On June 12 the prior of the Charterhouse arrived at Westminster and informed the King of Warbeck's whereabouts. Henry immediately had the news conveyed to Puebla, who communicated it to Ferdinand and Isabella, to rea.s.sure them that the pretender had been speedily found. The prior begged the King to spare Warbeck's life. Henry VII was not a bloodthirsty man, but he was no longer prepared to be lenient with Perkin. He had him put in the stocks in Cheapside and at Westminster, where he was again made to read aloud his confession, then he was marched under strong guard to the Tower and imprisoned in a cell where "he sees neither sun nor moon."82 Bacon a.s.serts that even now Warbeck was still insisting he was Richard of York, and declaring that when he was delivered from the Tower, he would wait for the King's death, "then put myself into my sister's hands, who was next heir to the crown." But Bacon was writing much later, and-as we have seen-tended to see intrigue where none probably existed, especially in regard to pretenders. It is highly unlikely that Elizabeth was harboring sympathy for this young man, or that she still took his claim seriously.

Certainly Pedro de Ayala did not, and he a.s.sured Ferdinand and Isabella that Henry VII's crown was now "undisputed, and his government is strong in all respects." But the years of uncertainty had taken their toll. Ayala added that Henry "looks old for his years, but young for the sorrowful life he has led."83 Vergil too observed how Henry had aged: "his teeth [were] few, poor and blackish; his hair was thin and gray; his complexion pale." Worry and anxiety may have taken their toll on Elizabeth too: a portrait of her painted in the 1490s, now in the Royal Collection (see Appendix 1), shows her looking older than her years-she was thirty in 1496-with pinched lips and a double chin.

But now, with Warbeck securely imprisoned, the outlook for the future appeared brighter, and the way seemed clear for preparations for Prince Arthur's wedding to the Infanta to proceed smoothly. It was what the King earnestly desired, and he "swore by his royal faith that he and the Queen were more satisfied with this marriage than with any other."84 On July 7, 1498, two Spanish diplomats, Commander Sancho de Londono and Juan de Matienzo, sub-prior of Santa Cruz, "pa.s.sed four hours with [King Henry] in conversation, at which the Queen and the mother of the King were present." They reported to their sovereigns: "To hear what they spoke of Your Highnesses and of the Princess of Wales was like hearing the praise of G.o.d." The envoys gave Elizabeth two letters from Ferdinand and Isabella and two letters from the Princess of Wales. "The King had a dispute with the Queen because he wanted to have one of the said letters to carry continually about him, but the Queen did not like to part with hers, having sent the other to the Prince of Wales."85 It is hard to imagine Elizabeth defying Henry openly like this. More likely, the dispute was staged to demonstrate to the Spanish envoys the enthusiasm of the royal pair for the marriage of their son to Princess Katherine.86 When, on August 25, 1498, Rodrigo de Puebla brought Elizabeth letters from the Spanish sovereigns and Katherine of Aragon, "and explained them, she was overjoyed." She sent at once for her Latin secretary "and ordered him to write, in her presence, two letters, one of them to the Queen of Spain and the other to the Princess of Wales." The secretary told Puebla afterward "that he was obliged to write the said letters three or four times, because the Queen had always found some defects in them," saying, "They are not things of great importance themselves, but they show great and cordial love," which had to be expressed in the proper fashion.87 This testifies to Elizabeth's keen desire for a successful outcome to the marriage negotiations, as do her efforts to cement good relations with Puebla by finding him an English bishopric or an English bride.

In February, Henry VII had informed Ferdinand and Isabella that "since Puebla could not be induced to accept a Church preferment, he was asked whether he would also refuse an honorable marriage offered to him. After many excuses, he has at last been persuaded, princ.i.p.ally by the Queen, to accept the marriage, but under the express condition that his king and queen must first give him their consent. Wishing to marry Puebla well in England, he and his queen beg them [the Spanish sovereigns] to grant their prayers, and to give their consent. The marriage will be of great advantage to the Princess Katherine when she comes to live in England." Puebla dutifully but reluctantly relayed the proposal to his sovereigns, and it seems that Henry and Elizabeth continued to press him to accept the hand of an Englishwoman of their choosing.88 On the morning of Sunday, July 18, Commander Londono and the sub-prior of Santa Cruz went to Sheen, accompanied by the Bishop of London and other great dignitaries of state, and there saw the King and Queen walking in procession after hearing Ma.s.s in the chapel. "The ladies of the Queen went in good order and were much adorned." Later that day the envoys "took leave, and went to kiss the hand of the Queen."89 During their visit, Commander Londono and the sub-prior of Santa Cruz made their separate observations about Elizabeth resenting Margaret Beaufort's influence on the King. As discussed earlier, the envoys' conclusions were probably overstated, for Elizabeth and her mother-in-law continued to present a united and friendly front to the world, and until now there had been no hint of discord between them. Several times during 1498 alone we find them amicably working and playing together. They displayed a joint concern to prepare Katherine of Aragon for her marriage. On July 17, Puebla reported: "The Queen and the mother of the King wish that the Princess of Wales should always speak French with the Princess Margaret [of Austria, wife of Katherine's brother, the Infante Juan, Prince of Asturias], who is now in Spain, in order to learn the language and to be able to converse in it when she comes to England. This is necessary, because these ladies do not understand Latin, and much less, Spanish. They also wish that the Princess of Wales should accustom herself to drink wine. The water of England is not drinkable, and even if it were, the climate would not allow the drinking of it."90 That summer, Margaret Beaufort accompanied the King and Queen on a progress into East Anglia, visiting Havering, Bury St. Edmunds, and Thetford on the way to Norwich, where they were received by the mayor, who made an oration in their honor.91 They again visited the shrine at Walsingham, and at Bishop's Lynn (later King's Lynn) they lodged in the Augustinian priory92 before journeying westward to Margaret's house at Collyweston.93 Two years later Elizabeth collaborated with Margaret and Prince Arthur to secure the appointment of Thomas Pantry, a native of Calais, as Supreme Beadle of the Arts at the University of Oxford, although in 1501 they all supported rival claimants for the same post in Divinity, which shows that Elizabeth was not always swayed by her mother-in-law's opinions.94 In July 1498, Londono and the sub-prior of Santa Cruz reported an instance of the King, Queen, and Margaret Beaufort sharing a similar sense of humor. They had heard of it from "a Spaniard, brought up and married in England," who was "porter to the Queen of England. He said that some time ago the King was living at a palace about a quarter of a league distant from the town in which Puebla was staying. Puebla went every day, with all his servants, to dine at the palace, and continued his unasked-for visits during the s.p.a.ce of four or five months. The Queen and the mother of the Queen sometimes asked him whether his masters in Castile did not provide him with food. On another occasion, when the King was staying at another palace, there was a report that Dr. de Puebla was coming. The King asked his courtiers, 'For what purpose is he coming?' They answered, 'To eat!' The King laughed at the answer."95 This is a revealing insight into a private joke shared by Elizabeth, her mother-in-law, and her husband, which suggests that "subjection" was quite the wrong word to describe her relations with Lady Margaret.

