Elizabeth of York Part 4

Whether Margaret Beaufort was at Lathom or not, she was still doing her best to bring about Elizabeth's marriage to her son. That spring, when Henry Tudor, busily preparing ships for his invasion, heard a rumor that "King Richard, his wife being dead, was minded to marry Elizabeth, his brother Edward's daughter," and that he had married Cecily, Edward's other daughter, to the younger son of a peer, it "pinched him to the very stomach," and left Henry in fear that his friends would forsake him.52 He was so insulted that he decided to seek another bride in the person of Katherine Herbert, daughter of his former guardian. While Katherine could not bring him a crown, marriage to her might rally Welsh support to his cause. But the letter he sent to Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland (who was married to Katherine's sister), containing his proposal never reached its destination,53 and his mother wrote urging him to set aside his pride, insisting that his marriage to Elizabeth was crucial to his success in winning the crown. By then, Henry probably heard that Richard had publicly denied ever intending to wed his niece.54 In view of the rumors, Richard had no choice but to take his councilors' advice. "A little before Easter (which fell on April 3), in the presence of the mayor and citizens of London, in the great hall of the priory of the Knights Hospitalers of St. John in Clerkenwell, in a loud and distinct voice," he publicly denied that he had ever intended to wed his niece. Croyland observed that he made "the said denial, more, as many supposed, to suit the wishes of those who advised him to that effect, than in conformity with his own."

But the King needed to placate his critics. He "showed his grief and displeasure, and said it never came in his thought or mind to marry in such manner wise, nor [was he] willing nor glad of the death of his queen, but as sorry, and in heart as heavy, as man might be"; and he "admonished and charged every person to cease of such untrue talking on peril of his indignation."55 On April 11 letters containing the text of his public denial were sent to major towns and cities, which shows how widely the gossip had spread. In them the King fulminated against "divers seditious and evil persons in London and elsewhere within our realm [who] enforce themselves daily to sow seeds of noise and dislander against our person, to abuse the mult.i.tude of our subjects and avert their minds from us, some by setting up bills, some by spreading false rumors, some by messages and sending forth of lies, some by bold and presumptuous open speech and communication"; and he ordered that such persons be arrested and questioned.56 Richard's humiliating denials did little to quench the gossip; in fact, they fueled it. Decades later Richard Grafton, in his continuation of More's history, would still state that Richard had "fancied apace Lady Elizabeth, desiring in any wise to marry with her." But that was not all that rumor alleged. "After Easter," The Great Chronicle of London records, "much whispering was among the people that the King had poisoned the queen his wife, and intended with a license purchased to have married the eldest daughter of King Edward. Which rumors and sayings with other things before done caused him to fall in great hatred of his subjects."

The d.a.m.ning rumors about Anne's death pa.s.sed into common currency. Commines heard them in France and reported: "some say he had her killed." The chronicler John Rous, a Neville adherent who had been full of praise for Richard but turned vitriolic, possibly after Anne's death, was to state categorically: "Lady Anne, his queen, he poisoned." Later, Vergil wrote cautiously that "the Queen, whether she was dispatched with sorrowfulness or poison, died within a few days after."

Later writers a.s.serted that Richard had harried Anne to her death by psychological means. Vergil wrote that he abstained from her bed, then lamented bitterly to Archbishop Rotherham that she was unfruitful, whereupon Rotherham spread the word that the Queen "would suddenly depart from this world." The King was saying the same, and even spread a rumor that she had died, intending to frighten her to death. When one of her ladies told her of it, Anne was so fearful that she concluded that her days were at an end, and fled to Richard in tears, asking why "he should determine her death," but he made a show of kissing and comforting her, and bade her "be of good cheer." In the late seventeenth century Thomas Fuller would write that "this lady, understanding that she was a burden to her husband, for grief soon became a burden to herself and wasted away," her condition worsened by daily quarrels with Richard and his complaints that she was barren. "Some think she went her own pace to the grave, while others suspect a grain was given her to quicken her in her journey to her long home."

Of course, these later stories were written at a time when people believed that he had been a tyrant and a monster, but rumors that Richard had done away with Anne were in circulation very soon after her death, at the same time as it was said that he was planning to marry Elizabeth. Since rumors that he murdered the princes had now been in circulation for eighteen months, would not die down, and were damaging his reputation, it must have seemed believable that he had murdered an unwanted wife too. He had, after all, destroyed others-Hastings, Rivers, and Grey-who stood in the way of his ambitions. And it is possible, given the urgent need to neutralize Henry Tudor, that there was more than just rumor involved, and that the man who murdered his own nephews had not scrupled to hasten the end of the wife who stood in the way of his plans. That many people-sufficient to merit a public denial-believed this at the time is clear; and it might be that those who had kept silent felt free to voice their suspicions once Richard was dead, about this and other matters.

The rumors, true or not, had done much damage. In southern England and Wales, Richard had lost any popular support he ever had. This was the man who had ruthlessly maneuvered his way to the throne, impugning the legitimacy of his brother's children, and his mother's honor in the process, and committed acts of tyranny, justified by what many regarded to be lies; who was widely reputed to have murdered his nephews and even his wife, and was known to have been contemplating a marriage with his niece, which most people condemned as incestuous. Only in the North did he retain some of his former popularity and support, but some of it had been due to his marriage to the Neville heiress, and now even that was dwindling. Small wonder that, after the Queen's death, Richard's "countenance was always drawn."57 Someone who had known him later told More that he "was never quiet in his mind, never thought himself secure, his hand ever on his dagger," and that "he took ill rest at night."

One thing Richard III could have done to put paid to Henry Tudor's aspirations was marry off Elizabeth-and her sisters. His failure to do so seems inexplicable, as many Yorkists had attached themselves to Henry in the expectation that he would wed Elizabeth and restore the rightful royal line to the throne. Maybe Richard was hoping that the Portuguese marriage would be speedily concluded. But these things took time-and, for him, time was now running out.

6.

"Purposing a Conquest"

Publicly rejected and humiliated by the King after being made a spectacle of at the Christmas court, deprived of the chance to wear the crown that would have brought honor and prosperity to her family, and possibly horrified by rumors that Richard had hastened his queen's death, Elizabeth had every reason to feel distressed and angry. Now plans were afoot to marry her into Portugal, which would put paid to her aspirations, and leave her family without a friend in high places. Small wonder that she now looked to Henry Tudor to deliver her and fulfill her hopes. After all, he had sworn to marry her and rule England with her. Marriage to him probably seemed the best way to satisfy her ambitions, restore her rights, and safeguard her kinsfolk-and it would wreak a devastating revenge on Richard.

She had good reason to hope. In 1485, Charles VIII recognized Henry Tudor as King of England and gave him money, ships, and French troops for an invasion, with the aim-as Henry put it-of "the just depriving of that homicide and unnatural tyrant." Upon this, many Englishmen hastened to France to join the pretender. Even though Richard III had now repudiated his plan to marry Elizabeth, Henry knew he must invade soon lest the King marry her elsewhere; if that happened, his cause would irretrievably be lost. He was as eager as she was for their marriage. Thus the French aid was a G.o.dsend.

