The York Rose (The War of the Roses Series)

Teaser of "Arthur - The Tudor Rose"

Elizabeth of York; September 20th 1486. Winchester, England.

 

“It is done!” the maid screamed. “It is done, your Majesty, it is done!” I felt the excruciating pain finally leaving, and I was able to smile. “Well done, Your Majesty.”

The room was dark, the windows closed, so it seemed as if I was in a dungeon. It was hard to see anything; there were shadows and blurs around me, and the delicious infant cry.

“What is it?” I managed to whisper weakly. One of the maids was wiping my forehead with a towel.

There was no reply; I knew they would come to me and show my newborn child. But before, they needed to clean and examine the baby, making sure it was perfect. I was not bothered, I was sure my baby was perfect in every sense. That baby was the child of mine, and grandchild of my mother, Elizabeth Woodville. It was a Rivers baby; there was no way my child would be less than perfect. I was merely anxious to see if it was the son I had predicted, the heir I had foreseen.

My baby had its own court waiting on him, ever since I discovered I was with child. A court of maids, physicians, midwives and pages. The finest clothes had been made for the first child of the King; the best fabric was used to sew the capes, dresses, socks, gloves and towels. The crib was specially made by an Italian woodsman. I had asked for a fat wet-maid to feed my baby, and she had been fed with the best food in court so her milk would make the child strong. I knew my husband was waiting anxiously on the Great Room, with his counselors and friends, hoping that he would soon receive the news that he was now a father of a healthy child, and on the best of his hopes, the father of a healthy son. Everything was ready. I was ready.

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