The Last Heiress (55 page)

The queen clapped and smiled when the pageant had concluded, and then her procession moved on to Ledenhall, whose pageant contained the queen’s own device, the white falcon wearing a golden crown. Its singers extolled the fruitful vine Saint Anne. There were several more entertainments along the way with wines flowing from various receptacles, and songs and poetry in the queen’s honor.

The procession moved on through the narrow dark streets of London, swept clean of garbage for this auspicious occasion. But all the cleaning in the world could not take away the stink of the city. The ladies all carried pomander balls of oranges stuck around with cloves.

And although the streets were crowded and people hung from the open windows of the houses lining the way so that they might see all, there was little cheering, and the faces were somber and unfriendly.

Elizabeth only heard two “God save the queens” along the whole way.

There were even cries of “Whore!” and “Witch” from some among the spectators. And several times anonymous voices called out, “God save Queen Katherine!” How hurtful it must be for Anne, she thought. But they would sing a different tune when her son was born. They all would!

Close to the abbey Anne was presented with a gold purse containing a thousand gold marks. She made a gracious speech of thanks. And then at last they reached Westminster Hall. The queen was helped from her litter, and entered the building. Refreshments were offered to her, and to all the women in her train. And afterwards the queen slipped quietly from Westminster Hall, returned without fanfare to her barge, and went to meet the king at York Place.

The ladies who were in the queen’s immediate train followed her, but Philippa and Elizabeth had no one to take their horses. They were forced to ride back through the city to London Bridge, cross the river, and then return to Bolton House. When they arrived they found a message from the queen bidding Elizabeth to join her at York Place.

“Oh, bother!” Philippa exclaimed. “I had thought we would have tonight together. Crispin will soon be here, and we haven’t had enough time together.”

Elizabeth stared at the hastily written note in Anne’s hand. The queen had been agitated when she had written it but, knowing Anne, by now was calmed and placated. “I’m taking a bath,” she announced to her sister. “Then I am going to change my clothes. And then I will take the barge to York Place.”

“But the queen—” Philippa began.

Elizabeth raised a hand to silence her elder. “The queen will not know the time that has elapsed, for she will be kept amused by those around her. She is undoubtedly unhappy at the reception given her by the people in the streets. What did she expect?” Elizabeth sighed. “I cannot comfort her if I am dirty and irritable.” Then she left her sister in the great hall of the house and hurried upstairs.

The Earl of Witton arrived with his youngest son, Hugh. “Well, here’s a good thing or not,” he greeted his wife, kissing her. “Tell your mam, Hughie.”

“I am to be the queen’s page,” Hugh St. Clair told his mother. “She saw me with Henry at York Place this afternoon, and asked the king if I was his page. The king said I was to be. Then the queen said to the king that I was a pretty lad, and she wanted me for her own.” Hugh St.Clair, age eight, looked very pleased with himself. “The king told her that on this day whatever she wanted within reason was hers. She gave me this!” He held out a length of silver ribbon. “I will carry it with me always,” he told his mother. “I think the queen very beautiful, Mama. Don’t you?”

“Of course I do, my darling,” Philippa said. She reached out and ruffled his dark hair. “Are you hungry, Hughie? Run to the kitchens and Cook will feed you.”

“I must return to the queen tonight,” the boy told her.

“So must your aunt Elizabeth,” Philippa said. “You will travel with her.” She watched as her son ran off, the silver ribbon now tied to his sleeve.

“She has done it to spite me!” Philippa burst out. “She knows my devotion to Queen Katherine, and would take our son from me!”

“There is no Queen Katherine, little one,” Crispin St. Clair said, enfolding his weeping wife into an embrace. “You are ambitious for our lads, and that is good. One son has served the king for many years.

Henry is to come home with us after the coronation festivities. Another son serves in the Duke of Norfolk’s household. Now our youngest will serve Queen Anne. I know you wanted him to take Henry’s place, but the king has said otherwise, and you cannot change it.”

“We are but pieces on a chessboard,” Philippa said despairingly.

The Earl of Witton laughed. “Aye. That is exactly what we are, which is why you and I prefer the woods and fields of Oxfordshire, little one. Their service at the court will gain our lads wives, and perhaps careers in the diplomatic service if they desire it, but no more. Our glory days are over, Philippa. We will be happier accepting it.”