There is evidence that Elizabeth enlisted the aid of Lord Stanley, Henry's stepfather. Stanley may privately have resented Richard III's treatment of his wife, Margaret Beaufort, and by Christmas 1484 both of them were secretly in contact with Henry Tudor. But Stanley, as ever, would not show his hand until it was safe to do so.

A near contemporary metrical chronicle, "The Song of Lady Bessy," describes Elizabeth's involvement in the momentous events of 1485. Although the earliest surviving text dates from ca. 1600, the song was written in Henry VII's reign, probably before 1500 (see this page), and perhaps disseminated as popular propaganda against Richard III. It exists in three different forms: in the Harleian MS. 367 ff. 89100, which dates from ca. 1600, and Bishop Percy's Folio Ma.n.u.script III, which is just slightly later in date; both are probably the most authentic versions and closer to the original, although there is no means of detecting how much the fifteenth-century text has been altered. There is a later seventeenth-century copy, printed with notes by Thomas Heywood in the reign of Charles II, which has suffered by elaborate embellishment.

The song was probably composed by Stanley's squire, or agent, Humphrey Brereton of Cheshire, who himself features in it and was the person best placed to recount the events the ballad describes. Opinions vary as to its historical accuracy. A few parts are demonstrably inventions, and others may be too-although there are not "numerous anachronisms," as claimed by Gairdner.1 The inaccuracies probably arise from the author not always being as close to events as he would have liked the reader to think he was, and also no doubt as a result of his partisan zeal. He perhaps exaggerated his own role and the familiar trust in which he was held by Elizabeth and the other high-ranking people who appear in the poem. He invented speeches for his characters; again that was standard practice at this period, even in the recording of history. Stanley's role in this episode may also have been overstated, for the poem was probably written under his auspices, and with the benefit of hindsight-as well as a good dollop of poetic license.

There is no way of proving if the substance of the poem is based on fact, as the historical record is silent on Elizabeth's role in the events it describes. Yet despite being mere doggerel, and possibly altered in parts, the minute and exact details in "The Song of Lady Bessy" suggest a close acquaintance with real people and events, and are unlikely to be entirely imaginary. Even Gairdner admitted that there was "a great deal of truth in the poem." Brereton's almost affectionate portrayal of the industrious and committed Lady Bessy appears to come from one who was familiar with her. She is a heroine standing up for the right, busily intriguing to achieve her ambitions, and working actively undercover to aid Henry Tudor's-and her own-cause. It is unlikely that Brereton would have depicted her as such were there not a degree of truth behind his verses. There was no reason to include her if she had not been involved-Lord Stanley's exploits alone justified a ballad.

There can be little doubt that Brereton was privy to much that was going on in Lord Stanley's life at that time, and the details in the song suggest that it is firsthand evidence of Elizabeth's involvement in the conspiracy to put Henry Tudor on the throne. The ballad may exaggerate her role in the intrigues that preceded Henry Tudor's invasion, yet it is conceivable-even credible-that she did partic.i.p.ate, perhaps even to the extent the poem portrays. Written probably within eight years of the events it describes so vividly, and by a trusted retainer of her stepfather-in-law, it would have had to appear credible to anyone who read it, especially as it described in detail the deeds of one who was now Queen of England. What is striking is that the Elizabeth portrayed in "The Song of Lady Bessy" is as proactive as the Elizabeth who wrote to John Howard urging his help in progressing her marriage with Richard III.

Politically, much-if not all-of the chronology of "The Song of Lady Bessy" fits into the context of the known events of 1485. A lot of the information it contains has the ring of authenticity, and affords insights into the kind of intrigues that were secretly at play at this time but otherwise, inevitably, went unrecorded.

If the poem does reflect actual events, given some dramatic license, it may seem strange that Margaret Beaufort barely earns a mention in it; but Margaret had already courted disaster in supporting Buckingham and Henry Tudor, and got off lightly. Given the dread penalty for women who committed treason, she probably felt she dared not test Richard's leniency a second time, and kept her dealings with her son as secret as possible.

It may be that in becoming proactive in Henry's cause, Elizabeth was trying to redeem herself in his eyes and make amends for what he had seen as a betrayal; for she could have learned from Margaret Beaufort of his reaction to rumors that she was to marry Richard III.

The poem begins when "Lady Bessy" is sojourning in London with Lord Stanley; internal evidence indicates that this is the spring of 1485, after Queen Anne's death. At that time Elizabeth may have been living at Heytesbury, but there is no actual evidence for her whereabouts. Her age is given by Brereton as twenty-one when in fact she was nineteen. When we first encounter Bessy, she is apparently distressed and frightened, angry even-much as the historical Elizabeth probably felt at that time-and she complains to Stanley about her uncle, King Richard.

"Help, Father Stanley, I do you pray!" she cries, then tells him that the King has had her brothers put to death by drowning them in "a pipe of wine" in their bed (a garbled description of their fate that owes much to the rumors then in circulation, not only about the princes' end but Clarence's also). Then she says that Richard "would have put away his queen for to hath lain by my body." She begs Stanley to "help that he were put away, for all the royal blood destroyed will be!" She wants to wreak revenge on "that traitor" and "help Earl Richmond, that prince so gay, that is exiled over the sea. For if he were King, I should be Queen." She loves him, she declares, even though she has never seen him.

She reminds Stanley that her father, King Edward, on his deathbed, "put me to thee to govern and to guide." She says that the King left her a book of prophecy, and that "he knew that ye might make me a queen, Father, if thy will it be, for Richard is no righteous king," who will destroy "the royal blood of all this land, as he did the Duke of Buckingham." She reminds Stanley that Buckingham "was as great with King Richard as now are ye."

Bessy now reveals that she has busily been thinking of ways to overthrow Richard. She knows that Stanley's brother, Sir William, could summon up five hundred fighting men, while Stanley's oldest son George, Lord Strange, then at Lathom House, the family seat in Lancashire, could afford to support a thousand men for three months; and his younger sons, Edward and James, a priest who had "lately" been made Warden of Manchester, could send soldiers too. In fact, James was not appointed warden until July 1485, but Brereton's memory was probably imprecise. James was made Archdeacon of Richmond in 1500, and Bishop of Ely in 1506.2 Since he is referred to only as Warden of Manchester, and there is mention of Sir William Stanley coming "under a cloud," a reference to his execution for treason in 1495, the poem must originally have been written between 1495 and 1500.

Bessy persists, telling Stanley that his sister's son, Sir John Savage, could provide fifteen hundred fighting men, Gilbert Talbot (a younger son of John Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury) could send a thousand and pay their wages for three months, while Stanley himself could provide another thousand. Historically, Savage was to command the right wing of Henry Tudor's army at the Battle of Bosworth, and Gilbert Talbot the left; Talbot would be knighted for his support of Henry in the battle and receive several important appointments thereafter. Bessy urges Stanley, "Thou and thine may bring Richmond o'er the sea, for, an [if] he were King, I should be Queen."

