The Lady Elizabeth (15 page)

“Come and play, Brother,” Elizabeth invited him one day when the tutor had dismissed them for the afternoon.

“I wish to read my book,” he said. He had learned to read early, and was very advanced for his age, she had noticed.

“You can read your book anytime,” she wheedled. “It’s warm outside and we could run races in the park.”

“Good idea, my lady!” smiled Barnaby. “How about me teaching you to fence, sir?”

Edward shook his fair head.

“My father the King would not allow it,” he said sadly. “It would be too dangerous. I might get hurt, or killed, and then he would have no heir.”

“Every gentleman must learn swordsmanship,” Barnaby said.

“You could teach
me,
” suggested Elizabeth, her eyes twinkling.

Barnaby chuckled.

“You, a girl? My apologies, my lady, but it would not be seemly.”

“Seemly be damned!” retorted Elizabeth wickedly. “Come, we shall fence!”

They raced to the park, Edward’s nurses following at a discreet distance. Barnaby produced two blunted swords and taught Elizabeth the correct stance, feet turned outward, one hand on hip, the other holding forth her weapon. Then he demonstrated thrusting, parrying, and feinting. Elizabeth found it exciting and exhilarating, and performed very creditably. Edward watched with longing eyes.

“I wish I could have a go,” he said wistfully.

“You can, sir!” said Barnaby.

“Why don’t we go behind those trees over there?” Elizabeth suggested. “They won’t be able to see us then.” She nodded briefly in the direction of the nurses, who were watching anxiously from a distance.

“Yes!” agreed Edward, with more animation than she had yet seen in him.

Once shielded from view, Barnaby went over the drill again, this time with the Prince as his pupil.

“
Garde!
” the little boy cried as Barnaby diplomatically let him take the initiative, and the contest commenced.

“Bravo!” cried Elizabeth, clapping her hands. Edward’s fair face was flushed with pleasure. He danced across the grass, thrusting and slashing the air as he went. They were all enjoying themselves so much that they did not notice Mistress Penn and her acolytes approaching.

“Stop!” that lady roared. “What are you thinking of? You’ll have us all in the Tower.”

The three children froze.

“I am so sorry, mistress,” drawled Barnaby. “I meant no harm. It was just a bit of fun.”

“My brother the Prince
should
be learning to fence,” Elizabeth said defiantly.

Edward said nothing but fixed a glacial stare on his nurse, which she ignored.

“All in God’s good time, and the King’s,” said Mistress Penn. “His Highness here is not even breeched. And, my Lord Prince, you know very well that you are not allowed to take risks. When the time comes for you to learn to fence, you will be taught by an expert swordsman, who will ensure your safety.”

Elizabeth frowned. Barnaby’s mouth opened in protest, but he was quickly silenced by the nurse’s next words, which were addressed to a scowling Edward. “You have been disobedient, sir, and I fear that Barnaby here must pay for it.”

Barnaby groaned.

CHAPTER
7

1543

T
he green court gown was heavy with its elaborate sleeves and long train, and the pearl-encrusted border of its wide square neckline was cutting uncomfortably into the skin on Elizabeth’s slender shoulders, but she was determined to ignore these things, for today she was one of the chief guests of honor at her father’s wedding.

Beside her in the gilded splendor of the Holyday Closet of the Chapel Royal at Hampton Court, the Lady Mary stood solemnly watching the ceremony. Her gown was of tawny damask with rich crimson velvet oversleeves; like her, the score of lords and ladies here today were all magnificently dressed, and all—following the King’s lead—were in a jovial, holiday mood.

Elizabeth watched as Archbishop Cranmer placed the bride’s fine-boned hand in her father’s giant paw and pronounced them man and wife. She had met Katherine Parr only a few times, but she liked her enormously and was glad she would be having her for her latest stepmother.

The King turned to face the congregation, happiness and jubilation plain to see in his face, and led his new wife through the bowing line of courtiers to the gallery beyond, and thence through the state apartments to the privy chamber, the guests following, laughing and jesting. The processional route was lined with members of the court and household, all jostling for a view of the new Queen.

