The White Rose

The Road to Westminster

Elizabeth of York had left a few days after the departure of Guccio Baglioni from Vienna. As she was bogged down with an Imperial wagon train, her travels to her brother's domains in Burgundy took considerably longer than had Guccio's lone horse.  On April 9th, she disembarked at Dover and began the trip to Westminster. Along with her Imperial household came both the Freiherr of Wittenberg, and his mother the Countess of Richmond (the Earl decided to remain in Aix-la-Chapelle). She would reach Westminster by the night of the 12th of April if all went well. Shortly after vespers, the Dukes of York and Gloucester arrived at the Palace from the North and later that morning, the Duke of Clarence began to arrange the procession that would accompany the Empress to her father at Westminster Palace. 

One head overtopped all others, that of the huge Robert Stafford, whose progress attracted every eye. It is true that this lord, mounted upon a huge dappled Arabian – a gigantic horse for a gigantic horseman – wearing red boots and cloak and a tabard of golden velvet, was most impressive in appearance. Though many of the horsemen appeared tired, he remained as upright in the saddle as if he had only just mounted.

Among the band of nobles, knights, and squires who were trotting alongside the Scarlet Baron were the Bryan brothers. Robert Stafford had arranged that for the benefit of the arriving Empress.

Meanwhile, like a huge tiger playing with its prey, claws retracted, he spoke with the utmost cordiality to the brothers, from time to time tossing them a loud-mouthed pleasantry. Since he had saved them from the pretended cut-throats at the Red House, the two young men had been most friendly and thought themselves much obliged to him.

When the cavalcade halted at an inn, they invited Sir Robert to a cup of cool light wine. They joked together, toasting each other. 'Drink, my little friends, drink,' thought Stafford to himself, 'and enjoy the taste of this light wine; it may be your last.'

Three miles from Westminster, the two cavalcades, that of the Holy Roman Empress and that of the royal family, met. Eight servants of the house of England, grouped by the side of the road, blew a long and monotonous fanfare upon their trumpets. The Imperial trumpeters replied upon instruments similar but with a sharper pitch. Then the Royal Dukes walked forward and Elizabeth, slim and upright upon her white palfrey, listened to a short speech of welcome made by her brother, Edmund of York. Then George of Clarence went forward to kiss his niece's hand; then, when it was the Earl of Northampton's turn, he was able to give her to understand, by the manner of his low bow and the glance he gave her, that all had turned out as he had foreseen.

While compliments, questions and news were being exchanged, the two escorts waited and watched each other. The English horsemen were impressed by the Imperial livery. Sitting still and upright upon their horses, the sun in their eyes, the Germans bore proudly upon their breastplates the Imperial Eagle of Germany; they seemed self-assured and were obviously out to make a good impression upon a strange land.

From the great blue-and-gold litter which followed behind the Empress came a loud cry.

'So, Sister,' said Edmund, 'you have brought our little nephew upon the journey, have you? It's a hard trip for so young a child.'

'I would never leave him in Vienna without me. You know enough about the people by whom I am surrounded,' Elizabeth replied.

The Duke of York and the Duke of Clarence asked her the object of her journey; she told them merely that she wished to see her father, and they realized that for the moment, at least, they would be told no more.

She said that she was somewhat tired with the journey, and, dismounting from her white mare, took her place in the great litter carried by two mules harnessed in velvet trappings, one placed between the forward shafts and the other between the rear. Both cavalcades moved off again towards Westminster.

Taking advantage of the fact that York and Clarence had taken their places at the head of the cavalcade, Stafford drew his horse near the litter.

'You become more beautiful every time I see you, Cousin,' he said.

'Don't talk nonsense; I am certainly not beautiful after twelve hours of dust upon the roads,' the Empress replied.

'Having loved you in memory for many long weeks, the dust is invisible; I can only see your eyes.'

Who are these men who are dishonoring the Crown of England?' Elizabeth asked.

'They are riding twenty paces from you. They form part of the escort attending us.'

And he gave her the essential information about the brothers Bryan, their estate, their parentage and their family relationships.

'I want to see them,' Elizabeth said.

Signaling vigorously, Stafford called the two young men over.

'The Empress has noticed you,' he said, winking broadly, 'and I have spoken to her of you.'

The faces of the two Bryans reflected their pleasure and their pride.

The giant motioned them towards the litter as if he were in process of making their fortunes, and, as the young men bowed lower than their horses' withers, he said with feigned joviality:

'Madam, here are Masters Walter and Philip Bryan , the most loyal squires of your brother and your uncle. I recommend them to your notice. They are to some extent protégés of mine.'

Elizabeth gazed for an instant at the two young men, wondering what there was about their faces and their persons that could turn kings' daughters from their duty. They were handsome, certainly, and Elizabeth was always somewhat embarrassed by beauty in men. Then she noticed the purses at the horsemen's belts and glanced from them to Robert's eyes. The latter smiled briefly. From now on he could fade into the shadows. He need not even assume the role of informer before the Court. This chance encounter should be sufficient to decide the fate of the two equerries. 'Good work, Robert, good work,' he said to himself.

The brothers Bryan, their heads full of dreams, returned to their places in the procession.

From Westminster, in the throes of gaiety, could be heard a great clamor of welcome for the beautiful Empress of thirty, who was about to bring the most surprising of disasters upon the Court of England.