Stanley appears as cautious in the poem as he was in real life. "An King Richard do know this thing, we were undone, both thou and I," he warns Bessy. What she is plotting is no less than high treason. If anything went wrong, he continues, "in a fire you must burn"-burning at the stake being the penalty for women who committed treason-while "my life and my lands are lost from me. Therefore these words be in vain. Leave and doe away, good Bessy!"

Bessy is determined; her ambition is to wear the crown. "Father Stanley! Is there no grace? No, Queen of England, that I must be." Tears of frustration trickle from her eyes. "Now I know I must never be Queen! All this, man, is long of thee!" She urges Stanley to think of the dreadful Day of Judgment, crying: "I care not whether I hang or drown, so that my soul saved may be. Make good answer, as thou may, for all this, man, is long of thee." With that, she pulls off her headdress of pearls and precious stones, throws it to the ground, tears her hair and wrings her hands, saying through her tears: "Farewell, man, now I am gone; it shall be long ere thou me see!"

Stanley stands "still as any stone," weeping himself. "Abide, Bessy! We part not so soon," he replies. "Here is none but thee and I. Fields hath eyen and wood hath ears; you cannot tell who standeth us by, but wend forth, Bessy, to thy bower, and look you do as I bid ye." He tells her to "put away thy maidens bright, that no person doth us see," and he will come to her bower at nine o'clock at night, when they will talk more of the matter; and she must have ready a charcoal fire-"that no smoke come in our eye"-wine and spices, pen, ink, and papers.

Bessy eagerly complies, and has "all things full ready." Waiting for Stanley, she looks at her book of prophecy and realizes that, for her to become Queen of England, "many a guiltless man first must die." When Stanley arrives, he finds her weeping. She bars the door behind him, and when they are seated she gives him wine and spices, saying, "Blend in, Father, and drink to me." The fire is hot, and soon "the wine it wrought wonderfully," mellowing Stanley and making him weep.

"Ask now, Bessy, then, what thou wilt, and thy boon granted shall be," he says.

"Nothing," she answers. "I would have neither of gold nor yet of fee, but fair Earl Richmond, so G.o.d me save, that hath lain so long beyond the sea." Stanley replies that he would grant her that boon, but there is no clerk he can trust to write to Richmond on their behalf.

"Father, it shall not need," Bessy a.s.sures him. "I am a clerk full good, I say." And to prove her point she draws "a paper on her knee" and begins to write "speedily." Stanley tells her to write to his brother, Sir William, at Holt Castle, Denbighshire. "Bid him bring seven sad yeomen all in green clothes, and change his inn at every town where before he was wont to lie; and let his face be toward the bench," to avoid being recognized. He asks Elizabeth to write to his three sons, as well as to John Savage and Gilbert Talbot, who are all to follow the same instructions and be with Stanley by May 3.

Stanley seals the letters that Bessy has written, then pauses. "Alas!" he laments. "All our work is forlorn, for there is no messenger that we may trust." It is Bessy who suggests Humphrey Brereton. "He hath been true to my father and me. He shall have the writing in hand. Go to bed, Father, and sleep, and I shall work for thee and me. Tomorrow, by rising of the sun, Humphrey Brereton shall be with thee."

After Stanley has gone to bed, Bessy works through the night: "there came no sleep in her eye." Early the next morning she seeks out Brereton in his "bower" and calls out to him "in a small voice."

"Lady, who are ye that calleth on me ere it be light?" he responds.

"I am King Edward's daughter, the Countess Clare,3 young Bessy," she tells him, saying he must come "with all the haste you can" to speak with Lord Stanley. Humphrey throws on a gown and slippers and emerges from his chamber. He goes with Bessy "to the bedside" where Stanley is sleeping. When Stanley wakes, he weeps "full tenderly" at the sight of Brereton.

"My love, my trust, my life, my land-all this, Humphrey, doth lie in thee," he tells him. "Thou may make, and thou may mar; thou may undo Bessy and me."

Brereton evidently a.s.sures Stanley of his loyalty, as in the next moment Stanley commands him to take the six letters Bessy has written and deliver them to the people whose names are "written on the backside." Brereton is about to depart when Bessy waylays him, saying, "Abide, Humphrey, and speak with me. A poor reward I shall thee give." It will be 3, or nine n.o.bles [1,470]. "If I be Queen, and may live, better rewarded shalt thou be." She advises him, when he sets off on his mission, to take "no company but such as shall be of the best. Sit not too long drinking thy wine, lest in heat thou be too merry"-and indiscreet. She gives him nine n.o.bles to cover his expenses, and some wine, whereupon he takes leave of her and rides westward to Holt Castle.

Brereton delivers her letters to Sir William Stanley at Holt, and to Lord Strange at Lathom, both of whom rally to the cause, then to Edward and James Stanley in Manchester. These two praise Bessy for her good counsel. "We trust in G.o.d, full of might, to bring her lord over the sea!" they declare. Sir John Savage, however, pales when he reads her letter. "Women's wit is wonder to hear!" he exclaims. "My uncle is turned by your Bessy!" Nevertheless, he promises to do Stanley's bidding. Brereton then rides to Sheffield Castle, where Gilbert Talbot also pays tribute to Bessy's true counsel, and says: "Commend me to that Countess Clare; tell her I trust in G.o.d to bring her love over the sea. In all this land she hath no peer."

Brereton rides straight back to London, where he finds Lord Stanley walking in a garden with King Richard. Stanley gives him "a privy twinkle with his eye" and welcomes him warmly as he bends his knee to the King. Brereton pretends he has been visiting the place where he was born and bred, and says that support for Richard is strong there; the people will fight for him "and never flee." This pleases the King; he thanks Brereton courteously, and a.s.sures Stanley: "Father Stanley, thou art to me near; you are chief of your commonalty.4 Half of England shall be thine, and equally divided between thee and me. I am thine, and thou art mine." It is easy to imagine the beleaguered Richard making such extravagant promises to secure the loyalty of the slippery Stanley.

When the King has gone, Stanley and Brereton hasten to Bessy's bower, where they find her alone. She is so pleased to see Brereton safely returned that she kisses him three times-a detail Brereton is unlikely to have included were it not true.

"Welcome home!" she cries. "How hast thou sped in the west country?"

Stanley leaves Brereton with Bessy, so that he can tell her the tidings of his journey, which she is eager to hear. Even so, she is fearful. "If I should send for yonder prince [Henry Tudor] to come over for the love of me," he might be murdered by his foes. "Alas, that were full great pity! Forsooth, that sight I would not see for all the gold in Christendom!"