She was not pretty as such, Elizabeth reflected, as she watched a smiling Katherine nodding regally to the left and right, but she had a comely face framed with auburn hair, and her manner was gentle and dignified.

“She is very well learned,” Kat had said on learning that the King was to marry Katherine.

“I feel sorry for her,” Elizabeth had opined. “Married to two old husbands, one after the other—I should have hated it.”

“I heard she was not so much a wife to them as a nurse,” Kat observed. And I suspect, she thought, that the King knew something of this and foresaw her playing a similar role in future. For Henry’s health had declined steadily since Katherine Howard’s execution. Even in his wedding finery, one could see his bandaged, ulcerous legs beneath the fine white hose, notice the fleeting wince of pain as he limped around the room, leaning heavily on his cane, and count the white hairs in his red beard. He had grown fat too; at court, there were covert jokes that three men could fit inside his doublet.

Elizabeth hated hearing such things, could not bear to think of her father as being mortal. He was Great Harry, Emperor in his own realm, Supreme Head of the Church and Defender of the Faith, and England needed him.
She
needed him. He
would
get better soon, he must.

Queen Katherine would help him, she was sure. Katherine was a good woman, a kind woman—he could not have chosen better.

“At least she is no giddy girl like the last one,” Mary had said on her recent visit to Hatfield. “Although I fear she harbors suspect views on religion.”

“That lady is a true lover of the Gospel,” Dr. Coxe had declared in the schoolroom at Hertford. “She will be a friend to all who wish to see the Church reformed from within.”

“The ladies she has chosen for her household are all of that persuasion,” Mary had sniffed. “Be very wary, Elizabeth. You must not become infected with such ideas.”

“You could do no better than follow her example,” Dr. Coxe had told Elizabeth. “She will guide you in sound principles.”

Elizabeth had decided she would make up her own mind. Already, Katherine Parr had shown a motherly interest in her, summoning her to court as soon as the forthcoming wedding had been announced. It had been long months since Elizabeth had been there, and she was highly excited when she arrived and was brought to her future stepmother.

“My Lady Elizabeth!” the widowed Lady Latimer—as she had then been—exclaimed, making a respectful curtsy and then holding out both hands, clasping Elizabeth’s, and kissing her unaffectedly.

“Welcome to court!” she said warmly. “It is an honor to meet you, my Lady Elizabeth.”

She smiled at the Lady Mary, who had been sitting with her when Elizabeth entered the chamber. Elizabeth noticed that the room was filled with the heady scent of summer flowers, which were arranged in pots and bowls all around the apartment. Clearly, Lady Latimer loved flowers. She noticed too Katherine’s beautiful velvet shoes, embroidered with gold, peeping out from beneath her scarlet silk skirt.

Mary, hitherto disapproving of Katherine, was—to Elizabeth’s surprise—smiling at her with overt friendliness.

“Lady Latimer has just been reminding me that her mother once served mine,” she said.

“She was devoted to Queen Katherine,” Lady Latimer said. “But that was long years ago, my Lady Elizabeth, and you and my Lady Mary here have suffered great misfortunes in your lives. It is my sincere hope that you will both come to regard me as a loving stepmother who is willing to do you all the service that she can.”

Elizabeth was amazed to see Mary’s eyes fill with tears and her sister suddenly lean forward and hugged Katherine.

“I am sure we will become loving friends,” Mary declared.

“And you, Elizabeth,” said Katherine, holding out her arm. “You are a child still and need a mother’s love and guidance. I know you have the excellent Katherine Champernowne as your governess, but I hope you will think of me as your mother, and come to me if you need any help or advice. It will be my pleasure rather than my duty to assist you.”

“I will, madam,” Elizabeth said fervently. Her eyes were shining.