“Do you two never do anything but cuddle?” Elizabeth asked, returning to the hall. “Hello, Crispin!” She kissed her brother-in-law’s cheek.

“The king’s woman has chosen Hughie for one of her pages!” Philippa cried.

“Queen Anne must really be distressed by her reception today,”

Elizabeth said. “Well, Philippa, ’tis not the end of the world, and you are eager to advance your sons at court. ’Tis actually quite an honor for Hugh. I’ll be back here after all the festivities tomorrow. You aren’t leaving right away, are you?”

Philippa bit back a sharp retort. As much as she hated admitting it, both her husband and her sister were right. “What about your gown for the coronation?” she asked. “And no, I will not leave immediately.”

“It’s already in the barge. I’m taking the big one, not Mama’s little one. Do you and Crispin mind?” Elizabeth asked them.

“No,” Philippa said. “Hughie is here. You have to take him back with you. That woman wants him immediately.”

“If your son is going to be in the queen’s household, sister, you are going to have to address her in some way that does not bring disgrace upon the St. Clairs,” Elizabeth said with a humorous lilt to her voice.

“I cannot bring myself to call her the queen, or the king’s wife,”

Philippa murmured low.

“But that is exactly what she is,” Elizabeth said with perfect logic.

“Well, you and Crispin will decide between you what your consciences will allow. Where is Hugh?”

“In the kitchens,” Philippa said. “I’ll send a servant for him.”

“Don’t bother,” Elizabeth told her. “I’ll fetch him on my way.” And, turning, she was gone from the hall. Finding her nephew, she told him they were leaving immediately.

“But I’ve not finished eating,” he complained.

“You’ll be fortunate to find time to eat at court,” Elizabeth told him. “Come along now, or I will leave you behind. Take what you can carry, Hugh!” She hurried off as the cook stuffed several scones into the boy’s hand with a wink. Once inside their barge she questioned him. “What brought you to the queen’s attention?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I was with Henry, for I was to take his place. He is going home after the coronation. He has gotten way too tall to be a page, and he is eleven now. If he weren’t so tall he probably could have remained until he was twelve.” Hugh St. Clair gobbled the scones in his possession.

“Give me one of those,” Elizabeth said, snatching a scone from his hand. “I’ll not be offered a meal when we arrive, but expected to attend the queen. God knows when we’ll get to eat again. What was her mood when you left her earlier?”

“Sometimes I thought she was angry, but then she would cry,” he said.

Elizabeth sighed, and considered her next words carefully. “Listen to me, Hugh. If you serve Queen Anne you must be completely loyal to her. If you overhear anything that might be of help to her you must share it. This does not mean you are to be a telltale. People will say things about the queen they should not, for many are still loyal to the princess of Aragon. Do not repeat harmful gossip, for it will hurt her feelings. In time this will pass. Anne’s heart is a good one, nephew.

She will have her moods, and some are very dark, but if you can you must lighten those moods.” She stroked his smooth cheek. “Do you understand me at all, Hugh? You are still such a little boy to have so great a responsibility placed upon your shoulders.”

“My mother does not like the queen,” Hugh said.

“It is not that she doesn’t like the queen, Hugh. It is that she is very loyal to the princess of Aragon. You know your mother came to court as a young girl in that lady’s service. You know that your grandmother Rosamund was her friend when the two were raised in the court of King Henry VII. Change is difficult for your mother. Be patient with her, Hugh.”

“Change is not difficult for you, Aunt,” the boy observed wisely.

“I live with nature, Hugh, and nature is always changing, usually when you least expect it to change,” Elizabeth told him. Then she laughed and ruffled his hair. “You are actually a very wise little man.”

“I like the queen,” he told her.

“Good!” Elizabeth responded. “I will be with her until she births her bairn. We will conspire together, you and I, eh?” And she gave him a tickle.

Hugh St. Clair giggled. “Aye,” he agreed with her. And then he took her hand in his, and they were rowed down the river to York Place.

“Where have you been?” the queen cried as Elizabeth entered her apartments. “I am lost without you, Elizabeth! Ah, here is my adorable new page. I do not even know his name, but he is so pretty I could not resist stealing him from the king.”

