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

by Samantha Wilcoxson

  “Praise God!”

  “He is good, but he expects us to do our part,” the knight said, propelling her forward. He seemed to have a sixth sense that allowed him to navigate the corridors in the darkness of night and confusion of smoke and fumes. “We must get you to the courtyard.”

  They were almost there. Elizabeth could almost taste the cool, fresh night air on her tongue. The gallery was in flames that appeared impassable and Elizabeth prayed nobody was trapped within it. Before she could complete the thought, she saw that someone was making their way through the hungry flames that licked at every surface. A figure, their identity hidden by the tapestry that was thrown over them as poor protection against the blaze, jogged along the gallery, dodging falling timbers and plaster. Elizabeth felt remorse for this man, who would likely die though he was making a valiant effort. Then the tapestry slipped for a moment from his head. It was Henry.

  The ceiling of the gallery collapsed with a roaring crash.

  ~~~~

  When Elizabeth awoke, she thought she had been having a nightmare. The smell of smoke was still within her nostrils, so realistic was the dreadful dream. Then she realized that she heard crying, and she looked around to see that she was lying on the grass of the courtyard. The palace of Sheen was nothing more than a pile of smoldering embers with a few brave pillars still reaching for a roof that no longer existed.

  Henry. She thought that she would cry, but her eyes were too dry. They burned from exposure to the smoke and her skin felt raw like after too long in the summer sun. It wasn’t just a dream. She had watched her husband die.

  A cup was suddenly at her lips. “Drink, my lady.” It was Jayne. Thank the Lord that she was safe. Elizabeth knew that meant that her children were also free from danger for Jayne would have died before leaving them.

  “Thank you,” Elizabeth rasped, surprised at the rawness of her throat. The smoke seemed to have invaded every part of her body.

  “The children were outside before the fire reached their chambers,” Jayne assured her, knowing that Elizabeth would want to know but that speaking would be painful for days. The queen smiled, her eyes still closed.

  “Bess?”

  Her eyes flew open. It couldn’t be, but she would not mistake the voice that had whispered endearments into her ear as they embraced.

  “Henry!” She would have shouted, but it came out only as a whisper. Now a few tears did manage to escape her scorched eyes. “But I saw . . .” she could say no more. Her throat throbbed with pain, but her heart filled with joy. He pulled her into his arms. She had thought that she would never touch him again, never hear his voice. “The gallery,” she managed.

  “Yes, I am singed a bit,” he laughed ruefully, and she gaped at him in surprise. He was not normally one to joke so lightly about his life. To be able to jest about his near death experience, he must be in shock. She didn’t care. He was alive and that was all that mattered. She clung tightly to him while he explained that the children were quite snug in the stables and felt that they were on a great adventure. This made her laugh, but that lead to painful coughing. Henry piled blankets on and around them to protect them from the chilled December air and held her until she fell into an exhausted but peaceful sleep.

  ~~~~

  The next time Elizabeth awoke, it was not with the horror that had filled her the first time her eyes opened to take in the Sheen courtyard scene, but with sadness for the home she had lost. She was thankful beyond measure that everyone from the king to the youngest kitchen boy had escaped, but mourned the loss of her favorite manor.

  Smoke still rose from the remains of this place that held so many memories for her. Wagons were being packed up with what belongings had not been destroyed so that the royal family could be moved to London. Elizabeth saw that Kathryn was snug in her husband’s arms, oblivious to the guards surrounding them. It seemed like a lifetime ago that Elizabeth had been lying in bed attempting to decide what to do about the two of them. She need not have concerned herself. Henry was watching the happy couple from across the lawn, and he did not look pleased.

  As if reading her mind, Henry mumbled, “It seems that our guest needs to be kept under closer guard.”

  Elizabeth nodded since speaking was still painful. She was content to look upon her husband, who she had been so sure that she had lost. He had never been strikingly handsome, but now his hair was thin and held more than a little grey. His teeth, which had always given him trouble, were few and in poor condition. She saw only the man who loved her and had brought peace into her life. After all, who was she to judge when her youthful beauty was now hidden behind a double chin and fine lines?

  The children came running across the lawn toward their parents, stopping short to bow and curtsey as they had been taught. A memory of properly presenting herself to her own parents flashed through Elizabeth’s mind.

  “Mother, we are to go to London,” Harry said with no attempt to conceal his excitement.

  “Sorry about your house, mama,” Margaret said as she subtly elbowed her brother’s ribs.

  “Yes, sorry, mother,” Harry added with his eyes on the ground.

  Mary did not speak much yet but took full advantage of the older siblings who were more than willing to speak for her. She climbed into her mother’s lap instead and circled her chubby arms around Elizabeth’s neck.

  “We will be on our way soon,” Henry said as he tousled each child’s hair.

  “Who started the fire?” Harry asked.

  Elizabeth’s eyes flashed toward her husband. She had not yet considered that the fire may have been purposely set, had assumed that a fire had not been properly tended.

  “We do not know . . . yet,” Henry said, but his eyes were focused across the courtyard. Elizabeth followed his gaze to find Perkin Warbeck.

