Arthur

Chapter 19

Elizabeth of York; London, England. January 1502.

“It was fairly obvious, Bess.” Cecily said, as we found some time alone in my chambers. “Why would you think Margaret Beaufort would want the Infanta of Spain, her newly acquired jewel for the English treasure, away from court on her first Christmas here?”

“They are not even having the proper wedding celebrations.” I said, furiously.

“This should be the last of your concerns now. Remember that Margaret has her spies all over Ludlow. Every step Arthur and Catalina make, she knows. Almost like a witch.”

“I see no ‘almost’ in that.” I spat. Cecily smiled, shaking her head and focusing on her sewing work.

“How are our sisters?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

“Anne is the same.” She replied, still focused on her sewing work. “She is on her fourth month now. The child seems to be strong. Of course the loss of little Thomas affected her, but she still has a handsome little boy to take care of, and now a new baby on its way.”

“And Catherine?”

“Her son Edward has been ill, but it doesn’t seem to be serious. Maybe a cold. What is he, four, five? It’s natural at this time of the year, especially for young children. Even the Infanta was ill.” Cecily said. “And Bridget is the pious, devoted woman we know.”

“I have sent her some money last month.” I said. “For her expenses. I have been doing so it’s been a few months now.”

“I’m glad to hear. She can use the help.”

There was a brief pause; I knew we were both thinking of the times when our family was together, and we had nothing to worry about. When we could spend the days with our mother, when we had our brothers safe with us and our father was not in campaign.

“Do you miss her?” Cecily asked.

I knew whom she meant, but I pretended not to.

“Miss whom?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know, Bess. Our mother.”

I sighed, looking away; I had not the chance of saying goodbye to her. My mother died as she had lived: surprisingly, emotionally and tragically. Her funeral was said to have been not fit for a queen, too simple and discreet, although she had specified on her will that she desired a funeral precisely like this. I wouldn’t know; I had not attended her funeral, giving the excuse I was with child. In truth, I could have gone; my daughter Elizabeth would only be born a month later. But I felt as if I should not see her in such state, vulnerable and lifeless on the ground. I was not prepared.

Ten years had passed, and I still could not imagine it.

“How do you cope?” I asked Cecily. “She was all I knew.”

“I don’t cope. I miss her daily. Sometimes I imagine she is with me, I talk with myself as if I am talking to her… I imagine now she is with Papa, our brothers and Melusina.”

“And she left us here.” I said bitterly. “When we still need her.”

Cecily put the towel she was working on aside, and looked at me. “You can’t possibly think she did not find you fit for the position you occupy.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m Queen, as she wanted.”

“Stop being so bitter, Elizabeth. You can’t deny our mother loved us and did all she could to protect us. Think again: wouldn’t you have done the same for your own children? I know I would, for mine. God, I would go to Hell if I had to only to bring back my Elizabeth and my Anne…”

I didn’t reply; having lost two children as well, I would do anything to bring my babies back. I would do anything to protect any of my children.

“We cannot judge her.” She finished. “She was our mother.”

“We cannot judge her…” I repeated.

Cecily smiled to me, to ease the atmosphere between us. “She has taught us well, I believe, my sister. We are copies of our mother.”

“Indeed, especially you. Are you willing to follow her steps and die a widow?” I asked. Her husband, the Viscount of Welled, had died in 1499, and she was still in mourning, apparently.

For my surprise, my sister smiled in a mischievous way. “Oh, who knows? I do not believe I was born to be a widow, sister queen, certainly not…”

“What are you saying? Are you planning to remarry?” I asked.

“It has crossed my mind.” She confessed.

“Well, you must tell Henry then, he can arrange you to marry some Duke…”

Cecily shook her head. “No. I will pick my own husband and I will ask the King’s permission. I’m sure his mother will not oppose if I ask nicely.”

“Oh, you little witch! You had it in mind all along since you arrived! That explains your overly loving behaviour towards that crone…”

“If being loving to that crone means I can have things my way, why not?”

Before I could reply, someone knocked at the door. Cecily took the towel and started her work again.

“Come in.” I ordered. It was one of my ladies, who curtseyed low to us as she walked in.

“Your Majesty, the King has ordered me to inform you that your cousin, Lady Margaret Pole, has arrived at court.” She said.

Cecily and I exchanged a meaningful glance; Margaret was the key for me to obtain full influence over Catalina in Ludlow. And I could work on my plans at court in peace.

“Please, ask her to come see me and my sister. We are looking forward to meet with her.” I said, dismissing the girl. It was time to act.