Elizabeth had been thoroughly shaken by the sight of the King unconscious. At first she had feared he was dead and had immediately begun to calculate what this would mean to her and her family. That it would be a major calamity she had no doubt for although her family had been strategically placed in all the positions of power throughout the country they had been like planets revolving round the sun, drawing their power from that brilliant orb, and if it were suddenly removed who could know what would happen?
There was her son, twelve years old, and a minor unable to govern. He was it was true surrounded by his maternal relations who would govern for him, but Elizabeth knew there were many in the country who would rise against that. And Edward would not be there to suppress them.
For Edward himself she had a certain regret also. Theirs had been a happy marriage, and she could congratulate herself on keeping her place—no easy matter for a woman in her position, and with a man of such roving appetites one would have thought it well nigh impossible. But she had done it and proved to the world his continued interest in her by the fact that she continued to bear his children.
When she thought of losing him she looked into a dark future
where anything might be likely to happen.
Thus when she saw him there, still and silent, his ruddy face turning a deep purple, his limbs after twitching a moment or two remaining still, she was filled with a desperate fear.
She had shouted to the attendants who came rushing in. They managed to get him to his bed, not an easy matter for he was very heavy; they sent for the doctors.
By the time they came he had regained consciousness and as the days passed it became clear that he would recover; moreover, although the attack had alarmed him and those about him and the doctors said he must keep to his bed for a week at least, he seemed to have come through unscathed.
So preparations for Christmas went on. The King took a great interest in them. Richard with his family would be present and Edward would be surrounded by his own children—all five girls and the two boys and there should be special revelries.
He wanted to see the new velvets of which he had heard and he himself would select those from which new garments would be made. There was a cloth of gold shot with blue which was most effective. He would have a long gown made of that, and a new purple velvet mantle edged with ermine.
He was deceiving himself. He was feigning an interest in the garments. His thoughts were elsewhere. He knew he had come close to death and now he was looking the future starkly in the face.
His heir was twelve years old, and he had always believed the boy would have grown to a mature age before he ascended the throne. Little Edward was not yet fitted to be a king. He was not prepared at all. He had been kept at Ludlow, living by a set of rules, governed solely by his Woodville relations. He should never have allowed the Queen to have such influence over the boy. Why had he allowed it? Because Elizabeth had always been so understanding about the life he led, had never complained about his numerous mistresses, had never reproached him and had always received him graciously when he came to her; it was a rare quality in a woman. He had repaid her by letting her honour her family, by setting them in high places. So they surrounded the future king. She had made sure that when her son came to the throne his greatest friends would be his maternal relations.
He had shrugged it aside, telling himself that when the boy grew older he would take him in hand. Perhaps when he was
fourteen he would supervise his education, take him about with him, guide him, mould him, teach him all of the wily subterfuges which had to be practised by kings. There is time, he had told himself.
And then suddenly it had been brought home to him that there might not be time.
He was going to dance this Christmas as much as he ever had; he was going to drink and be merry. But this was for a reason—to show the people that he was not as ill as rumour might have had it. It was true he had had some sort of attack but it was nothing. He was as strong as he ever was. They must go on believing that. He must go on believing it.
He was glad that Richard was coming for Christmas. The sight of his brother did him good. He would confide in him as he could to no other. Poor Anne looked delicate and Edward wondered whether the harsh North was the place for her. He had always marvelled that Warwick—that bold strong man—had only been able to produce two sickly daughters. Richard proudly presented his son—another Edward. A pleasant boy, with clever looks like his father's and the same rather delicate build. So different from the King.
But how glad he was to see him!
Edward was filled with emotion as his eldest son stood before him. He looked so young—rather small for his age which was surprising. People had marvelled at Edward's height when he was his son's age. Young Edward would never match his father in stature. The doctors murmured something about his bones which did not grow as quickly as they should; they thought it was due to something . . . they knew not what. Richard was almost as tall as his brother. Richard looked more healthy. The brothers were pleased to be together. Perhaps it would have been better for them to have been brought up together instead of putting Edward in that establishment at Ludlow.
His thoughts were in turmoil since the realization that he could have died suddenly leaving the affairs of the country in anything but a settled state.
He must go on living for a few years yet. Edward must be of age before he became King.
The festivities progressed and none would have thought the King was in the least disturbed. It appeared that he had shrugged off the perfidy of the King of France, the loss of a pension for
himself and the crown of France for his daughter. He looked magnificent. His colour was a little deeper but that looked like good health. His garments were a wonder to all who beheld them. The sleeves of his handsome robe were very full and flowing, lined with the most expensive furs.
People said that rarely had he looked more handsome. There he was surrounded by five beautiful daughters, his two good-looking sons and his Queen who was reckoned to be one of the most beautiful women in the country.
He danced with his eldest daughter and both he and she seemed to have forgotten that she had just lost one of the most important titles in Europe.
They were all completely entranced by the special Morality which was performed for their enjoyment and the King applauded loudly and rewarded the players more handsomely than they could have hoped for in their wildest expectations.
It was a very happy Christmas. It was only to Richard that Edward spoke of his misgivings.
He made it clear that he wished to be alone with his brother and took Richard to his apartments.
'Richard,' he said when he had assured himself that none could hear them, T am deeply disturbed.'
Richard was surprised, having noticed that Edward had been behaving with exceptional gaiety.
T fear, Richard, that I have failed.'
'Failed?' Richard was amazed. 'You . . . why, you are the most successful King we have had since the third Edward.'
'I have been but I look to what this country is brought to now. If I live all will be well. But Richard, am I going to live?'
'What has happened to you? You are strong. . . .'
'I came near to death a short while ago.'
'But you are fully recovered now.'
'I am unusually healthy but I have impaired my health some would say. Too much riotous living. Too much excitement with the ladies. Too much rich food and wine. . . . You see how I have grown, brother.'
'You could lead a more abstemious life.'