Free Queen of Trial and Sorrow by Susan Appleyard Page A

sufficient that the king was able to return to his palace.  Westminster, just outside London, was not only the monarch’s principal residence, but also the administrative, judicial and political center of England.  I was no stranger to Westminster, but now with my mother I wandered its halls and chambers with a proprietary eye. 
    We paused to admire a huge genealogical table, a propaganda tool and a piece of art all rolled into one fabulous twenty-foot long pictorial exposition of Edward’s right to occupy England’s throne.
    My mother said quietly: “That’s the trouble with taking a throne already occupied.  He has to expend a great deal of time and effort proving he is not a usurper.”
    Henry IV had faced the same problem, but he was luckier as Richard II had already been persuaded to abdicate by the time he was crowned and didn’t live very long afterwards.  Edward had a rival some still called king.
    But he had a genuine and indisputable right to the throne on two points.  First, he was directly descended from the second and fourth sons of the prolific Edward III, while Henry VI was descended from the third son.  It was Henry’s grandfather, Henry IV, who was the usurper.  Second, in order to put an end to the escalating strife, in 1460 parliament had passed a law that Henry should remain king during his lifetime, providing no attempt be made on the life of the Duke of York, who would succeed him, with his sons following.  Well, killing York in battle certainly qualified as making an attempt on his life, so Edward was rightfully king. 
    Before he even moved into the palace he gave his own apartments a thorough and modern refurbishment, as well as some of the other public rooms.  White Roses and Suns-in-Splendor were carved, chiselled and painted everywhere the eye rested.  Margaret’s Daisy and Henry’s Foxtails were obliterated. 
    I had chosen the gillyflower as my own device, symbolizing the Virgin, virtuous love and marriage.  It was a great pity that I couldn’t have it incorporated into the stone and wood, but I intended to have my ladies include it in their embroidery work. 
    The queen’s apartment consisted of a sumptuous bedchamber, a solar with three tall mullioned windows, recessed and with a seat strewn with bright cushions, and a southern aspect overlooking the gardens and the river beyond; two antechambers, one of which was the guarderobe where some of my robes would be kept, for the smell of the privy kept away moths.  In the solar an upholstered chair stood beside the fireplace and there were many settles and stools for my attendants, tables whose polished surfaces winked in the light, thick carpets on the floor, brilliant murals on the walls.  In one corner, to my delight, stood a wooden tub lined with linen and a screen of tapestry that could be drawn around it.  Although warmed water had to be carried all the way from the kitchens, a simple trap could be opened to allow the used water to flow through a pipe and flush out the privy.  The hooded fireplace was of Purbeck marble and a fire burned in the grate.  Intermittent sunshine falling on the floor in long rectangles further warmed the two principal chambers.
    I ran my hand lovingly over the pieces of furniture, the velvet softness of the tester and drapes of the bed.  These chambers had once belonged to Margaret of Anjou, and I could still see her there, imperious and tempestuous, throwing things and kicking things and slapping her women if they were careless or simply because she was in a foul mood.  She had forfeited them and now they were mine.  Although the huge bed was the same, the coverings and drapes had been changed.   The tester was peppered with white roses and the drapes of mossy green were suspended from rails by iron rings and trimmed with gold cord and tassels.  On the underside of the canopy fat naked cupids disported themselves in sylvan splendor.  Mine! It was all mine.  I would never be poor