by Diana Rubino
Her eyes swept over the tiny fragment of England she was able to see from her prison, the minute speck of earth she was privileged to behold. She took what would be one of her last looks at England.
She was leaving. By order of King Edward VI, she was to depart this world as she knew it. He was sending her to the New World—to America. Never to return to England more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Portsmouth, June, 1548
The gulls cawed lazily and the sea breeze sprayed a salty mist around their feet as Topaz, Amethyst, and Emerald stood on the swaying dock. Amethyst gazed up the gangplank at the Searchthrift, the vessel that was going to take Topaz to the New World.
Her black hull glinted in the sun's rays as her sails surged against the wind, her masts soaring into the sky. The galleon rocked gently, nudging the pier, as if urging Topaz to hurry and embark, for her voyage was about to begin.
Amethyst looked upon her sister, who had started to regain some of the color in her cheeks. Her eyes were clear and sparkling with visions of her new life to come, and her hair, spilling down her back and graced with a velvet circlet, let off a fire of its own in the sunlight.
"Well, this is it, sisters," Topaz said softly. "I am on my way to my very own world."
"The King just wants you the hell out of England once and for all," Amethyst said, a hint of a smile on her lips.
Topaz smiled back, cocking a brow. "Aye, but I am to leave England alive! Thanks to you, of course, dear sister," she hastily added.
"Have you no fears of journeying to this unknown world?" Emerald asked. "The ocean is so large, it can swallow you whole, and the New World is known to be so cold and harsh, with savage natives tramping the wilderness."
"I am not afraid, as I was not afraid of Henry Tudor," she stated adamantly. "King Edward has made a most wise choice. 'Tis better to be leader in an unknown land than to be a mere subject in this old, corrupt, and tired kingdom. With me as leader, the New World will be the greatest kingdom on earth. Maybe not in my lifetime, but I shall certainly be the one to start it all. You will see, I shall do it the proper way. There will be no religious persecution, no heavy tax burdens, no tyrant monarchs ruling from a lofty jewel-encrusted throne. There will be in my New World what this country has never had. There will be freedom. And as of the moment I set foot on that ship, I shall no longer be English. I shall be American."
Amethyst blanched. How strange that word sounded to her ears. How alien.
Wasn't it just like Topaz to rattle off such an eloquent speech, Amethyst thought, minutes before their final farewell. But she could see the sincerity in her sister's eyes, the knowing that they would never meet again, yet wanting to have the last word.
"I know how badly you wanted the crown to descend back upon our family. Just be thankful we are all still alive," Amethyst said.
"Not all," Topaz said bitterly.
"No, indeed," she replied with a sigh. "But we will keep looking—"
"Their souls are in heaven even if their bodies have not been found," Emerald said gently.
"Matthew will never give up—"
"I know. But tell him it matters not. I never gave up and look what it cost me. Don't let him do the same thing to your marriage, my dear. You have Harry, and mayhap other sons to think about one day."
"And daughters too," Amethyst said with a gentle smile. "After all, we were but three girls, but I would say we have done our best to carry on our family's legacy."
Just then a man emerged from the galley, bedecked in a blue velvet and fur cloak, flowing about his slender form as fluidly as the gentle waves slapping the shore, clinging, reaching, then swirling back again. The threads of his trim winked in unison with the colored gems about his neck. His hose, like the radiant strings of a harp, glinted as he walked. As he began descending the gangway, Topaz caught Emerald's astonished gaze and they all turned around.
"Sebastian!" Topaz exclaimed brightly. "Pray do say hello to my dear sisters Amethyst and Emerald!"
So this was Captain Sebastian Cabot, the intrepid explorer of worlds beyond the wildest dreams of the common folk, the man whom citizens revered as a trailblazer guided by the Lord himself to touch those wild, barren shores, to unite two worlds, the old and the new.
"Captain Cabot." Amethyst curtsied before this exalted adventurer for whom she remembered Henry furnishing ships, saying 'This man will do for England what Columbus did for Spain' and reveling just as much in Cabot's talent as a cartographer. The voyage had been aborted by one of Henry's yeomen of the crown, and Cabot had sailed for Spain instead.
He took her hand lightly and swept off his plumed hat, revealing a full head of silver-streaked hair. His eyes were the ebullient blue-green of the sea, and his jagged smile creased the weather-beaten but ruddy skin, dusted with a light silver beard.
"It is my pleasure, Lady Amethyst."
Topaz introduced him to Emerald next, and her eyes widened with wonder.
"So how do you feel about Topaz's voyage to the New World?" Captain Cabot asked the two women.
"It is astounding beyond belief, Captain," Emerald replied. "But Topaz has always been the brave one in the family. I am forever grateful to King Edward for granting her this gift of life in a new and unspoiled land."
"I, too, am forever grateful to the boy king for launching this expedition. He has just advanced me to the grand pilot of England, a high honor indeed. However, I do miss good Henry the Eighth. He was a fine and noble king, and I only wish he could be with us to revel in the joy of exploring new lands, of connecting all these very different worlds and peoples under the unified banner of mankind."
