On some of the attendant barges sweet music was being played; the Lord Mayor and authorities of the City accompanied him; and the river was crowded with smaller craft, for on such an occasion all those who possessed a boat must be out to pay homage to the young man who they believed would one day be their King.
Arriving at Westminster, the Prince’s barge drew up at that jetty known as the Queen’s Bridge. It had been erected by Edward the Confessor and led to Anne’s apartments in Westminster Palace. Henry bowed and smiled to the applause of the people, and when he eventually reached his mother’s privy chamber she was waiting to embrace him with tears of pride in her eyes.
“My beloved son,” she cried, “this is in truth the happiest day of my life.”
It was a few days later when Henry was introduced by his father to the Houses of Parliament which were assembled to see the heir to the throne created Prince of Wales.
As soon as this solemn ceremony was over it was the signal for the pageantry to begin; and in one of the rooms of the Palace several young women were chattering excitedly as they awaited their cue to take their places.
These were reckoned to be the loveliest of the Court ladies and it had been decided that each should represent a river of England. Among them was one, much younger than the others and more vivacious; this was the fourteen-year-old Countess of Essex.
Frances had plagued her parents until they allowed her to come to Court; though fourteen, she reminded them she was a married woman and, having glimpsed something of the excitements of Court life, she would be driven mad by melancholy if she were forced to spend many more days in the country.
Her father, the Earl of Suffolk, was indulgent. Poor Frances, she was much too gay to be expected to sulk in the country. Let her come. His wife was agreeable. She herself had matured early and believed this would be the case with Frances. The child was safely married, even though her marriage had not been consummated and her husband was far from home. Let her come to Court.
Thus the nymph of the River Lea took her place among the others, and secretly she was delighted because she knew that she could attract attention even among such beauties.
She studied them dispassionately. Were they such beauties? There was the Lady Arabella Stuart—a very important lady, it was true. But she’s quite ancient! thought Frances. She must be thirty-five. Thirty-five and unmarried! Poor Arabella Stuart, whom the King watched constantly and did not like much because of her nearness to the throne. There had been plots involving her, and James would never allow her to have a husband.
I wouldn’t change places with Arabella Stuart, royal though she may be, thought Frances. Arabella on this occasion was the nymph of the Trent. She was preoccupied, and Frances had heard it whispered that she was in love with William Seymour and determined not to lose him, in spite of the fact that the King would certainly forbid the match.
Frances shrugged aside the affairs of that ancient one. Those of Frances Howard were—or soon would be—far more interesting.
There was no one so beautiful as she was. Certainly not Elizabeth Grey—the nymph of the Medway because she was the daughter of the Earl of Kent—nor the Countess of Arundel—nymph of Arun. There was one though who was attracting most attention, and that was the Princess Elizabeth, who represented the Thames.
But that is only because she is the King’s daughter, Frances told herself scornfully.
The Lady Anne Clifford had noticed Frances pirouetting this way and that and came over to her smiling.
“It is your first Court occasion,” she said.
“How did you know.”
“You are so excited.”
Frances clasped her hands. “Is it not wonderful to be at Court?”
Anne laughed and said: “Take care. You are too young to come to Court.”
“I am fourteen.”
“So young? I had thought you a little older.”
Frances was delighted. “It is such a handicap to seem a child!”
“You must be watchful. There are people at Court who would be ready to take advantage of one so young.”
“What people?”
“Men.”
Frances laughed scornfully. “I shall be the one to take advantage of them.”
Several of the ladies laughed, and agreed that there was something about the nymph of Lea to suggest that she would take care of herself.
In the great hall beautiful scenery had been set up; there were to be several scenes, and the first represented Milford Haven and the arrival of Henry VII. Songs, written by the poets especially for the occasion, were sung, extolling the beauties of the rivers; and all the nymphs were mentioned in turn as they took their places in the dance.
Frances was intoxicated with happiness.
“The beauteous nymph of crystal streaming Lea …” sang the musicians and for one moment everyone in that great hall was looking toward Frances Howard.
Too soon the charm of Anne Clifford, the nymph of Aire, was being acclaimed, but the words about the nymph of Lea went on and on in Frances’s mind.
As she danced with the others after the fashion which they had practiced together, she tried to get as near as possible to that spot where the Prince sat beside his father.
He too had become older since she had last seen him; he was no longer a boy.
He had noticed her, she was sure of it. Every time she took a sly look at him, he was watching.
This is the happiest moment of my life … so far, Frances told herself.
Anne, the Queen, assured those surrounding her that it was the happiest of hers, for now the nymphs had stood aside and little Zephyr had appeared. His green satin robe was decorated with gold flowers, and wings made of silver lawn were attached to his back. A wreath of flowers had been placed on his flowing hair and Anne’s eyes sought the valuable diamond bracelet which she had put on his little arm when she went to see him being dressed.
With him were his naiads, lovely children with their hair hanging loose, garlanded like Zephyr, dressed in pale blue tunics decorated with silver flowers.
The children made a charming sight, particularly as they danced so skillfully to the music which had been written for the occasion.
Applause broke out and there was a whisper of astonishment, for Zephyr, who now danced so elegantly, was none other than the ten-year-old little Prince Charles who, a few years ago, had been unable to walk and in danger of having his legs put into iron supports.
Lady Carey who was standing near the Queen, was weeping, although she did not seem to be aware of it; Anne reached out and taking her hand, pressed it.
“Your Majesty …” whispered Lady Carey.
But Anne put her fingers to her lips and whispered: “Well done. I shall never forget.”
The scene of Milford Haven had been withdrawn and another even more striking was presented to view. Waterfalls were visible about a grotto, and in this grotto was a throne on which sat Tethys, daughter of Uranus and wife of Oceanus. This was none other than Queen Anne herself, who was always delighted to play a part in the pageantry. For days she had thought of little but the costume she would wear, and it was truly striking. On her head was a helmet in the shape of a shell; it was decorated with coral and a veil of silver floated from it. Her gown was blue silk, traced with silver seaweed; and her magnificent blue and silver train was draped about her throne.