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

by Samantha Wilcoxson

  “Please,” Henry said with a catch in his throat. “Give us a moment of privacy before we offer up prayers for the soul of our beloved son.”

  “Of course, your majesties,” the friar bowed as much as his hunched back allowed and shuffled from the room.

  As soon as the door closed behind the old man, Henry took Elizabeth into his arms. She no longer had the strength or desire to fight him.

  “Our son! Conceived on our wedding night and gone before both of us. Why, God? Why?” she cried.

  “Bess,” Henry whispered in her ear. “I’m so sorry, Bess. Sorry for everything that has hurt you. It was all for naught.”

  “No! No!” She could say nothing more. She pounded her small fist into his chest to emphasize each repetition of the word. They held each other as their tears mingled and neither could find the words to comfort the other.

  After a few moments, Elizabeth pulled back and dragged her hand across her swollen eyes. “We must pray,” she said.

  Henry nodded and took her hand. He led her to his private altar where they prayed together for the soul of their firstborn son to be welcomed into heaven without suffering the punishments of purgatory.

  They had worn themselves out with weeping, but Henry would have to make the announcement, send messengers, and see that Harry, who was now to be the next king, was brought to court.

  Elizabeth returned to her own chambers and fell upon her bed. Was it only a few short hours since she was at peaceful sleep here, not realizing that her son lay cold in death? Her tears started anew, and for the first time she felt anger toward God. She had endured so much and the loss of so many. Why had he needed to take Arthur? She punched her pillow and tore at her bedcoverings. She did not realize that she was screaming.

  “Bess, Bess, hush my love.” Henry was there with his arms around her, pulling her fingers from the shredded cloth. He made shushing noises as he rocked her back and forth like a child, and she cried again, thinking fleetingly that tears must eventually run dry.

  When she had calmed herself, she whispered to him with her head rested on his shoulder. “I am sorry, Henry. My faith was tested, but God will comfort us.”

  “As he always does in his perfect wisdom,” Henry agreed.

  “I also need to apologize for not being a good wife to you of late.” Henry made to stop her, but she placed a finger upon his lips. “It is true,” she insisted. “I have been polite, but not loving nor submissive. In the future, I will be the type of wife the Lord intends for me to be.”

  “Oh, Bess,” Henry sighed, squeezing her more tightly. “I have prayed that you would forgive me. I love you so.”

  “And I love you, Henry,” she said. “And I will give you another son.”

  Henry took her face in her hands. “No, Bess. It would not be safe for you to enter the birthing chamber again.”

  “Nonsense,” she insisted, taking his hands into her own. “I am thirty-six and my mother was forty-three when she gave birth to my youngest sister.”

  “I feel that we should pray before making a decision of this magnitude,” he said, still slowly shaking his head.

  “We will pray,” she agreed. “We will also remember that the Lord our God has also blessed us with two fair princesses and our dear son, Harry. They will be a comfort to us in the coming days.”

  “Yes. Harry,” Henry said thoughtfully. “Thank you for your comfort, my wife,” he said, reluctantly leaving her embrace and rising from her bed.

  “It is you who came to comfort me,” she reminded him.

  “Yes, it was Jayne who came for me.”

  “I am glad that she did and will thank her.”

  “I will come to see you again as soon as I may,” he said kissing her forehead. “Get some rest, my love, and be in prayer.”