Topaz, standing slightly aside, elected to change the subject back to her own idol, Captain Cabot. "Amethyst, Emerald, do you remember the Dun Cow, the rib of the cow whale in the entrance to Saint Mary's Church in Bristol?"
"Why, yes." They nodded. On their numerous visits to Oakengates, their Aunt Margaret's manor home in Bristol, they'd heard Mass there many times.
"That belongs to a whale Sebastian captured on his voyage to Newfoundland."
"Why, is it?" Amethyst turned to the aging but sprightly captain, her astonishment meeting his look of nonchalance. "No one ever told us. I never would have known to ask where it came from. It had been there all our lives. Forever, it seemed..."
"Aye, since 1497, to be exact. Since before you were twinkles in your mother's eye, I expect. Aye, I am no longer a young man, but the Lord willing, I shall see many new lands and open up more passages of trade, uniting the world."
"You are not old, Sebastian!" Topaz sang in a mildly chiding tone, brushing his arm lovingly as Sebastian returned the affectionate gesture with a quick but endearing hug. "He is but seventy-three years young, and still has to lose but a hair on his head!" Her flattery was as frothy as the wave caps nuzzling the ship.
"Madam, if you think seventy-three is young, then you are but a babe, and much too young to make a voyage over the high seas!"
"I am sorry, Captain, but the infant king hath given his orders!"
They both tittered together, Topaz covering her face like a giggly girl, displaying a mirth Amethyst had never seen in her stoic, pensive sister. She and the Captain obviously shared a genuine rapport, and Amethyst was glad Topaz had finally achieved a degree of contentment in this last chapter of her life.
"Well, my ladies, the tide will be ready to launch Searchthrift on her way shortly. I must retreat to my quarters to make final preparations. Lady Amethyst, Lady Emerald...I do hope we shall meet again in this life."
Amethyst felt a stab of melancholy, as they all knew how unlikely that would ever be. "Aye, Captain Cabot, and I bid you Godspeed. My prayers shall be with you and your crew throughout your voyage."
The captain turned and walked back up the gangway, his swirling cloak and plumed hat trailing behind him.
"Well, dear sisters, I must embark also."
"Please make sure Captain Cabot takes good care of you. And please do write
and let us know of your progress," Amethyst said.
"Sebastian and I have become fast friends, as you can see. We shall comfort each other and fight the seas together when they become hostile. And of course I shall write. No one has heard the last of me yet!"
The three sisters embraced one last time, lightly but for a long minute, and Amethyst detected a hint of reluctance of Topaz to let go, to relinquish the life and family and country she was placed in by God, only to be torn away across that dark tempestuous void and thrown upon unknown soil.
"Farewell, sisters. I am on my way to Utopia." Then she pulled away abruptly, twirled around and climbed the gangway, not looking back. The last sight Amethyst ever had of her sister was the sweep of her coppery hair receding into the Searchthrift.
Amethyst and Emerald turned away. As Emerald ran back up the pier, Amethyst stopped and gazed upon the flag fluttering atop the mast of The Great Harry. Stepping off the pier, once more onto her beloved, native English soil, she brushed away a tear and heaved a sigh of relief. Then she headed to where her beloved Matthew awaited her, his green eyes shining with love and mirroring the relief she felt.
And yes, something more. The shadow of pain lifting at last, and a promise that their future would be an endless one of bright tomorrows, for as long as the Lord saw fit to spare them, and their little Harry, now waving his arms at his mother and holding them out for an embrace. She smiled through her tears, and fell into the arms of both of her beloved men, home at last.
EPILOGUE
The Tower of London, 1674
Excavators were digging up the stone stairway in the Bloody Tower. When the bottom step was overturned, a worker glimpsed what looked like a human bone jutting out of the ground. Several minutes later they unearthed two skulls, mostly intact, but broken into fragments on the top and sides, and several more bones, later identified as the skeletons of two boys, aged between twelve and fifteen.
They were immediately assumed, by the majority of English subjects, to be the sons of Edward IV, Richard and Edward, whom Richard III had sequestered in the Tower upon his assumption of the throne, for the elder boy had been briefly known as King Edward V.
Then there were those who believed otherwise. After all, Richard and Edward, the sons of Topaz Plantagenet, had been imprisoned in the Tower, fading into obscurity upon Topaz's voyage to the New World. They had never been heard from again after King Henry's death.
Today the bones of Richard and Edward are interred in an urn in Westminster Abbey. Whether they were the Princes, or the children of Topaz, each faction was satisfied in knowing that they finally received the royal burial they deserved.
AFTERWORD
Falmouth, Cape Cod, Massachusetts, July, 1991
I walked down the tree-lined street, slowing my pace every time a particularly quaint item caught my eye in the windows of the long row of antique shops. My gaze stuck on a huge writing desk and I did a quick about-face, entered the shop, and stepped up on the platform in the front window to study it closely.
It was a rich mahogany, the finish scratched and worn, yet its character gleamed through, displaying a rich heritage and boasting pride in its longevity. I ran my hand over its bumpy, knotted surface. It contained rows and rows of deep slots and drawers like those in the old apothecary shops.