There was a good reason to account for Elizabeth being out of sorts or looking strained or irritable during the amba.s.sadors' visit: she was two months pregnant, and possibly suffering with it. The King paid out money to her physician, Lewis Caerleon, probably for consultations and treatment connected with her condition.96 In the summer of 1498, during a visit to London, the Bishop of Cambrai (once alleged to be Warbeck's real father) visited Henry VII and asked to see Perkin, who was duly produced for his inspection. Puebla observed that he was "so much changed that I, and all other persons here, believe his life will be very short. He must pay for what he has done." Puebla, doubtless acting on the orders of King Ferdinand, did not cease urging King Henry to rid himself of this embarra.s.sment, hinting that Ferdinand was having second thoughts about marrying his daughter to a prince whose future throne might not be secure.97 On September 11, Bishop Fox was empowered to negotiate the marriage of Margaret Tudor and James IV. Henry was resolved upon cementing the peace between England and Scotland, and liked the prospect of his grandson sitting on the Scots throne. James too was eager for the marriage, and there was talk of an early wedding, but Henry revealed to Pedro de Ayala that his wife and his mother had worked in concert again, this time to protect Margaret from the perils of marrying too young. "I have already told you more than once that a marriage between him and my daughter has many inconveniences," he said. "She has not yet completed the ninth year of her age, and is so delicate and female [i.e., weak] that she must be married much later than other young ladies. Thus it would be necessary to wait at least another nine years. Beside my own doubts, the Queen and my mother are very much against this marriage. They say if [it] were concluded, we should be obliged to send the princess directly to Scotland, in which case they fear the King of Scots would not wait, but injure her and endanger her health."98 Margaret Beaufort probably spoke from bitter experience, for her husband had not waited, and the likelihood is that giving birth at thirteen scarred her so badly, mentally as well as physically, that she had never borne another child. She and Elizabeth may also have heard reports of the Scots King's womanizing and been concerned for Margaret. Bowing to this pressure from his womenfolk, Henry compromised and made James agree not to demand his bride before September 1503, when she would be nearly fourteen.99 Early in 1499 a young Cambridge student, Ralph Wilford, the son of a London cordwainer, suddenly declared that he was the real Warwick. Like Lambert Simnel, he had been encouraged in his deception by an errant cleric, in this case a friar. He was speedily apprehended and "confessed that he was sundry times stirred in his sleep that he should name himself to be the Duke of Clarence's son, and he should in process obtain such power that he should be King." By now Henry VII's patience was exhausted, and after personally interrogating the imposter, he did not hesitate to deal swiftly with him: on February 12, Wilford was hanged.100 Even so, the damage had been done, for the King was much disturbed by the appearance of yet another pretender, and-as he had probably feared-the Spanish sovereigns were dismayed when they heard of it.

Elizabeth was then in the last stages of pregnancy. The Great Wardrobe Accounts for January 1499 record payments for linen cloth for bearing sheets, "headkerchiefs, biggins [bonnets for the baby], and breast kerchiefs," kersey for twelve couches (beds), and fustian "for a bed for the nursery," all purchased for the Queen. On January 20 the King sent for the silver font from Canterbury Cathedral, paying the prior 2 [970] for the favor.

Around the time she took to her chamber, Elizabeth had to deal with more bad news. On February 9, 1499, her brother-in-law, John, Viscount Welles, the husband of her sister Cecily, died of pleurisy at his London home. In his will he had pa.s.sed over his other heirs and directed that all his property should go to Cecily for the term of her life, and that his body should be interred wherever she-with the consent of the King and Queen and the King's mother-should deem appropriate. After his death Cecily sent to the King at Greenwich to discover his pleasure in the matter. He commanded that Welles be buried with great solemnity in the old Lady Chapel in Westminster Abbey. Cecily apparently returned to the Queen's household, where, given Elizabeth's love and care for her sisters, she was a.s.sured of a sympathetic welcome.101 By February 19, Anne Crown, mistress of the nursery (probably identified with Anne Crowmer), was installed and awaiting the arrival of her charge. Under her was Anne Skern, who had nursed Princess Mary, and "five gentlewomen of the nursery."102 Elizabeth bore her third son, her sixth child, on Thursday, February 21, 1499, at Greenwich.103 He was baptized there in the church of the Observant Friars on February 24. The Great Wardrobe provided linen for the silver font from Canterbury, cords for hanging the canopy that would be borne over the infant, red worsted, gilt nails, and other items104 against the christening, which was "very splendid, and the festivities such as though an heir to the crown had been born."105 The baby was named Edmund, after Henry's father, Edmund Tudor, Earl of Richmond.

Margaret Beaufort was Edmund's G.o.dmother at the font, and gave him the generous gift of 100 [48,600], as well as handsomely rewarding the midwife and the nurses.106 Clearly she was relieved to see both mother and child safely delivered, for "there had been much fear that the life of the Queen would be in danger, but the delivery, contrary to expectations, had been easy."107 A payment of 6s.8d. [160] made by the King on the day after the birth to "Wulf the Physician at two times"108 may reflect the precautions put in place should something go wrong. We do not know why there were fears for the Queen's life, unless the shock of her brother-in-law's death and her sister's bereavement had affected her badly, but the ministrations of her doctors the previous year suggest she had had a difficult pregnancy.

Prince Edmund was styled Duke of Somerset,109 a t.i.tle proudly borne by his Beaufort ancestors, although he was probably never formally enn.o.bled since no enrollment of any patent can be traced.

Polydore Vergil recorded that "by his wife Elizabeth, [Henry VII] was the father of eight children, four boys and as many girls"; and John Foxe, writing in the reign of Elizabeth I, stated that "Henry VII had by Elizabeth four men children and of women children as many, of whom only three survived." John Stow, the Elizabethan antiquarian, states that there was a fourth and youngest son called Edward. In the eighteenth century, Thomas Carte also a.s.serted, in his history of England, that there was a fourth son who died in infancy, while in the nineteenth century, Arthur Stanley, Dean of Westminster, recorded a fourth son, Edward, who died very young and was buried in Westminster Abbey. However, the royal genealogist Francis Sandford, writing in the seventeenth century, says that Edmund was the third and youngest son.

Modern biographers110 have put forward all kinds of theories about a fourth son. One names him George,111 but most call him Edward. His birth date has variously been given as 148788112 and 149596,113 suggesting some confusion with Princess Mary, 1497114 or 150001.