Brereton recounts how Stanley's kinsmen and allies have shown themselves ready to overthrow King Richard. "By the third day of May, Bessy, in London there will they be. Thou shalt in England be a queen-or else doubtless they will die."

As the conspirators' plans mature, Stanley withdraws from the City to an old inn in the suburbs and draws an eagle (part of the Stanley cognizance of the eagle and child) above the doorway-a prearranged sign to the men who come to find him. Bessy is there with him to greet them-the Stanleys, Savage, and Talbot-and "when all the lords together" meet over flagons of wine, "among them all" is "little Bessy," who asks, "Lords, will ye do for me? Will ye relieve yonder prince that is exiled beyond the sea?"

Stanley answers, "Forty pound[s] will I send, Bessy, for the love of thee, and twenty thousand eagle feet [men] a Queen of England to make thee." Sir William Stanley adds, "Remember, Bessy, another time, who doth the best for thee." He says he has raised a thousand men, who will be ready at an hour's warning. "In England thou shall be a queen, or else doubtless I will die." Savage tells her he is sending a thousand marks to "thy love beyond the sea," and Strange adds, "A little money and few men will bring thy love over the sea." But they decide it is too hazardous to send their gold abroad, and that they will keep it at home to spend on waging war on Richard III. Edward Stanley also reminds Bessy to remember in the future those who are doing their best for her, "for there is no power that I have, nor no gold to give thee. Under my father's banner will I be, either for to live or die."

Bessy falls on her knees before the lords, promising to send 10,000 [4.9 million] "to my love over the sea." This seems highly unlikely, as Elizabeth had no money of her own, but it was probably the imagined value of "a rich ring with a stone" that Brereton was to take to Henry Tudor-although it is unlikely that any ring of the period was worth as much. Brereton tells her he dare not take her gold over the sea for fear of being robbed or drowned.

"Hold thy peace, Humphrey," she replies. "Thou shalt carry it without jeopardy. Thou shalt have no basket nor no [chain] mail, no bucket nor sackcloth; three mules that be stiff and strong, loaded with gold shall they be, with saddles side-skirted wherein the gold stowed shall be. If any man says, 'Who[se] is the ship that saileth forth upon the sea?' say it is the Lord Lisle's-in England and France well-beloved is he." This was Edward Grey, who had borne the rod with the dove at Richard III's coronation, and had been created Viscount Lisle by the King.5 Stanley scolds Bessy: "Thou art to blame, to point any ship upon the sea! I have a good ship of my own." He will send it across the sea with the eagle symbol flying from the top mast, and if anyone asks whose ship it is, the crew must say it is his. It is in this ship that Brereton sails to France with the ring given him by Bessy, which he takes to Henry Tudor at "Bigeram Abbey." This was probably Bec h.e.l.louin Abbey, west of Rouen, where Henry was raising mercenaries, and south of Harfleur, whence he would sail to England.

When Brereton comes before Henry Tudor, he falls to his knees and delivers Bessy's letter and her ring. Henry is gladdened at the sight; he takes the ring and kisses it three times. Then he stands silent, leaving Brereton on his knees, perplexed. Eventually, the squire rises.

"Why standeth thou so still?" he asks. "I am come from the Stanleys bold, King of England to make thee, and a fair lady to thy fere [wife]; there is none such in Christendom. She is a countess, a king's daughter, a lovely lady to look upon, and well she can work by prophecy. I may be called a lewd messenger, for answer of thee I can get none. I may sail hence with a heavy heart. What shall I say when I come home?"

Henry turns to John de Vere, Earl of Oxford, Lord Dorset (who is referred to in the poem by his lesser t.i.tle, Lord Ferrers) and Lord Lisle, who are standing by, and confers with them. Then he tells Brereton he cannot give him an answer for three weeks. The next day he rides off with his lords to Paris, "there arms to make ready," and to ask the King of France to lend him ships. Historically, Henry visited Paris in June 1485. Back at Bec h.e.l.louin Abbey, he gives Brereton 100 marks [16,300], promising he will be "better rewarded" in time to come.

"Commend me to Bessy, that Countess Clare," he says. "I trust in G.o.d she shall be my queen. For her I will travel the sea. Commend me to my father, Stanley. Bring him here a love letter, and another to little Bessy. Commend me to Sir William Stanley. Tell him, about Michaelmas, I trust in G.o.d in England to be." The mention of Michaelmas sounds authentic; Brereton might well have remembered Henry saying that, and if he was writing purely with the benefit of hindsight, he would probably have had Henry predicting his arrival in August.

Brereton returns to Bessy and Stanley in London, with the letters from Henry to both of them. At this point, Stanley prepares to ride to Lathom, and Sir William Stanley, Gilbert Talbot, John Savage, and Edward Stanley are raising their levies. The stage is set for the King's destruction.

If "The Song of Lady Bessy" was pure fiction, Elizabeth may have been at Heytesbury with her mother all along. But it is also possible that at some point she was residing in Stanley's London house, and there remains a fair chance that Richard III did discover that she was involved in a conspiracy against him-or suspected she was in league with that proven turncoat, Lord Stanley, or even feared she would attempt to flee abroad to join his enemy. He may have antic.i.p.ated that Elizabeth would do much to win the crown she believed was rightfully hers. Even had he nurtured no such suspicions, with Henry Tudor's invasion believed imminent, he was taking no chances. He knew that Elizabeth was regarded by many as the rightful heiress to York, and at some stage he decided to move her to a secure place, far out of the reach of Henry Tudor or anyone else who might aspire to a crown by marrying her.

Wherever Elizabeth was, she was vulnerable to intrigue and capture, so the King gave orders that she be escorted to Sheriff Hutton Castle, ten miles northeast of York, to join the household he had set up for her cousins, Edward, Earl of Warwick, and probably Warwick's sister, Margaret Plantagenet, and his own b.a.s.t.a.r.d son, John of Gloucester. It has often been suggested that Elizabeth's sisters were sent there too, but there is no evidence for this.

Sheriff Hutton Castle was a feudal fortress dating from the 1140s but rebuilt in the late fourteenth century by the powerful Nevilles, who held it until it was confiscated by Edward IV in 1471; soon afterward it was given to Richard of Gloucester. Situated next to a park on a rising bank affording beautiful views across the forest of Galtres, it had two moats, used as fishponds, and the village of Sheriff Hutton had grown up around it. The castle was built of brown stone around a large rectangular courtyard, or "base court." John Leland, who visited Sheriff Hutton during the reign of Henry VIII, recorded that it had "four great towers with a gatehouse in the middle"-the arched gateway in the Warder's Tower, which probably accommodated the garrison. "In the second area were five or six small towers."6 In fact there were eight or nine square towers over a hundred feet high. The connecting stone walls were five stories high and contained narrow galleries and chambers.

