Page 23 of The Rose at Twilight
“Aye, ’tis a splendid honor,” Ian told her with as much pride as though he were receiving it himself.
“They say t’ master will wear a long blue gown wi’ sleeves lined in miniver, after the manner o’ prelates, wi’ a knot o’ white lace on his shoulder, an’ white cords and tufts hangin’ doon that the king hisself will remove tae signify that he ha’ performed a great service.
Och, I wish I could see it, but yon Welsh fool Tom is tae squire him. ”
“Where is the ceremony to take place?” Madeline asked.
“Here at the Tower, mistress.”
“Perchance we shall be allowed to watch,” Alys exclaimed, more delighted than she had expected to be at the prospect of seeing Sir Nicholas again. She hid her feelings, telling herself it was only that he was someone she knew, nothing more.
“Och, nay, mistress,” Ian said. “They canna allow females, for though the knights will coom tae the ceremony clad all in white and silver, they say there be a night-long ritual when they mun bathe and pray tae prepare for the installation. Tis all part and parcel tae be naked then and gowned after.”
While he talked, Madeline had placed the basket on a table, and she bent now to examine its contents. Sighing contentedly, she looked up with a smile and invited Ian to taste some of the bread and jam he had brought them.
Clearly taken aback, he recovered quickly and said, “Och, I canna, mistress, though I do thank ye kindly for the askin’.”
“There was naught of kindness in my invitation,” she told him. “I am famished, and the good smell of this warm bread is like to deprive me of my senses if we do not taste it at once.”
His eyes twinkled. “Och weel, there isna any reason tae wait longer, mistress, for I ha’ stayed beyond m’ time. But I shall coom again, ye ken, for the master ha’ said I’m tae tak’ me orders from the Lady Alys until he ha’ told me different.”
Alys felt a rush of warm gratitude. “Tell Sir Nicholas I do thank him for his concern, Ian. I had not expected such kindness from him, though you need not tell him I said that,” she added, blushing, “only the part about being grateful.”
Ian grinned and said he would remember.
“And come again soon,” she said, adding with a laugh, “not only for the bread—though I do confess, the food they give us here is worse than I had with the soldiers—but also for the news you can bring us. We have talked each other out, and although the Lady Margaret Beaufort has commanded that we hear mass each morning, the priest who speaks it and who hears our confessions will tell us naught of worldly matters. And although Elva is allowed to leave these rooms, she dares not venture beyond the castle walls lest they refuse to allow her to return to us. Thus, we have been reduced to making up tales to entertain one another. Verily, Ian, we are like to die of boredom. Do you think you can perhaps procure a pack of cards for us, or dice, or even a board and markers to play Tables?”
Ian’s eyes had glinted again when she mentioned Elva, but he thought for a moment, then gave it as his opinion that he might be able to acquire something to entertain them.
“For I tell ye true, mistress, King Harry likes a game or twa hisself. Plays tennis and Tables, and gambles the night away over cards, for all they say he be a close mon wi’ his money.
Like as not, I’ll find something o’ the sort tae bring ye. Will there be aught else?”
She could think of nothing just then, but by the time he returned, less than a week later, she and Madeline, with Elva’s assistance, had thought of a number of commissions for him.
He met Elva that day, but if he was disenchanted, Alys thought he would recover swiftly, and was sure of it when, during that same visit, he chanced to mention a comely kitchenmaid he had met.
He brought them a pack of cards that second visit and an intricately decorated Tables board complete with ivory markers on his third.
The next time he came, a fortnight before the king’s coronation, he brought a package containing colorful wools, two rolls of tapestry canvas, and several carefully drawn patterns, including the red Welsh dragon and the cross of St. George.
Alys, examining these and noting that he had left nothing to chance but had also procured for them a well-supplied sewing box, looked up at him with a teasing grin. “Never tell me that Sir Nicholas sent these, Ian, for I should not believe you.”
“Nay, mistress, ’twas the Lady Margaret sent them.
Yon louts ootside your door had them and was arguin’ over which was tae tell ye o’ her command tae mak’ kneeling cushions fer yourselves.
