The Redheaded Princess: A Novel (3 page)

"It meant much to me, but what he said next meant more." Reports are sent to your father regularly. And if you bend your head to the task of your lessons, you will truly earn his respect, I promise you. I will help you get back in his favor."

Reports were sent, and I did finally get back in his favor. One day, when William Grindal had been tutoring me for eight months, we had a visitor in the person of Jean Belmain, the French tutor of my brother, Edward. We welcomed him into the schoolroom, and he conversed with me in French for half an hour. Apparently this dear man returned to court and told my father that it was like conversing with a woman of forty rather than eleven, for shortly after, Cat Ashley came into my bedchamber, breathless with excitement. "You are invited to court. You and your sister and brother. Your father wants to display you, his family, to everyone."

I felt a thrill of fear. "Why?" I asked.

"To restore you formally to a place in the succession, after Edward."

I could not believe it. "It must have been because of what Jean Belmain told my father about me," I said.

"He didn't say anything that wasn't true, my lady. Now you must be on your best behavior this time. And we must think about a dress." And I knew finally that my hard work with my lessons had earned me a good reputation. I was beholden to William Grindal. He had restored many silver pens for me, and now I could write beautifully in the italic hand and respond to my own invitation.

***CHAPTER FOUR

The gown must please my father. In his court, dress was all--so Cat Ashley kept saying while the dressmakers hovered around me, taking my measurements, remarking on how I looked the part of the Princess, and sewing far into the night. The gown must please my father. And so it was made. Orange-red velvet stamped with the King's Tudor rose, the leaves and flowers blossoming all over and appearing again in the raised gold cutwork of the kirtle and oversleeves. There would be a girdle of pearls and rubies around my waist. Rubies trimmed the neck and sleeves. On my head I would wear a coronet as a headdress. On my feet, rose-worked velvet. I would indeed be a Princess. If only for this night.

***

First there was the private audience, attended by only Katharine; my brother, Edward; and myself. Down massive halls I went, followed by Cat and preceded by the Vernon brothers in their full knights' regalia. Armed guards snapped to attention as we passed. A knock on a massive, black, shiny door with brass handles.

"Who comes hither?"

"The Lady Elizabeth."

"Enter."

"It's about time, girl. You're late."

Had I seen a lion lying there and growling at me I would not have been surprised. My father, the lion, was slumped in his throne in the presence chamber. The smells near overpowered me. There was the sickly sweet smell of too many flowers. The room was full of them, likely meant to drown out the reek of blood and pus that came from his bandaged leg. To see it, extended in front of him, bandaged and sporting a bright spot of red blood, was a shock. And then the size of him! Why, his face was so fat that his eyes had trouble peering out at me. This is my father, I told myself. This is the King. This is the man who won recently against the French. The hero. I near choked from the smell, then caught myself, realizing, Why, this man is sick! This man is dying! He had the cast of death on his face, the pallor. Treasonous thoughts, for one never spoke or even thought of death in connection with the King. Yet still, was that why he now named his children in the proper order of succession to the throne? Edward would be King if my father died. My brother, Edward, just seven years old.

"Stop staring, girl. Come on in. It's me. Your father." I heard the great door slam behind me. I knew my knights and Cat Ashley were on the other side. I went forward and knelt at his feet. Above us on the walls were murals of Diana, Actaeon, Cynthia, and Endymion hunting in green, wild woodlands. Persian carpets covered the floor. A gold-encrusted chair was brought over for me, but I mustn't rise. He must raise me up.

"Ah, you look like a Princess. Doesn't she, Kate?”

“She looks like you, love. Her red hair, her face."

He put a fat hand under my chin and raised me up. "Elizabeth," he said. "Thank heaven there is nothing of your mother in your looks. Sit, child. Tell me about your studies. Say hello to your brother."

Edward got up from his seat and came to put his arms around me. "Sister," he said, "I am so glad you have pleased our father enough to have your place restored. The Lord bless him and keep him for his kindnesses to us all.”

“Hear, hear," Katharine said. She was seated at my father's other side on a velvet-topped footstool, leaning toward the King, who wore a fur-trimmed red velvet robe faced with gold-of-Venice trimming. On his head he wore his usual small cap, just a little to the side, sporting a feather.