In Yorkist times the castle was not only a building of strength and security, but also boasted luxurious accommodation. The tower chambers, accessed by spiral stairs, had arched or vaulted ceilings and painted plaster walls, while below there were strong cellars that could be used as storerooms or dungeons. There was a great hall in the "second area," and Leland thought "the stately stair up to the hall ... very magnificent, and so is the hall itself, and all the residue of the house, insomuch that I saw no house in the North so like a princely lodging." In Elizabethan times William Camden called Sheriff Hutton a most elegant castle, pleasantly seated among the woods.7 Richard probably felt it would be safer to lodge Elizabeth in the North, where he could command his greatest support, but Sheriff Hutton cannot have had happy a.s.sociations for her, for it was the place where her uncle, Earl Rivers, had been imprisoned two years earlier before being borne off to execution at Pontefract; and it was a long way from her mother and sisters, and from Westminster and the palaces of the Thames Valley where she had spent most of her life. Again she found herself effectively a prisoner, in "safe custody," according to Sir Francis Bacon, whose History of the Reign of King Henry VII was published in 1622.8 The household at Sheriff Hutton was under the control of John de la Pole, Earl of Lincoln, the King's Lieutenant in the North, who was then twenty-six. As the eldest son of Edward IV's sister Elizabeth and John de la Pole, Duke of Suffolk, he was the heir to a wealthy and n.o.ble house, with great establishments at Ewelme, Oxfordshire, and Wingfield, Suffolk. Through his grandmother, Alice Chaucer, Lincoln was descended from the poet Geoffrey Chaucer. He was Richard III's closest adult male relative and had carried the orb at his coronation.

After the death of the Prince of Wales, Richard III considered naming Clarence's son, the Earl of Warwick, his successor, but it was a choice fraught with difficulties. Warwick was technically barred from the succession by his father's attainder, and although that could have been reversed, it would have left him with a better claim to the throne than Richard. Moreover, he was only a child of nine. Richard decided that Warwick was not the best option and, with the consent of the n.o.bility, named Lincoln his successor,9 appointing him Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, a post customarily held by Yorkist heirs to the throne. Lincoln was also granted the reversion of Margaret Beaufort's estates.

Little is recorded of Lincoln's character, saving the conventional praise for his n.o.bility, wisdom, and gallantry. Despite his youth, he was experienced in government and respected for his judgment and political sense. He was a committed Yorkist, as events would prove, especially as he had a crown in his sights and stood to lose much if Henry Tudor was victorious.

Elizabeth probably saw little, if anything at all, of her cousin Lincoln while she was at Sheriff Hutton. His official base was at Sandal Castle, fifty miles away, and in July 1485 he was at Nottingham with the King, preparing to fight for Richard against Henry Tudor. In June, antic.i.p.ating that Henry would invade soon, Richard had issued a proclamation calling on all true Englishmen to repel a pretender who was "descended of b.a.s.t.a.r.d blood both of the father's side and of the mother's side, for Owen [Tudor], the grandfather, was b.a.s.t.a.r.d born, and his mother was daughter to John, Duke of Somerset, son unto John, Earl of Somerset, son unto Dame Katherine Swynford, and of her in double adultery gotten, whereby it evidently appeareth that no t.i.tle can nor may be in him, which fully intendeth to enter this realm purposing a conquest."10 On August 1, Henry Tudor's invasion fleet set sail from Harfleur in Normandy. Six days later "the enemy landed with a fair wind and without opposition at Milford Haven, near Pembroke."11 After disembarking, Henry fell to his knees, recited the 43rd Psalm-"Judge me, O G.o.d, and plead my cause against an unworthy nation"-and kissed the ground. Then, calling on the aid of G.o.d and St. George, he urged his men onward, marching under a white and green banner proudly displaying the red dragon traditionally attributed to Cadwaladr. He came, as he was at pains to make clear, to reconcile the warring factions.

From his base at Nottingham, Richard had summoned "his adherents from every quarter" to help him triumph over "so contemptible a faction,"12 but by now he had lost the support of more than half of his n.o.bility.13 Estimates vary from six to twelve, but only a few peers answered his summons, and many knights and gentlemen ignored it. Even the mayor and corporation of York, with whom Richard had enjoyed good relations, sent only eighty men.14 Croyland states that Lord Stanley had sought and received permission to go to Lancashire to see his family, but only on condition that he left his heir, Lord Strange, with the King as a hostage for his loyalty. The King had no illusions about Stanley, who had changed sides to suit himself too often, and whose loyalty could not be taken for granted, especially as he was married to Henry Tudor's mother. Richard was afraid "lest she might induce her husband to go over to the party of her son."15 "The Song of Lady Bessy" also has Stanley taking leave of the King and riding to Lathom, but taking Elizabeth with him. He leaves her at Leicester, bidding her "lie there in privity," and warns her, "If King Richard knew thee here, in a fire burnt must thou be." Then he spurs his horse toward Lancashire, and sends Lord Strange "to London [sic] to keep King Richard company."

It has long been a.s.sumed that Elizabeth was sent to Sheriff Hutton in June,16 but in fact no date is recorded. It is possible therefore that she was sent there in August, and not impossible that Richard's men discovered her in hiding at Leicester, and, being preoccupied with more pressing matters, he gave orders that she be sent to Sheriff Hutton at this juncture, rather than earlier in the summer, thus deferring the question of what to do with her. What mattered now was that she was safely beyond Henry Tudor's reach at Sheriff Hutton.

As Henry marched his army eastward, entering England via Shrewsbury on August 15, the King rode to confront him. The armies met in Leicestershire, near Market Bosworth, on August 22.

Both Croyland and Vergil state that Richard had suffered nightmares in the dark hours before they met in the field. "The King, so it was reported, had seen that night, in a terrible dream, a mult.i.tude of demons apparently surrounding him, just as he attested in the morning, when he presented a countenance which was always drawn but was then ever more pale and deadly." In this mood, he "declared that he would ruin all the partisans of the other side, if he emerged as the victor."17 Elizabeth was one of those who stood in deadly danger of her uncle's vengeance-not least because she was seen by many as the legitimate Yorkist heir.

The Battle of Bosworth lasted two hours, with an estimated twenty thousand men engaging in combat, most of them in the royal forces. It was "a most savage battle."18 Henry Tudor-whom Richard dismissed beforehand as "an unknown Welshman, whose father I never knew, nor him personally saw"19-did not engage in the fighting, but remained under his standard behind the lines, leaving the experienced John de Vere, Earl of Oxford, to command his vanguard. Lord Stanley turned up with his men, but he had secretly met with Henry two days earlier,20 and when Richard commanded his presence, had sent word that he "was suffering an attack of the sweating sickness" and could not attend him.21 "The Song of Lady Bessy" has Stanley meeting Henry before the battle, giving him his blessing and Margaret Beaufort's, and promising to come to his aid. But when the historical Stanley turned up at Bosworth, he positioned himself some way off to the north with his forces, waiting to see which way the battle was going before joining it. His brother, Sir William Stanley, also notorious for changing sides, was with him. Even if the Stanleys had intrigued with Elizabeth to set Henry on the throne, they were looking to their own advantage before anyone else's.