When the king cooms tae reside in the Tower, ye’re tae be allowed tae attend mass in the chapel, and her ladyship’s yeoman did say his mistress commanded him tae say it would be a grand gesture an ye were tae add tae the chapel’s decoration. ”
“I’ll warrant she did,” Alys said dryly, “but I shall not kneel upon the Welsh dragon. I might put my foot upon it—”
“Alys!” Madeline’s eyes were alight with laughter, but her next words were nonetheless cautionary. “You must not speak so, lest someone hear you who will carry word to her ladyship, or worse, to the king.”
“The Tudor cannot think we love him,” Alys said grimly.
“No, you unnatural girl, but I have no wish to spend the rest of my maidenhood in these three paltry rooms. If agreeing to kneel on the wretched man’s dragon will get us out of here—even if it be only for one mass—I tell you, I will stitch both our cushions myself.
When does the king come to the Tower, Ian? ”
“In ten days’ time, mistress. He dines with the Archbishop of Canterbury at Lambeth Palace and rides from there in a grand procession. The next day will see the installation o’ the Knights o’ the Bath, and his crowning follows on the Sunday.”
The two young women noted an increase of activity on the green in the days that followed, and they were able to observe from their window the arrival of the royal procession.
However, if they hoped to view any part of the ceremonies that followed, they were disappointed; and, when they accompanied their guards to the chapel for mass that Saturday morning, expecting to meet ladies and gentlemen of the court at worship, they were thwarted again, for they were taken to a private pew before any but a few Tower retainers had entered, and were not let out again until the others had departed.
They could not even look around during the service, because magnificently carved privacy screens prevented them from seeing anyone but the priest in his pulpit.
Alys was more disappointed than she wanted to admit, for she had hoped to catch a glimpse of Sir Nicholas in his robes of the Bath.
Thus, she was elated when one of their guards put his head inside the door, an hour after they had left the chapel, to inform them that if they wished to watch the royal procession leave for Westminster they had best make haste.
Having expected to see, at most, a colorful gathering of people and horses on the green, they agreed with alacrity to accompany their guards to the castle ramparts, from which they could see the entire procession as it passed through the gates, into the streets beyond.
The day was a splendid one, clear and sunny, and the procession as grand as anyone might have wished.
The two guards were unable to identify anyone except the king’s noble grace and two men preceding him, the new Lord Mayor of London and the Garter King of Arms. The king, bareheaded and clad in a gown of purple velvet edged with spotted ermine, and a richly embroidered baldric, was borne in a litter beneath a royal canopy supported by four knights on foot.
Crowds lined the street, shouting and clapping, and long before they dispersed, Alys and Madeline were back in their sitting room.
Not until the following day, after Henry Tudor had been anointed and crowned King of England, when the procession returned for the coronation banquet, were they able to discover what had transpired at Westminster.
Elva brought them the news then, for little else was being talked about in the castle.
When she returned to them after an absence of nearly two hours, both young women fell upon her to hear whatever she might tell them.
Swelling with a sense of her own importance, she accepted a seat on a back stool with every indication of being about to narrate a long and fascinating tale.
“They do say that ’twas all most wondrous and the words spoken over him was the same as spoken over King Richard and his Anne. ”
“But how could that be?” Alys demanded. “He has no queen.”
Elva waved a hand in a dismissive gesture.
“They did say that all the bits about the queen was left out, but the rest was all the same. And they do say old Archbishop Bouchier had all he could do to splash the holy oil on the king’s highness, and struggled to hold onto the crown till it rested on his head.
He’s right ancient, is the archbishop, but there was others there to see to the rest of the ritual.
Even”—she paused for effect—“the Bishop of Bath and Wells was there. He did lead the whole business. There be a word for that, mistress.” She looked inquiringly at Madeline, but it was Alys who responded first.
“He officiated.” Her expression was thoughtful.
Elva nodded, pleased to have been so quickly understood, but Madeline frowned, saying, “It was the Bishop of Bath and Wells who proved King Edward was never properly married to Elizabeth Woodville, was it not? Because of him, Elizabeth of York was declared illegitimate. Can it be that the Tudor means to remind everyone now that she is no fit queen for him?”