"Some wine!" he bellowed. "We will have wine, by the gods, to celebrate the return of the Princess Elizabeth." People scurried about. Wine and gold-encrusted goblets were brought forth and my father poured it out, one gobletful for each of us.

"To my father, the King." Edward stood up, and in a strong, pure voice gave a toast. "He who, in all his glory, sees all and determines all and never errs in his judgment." Edward was well schooled, I thought. We all drank. The wine was too bitter for me, but I forced myself to swallow it. Then my father spoke.

"Back in thirty-two, the Friar Peto said that if I put aside Catherine of Aragon and took your mother as my wife, I should be as Ahab and the dogs would lick up my blood when I died. What did he know? That marriage broke my heart but it gave me the beautiful Elizabeth, hey?" And he tickled me under the chin. I lowered my eyes demurely. He never spoke of my mother, they said. Some said he still loved her. I knew the reputation she had in court. She was the dark side of me, the side I must constantly fight against. Did that mean he loved me, just a bit?

"Food!" my father yelled. "Where is my tram? We must go to the banquet room!" Immediately a chairlike, velvet-trimmed apparatus was brought forth by four yeomen of the guard, who lowered it in front of my father. Did he no longer walk, then? He did not. There was a great to-do while the four attendants helped him into the chair and the leg was positioned. "Lead," he directed Katharine. "We sup now." Out of the presence chamber, then, in a parade of grunts and shouts of "Clear the way, the King approaches!" we made our way down the gold-arched, mural-painted halls, past windows with red damask curtains, and swiftly, on our approach, the doors to the banquet room were opened.

"The King! All rise! The King!" Inside a whole company of people was assembled: chancellors, bishops, members of the Privy Council, ladies-in-waiting, women of the court, and my father's fool, Will Somers, whose job it was to jest and make him laugh. There was another great commotion getting my father into his chair at the head of the table. Then a signal for all to rise from their knees and sit. The table was laden with food. Colorful salads, stewed pigeons, fresh carp in lemon sauce, partridges stewed in wine, stork in pastry, cheese in sugar, cherries in clotted cream, oysters wrapped in bacon--and the cake, oh, the cake, in the shape of Whitehall Palace! And through all of this, my mind wondered, Where was Mary, my sister? Was she not restored in the line of succession, too? Dare I ask? I dared not. Halfway through the meal, leaning to one side and resting on Edward's arm, my father rose and made a speech.

"I do hereby declare that having taken to wife Katharine, by whom as yet there is no child, if there are yet offspring, such offspring will be placed after Prince Edward in succession to the throne. Failing any issue from my present marriage, after Edward would come Lady Mary and then the Lady Elizabeth." Cheers and clapping. I had to rise, after Edward, and curtsey. But where was Mary?

"Your sister has fallen out of grace with me," my father said as we sat back down. "She still has Mass said in her apartments every morning. She still calls the Pope the leader of the church. When she decides that we no longer have to do with the Pope, I will welcome her back into the fold." And I thought I had inherited his stubbornness. I had to admire Mary, after all, for going against him. It was true, then, what Robin had said, that my father could make people disappear if he did not approve of them. Mary had, for all intents and purposes, disappeared. Then the music started and people, with the King's permission, got up to dance. And I saw Sir Thomas Seymour coming across the room. I hadn't known he was back. Oh, I shivered seeing him! I nibbled a sweet candied violet as I watched him. He seemed taller now, the Lord High Admiral, and more comfortable in his skin. He strode, he did not walk. And he came right to me and bowed.

"Princess, may I have this dance?" I looked at my father, who nodded yes, then at Katharine. She was looking away and Sir Thomas did not look at her. So then, they must be in love with each other, as gossip had it. Otherwise he would have asked her, first, to dance. I glided out across the floor with Sir Thomas as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "This night is a new beginning for you," he said.

"Oh," I said modestly, "I'm sure being named Princess is just a formality.”

“You jest, surely. From here on in you will be regarded as a desirable royal bride to be negotiated for formally." I made a face. "You must act accordingly, Elizabeth," he advised. "How old are you now?"

"Near eleven.”

“Almost a woman. There will be many offers for your hand.”

“I'll just refuse.”