  Elizabeth compressed her lips and answered him with a slight nod before he left her alone with her thoughts and memories.

  ~~~~

  Elizabeth felt ill the next day, but she could not be certain if it were the effect of too many tears or true sickness. She rose only long enough to send a messenger to her sister, Cat. It was her hope that they could be a comfort to each other since Cat’s husband, William Courtenay, remained imprisoned in the Tower.

  She was pleased when Cat arrived within the week. Still not feeling well herself, Cat’s youthful energy seemed to increase her own vigor.

  “Bess, we must get outside. It is fresh spring air that you require,” Cat insisted once she and her things were adequately settled.

  “I don’t know,” Elizabeth said, pulling a coverlet more firmly around her.

  “Yes, you do,” her sister insisted. “You love the outdoors, your gardens, and the scent of springtime.” She pulled the cover from Elizabeth’s grasp and snapped her fingers at Elizabeth’s women. “A wool cloak for the queen,” she insisted with confident authority.

  Before Elizabeth knew it, she was strolling along the garden paths with Cat beside her and a few attendants trailing behind. Elizabeth tired quickly and asked that they rest on a bench beneath an arbor of Tudor rose vines, though they were not yet in bloom.

  “I am so thankful for your presence, Cat.” She took a deep breath to soak up the scents of another spring. She refused to think about memories of those past spring gardens or future ones that would not include her son. Right now, she needed to live in the moment.

  “It is beautiful here.” Cat’s eyes were wide open in contrast to her sister’s closed ones. The gardens at Greenwich were her sister’s pride and joy, and it showed even early in the year before many of the plants had risen to their full glory. “It will be soothing for our souls.”

  Opening her eyes just a crack, Elizabeth peeked at her sister. She saw no anger in her countenance and was thankful for that. “I am sorry about William. I have sent him items to ease his troubles, but I know that is little comfort to you.”

  “Oh, Bess. I never doubted you in the least! I am as sure that Will’s imprisonment was Henry’s decision, not yours, as I am certain that Will and Edmund have in fact had treasonous conversations.”

  At this, Elizabeth’s eyes were fully opened. “They schemed against Henry?”

  Cat shook her head and waved a hand dismissively. “They are no rebels,” she said. “They are young men who are all talk about family honor. Leading an army against Henry is completely different than claiming a more royal bloodline than his.”

  Elizabeth didn’t need to remind her sister that the supposedly innocent talk that she referred to was treasonous. “Please, do not say more. I do not wish to know anything that would be wrong for me to keep from my husband.”

  “And I do not wish to put you in that situation, Bess. But, don’t you see? If Henry simply ignored the arrogant talk of young men, it would melt away like winter snow. It is his campaign against all with Plantagenet blood that raises men’s ire.”

  “You speak with a maturity that is deep for your years,” Elizabeth admitted. Did Henry make his own trouble when he disallowed her cousins their pride? What could he do but protect his crown? No matter how many years passed, there were times like this when she wished she could be advised by her parents. “I have tried to cool the flames of Henry’s temper on these matters and urge him toward mercy, but he is a king defending his realm.”

  “I’m sure that is what he believes, and we need talk on it no further. You have greater concerns at this time than the method your husband employs to rule his kingdom.”

  “Thank you, Cat.”

  They sat back in companionable silence broken only by the songs of the birds.

  May 1502

  “Henry, will you come to me tonight?”

  A blush rose on Elizabeth cheeks and she cursed her silliness. Thankful for the low light in the hall and the conversations that distracted the people around her, she willed herself to be calm. She and Henry were sixteen years married, but it had been quite some time since she had made this request. Surprise was evident on his face as well, but he eager
ly consented.

  Regardless of anything else going on or her own personal feelings, which were still confused and conflicted, Elizabeth felt that she must bear Henry another son. Harry was robust and athletic, and to think of him dying young was almost laughable. Almost. She would take no chances with the succession of the kingdom. Harry would need a brother to stand by him in difficult times when he was king and his sisters had been sent away to husbands.

  Jayne and Cat helped her prepare for him that evening, neither casting judgment upon Elizabeth’s decision but trying to lighten the mood with girlish talk and bawdy jokes. Elizabeth smiled at the two women who showed her such devotion and thanked God for them. When they left the room and Elizabeth was alone and waiting, she prayed quietly that God would restore feelings of desire for her husband. She may not agree with everything he had done, but she still owed him that much.

  When he entered the chamber with a boyish look of expectation and happiness on his face, Elizabeth laughed with joy and took him into her arms without hesitation. Henry had conflicting feelings of his own. Still uncertain that Elizabeth should attempt bearing another child, he was nonetheless thrilled that she wanted him again. He would leave it in God’s hands.

  Later that night, as they lay exhausted but satisfied in each other’s arms, Elizabeth was certain that seed was taking root.

