In the streets they laughed at the story of Lambert Simnel—which, said the King to his mother, was the way he had hoped it would be.
Coronation
Henry wanted to gather round him men of his own choosing. No king should inherit statesmen for they would most certainly compare the present master with the previous one and as the departed always gained in stature such comparisons put the living at a disadvantage.
Henry’s early life had made him suspicious and cautious and acceding to the throne had not lessened these traits in his character. Edmund Dudley who had studied law at Gray’s Inn and had later become Sheriff of Sussex was a man with whom he felt immediately in harmony; also Dudley had an associate, Richard Empson, another lawyer, educated for the Bar, who had already shown himself to be an astute lawyer. These were the kind of sharp minds Henry needed around him; and he had already shown favor to these two.
So now as they walked down to the river’s edge in the grounds of his favorite Palace of Shene and they talked of the rising of Lambert Simnel, Dudley commented that it was a sobering thought to contemplate how many Lincoln had been able to rally to his banner.
“And what do you think this indicates?” asked the King.
Intercepting the look which passed between Dudley and Empson, Henry knew that they had discussed the matter together.
“Come, speak up. I shall not be offended by truth.”
“Sire,” said Dudley, “the people approve of your marriage and the uniting of York and Lancaster, but they are saying that York does not receive its dues.”
“What do they mean by this?”
“That Lancaster is in the ascendancy.”
“It must be so since I am the King.”
Dudley hesitated and Empson nodded to him.
“My lord,” he said, “you have taken the throne, you have an heir in Prince Arthur, you have been crowned King of England, yet the Queen has not been crowned.”
“Ah,” said the King. “You think a coronation would please the people?”
“Coronations are ever a source of delight to the people, Sire,” said Empson. “Free wine in the streets . . . celebrations throughout the country . . . They love their ceremonies. But we were thinking of the Yorkists who might have reason to complain.”
The King nodded, giving an approving look to his two advisers. He could trust them to come up with a tangible suggestion.
“Perhaps the time has come then for the Queen to have her coronation,” he said. “Her mother is a source of irritation. I never trusted that woman. People say it was sorcery which enabled her to ensnare the late King.”
“She has outstanding beauty,” commented Dudley. Again he looked at Empson.
“And not too old for marriage I dareswear,” he said.
Henry was alert. “Could you by any chance be thinking of the King of Scotland?”
“He has just lost his Queen.”
Henry gave one of his rare smiles. “There is nothing I would like better than to send my mother-in-law over the Border.”
“It would certainly rid us of the unpleasantness of having to keep her under restraint, which is another reason why the Yorkists might be restive,” commented Dudley.
“I shall send an ambassador to Scotland without delay,” said Henry.
“Perhaps we should also inform the Dowager Queen of the intention?”
Henry was silent. “She is an obstinate lady, I fear.”
“My lord, surely she would consider very favorably changing a prison for a crown.”
“’Tis scarcely a prison at Bermondsey. I’ll swear my lady mother-in-law reminds them every hour of the day of her rank and is treated there with the utmost respect.”
“Nevertheless the match could scarcely be made without her consent.”
Henry agreed and the two matters of importance were decided on. Elizabeth Woodville should be offered to the King of Scotland, and the Queen should have her coronation.
It was true that Elizabeth Woodville suffered no harm in Bermondsey. She had her own apartments and her own servants there and apart from the seclusion of the life she might have been in her own palace. It was tiresome, of course, to be shut away from the world; but no less frustrating than being at Court where she was continually finding the interference of the King’s mother so irksome.
When she heard that her daughter was to have a coronation she remarked that it was time she did; then she regretted that she would not be there. It was monstrous. The mother of the Queen and more or less in restraint because of that upstart Tudor!
If only Edward had lived. If only her fair sons were with her! It was at times like this that she thought of them and wondered again what had happened to them in the Tower. She longed to see her little grandson. Dear Arthur. Though what a ridiculous name! It should have been Edward of course. However she was glad it was not Henry.
She longed to see her girls. Not that Elizabeth had much time for her mother nowadays; she had been completely subjugated by those Tudors. It was right, of course, that a woman should cling to her husband, but when that husband showed himself the enemy of the mother who had cared for her through all the difficult years . . . it was cruel and unnatural.
Dear Cecilia had more spirit than Elizabeth. She fancied that Cecilia was very interested in Lord John Weils. She had intercepted glances between them. It had made her a little uneasy at the time for although John Wells was a worthy man, and quite a favorite of the King, he was not a suitable husband for Cecilia. He was twice her age to begin with.
Nothing would come of that. She could dismiss it from her mind. But she did remember a certain defiance in Cecilia, which had been lacking in her elder sister.
She often wondered why Henry had not found a husband for Cecilia. At one time she suspected he had planned to test out Elizabeth and if she did not produce the heir . . . or died . . . he would try for Cecilia. She suspected Henry of all sorts of devious scheming. One could be sure there would be some motive behind everything that he did.
One of her servants came to tell her that a nobleman saying he came from the King wished to see her.
Ah, she thought, he has come to tell me that I shall be released for the coronation. He will realize that the people will notice my absence. It is only right and fitting that the mother of the Queen should be present on such an occasion.
The nobleman was brought in. He bowed with all due deference.
“Pray be seated,” she said. “You come from the King?”
“I do, my lady. He wishes to have your views on a matter of some importance.”
“I am honored that the King should seek my opinion,” she replied with a hint of sarcasm.
“My lady, it concerns you deeply and it is for this reason. The King of Scotland has been recently bereaved. He is of a mind to remarry. The King thought that if you were of like mind, negotiations could begin to bring about a union.”
“Between myself and the King of Scotland? Why he is half my age!”
“It is always said that you have the looks of a lady half your age.”
She was pleased. She could not help it. She had not thought of marriage for herself. She had never wanted much from men except power. That was why she had made a success of her marriage with Edward. She had never shown any jealousy of his countless mistresses; she had never sought to restrain his activities with them; it was for that reason that he had loved and admired her and she had been able to keep her hold on him. But the King of Scotland! Well, to be a queen again . . . a reigning queen, that was a great consideration. And to exchange this . . . well, retreat one might say . . . for palaces and castles. It was rather a pleasant idea.