“Don't worry," he said. "I'll wed you first to keep you from disaster." Oh, that he should say such. My face flamed. My heart beat faster. We kept going like that all through the dance, moving around each other verbally like fireflies. And when the dance was finally over, I was exhausted. My father embraced me that night. He gathered me into his family circle and I could see how hard he was trying to be the father he never had been. Once, when he gestured for me to sit next to him, he leaned forward and whispered, "I've always loved you, Elizabeth. You know that, don't you?"

The question was there in the blue eyes. The pleading for forgiveness. I felt sorry for him, this mighty King, because I sensed he did not know how to love. Some people just don't, I suppose. But when I answered yes to his question I meant it. Was I so shallow then that I could forget the years of neglect? Just give me wine and good food and a title and I would melt? Did I need love so desperately? I did. I had no mother. I thought of her that night. I knew that wherever I went I took part of her with me. I was sure my father saw that. Did he still love her somewhat? Was it possible? I left, thinking it was. But I must not act like her, ever. She had been a flirt, a wanton, a witch. She had broken his heart. When I knelt at his feet and parted with him that night, I hoped he saw in me himself and not my mother.

***CHAPTER FIVE

My life changed after that. For one thing, over the next two years, I went to court often, and the more I attended, the more self-confidence I got. I watched Edward, my brother, who surely knew that one day soon he would be King. My father's health kept failing. Edward acted like a King already. He didn't ask for things, he gave orders, and my father repeated them and laughed. For another thing, the allowance for my clothes was finally as it should be for a King's daughter. No more did I have to watch Cat Ashley pressing her lips together as she tried to cut down one of her old gowns to make me a new one. Now yards and yards of material were delivered. Silk, velvet, brocades, satin, special sleeves, and girdles of pearls. Now Cat Ashley stood and supervised the dressmakers as they cut and fitted and basted. And presents came to Hatfield in a constant stream.

One day a box would arrive from some nobleman's wife, containing a cambric smock decorated with black silk and edged with gold spangles. Another day, another box from another nobleman, containing sleeves decorated with red roses on white silk. From Mary came a gown of white satin with Tudor roses on the bodice and sleeves. From my father came jewelry, a necklace of opals and rubies. A ruby cross that I wore every day. The list went on and on. From Robin came an iced cake in the shape of a castle with a circular keep and stables with candied horses. And a note: "I hope someday I may be your Master of Horse." If anyone knew horses it was Robin. At each visit I made to court we rode out. But first I would go with him to the stables and he would pick out the horses for me and for my knights.

"The roan for Princess Elizabeth," he'd order the stable boy. "She needs no spurring and will easily respond to your touch." I had a new purple velvet riding habit and new boots that I loved to wear. And so we would ride out across the chase, at least five miles from the palace, into the woods of oak, ash, and thorn trees. Deer scampered in front of us. Rabbits and squirrels hopped out of our way. Sunlight streamed down through the branches of the trees and gave a benediction to our friendship. And Robin would fill me in on doings at the palace since my last visit: "Every day the doctor has to open the wound on your father's leg and let the evil out." And: "He has made his peace with Mary. He realizes there is nothing he can do about her Catholic habits, short of sending her to the Tower. And he wants the Tudor family to be revered, so he would never do that to a child of his loins." And: "Edward grows into more of a prig every day.”

“Robin, you speak of the future King!" I tried to sound angry, to scold him as a Queen would scold. Then he tried to be penitent and we both ended up laughing. And: "There will be no Progress this summer. Your father is too ill to travel."

I was disappointed in that. Every summer the King went on a Progress, which was a trip through his kingdom, staying at the castles and homes of his noblemen. Part of it was to see if any of the noblemen in the kingdom had enough men and arms to amass an army to rise against him. The given reason, though, was that the palaces where he lived had to be "sweetened" after the long winter. The rooms needed to be swept clean of droppings, of evil-smelling rushes. Draperies and walls were cleaned, rooms were washed from top to bottom. Rugs were beaten, beds aired, kitchens cleaned of vermin. I had wanted, in my new royal personage, to go on a Progress, to go from royal estate to royal estate, to be wined and dined, to be entertained, to play at tennis, quoits, and archery, to ride to hounds, to go hawking. When I am Queen, I decided, I will go on a Progress every summer, if I have to be carried in a litter. I will go out and visit my people, and be entertained. I was thinking more and more in that vein lately, it seemed.