  January 1498

  “Jayne, please see that Anna comes to see me.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Jayne said with a quick curtsey. She went in search of the young woman who was a recent addition to Elizabeth’s household. In a few moments, she returned with young Anna a few steps behind. The hesitant woman had to be gently pushed forward by Jayne before she approached the queen.

  “Your grace,” she said in a shaky voice.

  “You need not worry,” Elizabeth gently assured her. “You have not displeased me.”

  Relief flooded Anna’s face, but she said nothing.

  “It has come to my attention that you lost something very valuable to you in the fire at Sheen, Anna.”

  The girl nodded. “My mum’s locket,” she said. “She gave it to me before she passed on, your grace.”

  “Just as I thought. Though I understand that it cannot take the place in your heart that your mother’s possession held, I hope that this will be some small consolation to you.” Elizabeth took Anna’s hand and placed a silver chain in her palm.

  Anna gasped and looked down in disbelief. Hanging from the finely wrought chain was a sapphire the color of her queen’s eyes. “Your grace, I couldn’t,” she stammered, holding the gift out to hand it back to her benefactress.

  “You can and you will,” Elizabeth insisted, closing Anna’s fingers around the necklace. “I insist.”

  “Thank you, your grace, and God bless you,” Anna mumbled as she dropped into a clumsy curtsey. She glanced at Elizabeth, who nodded, and then rushed from the room.

  “That was very kind of you,” Jayne said after they watched Anna leave with wry smiles on their faces. “She will never forget this moment and will be loyal to your house until the day she dies.”

  “It is no more than she deserves,” Elizabeth said. “Now please send in the page boy, Stephen.”