On the morning of the battle, the King sent a message ordering Stanley to join him at once, if he wanted his son to stay alive. Stanley, taking a terrible gamble, sent back word that he did not feel like joining the King, and he had other sons, whereupon Richard ordered his captains to put Lord Strange to death. When they refused, he told them to keep Strange under close arrest until he could deal with him after the battle.

When the King's side appeared to be losing the day, the Earl of Northumberland, who should have intervened with his men to aid his sovereign, did nothing. Seeing that he was deserted by those in whom he had trusted, Richard gathered a small band of loyal followers and made one final, desperate charge, bearing down on the red dragon banner of Henry Tudor. He cut down the standard bearer and was about to swoop on Henry himself, but now Lord Stanley came racing to Henry's aid, which decisively turned the tide of the battle, and "a glorious victory was granted by Heaven to the Earl of Richmond."22 The Croyland chronicler recorded that it was during the fighting, and not in the act of flight, that Richard fell, "like a brave and most valiant prince." The chronicler John Rous, who had once praised Richard but turned hostile toward him in 1485, was moved to write: "Let me say the truth to his credit, that he bore himself like a n.o.ble soldier and honorably defended himself to his last breath, shouting again and again that he was betrayed, and crying, 'Treason! Treason! Treason!' " Even the Tudor historian, Polydore Vergil, conceded that King Richard was killed "fighting manfully in the thickest press of his enemies." Croyland declared: "Providence gave a glorious victory to the Earl of Richmond."

Legend has it that the crown fell from the dying Richard's helmet and rolled under a hawthorn bush-later a popular Tudor emblem, which can be seen on Henry VII's tomb and in a window of Westminster Abbey. The crown was lying "among the spoils in the field,"23 where Sir William Stanley spotted and retrieved it.24 As "the soldiers cried, 'G.o.d save King Henry!' " he placed it on the head of Henry Tudor, "as though he had been already by the commandment of the people proclaimed King after the manner of his ancestors."25 The first sovereign of the celebrated royal House of Tudor was "replenished with joy incredible."26 With Richard III's death, 331 years of Plantagenet rule had come to an end. Now a new age had begun, and its progenitor, Henry VII, "began to receive the praises of all, as though he had been an angel sent down from Heaven, through whom G.o.d had deigned to visit His people and deliver them from the evils with which they had hitherto, beyond measure, been afflicted." Croyland commented: "The children of King Edward," had been "avenged" at last "in this battle: the boar's tusks quailed, and, to avenge the white, the red rose bloomed."

Richard's body, "pierced with numerous and deadly wounds," was found under a heap of the dead, for many men had been cut down in that last fatal charge. His corpse was stripped naked, "with not so much as a clout to cover his privy members"; then, "with many other insults heaped on it," it was thrown over a horse's saddle with a felon's halter around its neck, and borne, "besprung with mire and filth," back to Leicester, where it was exhibited for two days in the collegiate church of St. Mary in the Newark.27 "The Song of Lady Bessy" claims that "Bessy met him with merry cheer" and addressed the b.l.o.o.d.y remains: "How likest thou thy slaying of my brethren twain? Now are we wreaked upon thee here! Welcome, gentle uncle, home!" But there is no other record-as surely there would have been-of Elizabeth being at Leicester on that day; and Sheriff Hutton is nearly 130 miles from Leicester, a journey of at least two days back then. It is inconceivable that she could have escaped Richard's custodians before his defeat at Bosworth, and more likely that Brereton was taking poetic license to show that she viewed her uncle's defeat as just retribution for the death of her brothers.

The vanquished King's body, which had apparently been mutilated after death, was "indifferently buried"28 in a roughly dug grave that was too small for it in the choir of the Grey Friars' church,29 and in 1502, Henry VII paid out 10.1s. [4,890] "for King Richard's tomb" of alabaster.30 This was destroyed along with the church during the Reformation of the 1530s. In the early seventeenth century, Robert Herrick, a mayor of Leicester, built a house and laid out a garden where once the choir had stood. Here, in 1612, Christopher Wren, father of the architect, saw "a handsome stone pillar, three foot high," bearing the inscription: "Here lies the body of Richard III, sometime King of England." In 2012 the grave was found under the car park laid out where the Grey Friars' monastery once stood.31 How rapidly news of these momentous events had filtered through to Sheriff Hutton is unknown, but Elizabeth would certainly have been anxious to hear of the outcome of the conflict between the two men who had played for her hand, for it would seal her own fate. She did not have long to wait, for within hours of his victory at Bosworth, even before departing from Leicester, the new King sent Sir Robert Willoughby and Sir John Halewell32 to Sheriff Hutton to secure her person and that of Edward, Earl of Warwick; they came with "a n.o.ble company to fetch [Elizabeth] to her lady mother."33 Andre says that when Elizabeth "learned that Henry had won the victory," she "exclaimed with gladness of heart: 'so even at last, thou hast, O G.o.d, regarded the humble and not despised their prayers. I well remember that my most n.o.ble father, of famous memory, meant to have bestowed me in marriage upon this most comely prince! O that I were worthy of him; for, as I have lost my father and protector, I sorely fear me that he will take a wife from foreign parts whose beauty, age, fortune, and dignity will more please him than mine! What shall I say? I am alone, and I dare not take counsel. O that I could acquaint my mother, or some of the lords, with my fears, but I dare not, nor have I the courage to discourse with him himself on the subject, lest in so doing I might discover my love. What will be, I cannot divine, but this I know, that Almighty G.o.d always succors those who trust in Him. Therefore will I cease to think, and repose my whole hope in Thee. O my G.o.d, do Thou with me according to Thy mercy.' " And she "pondered these things privately."

Allowing for the flowery language, and the likelihood that the speech is invented, there may be some truth in the sentiments expressed; it is unlikely that Andre would have made all this up. Elizabeth might indeed have come to regard her father's plan to marry her to Henry Tudor as prescient, if not sacrosanct, and these may well have been the sentiments she expressed at the time. It is credible that she herself was one of Andre's sources, for he wrote his official history during the last years of her life.

Henry wanted Elizabeth and Warwick brought south immediately, and Elizabeth "received a direction to repair with all convenient speed to London, and there to remain with the Queen her mother; which accordingly she soon after did,"34 escorted under Sir Robert's protection with the honor due to a future Queen of England. Warwick, however, was to be conveyed in secret.

Henry was always to regard young Warwick as one of the chief threats to his crown, despite the fact that the earl, then just ten years old, was barred from the succession and seems to have been mentally backward. But for the attainder against his father, the Duke of Clarence, Warwick would have been the rightful male heir to the House of York; Elizabeth's claim was better, but she was a woman, and Henry, knowing attainders could be reversed, feared that Yorkists might now look to Warwick in preference to her and the man Richard III had called "an unknown Welshman." As soon as Warwick arrived in London, Henry had him confined briefly at Margaret Beaufort's London house, Coldharbour, and then imprisoned in the Tower. Because Henry was fearful lest he escape to "stir up civil discord,"35 the unfortunate boy was to spend the rest of his life there, bereft of companions, tutors, or much in the way of comforts. Thus seriously did the new King regard him as a rival, and with justification, for, captive though Warwick remained, he was to be the focus of several Yorkist plots.