There is no contemporary evidence to support any of these theories. Nor is there any record of Elizabeth having more than seven pregnancies. All are doc.u.mented in one way or another, so it is unlikely that a prince called Edward ever existed. The most telling evidence in favor of the Queen having borne only three sons is to be found in two works of art. The St. George altarpiece at Windsor, which depicts Henry and Elizabeth and their children adoring St. George, and dates from 150509, shows four daughters and only three sons. An illumination in the "Ordinances of the Confraternity of the Immaculate Conception," dating from 1503, also shows three sons and four daughters. Given that all the known children who died young are included in each of these groups, which were painted after Elizabeth's death, we might expect to see a fourth son-if there had been one-in both pictures.

There also exists in the British Library the "Genealogical Chronicle of the Kings of England," dating from 1511, which has tiny circular images of Henry and Elizabeth with seven children, labeled Arthur, Edmund, Henry, Katherine, Margaret, Mary, and Elizabeth. Margaret and Katherine are shown as boys-the other girls wear gable hoods.115 The likelihood is that Vergil got it wrong and there were only three sons of the marriage. Claims by modern historians116 that there were other children who died unnamed in infancy are not substantiated by any contemporary evidence.

In May 1499, with the portly Puebla standing in for the Infanta, Prince Arthur was married by proxy in a ceremony in the chapel at Tickenhill Palace, his house near Bewdley, Worcestershire. This was "a fair manor place west of the town, standing in a goodly park well wooded" on a hill in the Severn Valley. Originally built in the fourteenth century, it had been enlarged by Edward IV for his son, the Prince of Wales, when the Council of the Marches was established, and Henry VII converted it into a palace for Prince Arthur.117 It was intimated by the King and Queen to the Spanish amba.s.sador that the ladies Katherine brought with her to England should be "of gentle birth"-for "the English attach great importance to good connections"-and "beautiful, or, at the least, by no means ugly."118 From 1499 to 1501, Arthur and Katherine were encouraged to write frequently to each other. They corresponded in Latin in a formal style, no doubt supervised by their elders. Although the young couple had not yet met, they expressed the proper sentiments required by convention. One letter sent by Arthur on October 5, 1499, from Ludlow Castle is typical of how a royal courtship was conducted: Most ill.u.s.trious and most excellent lady, my dearest spouse, I wish you very much health, with my hearty commendations.

I have read the most sweet letters of your Highness lately given to me, from which I have easily perceived your most entire love to me. Truly, these your letters, traced by your own hand, have so delighted me, and have rendered me so cheerful and jocund, that I fancied I beheld your Highness, and conversed with and embraced my dearest wife. I cannot tell you what an earnest desire I feel to see your Highness, and how vexatious to me is this procrastination about your coming. I owe eternal thanks to your excellence that you so lovingly correspond to this, my so ardent love. Let it continue, I entreat, as it has begun; and, like as I cherish your sweet remembrance night and day, so do you preserve my name ever fresh in your breast. And let your coming to me be hastened, that instead of being absent we may be present with each other, and the love conceived between us and the wished-for joys may reap their proper fruit.

I have done as your ill.u.s.trious Highness enjoined me in commending you to the most serene lord and lady, the King and Queen, my parents, and in declaring your filial regard toward them, which to them was most pleasing to hear.119 The expressions in the letter are those of an adult, and it seems unlikely that a thirteen-year-old boy would have written them; probably his words were dictated by his tutors.

In September, while the King and Queen were away on a progress in Hampshire,120 the celebrated scholar Erasmus, then a guest of fellow humanist William Blount, Lord Mountjoy, was taken to meet their younger children at Eltham. Years later he recalled: "Thomas More paid me a visit, and took me for recreation on a walk to a neighboring country palace, where the royal infants were abiding, Prince Arthur excepted, who had completed his education. The princely children were a.s.sembled in the hall and were surrounded by their household, to whom Mountjoy's servants added themselves. In the middle of the circle stood Prince Henry, then only nine [sic] years old, and already having something of royalty in his demeanor, in which there was a certain dignity combined with a singular courtesy." A painted terracotta bust by Guido Mazzoni in the Royal Collection, of a chubby-cheeked, mischievous-looking, laughing boy is thought to portray young Henry around this time (ca.14981500), and may have been commissioned by Henry VII himself.

On Prince Henry's right hand "stood the Princess Margaret, a child of eleven [sic] years, afterward Queen of Scotland. On the other side was the Princess Mary, a little one of four [sic] years of age, engaged in her sports, whilst Edmund, an infant, was held in his nurse's arms."121 Thomas More presented Prince Henry with some Latin verses he had composed especially for him, and that same evening, after they had returned to More's house, Erasmus received a request from the prince for some verses of his own. "I was angry with More for not having warned me," he wrote, "especially as the boy sent me a little note, while we were at dinner, to challenge something from my pen." In fact the great scholar was so overcome with trepidation that it took him three days to come up with something he considered suitable, the Prosopopoeia Britanniae;122 in this, he described the royal children in allegorical terms: the boys were red roses, for vigor, the girls white, for innocence.

Already, it seems, the future Henry VIII had a commanding and awe-inspiring demeanor, and to have read the verses dedicated to him he would have had to be highly proficient in Latin. Erasmus thought he was. His inscription read: "We have dedicated these verses, like the gift of playthings, to your childhood, and shall be ready with more abundant offerings when your virtues, growing with your age, shall supply more abundant material for poetry." Erasmus later recalled that Henry "had a vivid and active mind, above measure to execute whatever tasks he undertook. You would say that he was a universal genius."123 Erasmus was also much impressed by Lady Guildford, the princesses' governess, with whom he engaged in two conversations. By November 1501, however, Lady Guildford had returned to the Queen's service.

With their daughter due to come to England when she reached fourteen in December, Ferdinand and Isabella had expressed concern at the emergence of yet another pretender, and even though Ralph Wilford had been speedily dealt with, their faith in the security of the English throne was shaken. They had seen over the years how it could be destabilized by imposters and the existence of Yorkist heirs who might yet challenge Henry VII's t.i.tle. Now that Warbeck had been discredited, they regarded Warwick as the greatest threat to England's stability, as he had the strongest claim to the crown and was clearly a focus for malcontents. In the years to come, Katherine of Aragon would say that her marriage to Prince Arthur had been made in blood,124 which implies that it was conditional upon the removal of the hapless Warwick. Fifty years later Warwick's nephew, Cardinal Reginald Pole (the son of Margaret of Clarence), revealed that King Ferdinand was averse to giving his daughter to one who would not be secure in his own kingdom. The likelihood is that Ferdinand warned Henry VII that while Warwick lived, the Infanta would not be coming to England.