I noticed a set of initials carved into the center in elaborate script. "T.P." Who could this person have been, whose etchings had survived the ages? It was a grand, majestic piece, a tribute to the artist who'd built it. I had to have it.
Nestled safely in the corner of my living room, it became the catch-all for my trinkets, my papers, my files, a nook for virtually everything I needed all in one place, as well as a source of entertainment as I opened and closed the drawers, placing items in the compartments like a little girl playing house.
It was then I discovered one of the bottom drawers was stuck. I tugged and yanked, but it would not budge. Finally, I pried it open lovingly with a butter knife wrapped in velvet. It came loose, then popped open.
I stuck my hand inside, groped around and extracted a square object, a book of some sort, a manuscript wrapped in heavy layers of cloth. It was covered with a film of yellowish dust, looking withered, feeble, and old—very old.
I slid it out cautiously, freeing it from its musty tomb, carefully unwrapped the cover and gazed at its contents. It contained several pages of yellow parchment covered with what I guessed to be Middle English writing. Cradling the delicate pages in my hands, I ran my eyes over the text, which, aside from a word here and there, I could not understand.
But when I looked at the top of the page, I saw the date - July 30, 1571. Exactly four hundred twenty years ago to the day. I felt sure that I was holding someone's life story in my hands. Someone who had sat at this exact same desk, had touched the same papers I now held, who had breathed the very air I was breathing, had left their memoirs in a time capsule, to be found—and read—and shared with the world, four centuries later.
AUTHOR'S NOTES
All the characters in this book are true historical figures, with the exceptions of the Jewels, their mother Sabine, Matthew Gilford, Mortimer and Roland Pilkington, and the Jewels' children.
The events leading up to Richard III's assumption of the throne, including George of Clarence's death by drowning in a butt of malmsey wine, his son Edward of Warwick's execution, and Henry VIII's accession to the throne all did take place. The fate of Edward IV's Yorkist sons, the Princes in the Tower, to this day is still not known. The bones that repose in the urn in Westminster Abbey have never been proven to be those of the Princes.
Edward, Earl of Warwick, whom Henry VII executed at age twenty-five, was the last male in the Plantagenet line. He died without issue, having lived his entire life from age eight in the Tower. He was so simple-minded he was thought to have been retarded.
Upon becoming King, Henry VIII posthumously reversed the attainder against Edward and bestowed titles and riches on Edward's sister, Margaret Pole. She fell out of favor eventually, and died a brutal death by the axe of a fumbling executioner.
King Edward IV's marriage to Elizabeth Woodville was declared invalid, bastardizing his sons, so Edward's remaining brother Richard ascended the throne instead of the eldest son. Henry VII defeated and killed Richard at the Battle of Bosworth, to begin the Tudor Dynasty.
Richard's corpse, beaten and bloody, was flung across his horse, carried to the House of the Grey Friars in Leicester and buried in the Collegiate Church of Saint Mary's. Eventually, Henry VII erected a monument to Richard's memory, which was subsequently destroyed during the dissolution of the monasteries in Henry VIII's time, when Richard's remains were cast into the River Soar.
Ironically he and Edward V, the nephew he was believed to have murdered, are the only English monarchs with no known final resting place. The Battle of Bosworth is dramatized in Shakespeare's "Richard III" when Richard, upon losing his horse, utters the famous cry, "A horse, a horse! My kingdom for a horse!" although in reality he insisted on fighting the remainder of the battle on foot.
According to legend, the crown Richard had worn at the battle rolled out from under a hawthorn bush and was placed on Henry's head as he became King Henry VII. Upon his death, his son became Henry VIII, and towards the end of Henry VIII's reign, his daughters Mary and Elizabeth were legitimatized once more, and each reigned in succession after the death of sixteen-year-old Edward.
The only other events with which I took license were Charles Brandon still being alive in 1547, when in fact he had died two years earlier, and in Sebastian Cabot's voyage to the New World with Topaz in tow. His next voyage did not occur until 1553, during which he accidentally discovered what is today known as Russia while looking for the Northeast Passage to Cathay.
His discovery of Newfoundland, however, did take place, and the Dun Cow, the rib of the cow whale he brought back as a trophy of that discovery is preserved in the western entrance to Saint Mary Redcliffe Church in Bristol.
Many of Henry's palaces are still standing and open to the public, such as Hampton Court Palace, the Tower of London, and Windsor Castle, which is Henry's final resting place, where he is buried next to Jane Seymour, the mother of his only legitimate son.
Of course, Westminster Abbey, having reached its nine-hundredth birthday, holds many centuries of history within its hallowed walls and is a magnificent, fascinating shrine, Henry VII's opulent chapel being a splendid work of Gothic architecture.
Warwick Castle, just up the road from Shakespeare's birthplace of Stratford-upon-Avon, is one of the few medieval castles in England that is still intact. It is one of the most beautifully preserved castles in England, and the private apartments are adorned with Madame Tussaud's wax figures depicting a Royal Weekend Party in 1898, decorated with the lavish furnishings of the time.