The White Queen -The White Queen

Abbot's Apartments at Westminster Abbey, London, England, Spring 1471

Jacquetta blows up tisanes and liens from the window and pours them into the river, whispering Woods no one can hear, throws powder on the fire to make them burn green and smoke. She never stirs the children's porridge without whispering a prayer, turns your pillow over twice before she goes to bed, cops are shoes together before putting them on to rhythm of bad luck each morning.

"Does any of that mean anything?" Elizabeth's boy Richard asks me.

"Sometimes," I shrug.

"Is it witchcraft?" He asks nervously.

"Sometimes."

Then, one night in early March after the children have all gone to bed Jacquetta tells us, "Your husbands are coming home to you are. I am sure of it."

"Have you foreseen it?" Ria asks.

Jacquetta laughs. "No Maria, the butcher told me."

"What did the butcher tell you? London is filled with gossip," I point out.

"Yes, but he had a message from a man in Smithfield who serves the ships that go to Flanders. He saw a little fleet selling north word in the worst weather, and one of them was flying the Sun in Splendor: the badge of York."

"Edward is invading?" Ella asks.

"Perhaps at this very moment."

"Then I shall have my husband again," Jackie smiles. "He might even be here in time for the baby."

I smile. "How I would love to have that happen more than anything in the world for you Jackie."

"I am just glad that they will come home in one piece," Elizabeth grins. "And I want to get out of here. I'm tired of living in this dingy old place."

Margaret giggles. We all look at her. "What?"

She is silent for a moment before she says, "When I was little I dreamed of entering a convent and becoming a saint. After seeing what conditions holy brothers of our church live in, I do not even want to know what state nuns live in. Thank God my mother made me get married!"

After that we all had a good laugh.

I am awakened by someone gripping my shoulder on the night of April 1st. When I reluctantly open my eyes I see it is Jackie, kneeling  on the floor beside the bed frantically shaking my elbow, her hand on her large belly. Quickly I get up and ask her, "Jackie, is it the baby?"

"Yes," she tells me as she doubles over and I shake my daughter Lizzie awake.

"Get your aunts up," I tell her, "Aunt Jackie's babies coming."

She looks frightened but she nods as she wakes her ants up and leads her cousins out of the room. The children look back at Jackie with freight as she starts to howl and cry. I can hear Lizzie and the older children telling them reassuring things as they take them to the school room. A few minutes later Mrs. Littleton, a woman in her 40s, comes running out of the room with a few towels. 

"Joan, could you get us some hot water?" Jacquetta asks her.

"Yes my lady," she says before running off.

"Something is wrong!" Jackie screams as sweat drips down her forehead.

"You're going to be fine," Margaret tells her. "This is your fourth child. You have done this before. You'll get through it like all of us have."

"You don't understand!" She cries. "Something is wrong!"

But Elizabeth and I are already at her side, helping her onto the bed while Mrs. Littleton rushes back into the room with towels and boiling water. I brush the bright red hair out of Jackie's face and tell her, "Shush. Must be calm Jackie. Riling yourself up is bad for the baby. Just breathe. It's terrible now but it will all be over soon and it will be worth it."