Henry, like many of his contemporaries, was a superst.i.tious man. In March, still perturbed by the Wilford affair, he heard of a priest who had accurately foretold the deaths of Edward IV and Richard III and summoned him for a consultation. The soothsayer warned him that his life would be in danger all that year, for there were two parties with very different political creeds in the land-those who were loyal to the Tudor dynasty, and those who wanted to see the House of York restored-and that conspiracies against the throne would ensue. A fortnight later Pedro de Ayala reported that the King had aged twenty years in two weeks.125 Unnerved by the Wilford affair, and aware that Warwick would always remain a threat, Henry probably foresaw no end to the intrigues that had long undermined his security. Fearful as a result of the soothsayer's warning, he consulted his astrologer, Dr. William Parron, several times. Later that year, Parron observed, "It is expedient that one man should die for the people, and the whole nation perish not, for an insurrection cannot occur in any state without the deaths of a great part of the people and the destruction of many great families with their property." This pragmatic view was shared by the King, and it was probably at this time that he came to the decision that Warwick must be eliminated.

Yet Warwick had never actually done anything to justify any legal process against him. Having him secretly murdered in the Tower, like the princes, was clearly not Henry's way of doing things. The King had experienced what could ensue when an heir to the throne simply disappeared. Moral issues aside, it had to be known that Warwick had died, and the only sure way to remove him and eliminate any future claims of his survival was by the process of law.

What happened afterward is still surrounded in mystery. We do not know the extent of official involvement-although the evidence suggests it was considerable-or how far the government drove or manipulated events. What was paramount, though, was that Henry secure his crown and safeguard the valuable Spanish alliance. Small wonder that he probably seized the chance to kill two birds with one shot.

One might have thought that high-security prisoners like Warwick and Warbeck would be kept isolated from each other lest they bred a further conspiracy together, but this was clearly not the case. On August 2, according to Warwick's indictment, two gaolers-Thomas Astwood, one of Warbeck's former supporters who had been pardoned four years earlier, and Robert Cleymound-met with Warwick in his chamber in the Tower and hatched a plot to fire and seize the Tower, thus facilitating his escape to Flanders, whence he would make war upon Henry VII, "a.s.sume the royal dignity and make himself King."126 Warwick may have been inveigled into colluding in what was nothing less than high treason; or he might, understandably, have leapt at the chance of being revenged upon the King who had so unjustly incarcerated him for fourteen years. Yet he may not fully have understood the enormity of what he thought he was about to do, or had the capacity to see it through. Vergil says that Warwick had been brought up in prison from his cradle, and although that was not strictly true of his earlier years, he had been a captive since 1485, "out of sight of man or beast," and he was clearly not very bright. It is hard to imagine him seriously contemplating leading an armed rebellion.

Two days later the conspirators made contact with Warbeck, whose cell-somewhat conveniently-was below Warwick's, and drew him into the plot. Warwick, he was told, would set him at large and make him King of England-which was glaringly at variance with what Warwick had been promised, but probably no more than an inducement to draw Warbeck into the plot. Given Warbeck's sorry state the previous year, it could have been predicted that he was now desperate to escape and would seize any chance. Four other gaolers and two other prisoners, Yorkist dissidents, also became involved, as well as two citizens of London. Then suddenly, Cleymound complained that Warbeck had betrayed the conspirators to the King and his council and fled into sanctuary.

This all suggests that the two prisoners had been enticed into the conspiracy, and that Cleymound was an agent provocateur placed in the Tower. No action was ever taken against him, and it seems suspicious that one of Warbeck's gaolers was his former adherent, and that Warwick and Warbeck were held close enough to communicate. Warwick is said to have knocked on the floor of his chamber, and even made a hole in it so that the two could speak, and to have sent Warbeck doc.u.ments and tokens by Cleymound. This is even more suspicious, considering that the whereabouts of Warwick's chamber in the Tower had until now been a well-kept state secret for fear of rescue attempts. It is unlikely too that Warbeck would have revealed the conspiracy to the council. Probably, the two prisoners were set up, and it is likely that the Earl of Oxford, the Constable of the Tower, and his deputy, John Digby, its lieutenant, were parties to the deception; it is hard to imagine this conspiracy escaping their notice.

It seems implausible that Elizabeth knew anything of this. There is no official record of Spain's intervention, and if there was a policy to remove Warwick and Warbeck, it was kept highly secret. Henry and his advisers probably allowed the conspiracy to mature, and awaited their moment.

On November 12 the doomed plot came to light when John Fineux, Chief Justice of the King's Bench, reported to the council "certain treasons conspired of Edward, naming himself of Warwick, and Perkin, and others within the Tower; which intendeth, as it appeareth by [their] confessions, to have deposed and destroyed the King's person and his blood. And over that the said Edward intended to have been King, and first to have holpen Perkin to the crown if he had been King Edward's son, and else to have had it himself." Already the accused had been examined and it was determined by the judges that they had committed treason "and deserved death," while the King was demanding what was to be done with them.

Did Elizabeth tremble at the thought of what might have befallen her husband and her children, or did she grieve for her guileless cousin? Did she suspect, from the sheer improbability of the charges, that Warwick had been led unwittingly into treason? More pertinently, was she startled by the revelation that Warwick had been willing to make Perkin king if he proved to be her brother? If this was true-and it may not have been-then Warwick had remained uncertain that Warbeck really was Richard of York. He had been brought up with the royal children from 1478 to 1483, and so had known York, who was two years older, between the ages of four and nine. If York had survived, he would now be twenty-six. Even if Warwick had seen Perkin in the Tower, he might have found it difficult recognizing the boy in the man-and may not have had the wits to do so. But on the face of it he had not ruled out the possibility that Warbeck was York. If Elizabeth did not know that the whole conspiracy was a fabrication-and it is hard to imagine her colluding in it-then she had cause to wonder.

The exposure of the conspiracy sealed the fate of both young men. Warbeck was arraigned at Westminster on November 16 and condemned to be hanged, drawn, and quartered, the punishment meted out to traitors. Two days later, at London's Guildhall, eight people including Thomas Astwood were found guilty of conspiring to murder the Marshal of the Tower and free Warwick and Warbeck.

Warwick himself was tried the next day, November 19, in Westminster Hall. "Because of his innocency,"127 the simple young man pleaded guilty, and was also sentenced to a traitor's death. Later, Parliament attainted him for treason. We have no way of knowing if Elizabeth believed he had been justly condemned.

It was customary, in the case of peers of the realm, for the dread sentence handed down to traitors to be commuted by the King to beheading, so it is surprising to learn that Perkin Warbeck, a commoner, suffered only hanging on the public gallows at Tyburn. He certainly was drawn facedown on a hurdle to his execution, "as being not worthy anymore to tread upon the face of the Earth," but he was spared the full horrors of a traitor's death. Was there still, in the King's mind, and perhaps Elizabeth's too, some question that he might really be of royal blood? Or was Henry merely being merciful because Warbeck had unwittingly helped to send Warwick to a better world? Either way, on the scaffold Warbeck swore on his death that he was not the son of Edward IV, and asked forgiveness of G.o.d and the King for his deception. Expecting to face divine judgment within minutes, it is unlikely he was lying.