“His name is Hugh St. Clair, your highness, and he is my nephew,”

Elizabeth informed the queen. So Anne had not known. Good!

“Your nephew?” The queen looked genuinely surprised.

“He is the youngest son of my sister and her husband, the Earl and Countess of Witton,” Elizabeth elucidated further. “And he is delighted to serve you.”

“I am, your highness!” Hugh declared fervently with an elegant bow.

The queen giggled girlishly. “Do you love me, Hugh St. Clair?” she teased him.

The boy blushed. “Aye, your highness. I will serve you forever!”

The queen’s usually sharp features softened. “How sweet you are,”

she said. “Can you play and sing, Hugh?”

“Yes, your highness,” he told her. “I have brought my lute with me.

Shall I fetch it and play for you now?” He looked quite eager.

Anne smiled. “Aye, I need to sleep tonight so I am prepared for my crowning. Music would soothe me. Do not be long, lad.” She waved him off.

Hugh St. Clair ran from the room.

“There is a wee bit of a closet with a pallet off my privy chamber,”

the queen said to Elizabeth. “See the boy’s possessions are brought to it. He will sleep there. I want him near me. He is untainted by the court, being fresh from the country. How old is he?”

“Eight,” Elizabeth answered. “He is really quite taken with you, your highness.”

Several of the nearby ladies snickered at this remark. They were, as Elizabeth well knew, quite offended that the queen showed her such favor. Elizabeth spoke softly to them, however, and pretended not to notice their pique. Driven by their own and their families’ ambitions, none of them understood the meaning of the word
friendship
. A place in the queen’s household was greatly to be desired. Spanish Kate was gone. Anne was queen, and to be near her was a great honor for them.

It also permitted them to be near the king, and the center of everything important at the court. They cared not for their mistress. Only the prestige that being in her household brought them.

At the queen’s request her women prepared her for bed. Elizabeth never involved herself in the duties of the others. She was there for the single purpose of being Anne’s friend. When the queen was settled in her big bed, Elizabeth sat down by her side in a high-backed chair with a tapestried seat, and began to read to the queen from an illumi-nated book of folktales. Hugh returned with his lute and was permitted into the bedchamber. He seated himself on a stool by the warm fire, and softly began to play “Greensleeves,” a tune written by the king for Anne in the early days of their courtship.

The queen smiled happily, her eyes closed as she began to relax.

“Do you know the words, Hugh?” she asked him.

The boy began to sing them in a low voice just loud enough for Anne and her companion to hear.

Elizabeth looked at her nephew. He was so young, and yet he seemed to sense just what the queen needed. His dark auburn curls, his large blue eyes, his sweet face proclaimed the innocence of his years.

Now,
she thought sadly,
he will grow up quickly. This is not a place for the
innocent.
Anne had not protested that she had ceased to read. She had fallen asleep. She had to be exhausted, Elizabeth thought, for the day had been long and hard for her. But she had carried it off with the sophisticated elegance for which she was both admired and envied.

Hugh played on, one song melding into another. Eventually they both fell asleep, Elizabeth in her chair and Hugh on his stool. And, comforted by their presence, Queen Anne slumbered on until her tiring woman entered the chamber to awaken her.

It was June the first. The sun was already long up, but it was barely five o’clock of the morning. Elizabeth and Hugh withdrew immediately so the queen might be prepared for her coronation. Elizabeth quickly showed Hugh the tiny cubicle that was to be his, and sent him off to fetch his belongings from the chamber where the king’s pages slept. Then she hurried to find Nancy so she might dress in her fine gown. She had hardly thought of him since her arrival in London, but now, as Nancy dressed her in the blue brocade with its silver-and-gold-embroidered neckline, she thought of Thomas Bolton. How he would have adored the pomp of this royal event. She must remember every detail in order to share it with him when she returned home. Nancy fastened the thin gold chain with its little bejeweled mirror about her waist, and Elizabeth was ready. She put her hand up to tuck an errant strand of her hair beneath her French hood.

“Here.” Nancy handed her a pair of creamy kid gloves decorated with seed pearls and crystals.