The Rose Without a Thorn by Jean Plaidy Read Free Book Online Page A

were craft of all descriptions, and from many came the sound of sweet music. As was the custom, the Queen had been staying at the Tower with the King and was now preparing for the great tomorrow.
    It was the last day of May and, the weather being so perfect, people were saying that Heaven itself was showing its approval of the marriage.
    Rails had been set up in the streets so that the horses, who would play such a big part in the procession, could not harm the spectators. There would be crowds of them, of course, and the streets were elaborately decorated; cloth of gold and velvet hung in the Chepe, and Gracechurch Street was brilliant in crimson velvet. I was pressed against the rail and Manox’s arm was about me while we watched the procession. There were the Archbishops of York and Canterbury with several ambassadors, and I glowed with pride when my uncle, Lord William Howard, appeared among them.
    Henry Manox glanced at me and said: “You are indeed one of a noble family, are you not, sweetheart?”
    I giggled, and thought of my grandmother, who was to hold the Queen’s train.
    “Lord William is not the Marshal,” said Mary Lassells disparagingly, as though she did not like this reference to the Howards.
    “No,” retorted Manox, “but he is standing in for his brother, who, as ambassador in France, cannot be here for this great occasion. And is not that brother, the great Duke of Norfolk, yet another uncle of our noble little companion.”
    Mary looked sullen, but could not remain so for long, and she was soon exclaiming in delight, for the moment for which we had all been waiting had arrived. Here was the Queen herself.
    There was a gasp through the crowd. She was in an open litter so that we could all see her clearly. It was a beautiful litter, covered with cloth of gold, drawn by two white palfreys which were led by gentlemen of the Queen’s household.
    I glowed with pride when I saw my fascinating cousin, for I thought I had never seen anyone so beautiful. Her surcoat was of silver tissue lined with ermine; she wore her long dark hair loose about her shoulders, and round her head was a circlet of rubies. Four tall knights held a canopy of cloth of gold over the litter.
    I felt deeply moved and wished her happiness with all my heart. Her litter had passed on and then came her attendants in their litters, and in the first of these sat my grandmother with the Duchess of Dorset.
    Henry Manox threw a sly glance at Mary Lassells and squeezed me closer to him. “Marry,” he said, “our noble companion’s family is very well represented here today. ’Tis so, is it not, Mistress Lassells?”
    What a happy day that was! We reveled in the pageants, liking best the fountain of Helicon from which Rhenish wine spurted in jets and fell into cups, one of which Henry Manox brought to me, and we drank together, as he said, from our loving cup.
    We were all too weary at the end of the day to indulge in our usual revelries and slept soundly.
    The next day was the glorious first of June; and the Queen, her train held by my grandmother, went from Westminster Hall to the Abbey, attended by a great company, including my Uncle William Howard as deputy for that other, even more illustrious uncle, the Duke of Norfolk; and there she was crowned Queen of England.
    Days of rejoicing followed. There were banquets and ceremonies and joisting in the tilt-yard where the King and his new Queen sat side by side watching the display.
    There would be further rejoicing to come in September when the Queen gave birth to the child she carried. It would be a boy—everyone was determined on that; and then the King’s happiness would be complete. And so would that of us all.
    But it was not quite so peaceful as it had seemed. Everyone was not rejoicing, and there would always be some to make their views known, however dangerous that was.
    Friar Peto was exceptionally bold. He was a man of strong religious beliefs, a man completely without fear.