On November 29, Warwick, who was only twenty-four, was beheaded on Tower Hill. "It was ordained that the winding ivy of a Plantagenet should kill the true tree itself," observed Bacon. The King paid for the earl's remains to be buried in Bisham Priory, Berkshire, near the tomb of his grandfather, Warwick the Kingmaker.128 During the days that followed, Astwood and the other men involved in the plot were put to death. If they were all seduced unwittingly into the conspiracy, then the government had made a ruthless and thorough job of it; but by willingly involving themselves, they nevertheless committed treason.

Elizabeth and her ladies were left to comfort the popular Katherine Gordon for the loss of her husband. Universally applauded for her loyalty to Warbeck, she stayed on at court in Elizabeth's service and in 1510 married the first of three more husbands, all gentlemen of Henry VIII's bedchamber.129 Henry VII fell ill after the executions, while staying at Wanstead, Ess.e.x, and was so poorly that his life was despaired of. But he recovered by the middle of December, and in January 1500, Pedro de Ayala was able to a.s.sure Ferdinand and Isabella that "this kingdom is at present so situated as has not been seen for the last five hundred years until now, because there were always brambles and thorns of such a kind that the English had occasion not to remain peacefully in obedience to their king, there being divers heirs of the kingdom. Now it has pleased G.o.d that all should be thoroughly and duly purged and cleansed, so that not a doubtful drop of royal blood remains in this kingdom, except the true blood of the King and Queen and, above all, that of the lord Prince Arthur."130

15.

"The Spanish Infanta"

Henry VII was now well established on his throne. His court poet, Pietro Carmeliano, observed that England's honor was "in such wise now enhanced that all Christian regions pursue unto thee for alliance, confederation, and unity." In March, having satisfied Ferdinand and Isabella that his crown was secure, the King concluded the treaty with Spain, and within the next two years would make alliances with Scotland, Burgundy, the Holy Roman Empire, and Flanders as well.

On January 11, 1500, Ferdinand and Isabella informed Puebla that Princess Katherine was to come to England "as soon as the Prince of Wales shall have accomplished the fourteenth year of his age," which would be the following September. But soon afterward Don Juan Manuel, a servant of Philip of Burgundy, told Henry VII that the princess would be sent in the spring, "without waiting for the accomplishment of the fourteenth year of the age of the Prince of Wales, if the state of health of the Queen would permit it." There is no other hint that Elizabeth was unwell at this time, so possibly there was speculation that she was pregnant again, which proved to be unfounded. Puebla added, "The sums spent in preparation for the reception of the princess are enormous."

He was still fretting about the favors that the King and Queen of England were pressing on him. He "did not like to accept the bishopric or the marriage offered to him because it seemed to him that a true servant of [Ferdinand and Isabella] ought not to do so." It seemed the sovereigns agreed with him, because they failed to respond to the proposals, for which Puebla thanked them the following June, when he said he feared that Henry VII would still pursue the matter, and expressed his fears that the sovereigns would no longer trust him "if he were married by the Queen of England to a rich English lady."1 Evidently Elizabeth finally got the message that her offer was unwelcome, and dropped the matter.

From June 1499, England had suffered one of its worst-ever plague epidemics, which raged on through a mild winter into the late spring of 1500; in London alone, which suffered the most, it was said (probably with some exaggeration) that thirty thousand died. After "often change of places"2 to escape contagion, Henry decided to take Elizabeth abroad to Calais, the last remaining outpost of England's continental territories. His intention was not only to avoid the pestilence but also to meet with Archduke Philip.

With no pretenders left to challenge him, the King could safely go abroad at last, but not without anxiety, for it is clear his departure lacked fanfares. Puebla wrote: "The internal peace of the kingdom is perfect. It is so great that the King and Queen left England. Until two days beforehand no one knew of their intended journey."3 The royal party traveled down from Greenwich to Dover with their households, attended by heralds and men-at-arms, and crossed the sea to Calais on May 8,4 arriving that night. This was the only time Elizabeth ever went abroad.

The next day the King and Queen put on a splendid show when, "with many lords, ladies, knights, esquires, gentlemen, and yeomen," they set out to greet the Archduke, who had married Juana of Castile, Katherine of Aragon's sister. Elizabeth was attended by fifty ladies of rank, all "beautifully adorned," with Katherine Gordon prominent among them. The royal couple received the handsome but dissolute young Archduke with much pomp at Our Lady of St. Peter's Church outside the city walls. The church had been "richly hanged with arras" and "parted with hangings into divers offices," including an area where a feast was served. "And when they had all dined and communed, there was a rich banquet" of strawberries, cream, spice cakes, and cherries. Afterward, the Archduke "danced with the ladies of England, and then took leave of the King and Queen."5 Over the next few days, Henry and Elizabeth entertained their guest with pageants, feasts, and jousts. "The King and the Archduke had a very long conversation, in which the Queen afterward joined. The interview was very solemn, and attended with great splendour."6 Elizabeth's presence was required because Henry and Philip had agreed that the Princess Mary, now four, should be betrothed to Philip's eldest son, Charles,7 who had been born in February. Charles was the heir to the Habsburg territories and also to Spain, and in time he would be the master of vast domains, so this was a brilliant match for Mary.

Mary had recently been a.s.signed a separate household, with ladies-in-waiting, gentlewomen, a wardrobe keeper, a schoolmaster, and a physician.8 In 1499 the three-year-old was provided with five beautiful gowns of green velvet edged with purple tinsel, black velvet edged with crimson, crimson velvet, blue velvet, and black velvet furred with ermine, as well as kirtles of tawny damask and black satin, both edged with black velvet, and two pairs of knitted hose.9 In 1502 the King would order that Mary be a.s.signed the same number of attendants as Katherine of Aragon, then Dowager Princess of Wales.10 Mary showed much greater promise intellectually than her sister Margaret, and was given the advantage of a good education. She learned French and Latin, music, dancing, and embroidery. Her brothers' tutor, Giles Dewes, taught her French. Like most of her family, she was musical. Her father the King gave her a lute, and she also learned to play the clavichord and the regal, a small portable organ. In 1502, after the Borgia Pope, Alexander VI, had proclaimed a Catholic Jubilee year, Elizabeth paid 12d. [25] so Mary could have a "letter of pardon"11-an indulgence that bought her remission from her sins. Possibly Elizabeth's youngest daughter was a high-spirited, headstrong child whom she thought was in need of such remission-or the lesson the indulgence would have taught her.

