To Hold the Crown: The Story of King Henry VII and Elizabeth of York - Jean Plaidy

He was in a sullen mood when he arrived at the Bishop’s House in Fleet Street where the formal betrothal was to take place. It did not diminish even when he saw Katharine looking beautiful in an elegant dress, which was not quite in the style to which he was accustomed and all the more attractive for that. He couldn’t help thinking that the hooped petticoat over which the dress fell in alluring folds was interesting, just as the cardinal’s hat she had worn on their first meeting had been.

She intrigued him in a way because she was different from the other ladies of the Court; he had liked the way she had spoken English and he had fancied that she had liked him very much when she had first come. He knew that she was anxious about her future and that quite a number of her attendants were too, for he had made a point of discovering all about her that her servants could tell him and the latter always liked to have an answer for him. He knew for instance that it was a long time since she had had a new dress and even this one she was wearing for such an important ceremony was one she had brought with her from Spain.

His father was present with his grandmother. They both looked stern and serious. He would have liked to say: “I will not betroth myself to this Princess who prefers her own Court of Spain to mine.”

To mine! His father would be angry at that. He had reminded him once or twice that he was not king yet.

He took Katharine’s right hand and said the lines he had had to learn off by heart to make sure that he did not leave out anything and that he said them in the right manner.

He rejoiced, he said, to contract matrimony with Katharine and to have her for his wife, forsaking all others during the term of their lives.

Katharine had turned to him and she was saying the same thing in rather halting English, which in a way was endearing.

Then she smiled at him, a little fearfully, almost appealingly and all his rancor vanished.

She was beautiful; he liked her maturity; more fervently than ever he wished he were seventeen. Alas, he was a few days from twelve and he must needs wait, but his feelings of chivalry had overcome his resentment. He was foolish to listen to Margaret. She was just annoyed because she had to go away to Scotland.

Katharine was his affianced wife; she looked to him for protection, and chivalrous knight that he was she should not look in vain.

Henry’s moods changed quickly and it was in one of pride and joy that hand in hand with Katharine he emerged from the Bishop’s House into the sunshine of Fleet Street on that June day.

The Prince Discovers His Conscience

         few days later another important event occurred. This was the departure of the Princess Margaret—now known as the Queen of Scotland. On that lovely June day the calvacade set out from Richmond Palace and beside Margaret rode the King. The people flocked into the streets to cheer the pretty Princess as she took her farewell of her country.

She was indeed charming, dressed in green velvet and seated on a white palfrey, and her entourage was magnificent. It was one of those occasions when Dudley and Empson had persuaded the King that to be parsimonious about the Princess’s equipage would be a false economy. They must remember that it was a political occasion and the Scots must realize that the King of England—miser though he might be called—was very rich indeed.

Margaret reveled in the splendor. If she were a little apprehensive about meeting her future husband she forgot that in the pleasure of the moment. She had a litter covered with gold, trimmed with silk and gold fringe, and embroidered with the arms of England; and the men who carried the litter had been provided with new special livery in green and black. She had a chariot lined with bear skins and the trappings of the horses and the hammer cloths were made of black and crimson velvet. Lords, knights and ladies accompanied her, all splendidly attired.

Prince Henry was accompanying the party as far as Colley Weston where he and his father would say good-bye to Margaret after they had stayed a few days at the home of Margaret, Countess of Richmond, who had left the Court a little beforehand so that she might be in her home to greet them when they arrived.

The Princess Margaret was glad that her brother was present so that he could see all the splendor of her equipment and realize that he was not the only important member of the household.

She was amused, contemplating his envy. But then of course he would remember that there would be far more splendid occasions in store for him; and once he was king—and that would mean that he had escaped from his father’s restraining hands—the money so carefully preserved by their father would doubtless be recklessly spent.

But she found there was little time to gloat over Henry’s envy; at the moment she was at the center of events and she must enjoy every minute.