Elizabeth, however, was brought openly to London, attended by an escort of "many n.o.blemen and ladies of honor."36 That was a good sign, yet she might have felt a pa.s.sing anxiety as to her future, for until Henry married her, she was essentially a rival claimant to his throne, for all that she was a woman; and she could transmit her claim to any man she married. Probably she had read enough history to know that King John murdered Arthur, Duke of Brittany, a rival claimant to the throne, then imprisoned Arthur's sister Eleanor for life. But Elizabeth had four sisters, each of whom could replace her in the line of succession, and her proposed marriage was popular, so it was hardly likely that the new King would renege on a promise that had won over so many Yorkists to his cause. And now the courtesy and honor accorded to her must have given her cause to hope that she would soon be Queen, although she may have been disconcerted to learn that Henry "had a.s.sumed the style of king in his own name," on the battlefield of Bosworth, "without mention of the Lady Elizabeth at all,"37 especially as he was supposed to be marrying her to give legitimacy to his t.i.tle. Furthermore, when she reached London, she might have found it strange that there was no state welcome in the capital, or any celebrations to mark her arrival, as was usual for a royal bride. These were the first indications that her marriage to Henry VII was not to be regarded as the means of his kingship. Had she processed through the City in triumph, it might have looked as if she herself was the rightful sovereign.38 Observing the proprieties, Henry had arranged for his prospective bride to be lodged with his mother. Apartments had been made ready for Elizabeth and her mother at Coldharbour, which lay on the foresh.o.r.e south of Thames Street, just outside the City walls; and it was there that she was reunited with Elizabeth Wydeville. The former Queen had been staying at Sheen at the time of Bosworth, but hastened to London, and it was to her care that the new King initially entrusted his future bride. It is likely that Elizabeth's sisters joined her, for Henry arranged for Margaret Beaufort to be given "the keeping and guiding of the ladies daughter of King Edward IV" along with eight-year-old Edward Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, Ralph Neville, Earl of Westmorland, and the hapless Earl of Warwick.39 Warwick's sister Margaret probably also joined this bustling household.

Elizabeth spent the following weeks at Coldharbour. In 1484, Richard III had granted the royal heralds this ancient house as a permanent home. It lay by the River Thames on the site now occupied by 89 Upper Thames Street.40 It was a great mansion, dating from at least the early fourteenth century, and among previous residents were Henry IV, Henry V, Margaret of Burgundy, Sir John de Pulteney-four times mayor of London in the fourteenth century and builder of Penshurst Place-and Alice Perrers, Edward III's mistress, who added a tower. The heralds had held the house for only a year when Richard III was killed and Henry VII canceled the grant of Coldharbour, which he gave to his mother.

Here, Elizabeth anxiously awaited news that she was to become Queen of England at last.

7.

"Our Bridal Torch"

Henry VII made a triumphal entry into London on September 3. After giving thanks at St. Paul's Cathedral for his victory and his crown, he retired to the nearby Bishop's Palace and summoned his first Privy Council, declaring to them his intention of marrying Elizabeth of York. The matter was discussed at length, but first there were two obstacles to be overcome.1 Parliament had to repeal the act t.i.tulus Regius in order to declare Elizabeth legitimate and restore her royal status, for it was unthinkable that the King should found his dynasty by marrying a lady tainted with the stain of b.a.s.t.a.r.dy. Then a new dispensation for the marriage had to be obtained, for Henry and Elizabeth were related in the fourth degree of kinship.2 The dispensation obtained by Henry in 1484 was deemed insufficient because it had been sought without Elizabeth's consent.3 It is possible too that Henry VII wanted time to have a search made in the Tower for the bodies of the princes to a.s.sure himself that they really were dead before legitimizing their sister and marrying her. Probably Henry did have the Tower searched for any trace of them,4 but if he gave the order at this time-and it would be surprising if he hadn't-then almost certainly nothing was found, and he was unable to confirm whether they were dead or alive. If their bodies had been discovered, he would surely have made political capital out of it. Proof that they were not may lie in a clause inserted when t.i.tulus Regius was repealed, providing that nothing in the reversal should prejudice the act "establishing the crown to the King and the heirs of his body."5 Even if Henry had gotten to London and found the princes alive, then had them murdered-an unlikely theory advanced by some revisionists-it would have been of no benefit to him because their removal was not sufficient in itself to guarantee his security: people had to know they were dead. But Henry never uttered a word on the matter, or accused Richard III of their murder. He could not, because, not having found any bodies, he had no means of knowing what had happened to the princes. That must have concerned him greatly, as uncertainty about their fate undermined the t.i.tle of the woman he intended to make his wife, and it was to underscore many of the problems facing him in the years to come.

Legislation and dispensations took time, but there is evidence to suggest that Henry was in no hurry and that the delay suited him well, for it underlined the fact that he was King in his own right, and not by right of marriage to the Yorkist heiress. Never should anyone say that he owed his crown to his Queen (although many did). He would not be his wife's "gentleman usher," he said; and he was resolved to be crowned and have Parliament recognize his t.i.tle before he married. Although marriage to Elizabeth was "the fairest" claim to the throne he had "and the most like to give contentment to the people, [who] were become affectionate to that line, it lay plain before his eyes that, if he relied upon that t.i.tle, he could be but a king at courtesy, and have rather a matrimonial than a regal power, the right remaining in his queen, upon whose decease, either with issue or without, he was to give place and be removed. And though he should obtain by Parliament to be continued [as King], yet he knew there was a very great difference between a king that holdeth his crown by a civil act of estates and one that holdeth it originally by the law of nature."6 Back in 1483, Buckingham and his allies had risen on Henry Tudor's behalf on the understanding that he would marry Elizabeth of York and rule jointly with her, as King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella did in Spain. But now Henry was claiming the throne by right of conquest, as the true successor to the House of Lancaster. Wisely, he did not stress his Lancastrian descent, as there were about thirty other people who could have been considered to have a better claim, including Elizabeth, her sisters, her Yorkist cousins, and his own mother. Instead, he declared it was "the true judgment of G.o.d," expressed in his victory at Bosworth, that gave him the crown by divine right.7 Henry was aware that his claim to the throne was weak and open to challenge. As Strickland wrote, not entirely fancifully, "much of the royal brain was occupied with ballads of the 'Mort d'Arthur,' with red dragons and green leeks, besides long rolls of Welsh pedigrees, in which Noah figured about midway." Henry took care to emphasize his descent from the ancient kings of Britain, and in particular the legendary Arthur, and the Welsh prince Cadwaladr, King of Gwynedd, who had fought the Anglo-Saxon invaders in the seventh century. He claimed Cadwaladr as his hundredth progenitor, and had his red dragon emblazoned on his standard and later used as one of the supporters of the Tudor royal arms. It was said that, on his deathbed, Cadwaladr had foretold that a Welsh king would restore the ancient royal line of Britain, and that his descendants would rule the whole island. The message was clear: Henry Tudor was the true successor of these ancient rulers; it was those interlopers who had come since-the Saxon and Norman kings and the Plantagenets-who were the real usurpers. And lest his Welsh heritage make him appear alien to the English, Henry also took care to emphasize his devotion to St. George, the patron saint of England. As for his future bride, she was descended from the ancient princes of Wales by virtue of the marriage of her ancestor, Roger Mortimer, to Gladys Ddu, daughter of Prince Llywelyn ap Iorwerth, in 1230. Her father, Edward IV, had also boasted of his descent from Cadwaladr; thus she was, by descent, an eminently suitable wife for a Welsh-born king.