The King and Queen stayed for forty days in Calais. On June 16, when the plague had abated, they sailed back to Dover12 and journeyed directly to Greenwich. On or before their return, at a time when Prince Arthur's health was giving them cause for concern, they were brought the tragic news that the infant Prince Edmund had died at the episcopal palace at Hatfield, Hertfordshire.13 Edmund had lived for fifteen months. It is often stated that he died on June 16, but Henry VII's privy purse expenses for May list 242.11s.8d. [117,900] "for the burial of my Lord Edmund,"14 and it would have taken longer than five days to arrange the ceremonial funeral. A payment on February 14 for "hawk bells" for Prince Henry at Hatfield15 suggests that all the younger royal children had been living there too, isolated from the pestilence, while their parents were abroad in Calais, and that Edmund did not die of plague but of some childhood ailment.

The little boy was given a state funeral. According to the provisions for the burial of a prince in Henry VII's ordinances, his tiny corpse was "laid in a new chest covered with white damask, with a cross of red velvet thereon," and an image of him "with a circlet on his head" was placed on top. The coffin and effigy were brought from Hatfield to London in "a chariot covered with black" pulled by "six horses trapped all in black," followed by the chief mourner, Edward Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, and other lords, all wearing mourning robes with "their hoods fair hanging over their ears." Torchbearers went before, and the Lord Mayor and guildsmen of London lined the streets as the cortege pa.s.sed. The coffin was received by the grieving King at Westminster. Henry's ordinances provided for him to wear "his robes of blue" for the occasion, and since those same ordinances make it clear that women were not barred,16 Elizabeth was perhaps there too, trying to come to terms with the pain of losing a second child in five years, and watching the little coffin as it was borne on a hea.r.s.e into the abbey, where a dirge was sung over it and the lords kept watch overnight. The next day, June 22, Ma.s.s was said, and the interment in the Confessor's Chapel followed.17 There is no record of a tomb being raised to mark Edmund's burial place.

Sheen was not the only royal residence to be updated by Henry VII. In 150001 the King demolished the old palace at Greenwich and began rebuilding it, facing the buildings with red brick in the Burgundian style much favored by him and Elizabeth.

Accessed through an imposing gateway opposite Queen Margaret's Pier, the new Greenwich Palace was designed around three courtyards, known as Fountain Court, Cellar Court, and Tennis Court. Its riverside facade boasted bay windows and an imposing five-storied tower, which probably housed Henry's privy chamber. Elizabeth's lodgings were in a parallel range that lay behind, the two suites connected at one end by the hall and chapel. At the other end a gallery gave access to the convent of the Observant Friars, which had been refounded by the King, who drew up elaborate instructions for a stained-gla.s.s window in the friars' church depicting himself and his family; it was completed around 1503.18 In 1500 the King and Queen visited Coventry, where they were admitted as members of the Holy Trinity Guild, and watched a mystery play portraying the story of the world from Creation to Judgment Day. They also visited Nottingham.

That year, the King summoned Katherine of York and her husband, Lord William Courtenay, to court. By October they had settled in their house in Warwick Lane with their children, and afterward were both often at court; early in 1501, William was granted an annuity for his daily diligent attendance on the King. Elizabeth must have been pleased to have her sister near at hand.

In Spain, Isabella and Ferdinand were preparing to send the Infanta Katherine to England. Notwithstanding the a.s.surances given by Elizabeth, Isabella evidently was anxious about her youngest child. "We ardently implore that the princess shall be treated by [King Henry] and the Queen as their own daughter," she wrote to Pedro de Ayala on March 23, 1501.19 That month, Henry VII outlaid 14,000 [6.8 million] for jewels from France "against the marriage of my Lord Prince."20 No expense was to be spared for the wedding of his heir, which would reflect everything he had achieved in securing this crucial alliance.

In mid-April the King and Queen kept their Easter court at Eltham.21 On May 8 the Portuguese amba.s.sador in England reported to his master, King Manuel I, that "the Queen was supposed to be with child, but her apothecary told me that a Genoese physician affirmed that she was pregnant, yet it was not so." Nevertheless, it looked very much like it to the amba.s.sador, for she had "much embonpoint [plumpness] and large b.r.e.a.s.t.s."22 This report and the double chin evident in the contemporary portrait in the Royal Collection (see Appendix 1) suggest that Elizabeth, like her father before her, was becoming prematurely obese in her thirties-or she had retained a fuller figure after her previous pregnancies.

That month, accompanied by her duenna, Dona Elvira Manuel, and a train of sixty people, Katherine left the Alhambra Palace in Granada on the first stage of what was to prove a slow journey to England. In July, Puebla reported: "The King, the Queen, and the Prince of Wales have great pleasure in hearing that the Princess Katherine is beginning to speak French. The Queen especially rejoices in the progress the princess is making in the French language."23 It meant she would be able to converse more easily with the daughter-in-law whose arrival she so eagerly antic.i.p.ated.

On October 2, Katherine of Aragon at last arrived in England, coming ash.o.r.e at Plymouth after a stormy voyage. Ladies and officials had been appointed "to give their attendance upon the princess at her landing," summoned by letters sent by the Queen herself.24 There was a formal reception, with "the King's commendations made by my Lord Steward, the Queen's by her chamberlain."25 Elizabeth's officers were actively involved in all the preparations, for the marriage of her son was an event that came within her sphere of influence. Her master of horse provided five chariots and twenty palfreys for the princess and her ladies, and henchmen to ride with them; her chamberlain was in charge of the etiquette to be observed and matters of precedence.26 When Katherine of Aragon set out on her journey eastward to London, she received a rapturous welcome from the people who flocked to see her on the way. "The princess could not have been received with greater joy had she been the Savior of the World," a member of her suite reported to Queen Isabella.27 Henry and Elizabeth were then staying in the Tower of London, where they were preparing for the wedding celebrations. There were daily jousts on the tournament ground before the White Tower, and feasts in the King's Hall, the great hall in the Inmost Ward. But Henry had a more pressing matter on his mind: he wanted to see his son's bride and be rea.s.sured that she was as fit a mate for Arthur as he had been led to believe.

The prince traveled from Ludlow, met up with his father, and rode with him to greet his bride. They caught up with the princess at Dogmersfield, Hampshire, on November 4. There was a tense altercation when Katherine appeared veiled, and her duenna and the Spanish amba.s.sador informed the King that Spanish protocol dictated she must remain so until she was married; but Henry, ever suspicious, and no doubt fearful that his son's bride was deformed or ugly, stood his ground. "Tell the lords of Spain," he commanded, "that the King will see the princess even were she in her bed." The veil was lifted. Arthur later wrote to Ferdinand and Isabella that he "had never felt so much joy in his life as when he beheld the sweet face of his bride," and he vowed to be "a true and loving husband all his days."28 After the meeting he returned with his father to London to rejoin the Queen, with Katherine's procession following.

Elizabeth had gone to stay at the newly rebuilt and restored palace at Sheen. By November 1501 the King had "finished much of his new building at his manor of Sheen, and again furnished and repaired that [which] before was perished with fire."29 The renovated palace, which cost over 20,000 [9.7 million], had only recently been made ready for occupation by the royal family. Built in late, ornate Perpendicular style around two broad, paved courtyards, it covered ten acres and faced the Thames to the south. It was dominated by Henry V's ma.s.sive donjon tower, which had survived the fire and was completely restored. Now surmounted by fourteen turrets, pepper-pot domes, and pinnacles, it contained the King's and Queen's suites of privy lodgings.

