Midnight in Westminster Abbey
Page 31
He said in the boy’s ear, “You’re a handsome fellow, you know—too handsome for the dark dank vaults of Westminster Abbey. Climb on to my horse. He’s standing right behind you. He’s friendly to all kids. I’ll lift you up. My kind nun sisters in Leicester will look after you better than your cold relatives here. You’ll have more opportunities for jousts and feasting—and for hanky-panky now you’re growing up.”
The little boy called out into thin air, “Dad, daddy, can’t you see him for what he is, a child snatcher?”
Charlie who was only concerned with getting his family to the great west doors without mishap, answered, “Your imagination is getting the better of you, Georgie. It’s just shadows on the abbey pillars. This dim light plays tricks on our eyes. Just keep moving.”
Unnoticed by the Chancer family, Henry VII was still targeting another child: “Like I said, we Tudors are charmed by your angelic beauty. Simply charmed. We will look after you better than anyone else.”
The targeted youngster said nothing. He thought he had just escaped being smothered in the cloak of his false uncle, Richard III. He looked blank. He did not trust Henry VII, either. Henry VII sensed that this youngster was holding back.
“We haven’t time for doubts. Dawn is stealing upon us,” he said tetchily. He was certainly irritated. “I’m here to save you. If you can’t understand that, I’ll use force to bend you to my will—just like an old-fashioned English schoolmaster.”
“Ginny, Ginny,” a boy cried out, “This spirit wants to kidnap me all over again.”
Ginny could not hear Georgie properly. She was usually ready to calm him in any minor crisis and she detected that one of the youngsters was in trouble. But she wanted to take a proper leave of the hunky Sir Walter. She was almost offhand when she said, “Georgie, Georgie, don’t be afraid. It’s just morning mist getting into the abbey. That’s what makes everything look sinister.”
Her reply was drowned out by the general commotion.
In the last gasps of the puny, if extensive, Plantagenet-Chudor struggle, Richard III still shielded young Richard, duke of York. Or was it Edward V again? Or another youth? He repeated yet again his legendary cry, “My kingdom for a horse,” knowing that the metal horse borrowed from Queen Boadicea would rise on command and carry him and his precious cargo to safety.
And so, Richard III fairly leapt onto the trusty metal horse. At that, the horse itself jumped high right through the immense west window of the abbey and on to freedom in the streets of London. Was there also a youth on his back?
Other kings and queens were all scrambling to escape before inescapable daylight ended their ghostly proceedings.
Last to retire from the royal fray was steady and impervious Elizabeth I. She had just enough time to give Ginny her hand to kiss gratefully (as she supposed). Mary Tudor hurried everyone on:
“It’s been such fun, hasn’t it? There’s no more time now—unfortunately. But we might meet again when we queens rise for Twelfth Night after Christmas—should you and your dear ones happen to be passing by.”
Elizabeth added, “Mr Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night is to be our show on the ice of the frozen River Thames next year. I’m to play the super-aristocratic Olivia. It’s perfect casting because half the characters in the play are in love with me—just like real life. You won’t be surprised that I turn down two of my suitors: James I as Malvolio and Charles II as Orsino. Wouldn’t you? One of the Maries can be my maidservant. That’s type casting. And last but not least, Ginny dearest, you would be perfect as the girl-into-boy heroine Viola. And one of the handsome gardeners could partner you as Sebastian. Just perfect.”
Even in a rush, Elizabeth I would not have been Elizabeth I without showing off her Italian for the umpteenth time. She said, “N’accozzeremo,” to the Chancer family as her way of signalling, “Like I just said, we’ll meet again.”
“Have a good day, ma’am,” was Charlie’s stereotypical New York goodbye.
Smiling contemptuously at him, Elizabeth I put two choppy fingers to her lips and blew out a screeching whistle as a command for the remaining monarchs to move presto.
Then Elizabeth clicked her fingers. But this time, rather than a change of costume, she and her sister queens began to dissolve, not as a mist but like iridescent lights of firework sparklers. Instead of burning themselves out they ascended high in the abbey rafters almost like diminutive stars in the sky—or, more precisely, the perpendicular beams.
Alongside these disappearing queens, up high the remaining sovereigns flew high and swift like witches at the end of a black Sabbath. Ginny thought as they circled the high ribbed vaulted ceiling of Westminster Abbey, it was like one of the spectacular wonders of Nature—like an immense flock of birds on their mighty migration north or south or even a giant swarm of locusts about to devour all edible crops in their way. Perhaps the biggest mystery of all was how the last late kings and queens flew through the great west windows where Richard III and the horse had already carved a large hole.