  “Yes, your grace.”

  ~~~~

  “I have something to show you.” Henry spread a large sheet of parchment out on the table, weighing down the edges with anything at hand as he spoke.

  “What is it?” Elizabeth asked. She had not seen this kind of excitement in her husband for
months and was glad he had a project that was bringing him joy.

  “Richmond.”

  Elizabeth looked down at the rough sketches. A gorgeous palace was taking shape though it was not yet a detailed drawing.

  “I will tear down what remains of Sheen and build a new castle in its place. We will name it Richmond in honor of my title before ascending the throne.”

  “How grand, Henry! It will be beautiful, but you will not keep the chapel?”

  Henry shook his head. “No. The stone walls saved it from the worst of the fire, but it will be better to start fresh. This palace will be part of my legacy.”

  Built on the ashes of her family’s legacy.

  “I cannot wait to see it take shape,” she said.

  Hurriedly, he rolled up the parchment and was preparing to leave. “Sorry, I had but a moment.”

  “I am glad you shared that with me,” she said as she placed a kiss on his cheek. “Do not work too hard, my love.”

  He grinned at her and left her chamber as Kathryn walked in.

  “Shall we work on our altar cloth?” Elizabeth had been about to go visit her children, but she tried not to mention them in front of this poor woman who had been forced to give her only son over to Henry. Nobody knew where the boy had been placed. Henry simply said he would be raised by a loving family and Kathryn needed to forget about him.

  “We can, your grace.”

  Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. They had long since dispensed with formalities in private. “What is wrong, Kathryn?”

  The younger woman looked angry at herself for allowing tears to spring into her eyes, and she furiously swiped them from her cheeks.

  “It is my husband,” Kathryn cried. She avoided using his new name even more than Elizabeth did. The queen wondered if they still used the name Richard in private. Not that they were supposed to meet in private

  “The king has shut him away, your grace. I cannot bear it!”

  Tears ran freely down her lovely face, but there was little Elizabeth could do.

  “I am afraid the king saw and heard too much over Christmas.”

  Kathryn nodded. “I know. We could not help ourselves.” She scrubbed at her face again before seeming to find her courage. “He is my husband!”

  Elizabeth set aside the embroidery silks that she had been sorting and turned to face Kathryn. “I have the greatest sorrow for you. I truly do, but you must understand that Henry intends to keep you apart. He will not have another pretender’s son questioning his position, and you would not want another child only to see it taken away.”

  A flush quickly rose to Kathryn’s face and Elizabeth prepared herself for an angry outburst, but Kathryn’s self-control overcame the sense of injustice that had almost overwhelmed her.

  Elizabeth continued, “At least your husband is relatively free, if not free to do as he pleased.” At least he is not in the Tower, she left unspoken.

  “Very well,” Kathryn softly acquiesced. “I will pray that God gives me strength to give him thanks in these trying circumstances, for I know that you would help me if you could.”

  Would she? Elizabeth was not so sure. Though she took joy from helping the less fortunate, she did not believe that would extend to assisting the man who tried to take the crown from her husband – from her son – in fathering an heir.

  June 1498

  Throughout the spring months, Warbeck kept his guards on their toes as he attempted to arrange a conjugal visit with his wife. The men assigned to keep him out of trouble found him charming, even enjoyed playing cards or dice with him, but they were not going to bring the wrath of their king down upon themselves in order to help him collect on the marital debt. Kathryn continued to be friendly toward Elizabeth, but her building frustration was evident to all who spent time with her. She was a cousin to the Scottish king and was not even allowed private time with her husband. Part of her wished that she and Richard, for that is the only name she would ever call him, had run away and lived in obscurity rather than landing at Whitesand Bay. Better to be poor than apart.

  Elizabeth quietly observed the changes in these royal guests. Kathryn hid her feelings with the skill of one who had grown up at court. She was more withdrawn and quiet, but that could go unnoticed. Warbeck’s charm was failing him. So used to getting what he wanted because of his good looks and ability to make people want to please him, the months of being kept a pampered prisoner were wearing on his nerves. No longer did passion enflame when the two of them locked eyes. It was desperation.

  When Elizabeth heard the commotion of shouting voices and stomping horses on the morning of June tenth, she did not need anyone to tell her what it was. Warbeck had escaped. Surely, it had only been a matter of time before the bird decided to fly from its gilded cage.

  She rose and quickly dressed. As soon as her eyes fell upon Kathryn, she knew that her suspicions were correct. Kathryn kept her head down, but Elizabeth could see the blush rising along her neck. To her surprise, Henry burst into her chamber, sending her partially dressed ladies scurrying to make themselves proper for the king.

  “I will be leaving soon,” he said to his wife, ignoring all others. “Warbeck escaped last night and has taken sanctuary at the Charterhouse.”

  Elizabeth heard Kathryn gasp and was sure that Henry did, too, but neither of them glanced her way.

  “You will be safe?”

  Henry laughed. “He is on the run with nobody’s assistance unless you count the Charterhouse prior who has begged me to spare his life. I will be safer than in my own bed.”

  “Very well,” said Elizabeth, unnecessarily adjusting Henry’s cloak. “Come to me when your task is complete.” And how would it end, she wondered. With Kathryn in misery, that was the only certainty.

  “I will, my love.” He kissed her and was gone.

  Kathryn was on her knees in front of her queen before the door had shut behind Henry.

  “Please, your grace,” she cried. “You must beg for my husband’s life!”

  Though torn with conflicting feelings, the one thing Elizabeth was certain of was that she must stand firmly at her husband’s side.

  “I will do no such thing,” she stated quietly but firmly. “Your husband has rebelled, lied, and snubbed his grace’s mercy. It is out of my hands.”

  “No, please! I swear, he was not running to followers but to exile. We simply wish to live together in peace. Please, Elizabeth!”

  The personal plea tore at her heart, but it was too late. “I do not know what the two of you hoped to achieve, but this escape attempt was ill-conceived. Henry will not show him the mercy of the past few months in the future.”

  Kathryn stood, her face contorted with rage. “Mercy! Forcing us to see each other every day, but not live as husband and wife – you call that mercy? And I suppose it was grace that led him to abduct my child? The king,” she infused Henry’s title with venomous contempt, “will not even call my husband by his name. Richard.”

  Gasps and murmurings spread throughout Elizabeth’s chambers.

  “Leave!” Elizabeth ordered in uncharacteristic sternness. She said nothing more until the room was cleared but fixed her face, which was pinched with anger, on Kathryn.

  “Your husband is not my brother.”

  “You said yourself that he is the image of your father. I do not believe you. You are simply protecting your own position and that of your children.”

  “You believe that I would disinherit my own brother for the sake of myself?” Elizabeth’s lips pursed, exposing fine lines around them that she normally tried to conceal.

  “I do, but Richard is willing to withdraw his claim if we are allowed to leave England in peace.”

  “Do not ever call him that again! Do you understand the pain it causes each time someone uses the name of my little brother to call upon a pretender? I do not deny that Warbeck may be my father’s son, but, if he is, he is a by-blow…”

  Kathryn cut her off. “You mean no more legitimate t
han yourself?”

  Elizabeth sucked in her breath and was struck speechless. Those months of wondering if it were true that her parents were not married in the eyes of the church. She had left that pain behind when she married Henry. With her right of blood and his right of conquest, they had put the past behind them. But here stood this woman, ready to excavate it for reexamination. Elizabeth forced herself to take a moment to calm herself before responding.

  “I understand that this is not the life you thought you would have when you married Warbeck, but those who plot against the king are not normally allowed to live at court in relative luxury. You need to prepare yourself for the consequences of this escape attempt.”

  “And what will happen to the guards who assisted him?” Her tone inferred that she felt that she had laid down a trump card.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sir William Smith and Sir James Baybroke, they plotted with my husband to gain his freedom.”

  Elizabeth focused on her facial features in an effort to give nothing away. She would not allow her eyes to widen, her lips to part, or her cheeks to redden. Henry’s trusted men had allowed Warbeck to escape. When Kathryn had time to calm herself, she would regret sharing this information that would prove to Henry that Warbeck was still capable to winning people’s loyalty away from their king. Elizabeth would not speak on the matter.

  “Kathryn, I believe I will return to my bed this morning. Please have a tray sent up to break my fast.”

  Without waiting for a response, Elizabeth turned and entered her private chamber and closed the door behind her.

  ~~~~

  Henry accepted Warbeck’s surrender at Charterhouse, and assured the prior that his life would not be forfeit. But when they returned to London, Warbeck was lodged, not at Westminster, but in the Tower.

  August 1498