  ~~~~

  In the meantime, few were considering any pregnancy of the queen’s but were quite concerned regarding another possibility. Catherine of Aragon, Arthur’s poor wife of only three months was travelling to London to be with her husband’s parents. Despite her mourning, she would need to attend to questions from all sides about her relations with her young husband. Had the marriage been consummated? Was it possible that the heir to England’s throne was not Harry after all, but Catherine’s unborn babe?

  Elizabeth did not believe that it was possible. Their marriage had been brief, not that it took more than one night, as Arthur’s birth had proven. However, Elizabeth was also aware that Henry had encouraged Arthur to wait until his health had improved before having relations with his beautiful bride. The question remained whether or not Arthur had obeyed.

  Catherine arrived in a small procession swathed in black. It was a grim reminder of the joyous ceremony that had welcomed her just months earlier. Then the blushing bride, now the sixteen year old widow. She rode in a litter rather than on horseback, partly to avoid prying eyes but also because she had been struck ill at the same time as Arthur and was still healing.

  Elizabeth had made sure that no crowd was in the courtyard when Catherine arrived. This was not a moment to be shared with the public and the mother received the daughter-in-law in their common grief. Catherine was assisted from the litter, and Elizabeth immediately took her into her arms, ignoring formality. When they separated, both had fresh tear tracks on their cheeks but a smile on their face.

  “I am so happy to be with you. It was so difficult to be at Ludlow once Arthur was gone.”

  “You poor girl! That must have been a terrible blow to you, mourning your husband on your own.”

  Catherine nodded. “I had the comfort that God gives, of course, but a listening ear and soothing arms would have been appreciated as well.”

  “You will have them now, my daughter.”

  They went inside, leaving the luggage to Catherine’s attendants, many of whom wondered what the future held for their mistress. Once they had settled in Elizabeth’s private chambers, Catherine was eager to speak.

  “I want you to know that you need not fear that I am pregnant. Harry is his father’s heir; there should be no doubt.”

  Elizabeth looked up in surprise, not at the news but Catherine’s boldness in saying it. “You have come a long way from our first meeting, when a blush burned across your cheeks.”

  Both women smiled at the memory. “It seems in some ways so long ago.” Catherine said wistfully. “Caring for an ailing husband was a quick lesson in maturity. Arthur and I knew each other well from our letters, but it did not prepare us for what we went through.” She paused. “If this is too difficult for you to hear . . . .”

  “Not at all,” Elizabeth assured her. “I would hear of the comfort my son received in his last weeks.”

  “He was not always ill, and we had some delightful outings. Our friendship grew, but not our intimacy. Arthur confided in me that it was not his father’s will, nor did he feel physically well enough, to consummate our marriage. We were both content to wait, not realizing that he would not get better.”

  A single tear ran down Catherine’s face, but she had cried herself out many times before this day. She could speak of Arthur now and knew that her heart had begun its healing. Elizabeth sat silent for a few moments, picturing her son and his wife walking through the Ludlow grounds. She tried to stay away from the vision of him thin and weak in bed, but at least that image also included Catherine devotedly attending him.

  “Thank you,” she finally whispered. “It gives me peace to hear of your time together. Know that I would have rejoiced if a grandchild was a possibility.”

  “I know you would have, but it will be better for the kingdom if it can rally behind Harry.”

  “That is generous of you.”

  Catherine shrugged. “Maybe it is, but it is also the way it is. I will support my brother-in-law as my husband’s successor and wait upon he and your husband for what they would decide upon my own fate.”