Lancaster Herald described the new palace as "this earthly and second paradise of England, the spectacular and beauteous example of all proper lodgings." He noted the towers, pinnacles, and weather vanes sporting the royal arms, painted and gilded, on every building in the complex; on windy days the tinkling of the vanes was "right marvelous."30 The palace was approached through a ma.s.sive gatehouse with an archway eighteen feet high and eleven feet wide, which gave access from the green in front to the Great Court. Above the archway was emblazoned the Tudor royal arms supported by the red dragon of Cadwaladr and the greyhound of Richmond. From the gatehouse extended "a strong and mighty brick wall of great length," encircling the palace complex. Lancaster Herald described it as having "towers in each corner and angle, and also in the midway," with several stout oak gates studded with nails and crossed with iron bars. "Galleries with many windows full lightsome and commodious" overlooked the Great Court, where there were "pleasant chambers for such lords and men of honor that wait upon the King's Grace." A two-hundred-foot-long gallery afforded excellent views of the gardens.

The smaller inner court-the River Court-was paved with marble and boasted a stone conduit and a drinking fountain sculpted with lions and red dragons guarding branches of red roses, from which the water ran clear and pure to a cistern beneath. This was where people washed their hands, for there was no running water inside the palace. To the west side was the great hall, a hundred feet long and resplendent with a tiled floor, a central hearth, and a timber roof lined with lead and decorated with hanging pendants and carved knots-all "most glorious and joyful to behold."31 The walls were hung with rich cloths of Arras, including a fabulous one depicting "The Destruction of Troy," and there were "pictures"-probably statues-of "the n.o.ble kings of this realm in their harness [armor] and robes of gold, like bold and valiant knights"-with Henry VII naturally prominent among them. Beneath the hall was a cellar, and next to it, on the ground floor, the Royal Wardrobe and domestic offices-"the pantry, b.u.t.tery, kitchen, and scullery." Coal and fuel were stored in the yards outside, well out of sight of the royal family.

On the opposite side of the courtyard to the hall, up a flight of stairs, was the chapel, "well paved, glazed, and hung with cloth of Arras" and gold, with an undercroft beneath it. The altar was set with jewels and relics and laden with rich plate, and pictures of virtuous and pious kings of England-doubtless including St. Edward the Confessor and Henry VI-were displayed on the walls. A private closet to the left of the altar was shared by Elizabeth, her children, Margaret Beaufort, and their attendants, while the King's closet was on the right side. Both closets were furnished with carpets, cushions, and silk curtains. The chapel ceiling was "checkered with timber lozengewise, painted azure, having between every check a red rose of gold or a portcullis."32 From the chapel "extended goodly pa.s.sages and galleries, paved, glazed, and painted," adorned with golden badges sporting Tudor roses and portcullises. These led to the three-storied donjon, which was accessed through an imposing arched doorway sculpted with the royal arms and the red dragon of Cadwaladr, and was notable for its many windows. Here, on the first floor, were the King's chambers, the first, second, and third of which (watching chamber, presence chamber, and privy chamber) were hung with costly cloth of Arras; each room had "white-limed" and "checkered" ceilings, and "goodly bay windows" overlooking the river.

Below, connected by a great staircase, were "divers and many more goodly chambers both for the Queen's Grace, the prince and princess, my lady the King's mother, the Duke of York and Lady Margaret, and all the King's n.o.ble kindred and progeny." These suites contained "pleasant dancing chambers and secret closets" and were "most richly enhanged, decked, and beseen." More fine rooms were to be found in a new four-storied tower attached to the donjon.

Both the King's and Queen's apartments were on the southeast side of the donjon and overlooked "most fair and pleasant" enclosed gardens and galleries with open loggias, a feature never before seen in England. There were kitchen gardens and orchards to the west, and a privy garden to the east. The latter had symmetrical railed beds with "royal knots" of flowers, and lions and dragons on decorative poles; alleys led through the beds and beyond, to "places of disport" and "houses of pleasure"-bowling alleys, archery b.u.t.ts, and tennis courts-another feature borrowed from the Burgundians.33 Henry VII gave the palace a new name: "from this time, it was commanded by the King that it should be called Rich Mount," or Richmond, "because his father and he were earls of Richmond" in Yorkshire.34 It became his favorite residence, and remained the largest English royal palace until Hampton Court was built in 1514.

In 1499, Henry VII had founded, or refounded, six English houses for Observant (Grey) Friars of the Order of St. Francis, one of which was at Richmond. In May 1502 the King gave the friars the old manor buildings and chapel of Byfleet, and work began immediately on converting them into a convent. This was screened off from the palace by an orchard-no ordinary orchard, but a charming pleasaunce "with royal knots alleyed and herbed"; along its alleys were set statues of "many marvelous beasts, as lions, dragons, and such other divers kind, with many vines, seeds, and strange fruit right goodly beset." And "in the lower end of this garden beith pleasant galleries and houses of pleasure to disport in." Galleries, beasts, and houses of pleasure were all features of the Burgundian palaces.35 Richmond was not just a beautiful palace but a showpiece, a visual statement of Henry VII's achievements. Rampant with heraldry and resplendent with the very latest in Tudor taste, it was the flagship residence of the new dynasty, a treasure house packed with the symbols of power, wealth, and majesty-the ultimate in conspicuous display. Sadly, Elizabeth did not live to see it completed.

As soon as he arrived at Greenwich, the King "was met by the Queen's Grace, whom he ascertained and made privy to the acts and demeanor between himself, the prince, and the princess, and how he liked her person and behavior."36 Elizabeth must have been delighted to hear that her son's bride was pretty and golden-haired, with a pleasing dignity.

Preparations for the coming wedding advanced briskly. There was much discussion of the etiquette to be observed when Katherine was presented to the Queen. Elizabeth and Margaret Beaufort were drawing up lists of the ladies who were to attend her and the princess during the reception celebrations;37 Margaret would also arrange for Katherine to share several household officers with her. On November 2, Elizabeth appointed Agnes Tilney, Countess of Surrey, "with certain ladies awaiting upon her," "to meet and receive the princess" at Amesbury.38 On November 9, Katherine was welcomed at Kingston-upon-Thames by Prince Henry, who escorted her to the Archbishop of Canterbury's palace at Lambeth, where she was to lodge before her marriage. Here, a letter from the King awaited her, expressing his great "pleasure, joy, and consolation" at her coming, and a.s.suring her that he and the Queen would treat her "like our own daughter."