At Colley Weston in Northamptonshire her grandmother was waiting to receive the party. She embraced her son with that emotion neither of them showed for anyone else. And the Countess then turned to her granddaughter and there was a look of pride in her eyes as they rested on the beautiful girl.

She was congratulating herself that the Tudors were strong now. She wished that the King could cast aside his uncertainty. Nothing could come against them. They had a fine Prince of Wales. It was a pity that they had not another boy just in case, but it seemed ridicculous to imagine that anything could happen to Henry. Well, the King must remarry soon and if he had another son . . .

But this was Margaret’s matter; and very satisfactory it was that she should go into Scotland for the union should assure peace at the Borders.

In due course Margaret said good-bye to her family. The King gave her his blessing and warned her to take every care in the manner in which she conducted herself at her husband’s Court. She must remember always that she was her father’s daughter and that it was her duty to prevent trouble arising to his detriment.

Margaret, a little tearful now at the parting, was longing nevertheless to be free from restraint; she promised that she would remember what her father had said and that he could rely on her to do all that she could for his good.

The journey through England was exhilarating. Everywhere she was greeted with affection and admiration. She smiled and waved and when she could, talked to the people; she reveled in the fine garments which had been provided for her, she lingered as long as possible for she was in no hurry to end this triumphant journey. The people loved her and she loved the people; their admiration made her eyes sparkle and brought bright color to her cheeks making her more beautiful than ever. If her father could have seen her he would have agreed that Dudley and Empson were right. It was money well spent.

So she traveled northward. In the city of York there were special celebrations, which started from the moment when the gates were flung open to welcome her. She began her stay by attending Mass and then receiving the nobility who had gathered there to await her arrival.

There were banquets and as she was noted for her skill in dancing many balls were held in her honor. Life was wonderful and she was able to push aside that faint apprehension, which attacked her from time to time when she thought of crossing the Border into that land which she had heard—and which her brother Henry had said—was dour and populated by barbarians.

And in due course she came to that wild border country and she was told: “My lady, you have now left England. This is the country of which you are Queen.”

She looked around her. She would not have known that she had crossed a border if she had not been told it was so, for the grass and trees and lanes were similar to those of England. But when they arrived at Lammermuir and the local nobility came to greet her, she noticed a difference. They stared more openly; they did not bow with the same grace; their clothes were not quite so fine and though made of good materials they lacked a certain elegance.

It was sad to say good-bye to the English noblemen who had accompanied her and her exuberance began to fade a little, but she was glad to move on from Lammermuir and when she reached Fastcastle and was warmly welcomed by Lord and Lady Home she felt her spirits lift a little. The stay was brief, however, and after one night they were on their way to Haddington.

The King, impatient to see his bride, was traveling to Dalkeith, and Margaret, having heard that she would no doubt meet her husband there, was determined to be prepared. She had changed into her most becoming dress and had asked her attendant Lady Guildford twenty times how she looked. Her heart was beating wildly; the next hour could be the most important of the whole journey. This would decide her future.

She stood in her apartment waiting. From the bustle below she knew that he had arrived. She knew that he was coming nearer. At any moment now.

The door was opened and a man stood on the threshold.

There was color in his cheeks and his eyes shone with excitement. They surveyed each other quickly . . . and then they were smiling.

She saw a handsome man, with dark auburn hair and hazel eyes, well-shaped features, handsome bearing and above all an indefinable charm.

He saw a beautiful young girl and he was very susceptible to female beauty. She was enchanting—pretty, young, fresh and eager to please—all this and the daughter of Henry Tudor.

This was a happy moment for Scotland and its King.

He took her hand and kissed it; while he held it to his lips their eyes met and it was almost a look of understanding which passed between them.

Then he bowed and turned to her attendants, kissing the ladies and speaking to the men.

Conveying a certain relief as though to say: now I have done my duty and I can return to pleasure, he came back to Margaret.

“At last,” he said, “you have come to me. I began to fear that you never would.”

“But we have been betrothed for a long time.”

“It seems an age . . . but now you are here. Do you think that you can love me?”

