Free The Hammer of the Scots by Jean Plaidy Page B

celebrations.’
    The Queen Mother’s eyes were momentarily glazed as she recalled her own coronation. She had been brought to the Palace of the Tower and she had not noticed that it was gloomy; perhaps that was because her coronation had been more splendid than any and she had been well aware of the shining approval in her husband’s eyes. Oh, to be young again, to go back to all that glory, with the knowledge that she was clever and above all so beautiful that her husband adored her! This mild little creature – good as she was – could know nothing of the happiness which had come to Eleanor of Provence.
    And now anxieties beset her. Edward was her dear son but he was stern with her, reprimanding her for spending a little money. Edward had no idea how to live graciously. She did hope he was not going to develop parsimonious ways. And she was worried about little Henry who was going exactly as young John had gone, wasting away, and she knew that wherever they moved would make no difference. And what of Margaret who had never fully regained her strength; and Beatrice was pregnant, and she was always afraid when they had children. She was growing sick with worry.
    She let the Queen talk about the advantages of Windsor over Westminster. There was no point in frightening the poor girl with her own fears.
    She herself talked of Windsor and how her husband had loved it.
    ‘He strengthened the defences,’ she said, ‘and rebuilt the western wall. You must see the curfew tower, my dear. He had that built. He had a genius for architecture and how he loved it. If the people had not been so foolish and made such a nuisance of themselves whenever he wanted to spend a little money in beautifying castles, he would have done so much more.’
    ‘I like Windsor,’ said the Queen, ‘I like the river and I think the air will be fresh and good for Henry.’
    ‘I doubt it not. My husband always said it was. I think it was his favourite place. How we talked and grew excited about the changes he made there! He insisted on murals and they were always of a religious nature. He was a very pious man. Oh so good he was! He loved the colour green. He liked blue and purple too. You soon realise that when you go into those rooms. It was just after our marriage that he made such changes to the castle. “For you, my dear,” he said, “and if there is something you do not like you must tell me.” He made chambers overlooking the cloisters and he had a herb garden made for me … Oh yes, my dear, you will be happy at Windsor.’
    ‘I feel that I shall be. As soon as I feel that Henry is strong enough for the journey I shall take him there.’
    Alas, each day the child seemed to grow weaker and the Queen was in a quandary. Should she take him away to the country or would it be wiser to leave him where he was? In the meantime she engaged more widows for the vigils and more images were burned in oil.
    The journey to Windsor would be so long but the Queen felt the need to take the child away from London so she arranged to go with him to Merton Priory and there prayers could be offered up for his recovery. ‘It might be,’ she pointed out to Edward, ‘that if they are in a holy place God might listen to us.’
    So she took the little boy to Merton Priory, which being not far from Westminster, meant that the journey was not too strenuous. As for the child, he was quite happy to go as long as she was with him.
    ‘There,’ she told him, ‘you are going to get well. You are going to grow into a big strong boy.’
    ‘Like my father?’ he asked.
    ‘Exactly like him,’ she assured him.
    But she wished that she had taken him to Windsor. How pleasant for the little boy to have been in those rooms made beautiful by his grandfather. She could have told him the stories of the pictures which adorned the walls. A priory was by its very nature a quiet place.
    ‘As soon as you are well,’ she told him, ‘we are going to Windsor.’
    ‘All of us?’