A light banquet was being served as the guests mingled, and Elizabeth took care to help herself to as many sweetmeats and comfits as she could eat, for the grown-ups were too preoccupied with their wine and their talk to notice a greedy girl overstuffing herself.

The King and his new Queen were circulating, greeting their guests in turn.

“My congratulations, Sire,” Lord Hertford was saying. “Your Majesty is a very lucky man.” He bowed courteously to Katherine.

Elizabeth looked with interest at the King’s former brother-in-law, a sober-looking man with a thin face, large nose, and thick russet beard, who, after the death of his sister, Queen Jane, had managed to stay close to the throne by virtue of being the young Prince’s uncle and a man of some political astuteness.

“We are indeed, my lord!” Henry clapped him on the back, winking at Katherine. “It’s about time I took myself a wife again, for the sake of my realm, and to be a comfort in my old age.”

“You’re hardly in your dotage yet, sir.” Katherine smiled. As the King beamed broadly, she went on, “How does the Prince, my Lord Hertford?”

“My nephew is in good health, madam, and excelling at his studies. It is a comfort to know he now has a caring stepmother at last.”

“I wish he could come to court,” she said. “Sir, could we not have him with us? After all, his sisters are here.”

The King shook his head.

“There is little I would deny you, Kate,” he told her, “but the Prince’s health must be my priority. The court can be a hotbed of contagion, as you know, and if he were to be exposed to that…The prospect is too terrible to think on, for his life is all that stands between mine and civil war.”

“Of course, sir, I would not press you,” she agreed hastily.

“But if, in due course,
we
have a son, Kate,” Henry went on, his eyes narrowing lustfully, “then I would not need to be so protective of Edward’s safety.”

“I shall pray for it, my lord,” Katherine assured him calmly without a trace of a blush.

“Pray on,” muttered John Dudley, Viscount Lisle, who was standing nearby, to Henry’s niece, Lady Margaret Douglas; Elizabeth, stealing another candied plum behind them, could hear every word. “She’ll need nothing more than a miracle to achieve that!”

Anna of Cleves, invited to the wedding as the King’s dear sister, joined the little group.

“Lady Margaret, my Lord Lisle,” she greeted them, then cast a glance toward the newlyweds.

“A fine burden madam has taken upon herself,” she murmured.

“From what I heard,” said Lady Margaret in a low voice, “our new queen would have preferred to wed elsewhere.”

“Hertford’s little brother, Sir Thomas Seymour,” Dudley supplied.

“Really? Well, he
is
very handsome,” observed Anna. Elizabeth could agree with that; she had seen him often about the court.

“He’s a rogue,” smiled the Lady Margaret, “and by all reports she was in love with him. But the King, my good uncle, sent him packing. I hear he has gone to Brussels.”

“A convenient diplomatic mission,” Dudley added. “We’ll not see him back for some time, I’ll warrant.”

“Well, I heard,” whispered Anna, “that when the King proposed marriage to the lady, she said she would rather be his mistress than his wife.”

“Can you blame her?” asked Margaret Douglas. “Remember Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard! And what he did to me. I was twice in the Tower, and just because I fell in love with men he didn’t approve of.”

Elizabeth, listening unashamedly to this fascinating conversation, felt some alarm on hearing that the new Queen had been in love with another man. She wanted desperately to warn Katherine to take care, for terrible things could happen to a lady who was married to the King but loved someone else, or was merely accused of loving someone else. Elizabeth herself, more than most people, had good reason to know that.

Then too, having heard of the punishments meted out to Margaret Douglas, she was beginning to realize to her dismay that, if and when the time came, she might not be so successful after all in defying her father over the matter of her marrying. That was a worrying thought.

“Why, it is the Lady Elizabeth!” cried the Princess of Cleves, noticing who was standing nearby, and Elizabeth found herself enveloped in a hearty embrace, which made her feel just a little better. Dudley shot a wary look at the Lady Margaret, and the little group dispersed, the Princess leading the child back to the laden table. But somehow the sweetmeats that Anna pressed on her seemed to have lost their appeal.