Arthur

Chapter 15

Elizabeth of York; London, England. Christmas, 1501.

 

My husband, in a spree of generosity and good spirits, gave me a beautiful set of emeralds and new velvet fabric for my dresses, which I thanked him humbly. I ordered him a golden cup with his emblem and a pair of new French war horses. We both sent Arthur and Catalina good lamb meat, crystalized fruits and wine to celebrate their first Christmas with their new court. I was looking forward for news from Ludlow, but I hadn’t gotten any thus far.

It was only during the Christmas supper that I’ve heard my husband talking to his mother about “Ludlow” and “health”, and my motherly instincts got alarmed.

“Is everything alright with Arthur?” I asked.

“Yes, yes, Arthur is fine. Catalina is the one who apparently had a little relapse on their journey.”

“What happened to her?”

“The cold was a little too much for her. But she has recovered, no need to worry, wife. Arthur has been taking good care of her.”

“Arthur?”

“Yes, they say he has not left her side and is a very caring and worrying husband.” He mentioned, as if it wasn’t too important.

“Oh, I am so very pleased to hear that!”

“Well, indeed, good to know they are in good terms. I hope a child will come out soon out of this.” He smiled, and I nodded just to make him happy.

I was really pleased to know my boy had finally been a true husband and shown some love to Catalina. I did not even bother about the annoyed look from my mother-in-law, that night I danced with my ladies-in waiting and laughed. I even promised them Christmas gifts from my wardrobe. I knew my son was alright and that he and his young bride had finally found happiness, and that was the best Christmas gift I could ever get.

My joy did not pass unnoticed by my husband; he had his eyes on me the whole night as we danced, and after I took note of that, I intentionally directed my eyes to him, knowing I was playing with his self-control. After almost sixteen years of marriage, Henry still was fascinated by me when I decided to show my Rivers charm.

It was no surprise for me that he decided to spend the night in my bed chamber. I welcomed him soberly, and he immediately dismissed the court, leaving us alone in the room in our night robes.

He stood a bit awkward in front of me, looking down, then up to my face, then back down. After all this years he still felt overwhelmed by being alone with me.

“You know, Elizabeth, next month we will be celebrating sixteen years together.” He said.

“I remember it quite well.” I smiled. “It was surely an extraordinary day.”

“Extraordinary?” he asked. “Elizabeth, do you remember what I said a little before our wedding?”

How could I forget? I had been angry at Henry, thinking he and his mother were responsible for the death of my brothers, and I hated him for killing my Richard. If Henry had not killed Richard, I’d be now with him, I would be his Queen and we would have our children…

“I do remember it, sire.” I replied in a tone bitterer than I intended.

“Have I made you happy, Elizabeth?” He asked. “Have I managed to make you happy?”

I looked at his face; he seemed less a King and more a pleading child.

“I know you loved him…” He started. I put my hand on his lips, stopping him from saying another word. I could not bear to hear those and bring my memories back.

“You have made me happy.” I said, and even though I thought it was a lie, I realised it was not entirely so; Henry and I had found happiness in our first years of marriage. The occasion involving Perkin Warbeck, whom I still do believe to have been my brother Richard, had shaken our peaceful life and I could never forgive him for sending that man to his death and causing me the feeling of losing my brother again, opening wounds that I had tried so hard to heal for so many years…

However, there were happy moments. Henry had given me wonderful children; living with him was more pleasing than I had thought before we’d met. He allowed me to have anything I wanted, and treated me with respect and adoration. He had been a good husband to me, as he promised. I could never deny that.

“You still look as beautiful as ever.” He said, with a silly smile. “I was never able to believe that my wife was the most beautiful woman in the world…”

“That, I’m afraid, is disputed.” I jested. “After all, there is my mother, not to mention my sisters…”

“But I do not love them, I love you.”

I looked at him surprised. Never had he declared his love for me, and I had no expectations of him doing so; he was, after all, a Welsh born, son of the cold Margaret Beaufort, raised by his philanderer uncle Jasper. I had no illusions of Henry being completely faithful to me; it was of my knowledge he had a bastard child with a French woman at the very least. I never thought Henry had more than a fascination by me due my looks. The Rivers inheritance from my mother was both a bless and a curse to me. I never had thought Henry’s devotion and affection for me were caused by anything other than my looks and my charms. And if so, any of my sisters could cause him the same effect. But there he was, stating he did not love them, but he loved me…

“Well, we are married…” I started.

“I wouldn’t be this happy if I had married any of your sisters, Elizabeth. I wouldn’t be this happy if I had married any other woman in the world. You don’t know… You’ll never know…”

He was being true; I could feel so. Gently, I placed a kiss on his lips, and I felt him trembling at my touch. Perhaps Henry was not the perfect husband; he was very much into his mother’s influence for me to trust him completely. And he would never be like Richard. But he was a kind man and in his own way, he did make me happy.

“I love you too, Henry.” I said, even though it was a lie. But I wanted to make him feel happy; his face brightened up in a smile, as if he was a child opening Christmas gifts. His light eyes shining with delight. He kissed me again, grabbing me from my waist and placing his other hand on the back of my head. I let him take me to bed, happier than I had ever expected to be.