Craftily, Henry VII dated his reign from the day before Bosworth,8 effectively branding as traitors Richard III and all those who had fought for him, and provoking much comment, including this outraged response from Croyland: "O G.o.d, what security shall our kings have henceforth that in the day of battle they may not be deserted by their subjects?" Richard's remaining adherents scattered, changed sides, or prudently disappeared. His heir, John de la Pole, Earl of Lincoln, was one of those who made his peace with the new King and obtained a pardon. Henry VII even gave him a prominent place on his council, although no doubt he kept an eye on him, given Lincoln's prominence under Richard III, and the fact that he was now the hope of those who wanted to see a Yorkist king on the throne. Henry also issued a general pardon to those who had fought at Bosworth. Peers such as the earls of Northumberland and Surrey (Norfolk's son), who were initially taken into custody, were later pardoned and released.

Possibly there were personal reasons why Henry was in no hurry to marry Elizabeth. By now he could have heard that she had urged Norfolk to further her marriage to Richard III. In Henry's eyes that might have looked like betrayal, after he had publicly vowed to take her as his wife. Of course, Elizabeth could probably have rea.s.sured Henry as to why she had pressed for the marriage to Richard, and no doubt did, but history now had to be rewritten. Not for nothing would Henry's official historian, Polydore Vergil, describe Richard's plan to marry her as "the most wicked to be spoken of, and the foulest to be committed that ever was heard of." Henry's feelings may perhaps be gauged from the fact that, around 148889, his mother commissioned Caxton to print the romance Blanchardin and Eglantine, doubtless because of its clear parallels with the story of her son and Elizabeth of York. Its publication may have been intended to quell any persistent rumors about Elizabeth's eagerness to marry his enemy.

Many Yorkists had supported Henry precisely because he had sworn to marry Elizabeth; they were of the opinion that marriage to her would supply all that was lacking in his t.i.tle to the throne. Most people in England believed that he could only claim the throne through marriage to the Yorkist heiress.9 Moreover, Henry needed this marriage in order to build support for his rule. He dared not leave the way open for anyone else to wed Elizabeth; unmarried, she would remain a threat to him, and the best way to neutralize it was to honor his word and marry her himself. Such a fortuitous union was seen by many as the best means of bringing peace between the two warring royal houses, and a lot of people, both high and low, were anxious to see it come to pa.s.s, to set the seal upon the King's victory. Therefore his delay in marrying Elizabeth must have seemed like a betrayal to many, and certainly there was some murmuring that he had slighted her.

No one, however, could accuse Henry of being tardy while Elizabeth's status remained unsettled and the dispensation needed to be obtained; nor could they have complained that he did not pay court to her. Buck states that he "came to the Tower to meet [her] there, to whom he was shortly to be married." "The Song of Lady Bessy" exults: "Great solace it was to see, when the red rose of mickle [much] price and our Bessy were met." But there is no other record of what happened when Henry and Elizabeth encountered each other for the first time, although it was likely a formal occasion with all the courtesies observed. When Elizabeth came face-to-face with the man who was to be her husband, it might have struck her, as it did a Spanish amba.s.sador, that "there is nothing purely English in the English king's face."10 That was perhaps not surprising, as Henry was a quarter Welsh, a quarter French, and only half English.

Vergil described the King thus: "His body was slender but well-built and strong; his height above the average. His appearance was remarkably attractive; his eyes were small and blue." That Henry was tall is borne out by his tomb effigy, which shows him to have been over six feet. Later Tudor chroniclers, Edward Hall and Raphael Holinshed, would extol his good looks. Hall, who took a hagiographic view of the Tudors, says he was "a man of body but lean and spare, albeit mighty and strong therewith, of personage and stature somewhat higher than the mean sort of men be, of a wonderful beauty and fair complexion, his eyes gray, his teeth single and hair thin." Holinshed states he was "so formed and decorated with all the gifts and lineaments of Nature that he seemed more an angelical creature than a terrestrial personage. His countenance and aspect [were] cheerful and courageous, his hair yellow like the burnished gold, his eyes gray, shining and quick." Both chroniclers were no doubt exaggerating, for certainly Henry's portraits belie their admiring descriptions.

It may have been Henry's manner, rather than his looks, that made an impression on Elizabeth. His expression was normally "cheerful, especially when speaking,"11 and he had a "countenance merry and smiling, especially in his communications, [being] of wit quick and prompt, of a princely stomach and high courage."12 Holinshed recorded that Henry was "prompt and ready in answering," but added, more realistically, that he was "of such sobriety that it could never be judged whether he were more dull than quick in speaking, such was his temperance." One imagines, given his probable awareness that the young woman before him had schemed to marry his enemy, that it was this wary and cautious side of Henry that came across in his first meeting with Elizabeth. And of course she represented the rival House of York. Yet all the evidence suggests that she gave him no provocation in this regard, but exerted herself to be pleasant and conformable to his wishes, and so impressed him.

There were certainly other meetings after this. For the first two weeks after his arrival in London, the King was staying near Coldharbour at Baynard's Castle, prior to removing to his mother's palace at Woking, Surrey, and that would have facilitated the couple meeting in private, affording them the opportunity to get to know each other.13 After that, an understanding grew between them, and-on Elizabeth's side at least-affection blossomed. In January, Lord Stanley would state that he had "heard the King and [the] lady often and at divers times treating and communing of, and about, a marriage to be contracted between them." By the following January, according to the testimony of Lord Stanley, Elizabeth had come to feel "great and intimate love and cordial affection" for Henry, so the couple must have seen each other reasonably often.14 During the Michaelmas term of 1485, the King arranged for his Great Wardrobe to supply the princess with ten yards of crimson velvet and six yards of russet damask, priced at 20.4s. [9,880], and sixty-four timbers (individual furs) of ermine costing 54.2s. [26,450], supplied by Gerard Venmar and Hildebrand Vannonhaw (or Vain) furrier