“Oh yes. I wondered whether you were the handsomest king in the world.”

“Is that what you heard of me?”

“It was.”

He grimaced. “I am glad I did not know it. I should have been most fearful of disappointing you.”

“Oh you do not. They spoke truth.”

“And they told me you were the most beautiful of princesses and they spoke truth also.”

“Oh it has all ended so happily.”

“By sweet St. Ninian, my Queen, it is only beginning.”

He was thinking: she is charming. It will not be difficult. I should count myself lucky.

But he laughed ironically at the thought. For he could not rid himself of memories of that other Margaret. Of all his mistresses Margaret Drummond had been his favorite. But she was dead . . . foully murdered by some person or persons unknown. He would never forget Margaret. He had had countless other mistresses but Margaret had been all that he could have wished in a woman. Had she been his wife he would have been faithful to her . . . he was sure of that though no one else would believe it.

It had been said of him that he would never marry while Margaret Drummond was with him. And one morning she with her two sisters was found dead. They had been poisoned. By whom? No one had ever discovered of if they had discovered had not disclosed.

It might have been some of his ministers who had thought her influence on him was too strong; it might have been some jealous woman. . . .

Who could say? But the fact remained that Margaret was dead and here was another in her place.

He was smiling at her, pressing her hand. She was ready to be loved, he could see that. Very young but ready, very ready.

He was fortunate. He must remember that. For all that latent passion, which he as a connoisseur of women could detect, there was an innocence about her, a romanticism, which perhaps most girls of her age would have before they came into contact with the world.

In time she would discover. Janet Kennedy would see to that and he doubted he would be ready to give up Janet for a pretty young girl, delightful though she might be.

But that was for the future. Perhaps the new Queen of Scotland could be made to accept the inevitable.

All James must concern himself with now was to conduct his bride to Holyrood where in the church of that palace the ceremony of their marriage would take place.

Katharine’s position had changed. As the future Queen of England she could no longer live in obscurity. She would come to Court and as it was no exaggeration to say that the clothes she had brought with her from Spain were decidedly shabby, the King was obliged, though reluctantly, to make her an allowance.

Katharine’s first need was to pay her servants and when that was done—for their wages were very much in arrears—there was not a great deal left for clothes. But still it was an improvement and the fcuture seemed a little more secure. In two or three years she should be truly married to the Prince of Wales and then the King must give her an adequate allowance.

She had written to her mother and what joy it had been to receive a reply in that dear and familiar handwriting. The words were warm and loving. Katharine must never doubt that her mother watched over her and was determined to do everything in her power to promote her well-being. She would see that the best thing that could happen to her since Prince Arthur was dead, was marriage with the new Prince of Wales. And Katharine being her own good and docile daughter would realize that such a marriage would be to Spain’s advantage. Isabella was sorry that Katharine had such difficulty in meeting the needs of her household. “We cannot send you money, dear daughter. We need all we have for the war. It is swallowing up far more than we anticipated. Moreover it is the duty of your future father-in-law to make you an adequate allowance. He is reputed to be extremely rich. He doubtless would like us to support you, but this is a matter of state, dear daughter, and I am sure your father would agree with me that it would be foolish of us—even if we had the means—to take over the commitments of the King of England. Be patient, dear daughter, and know that your mother loves you and will always watch over you.”

Katharine wept when she read that letter. She must not complain. She was the most fortunate of daughters to possess such a mother.

The idea came to her that if she pawned her jewelery it should fetch a great deal. It was part of her dowry and the King had said that she should wear her jewelery and de Puebla had hinted that the King was in due course going to reject it as part of the dowry.

Doña Elvira was horrified at the idea of pawning the jewelery.

“I must pay my servants,” cried Katharine. “And I cannot appear at Court in threadbare gowns.”

“But this is the dowry you will bring to your husband.”

“My late husband’s revenues have not come to me. The King has taken them. I have nothing but the King’s small allowance. I must do something. When I am married to the Prince I shall be able to redeem the jewels.”