  That was something that Elizabeth had not yet considered. With Harry confirmed as heir, what would be Catherine’s place in England? “What is your desire?”

  With a sigh, Catherine shook her head. “I am not sure and am almost thankful that others will decide for me. I have practically been raised believing that England would be my home. Part of me wishes to stay but is not sure what my place would be. The other half of me desires nothing more than running home to my mother and father.”

  “Your confusion and your feelings are completely understandable,” Elizabeth assured her as she rose to get them wine. “We will deal with this decision as necessary. For now, you are my welcome guest that we may take comfort in each other.”

  Later that day, other concerns would require Elizabeth’s attention. The whispers and diverted eyes of servants alerted her that something was going on unrelated to mourning for England’s prince. She took Jayne aside the first chance she got and insisted that she be told what was going on.

  “Your grace, it is nothing that you should concern yourself with under the circumstances.”

  “I am a grieving mother, but I am also a queen. Tell me.”

  “Very well,” Jayne gave in, taking a deep breath. “Sir James Tyrell has been sentenced to death for treason along with several others said to be in cahoots with him.”

  Elizabeth was taken aback. Though she was not closely acquainted with him, James Tyrell had served her father, uncle, and husband, seeming to be able to please each of them without drawing accusations of unfaithfulness for serving the others.

  “I heard that he had been brought from Calais.”

  “Tricked into coming, they say.” Jayne was warming up to her storytelling. “It is said that he was ready to come out in support of Edmund de la Pole. That is the charge he dies for, but there are whispers that there is more.”

  “More?”

  “I do not really know, your grace.” Jayne faltered but Elizabeth could see that more remained unsaid.

  “Jayne. A man is to die.”

  Nodding, Jayne continued. “I have heard that the man had information about your brothers, the little princes.”

  Elizabeth sucked in her breath and took a step back. She had been unprepared to have the specters of Edward and Richard raised again. “What information?” she demanded.

  Jayne shrugged and looked apologetic. “That he murdered them, your grace.”

  ~~~~

  After hearing the news about James Tyrell, Elizabeth had raced to her private chapel and knelt before the altar
. God give me wisdom, she prayed over and over again. She had given her brothers up for dead long ago. Well, she mostly had. Something deep within her had still held onto hope, had closely examined the face of Perkin Warbeck to see if it was that of Richard. If Tyrell had confessed to murdering him all those years ago, then all her hope had been in vain and she had been in love with the man who ordered them killed. Almost two decades later, she still could not quite believe it.

  “I must speak to him,” she spoke aloud though none were in the room to hear her besides God.

  Henry was not in favor of sending his queen to speak to the killer of her little brothers, but she had never been so adamant about anything and he did not want to destroy the love that was again growing between them. On a sunny May afternoon, with butterflies wandering through the air and signs of new life sprouting all around, Elizabeth arrived at the Tower to speak to the man who claimed to have killed her brothers there.

  The warmth of the sun dissipated as soon as she entered the stone walls. The heat could not penetrate the thick, cold rock, and the chill tried to seep its way into her heart. One glance toward the tower where her brothers had been held before they disappeared was all she allowed herself. Today, she would deal only in facts. Plenty of time had been given over in the past to sentiment and dreams. Truth was what she would have before she left these haunted walls for what she hoped would be the last time.

  She paused in an empty passageway to calm her breathing and say a silent prayer. Whatever she learned today, the fate of her brothers needed to be left in the past. If James Tyrell could not enlighten her with the truth, then she must accept that she just would not know this side of heaven. After a few moments of mental preparation, Elizabeth stood proudly to her full height, shoulders back and head held high, and marched toward Tyrell’s cell.

  Elizabeth nodded to the guards to give her entrance. They shared a hesitant glance before unlocking the heavy oak door. Far be it from them to say no to the Queen. When they made to stand in the doorway for her protection, she spoke for the first time since entering this nightmarish castle. “Leave us.”