Tudor Princess, The by Darcey Bonnette Read Free Book Online Page A

kissed my forehead and thus he left me as a father would his little girl.
    Tomorrow we would part as monarchs.
    There were no tears for this formal farewell. The court gathered about us, their expressions tender as he bestowed upon me his blessing along with a Book of Hours. Though I was never one to be considered devout, I would treasure it always. I opened the cover, where was inscribed: ‘Remember your kind and loving father in your good prayers.’ On the page opposite the prayers for December he wrote: ‘Pray for your loving father, that gave you this book, and I give you at all times God’s blessing and mine. Henry R.’
    I offered a deep curtsy of gratitude. My tears were kept to myself. Today I was composed, dignified.
    A queen.
    I was surrounded by splendour. The trumpets sounded; the minstrels sang; the banners snapped and fluttered in the breeze; my white palfrey was brushed till she shone like a star. I mounted her and Father passed the reins to the Earl of Surrey. With effort I stilled my quivering lip as I waved to the onlookers and well-wishers. My grandmother stood stoic and thin-lipped, but I was certain the sun caught tears reflecting in those hard eyes.
    We began our progress to York and I refrained from turning about on my horse to look back at my father. I could not bear the thought that this was the last time …
    I will never see you again
, he had said.
    I did not want to believe it.
    But with heart-sinking certainty I knew it to be true.
    I refused to think of my family as we made our progress north. I decided to think of this as an extended holiday. I would see everyone again in time; this was just a little journey. It was the only way I could bear it. But every night in my bed I thought back to my last night with Father, of his low, rumbling voice as he made his tearful farewell. I thought of my gentle mother resting in her crypt. I thought of Arthur, dear sweet Arthur. I thought of little Mary, such a sweet child with a bright life ahead. I even missed fiery Henry.
    But I blinked my tears away and the face I presented to the court was filled with joy, for how could it not be? The progress was wonderful and filled with merriment. I was beset with gifts from all those I encountered en route. I was serenaded by my minstrels and by choirs of children who praised my beauty and charm. I was given so many gifts that my chests overflowed. The bells of the towns tolled for me, Queen Margaret Tudor Stewart, and I hummed and resonated with the bell-song.
    The only things I hated about entering new towns were the strange relics of saints I was made to kiss as if my kissing them would make some kind of difference. My Scottish emissary and chief escort, the Bishop of Murray, handed them to me with a kind smile and I refrained from grimacing as I kissed some thighbone or finger or vial of blood … it was disgusting!
    This was something I did not have to indulge in with frequency, thank God, and as soon as I was able to be discreet Aunty Anne brought me some cool water to wash my lips with.
    There were now so many people in my train I was overwhelmed. All of the fine ladies and gentlemen of York rode out to meet me along with Lord Northumberland, a stunning man in red, sporting black velvet boots with gilt spurs. He was quite the sight and I found myself sighing more over his finery than his person.
    In my litter my ladies helped me dress for my grand entrance into York. It was cramped and we were all near to tripping over one another as I was dressed in my gown of cloth of gold, made even more resplendent with its cloth of gold sash. My throat was encircled with a collar of gems, and rings were slid up almost every slim finger. I held out my hand in admiration.
    ‘They look too big to be real!’ I exclaimed over the rubies, sapphires, and emeralds that graced my fingers. ‘It is almost all too big to be real …’ I added, my eyes misting.
    The tears were swallowed as I was arranged on my plush cushions,