As he rose through the skies, the metal horse cast a quick glance at the little Chancer family left behind. This made Ginny look behind her. And there, with an affectionate neigh was the Silver Unicorn.
Time traveller Sir Walter was there to nudge them on.
“You’re wasting time,” he said to Charlie. “Be up and off with you. Your steed awaits.”
Charlie needed no second urging to accept the unicorn’s welcome offer. He hoisted first Charlie, then Ginny and finally himself onto the unicorn. They rose right through the west window and onto the other side of the street and terra firma.
Safe at last! The unicorn disappeared. The damp London morning seemed more welcoming than it had ever been before.
Then Ginny heard a tiny squeak. Something rustled in her winter coat. There was a plop, as something tumbled out and fell. Looking down, Ginny found one of the tiny Elizabethan ermine from yesterday. It was clawing at her feet and looking up with pleading eyes.
The End of Midnight in Westminster Abbey
KINGS AND QUEENS IN WESTMINSTER
Saint Edward the Confessor , circa 1003–66, reigned 1042–66, married Edith (or Eadgyth) Godwin; last king of the House of Wessex; son of Ethelred II (Ethelred the Unready).
Henry III (Henry of Winchester); son of King John; 1207–72, reigned 1216–72, married Eleanor of Provence, 1236.
Edward I (Longshanks); son of Henry III; 1239–1307, reigned 1272–1307, married: (1) Eleanor of Castile 1254; (2) Margaret of France, 1299.
Edward III; grandson of Edward I; 1312–77, reigned 1327–77, married
Philippa of Holland and Hainault 1328; their eldest son—Edward III’s heir—was Edward, prince of Wales, the Black Prince (1430–76) who died the year before his father and is buried in Canterbury Cathedral.
Richard II (Richard of Bordeaux); grandson of Edward III; son of Edward, the Black Prince; 1366–1400, reigned 1377–99, deposed 1399, murdered 1400, married: (1) Anne of Bohemia 1382, (2) Isabella of Valois, 1396.
Henry V (Henry of Monmouth); son of Henry IV, great grandson of Edward III; 1387–1422, reigned 1413–22; in 1420 he married
Katherine of Valois (1401–37), mother of his son, Henry VI; by her later liaison with Owen Tudor she had several children including Owen Tudor, father of Henry VII.
Edward V; son of Edward IV, 1470–83, succeeded 1483 and presumed murdered that year alongside his brother Richard, duke of York: the Princes in the Tower.
Henry VII (Welsh: Harri Tudur); descendant of Edward III through his third surviving son, John of Gaunt and of Katherine of Valois and her second partner, Owen ap Meredith Tudor; 1457–1509, reigned 1485–1509, married Elizabeth of York , daughter of Edward IV and sister of Edward V, 1486.
Edward VI; grandson of Henry VII and son of Henry VIII by his third wife, Jane Seymour; 1537–1553, reigned 1547–1553.
Anne of Cleves , fourth wife of Henry VIII (1515–57); married and marriage annulled, 1540.
Mary I; eld
est daughter of Henry VIII by his first wife, Katherine of Aragon; 1516–1558, reigned 1553–58, married Philip II of Spain, 1554.
Elizabeth I (Gloriana); second daughter of Henry VIII by his second wife, Anne Boleyn; 1533–1603, reigned 1558–1603.
Mary, Queen of Scots (Mary Stuart) 1542–87; queen of Scotland 1542–67; married: (1) Francis II of Valois (and was queen consort of France 1559–60); (2) Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley; (3) James Hepburn, earl of Bothwell.
James VI and I ; son of Mary, Queen of Scots, and grandson of James V of Scotland; 1566–1625, reigned as James VI, king of Scotland 1567–1625; reigned as James I, king of England 1603–25, married Anne of Denmark, 1589.
Charles II (The Merry Monarch); grandson of James I and son of Charles I; 1630–85, reigned 1649–85 and officially restored 1660–85, married Catherine of Braganza, 1662.
William III and Mary II (William and Mary); William was posthumous son of William II prince of Orange, Holland, and cousin to the Stuarts; 1650–1702, reigned 1689–1702; Mary was the eldest daughter of James II; 1662–1694, reigned 1688–94. William and Mary were married in 1677.
Anne; second daughter of James II, 1665–1714, reigned 1702–14, married George of Denmark, 1683.
George II; son of George I, 1683–1760. The first two Georges were distant cousins of the Stuarts. George II reigned 1727–60, married
Caroline of Anspach or Ansbach, 1705.