Arthur

Chapter 25

Elizabeth of York; London, England. January of 1502.

The first month of the year was close to its end, and the weather had finally become easy on us. And that was exactly when my favourite lady-in-waiting, the sweet Catherine Gordon, recovered from the strong cold that had kept her in bed for almost two months. I had provided that the court’s physician would take care of her, and sent her gifts every week. I had grown fond of Catherine ever since I first saw her, five years ago.

Lady Catherine Gordon was the widow of Perkin Warbeck, the man who, for years, tormented my husband and my mother-in-law, claiming to be my brother Richard.

To me, it was more than a great torment, but as if I had sudden woken up from a dream I had induced myself into; for years I had been forced to accept that all my beloved ones were dead, gone from me, and I’d learnt to mourn them and bury them deep inside my heart. With time, I learned to accept Henry as a good man.

Until Perkin Warbeck came into our lives.

I did not want to see him at first; I was sure he was an impostor, a cruel gold-digger who did not spare my family from the pain of resurrecting old grief. My husband and his mother seemed to think the same, for they required me to see him and unmask him as a fraud. I was one of the few who could give a legitimate testimonial against the man who insisted to be my brother.

At that time, he had the support of the King of Scots, who allowed him to marry his cousin Catherine. The poor thing was only a girl when she was dragged into such dangerous situation. I was summoned to see the man, against my will, and so I did. Soon enough, Henry and Margaret Beaufort regretted their decision; I had seen the undeniable similarities between the man who stood before me, wearing a ragged blouse, and my little brother who had gone missing. He spoke to me, remembering things from our childhood, things that happened within the comfortable privacy of our home and the sanctuary. Not once he pleaded me to acknowledge him; not once he begged me to remember him. He simply spoke to me as a beloved relative he had lost contact with.

That was when I realised how the comfortable years had blinded me, turned my face away from my previous life. As a girl, I had vowed to discover what had happened to Edward and Richard; as the Queen of England, I unconsciously accepted the nullity that Lady Margaret Beaufort imposed to me, slowly forgetting about my brothers, my mother… and my Richard.

The impact that man had upon my life could never be measured in words. After meeting him several times, I was convinced that he was Richard. I was ready to step aside as Queen, going against my own husband, denying my own son the right to become King one day, and declaring that he was indeed my brother, the rightful heir to the throne of England, son to my father, King Edward IV.

I never had the chance to do so; the day after I had reached my decision, he declared he had lied, fooled us all, and he was indeed nothing but a Flemish raised in Tournai, son to the comptroller of the city. I do not know what caused him to give up on his claim; not when we had grown so fond. Not when Cecily and Anne had also accepted him. Whatever it was, must have scared him. I knew he wasn’t alone; there were also his young wife and a baby daughter involved.

Whatever it was, he refused to see me or getting my messages; he refused to see anyone, claiming he had nothing to deal with any of us. All he requested was that Catherine and her baby would be spared from the shame of being connected to someone as vile as he was. Then finally, Henry had him hanged.

Saying it was for mercy and pity, Henry allowed Lady Catherine to stay with us, waiting on me. She was very quiet at first, always looking down as if to hide her grief and sadness. Her baby, Elizabeth, was taken from her and sent to Scotland, allegedly to be taken care of and raised in the Scottish court. I had never seen happiness in her face ever since.

I pitied, God, I felt that woman’s silent pain. Not only her own tragedies tormented her, she was the target of gossip and bad-talking among the ladies-in-waiting. After hearing about a cruel comment from Lady Mary Stafford, I decided to step in. I protected her, made her my favourite lady, the one who walked beside me, who read the Bible verses to me at evenings, my pair on card games and my friend. Catherine was always a very reserved woman, now on her late twenties, but gladly she had opened up a bit to me, allowing herself to laugh and enjoy the many distractions I’d include her into. But we never spoke about the past events. We both had this unspoken agreement of never mentioning it.

As she entered my rooms that day, looking particularly beautiful in her new purple velvet gown, a gift from the King and I for Christmas. She held herself rather lovely and confident as she walked to me, and curtseyed gracefully. From the corner of my eye, I could notice the other ladies holding their breath in jealousy, looking at her gown, raising their eyebrows petulantly.

“I am so pleased to see you, Lady Catherine!” I exclaimed n delight. “You look well!”

“I am well, Your Majesty, thank you.” She replied. “And thank you for the lovely gifts you and the King have sent to me during my reclusion time. They brought light to my days and smiles to my face.”

I made a signal to Elizabeth Boleyn, who had occupied the place by my side without my invitation, to give the space to Catherine. Reluctantly, she obeyed, and Catherine and I exchanged a look of mutual understanding.

“Why don’t you all go finish the sewing work for the poor by the windows? Lady Catherine, I will finish the towel I have started for the Church, please help me sorting the linens.” I said.

It was a great excuse to shoo them away and keep only Catherine by my side. I had important things to deal with her, and I couldn’t risk any intruding lady to overhear us.

“You must know my son Arthur has left to Ludlow with his wife, Princess Catalina.” I started.

Lady Catherine nodded, deeply concentrated in the linens.

“What you must not yet know is that, as he left, I have reached an important decision. Something I must have done a long time ago.”

She did not raise her eyes to me, in curiosity and surprise, as any foolish young woman would. She kept concentrated in the lines, seeing if they matched to the work I had started in the towel.

“I am listening, Your Majesty.”

In a few lines, I explained to her my purpose and my plan, noticing her face turning pale. As I finished, I waited for her reaction.

“That’s a most dangerous idea, madam.” She replied.

“You must have realised I will also need your help.”

Lady Catherine nodded. “Whatever you need, madam.”

“To start with, there is a lot you need to tell me, Catherine…” I replied. I did not have to say what she needed to tell me; with a sigh, she started telling everything I needed to hear, word by word, as if she had waited all her life to finally put it out of her chest.