Free Queen of Trial and Sorrow by Susan Appleyard

features or imposed itself more comfortably on them than a sulky expression.   Although there was some superficial resemblance in the face, his narrow shoulders and slender limbs suggested that he would never attain either his brother’s height or his powerful build.  I had the odd notion that he was made from all Edward’s leftover parts.
    Unlike Warwick, he swept off his cap, and his bow was so extravagant that I wondered if he was mocking me.  Bright eyes swept me from head to foot as he straightened.  “Your Grace.  My dear sister-in-law.” His arm swept out, encompassing the room.  “Are you quite comfortable here?  Have you everything you want?”
    What more could I want?  Perhaps a child in my womb, a son to supplant this petty princeling.  I smiled stiffly.  “I thank your Grace for the courtesy.  I assure you I am quite comfortable.”
    “It must be very strange for you – ” and now the mockery was ladled on “ – to rise from humble beginnings to such a prominent place, but rest assured we shall do our best to make you feel at home among us.”
    “How kind you are.  And you may be assured that I will always hold your Grace in the highest regard and affection as my dear brother-in-law,” I said, ladling on the condescension. 
    “Enough chit-chat,” Warwick barked.  “Shall we get on with it?”  As I was to learn, his usual speaking voice was close to a bellow.
    A procession formed behind us, which included my two sisters and two other ladies who had been appointed to serve me while I was at Reading.  I rested one cold hand on that of the Duke of Clarence, the other on the hand of the Earl of Warwick, and hoped that my nervousness was not thereby communicated to them.   There was no further conversation between us as I was led to where the king was waiting to receive me in the chapel.  I was still terribly nervous, and afraid of conveying it through my hands to the wrists under mine.  I reminded myself of what Edward had said: When I gave a man my hand I did him honor. 
    Ahead, on each side of a central aisle the nobles and prelates were gathered in small groups.  Lord Hastings, the Lord Chamberlain, banged his staff on the pavement.  “Her Grace, Queen Elizabeth!”
    Conversation died away to utter silence.  Caps came off, heads bowed to the lowborn woman who was now their queen.  You might suppose beauty, if not my new status to which I had not yet adjusted, would bring its own assurance, and often it did but not in that august company.  As they straightened I could feel their eyes on me, gleaming and feral, a prickle on my skin.  A murmur of conversation started up behind me like the sea closing behind a ship.  I could hear their whispers, like the winged rustle of bats among the arches of the cavernous roof.  One can see at once why Edward is so smitten… Withheld her favors until he agreed to wed her…  Rivers’ daughter… A scandalous pair… Low-born… A widow, can you believe..? Two sons, I hear…
    I took heart from the presence of my husband, sitting in a chair of state, embellished with gold and canopied with the leopards of England and the fleur de lys of France.  He was wearing burgundy brocaded velvet, faced and slashed with cloth of gold.  He was so beautiful, so noble, a god among mere mortals.  Beside him was another chair, also carved and canopied.  That was for me.  The queen’s chair. 
    The king had eyes for none but me.  I curtsied before him.  Raising me up, he kissed my fingers and smiled into my eyes as if to say: There, that’s the first hurdle over and you didn’t stumble.
    A herald shouted the names of those present, who came forward in order of precedence to kiss my hand and murmur some courtesy if they felt so inclined.  The king smiled, well pleased, and exchanged words here and there.  I could not smile; I found the whole procedure harrowing.     

Chapter IV
     

October-December 1464
    Finally the plague had abated