The next day the King and Queen were rowed to London in separate barges, Elizabeth attended by a "goodly company of ladies." They took up residence in Baynard's Castle, where the Queen made "ready for inducting the n.o.ble Princess of Spain."39 Margaret Beaufort was busily renovating nearby Coldharbour to make it a fit residence for Arthur and Katherine after their marriage.

On November 12, as all the bells of London rang out, banners fluttered from windows, crowds packed the streets, music sounded from every side, and the conduits ran with free wine, Katherine made her formal entry into the City.40 She was greeted by a series of lavish pageants in the Burgundian style as she pa.s.sed along the processional route; all were designed to underline the success of the Tudor dynasty in obtaining such a highborn princess for the heir to the throne. In Cornhill, "in a house wherein there dwelled William Geoffrey, haberdasher, stood the King, the Queen, and many great estates of the realm," watching the procession with Prince Arthur. Henry, his son, Derby, Oxford, Shrewsbury, and some French envoys were at one window, while "in another chamber stood the Queen's good Grace, my lady the King's mother, my Lady Margaret, my lady [Mary] her sister, with many other ladies of the land, not in very open sight like as the King's Grace did with his manner and party." The Londoners had displayed a somewhat excessive zeal for flattery, for nearby was a pageant portraying Henry VII as G.o.d the Father and Prince Arthur as G.o.d the Son. Henry also paid for a "standing" in Cheapside from which to view the proceedings, but seems not to have used it, unless he moved by a circuitous route from Cornhill, ahead of the procession.

It was from her window in Cornhill that Elizabeth glimpsed her new daughter-in-law for the first time, as Katherine's procession pa.s.sed below; looking out, she would have seen a young girl riding "a great mule richly trapped after the manner of Spain," flanked by Prince Henry and the papal legate, and wearing "rich apparel" in the Spanish mode: "a little hat fashioned like a cardinal's hat of pretty braid with a lace of gold to stay it, her hair hanging down about her shoulders, which is fair auburn, and a coif between her head and her hat of a carnation color." A little way behind walked the Queen's master of horse leading a spare palfrey with a sidesaddle. At the climax of the procession, the bride-to-be was led by the Archbishop of Canterbury into St. Paul's Cathedral, where she said her prayers and made an offering at the shrine of St. Erkenwald before retiring to the adjacent Bishop's Palace for the night.

The following afternoon, on the eve of her wedding, the princess went to Baynard's Castle to be presented to her mother-in-law. She was again accompanied by Elizabeth's master of horse and "a right great a.s.sembly" of splendidly attired gentlemen and "certain ladies: some of the Queen's, and some of the princess's, at the Queen's nomination." The Queen's chamberlain "received her at the foot of the grece [stairs] that goes up to the Queen's chamber." During her audience, she and Elizabeth both spoke in Latin, and they enjoyed "pleasant and goodly communication, dancing, and disports. Thus, with honor and mirth, this Sat.u.r.day was expired and done," and it was late when Katherine departed for Lambeth Palace to make ready for her wedding day. Already Elizabeth had begun the process of preparing her successor for the role she would one day occupy, and probably Katherine was glad to have the guidance of a kindly mother-in-law who could initiate her into the realities and mysteries of English court life.

After Katherine left, Elizabeth rode to Lord Bergavenny's London house in Great St. Bartholemew's by St. Paul's, where she and the King were spending the night before the wedding. George Neville, Baron Bergavenny, had fought for Henry against the Cornish rebels and was Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports; he had accompanied Henry and Elizabeth to Calais the previous year. His first wife had been a granddaughter of Elizabeth's aunt, Joan Wydeville.41 His house, which was burned down in the Great Fire of 1666, stood where the Stationers and Newspaper Makers Hall now stands in Stationers Hall Court; its inner courtyard occupies the site of the garden of Abergavenny House.

On November 14, Arthur and Katherine were married in St. Paul's Cathedral. The King had done his utmost to underline the importance of the nuptials. "Within the church was erected a platform, or stage, six feet high and extending from the west door to the uppermost step of the choir; in the middle of this platform was a high stand, like a mountain, which was ascended on every side with steps covered over with red worsted. Against this mountain on the north side was ordained a standing for the King and his friends; and upon the south side was erected another standing, which was occupied by the Lord Mayor and aldermen of London."

The royal standing-a "high place set in the nave and body of the church," which was "decked and trimmed for the King and Queen and such others as they appointed to have"-was a kind of private box above the consistory, allowing Henry and Elizabeth privately to "go out of the Bishop's Palace into the same consistory, and there hear and see the ceremonies of the marriage at their pleasure," watching "in secret manner" from behind a lattice. The focus during the ceremony was to be on Arthur and Katherine, and Henry and Elizabeth "would make no open show of appearance."

On the morning of the wedding day, the royal entourages a.s.sembled at the Tower. Elizabeth was wearing an embroidered white satin gown and a purple velvet train. She traveled with the bride in an open chariot from the Tower to St. Paul's, following behind the King, who rode a white horse and looked splendid in his red velvet robes, his breastplate studded with diamonds, rubies, and pearls, and a belt of rubies at his waist. On arrival, the royal couple retired with the bride into the Bishop's Palace, where Henry and Elizabeth discreetly entered the cathedral. Elizabeth's sister Katherine and Lord William Courtenay were among the ill.u.s.trious guests, as was Margaret Beaufort, who "wept marvelously" through the service.

Katherine emerged from the Bishop's Palace to the sound of trumpets, shawms, and sackbuts, clad in white and gold satin. Beneath her wide-skirted gown she wore hoops-the first Spanish farthingale ever seen in England, which naturally drew much comment, as did her rich coronet and voluminous veil, or mantilla, of silk edged with a border of gold and precious stones, beneath which her long red-gold hair flowed loose down her back. She was escorted to her groom by her future brother-in-law (and husband), ten-year-old Henry, Duke of York, impressive in silver tissue embroidered with gold roses. Arthur, like his bride, was wearing white satin.

In the cathedral, the prince and princess "ascended the mount, one on the north and the other on the south side, and were there married by [Henry Deane] the Archbishop of Canterbury, a.s.sisted by nineteen bishops and abbots. The King, the Queen, and the King's mother stood in the place aforementioned, where they heard and beheld the solemnization, which, being finished, the Archbishop and bishops took their way from the mountain across the platform, which was covered with blue ray cloth, into the choir, and so to the high altar. The prelates were followed by the bride and bridegroom. The Princess Cecily bore the train of the bride, and after her followed one hundred ladies and gentlewomen in right costly apparel. Then the mayor, in a gown of crimson velvet, and his brethren, in scarlet, went and sat in the choir whilst Ma.s.s was said." For this, the young couple went through the rood screen and choir to the high altar. The Ma.s.s finished, they knelt to receive the blessing of the King and Queen, then proceeded to the church door, where Arthur publicly dowered his bride with one-third of his income as Prince of Wales, as the crowds outside roared their approval, crying, "King Henry! Pri