I am shocked. That is all. I thought my mother to be content with things as they are, but maybe she would never be content.”

  “Unless one of her sons wore the crown?” Henry asked. He knew that he shouldn’t and that it would hurt Elizabeth more, but he must know the truth.

  Elizabeth shook her head in bewilderment. “She has insisted that they are both dead time and time again. Would she have insisted upon our marriage if she believed one of them was alive?”

  Henry sat back and squinted to better see his thoughts. “Maybe she would,” he said. “If she believed that there was a good chance that both of her sons were dead, she would want her daughter married to the king.” He moved his gaze to his wife. “But if she held out hope that a son was alive, she would want him to wear the crown.”

  “Did John give her hope that Edward or Richard was still alive?”

  Henry shrugged. “Maybe. It took the rebels a few months to settle on Edward of Warwick as the name of their pretender. While they still considered naming him Richard IV, your mother may have been tempted to believe that it was true.”

  “Could they have provided that rumor to secure her support?”

 
Nodding, Henry agreed, “Her money and connections were vital.”

  Elizabeth seemed encouraged by the explanation for a moment, but then her face fell. “She still was willing to plot against me with only the glimmer of a hope that a son survived.”

  Henry went to her and gathered her in his arms. “This is why the Lord has a man and a woman leave their parents to cleave to one another.” He kissed her. “I will never set anyone above you,” he promised.

  Almost as an afterthought, Elizabeth asked, “The boy, who was he really?”

  Henry released her and returned to his chair with a shrug. “He is nobody. Lambert Simnel turns out to be his name. A simple baker’s boy. A pawn.”

  “What happened to him?” Elizabeth asked, hoping that the young boy had not been sacrificed in battle to grown men’s whims.

  “I have brought him back to London with me.” When Elizabeth turned her face away, he knew she believed the boy imprisoned. “I have put him to work in the kitchens.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes lit up as she turned her face to Henry’s. “Truly? He is not in the Tower? Will not be tried for treason?”

  “I see no point. He appears to be no older than eleven and understood little of what was going on around him. He does, however, seem to have learned some more desirable skills from this baker.”

  “Thank you, Henry.” Elizabeth went to him and put her arms around him. Maybe he did not understand that she could not bear the death of one more boy, but he had saved this one nonetheless. She loved him for it.

  ~~~~

  The very next day, Elizabeth oversaw the packing of her mother’s things and watched the carts roll down the road toward Bermondsey Abbey. Few words had been spoken between them for there was little to say. The truth stood between them like a wall that neither had the equipment to scale.

  November 1487

  Henry spared no expense on Elizabeth’s coronation. If he had waited until an heir had been provided to have her crowned in order to please his Lancastrian supporters, he now gave an elaborate celebration in her honor to appease the Yorkists. Would he ever be able to unite the country under the Tudor banner and eliminate the white and red roses altogether?