“You are most rude!” Rosamund burst out angrily. “I have been traveling close to a month to reach here. And we have no need for fashion in Cumbria among the sheep. Clothing is for warmth and modesty. I wish I were anywhere but here right now!”
Margaret burst out laughing. “Oh, thank the gods you are not some milk-and-water lass like our good Kate. She bores me to death sometimes with her goodness. You won’t bore me. You come from the north? Do you know any Scots? I was betrothed to James Stuart last summer and am now their queen. I am to marry the king next summer. He’s very old, but they say he is a tireless lover. I certainly hope he is. You will sleep with me, Lady Rosamund of Cumbria. Now, say thank you, and we will get you out of that dusty old gown as quickly as possible. We cannot go to dinner with you looking likethat.”
Chapter 5
For the first time in her life Rosamund had friends of her own generation. Although Katherine of Aragon was almost four years older than she was, Margaret of England was just half a year younger than Rosamund. Katherine was shy and reserved. Margaret was haughty, bold, and outspoken. She had not, of course, been crowned yet, but her betrothal had made her a queen, and she was every inch a royal. Still the girl from Cumbria managed to get along with the two princesses, treating them with a mixture of awe and respect. In return the two princesses treated their new companion as one of them, educating her and guiding her through the intricacies of court life.
Margaret Tudor, whose intimates called her Meg, was oddly kind despite her pride and her volatile nature. She was far more sophisticated than Rosamund. But Rosamund had a greater knowledge of the average man’s world and was more practical. They complemented each other. The queen was pleasantly surprised, for the princess, her second child, had always been a headstrong creature, quite prone to finding trouble. In Rosamund’s company she seemed to settle herself. Her rebellious spirit grew calmer.
“My mother thinks you are an angel,” Meg said, laughing as they sat in the privy garden a month after Rosamund’s arrival. “She says you have been a good influence on my behavior.”
“You do as you please, Meg; there is no secret to that,” Rosamund replied with a small smile, “but if you have been encouraged to follow my behavior then I am honored.”
“You are not a prig like Kate,” came the reply.
“Kate, I have learned, is but a product of her upbringing. The Spanish seem to be terribly strict with their daughters. She is the way she is because of it, as I am the way I am because of my late husband.”
“What was he like? Was he a good lover?” Meg demanded, curiously.
“I was six when we wed, and too young when he died for us to have had a physical relationship,” Rosamund explained, blushing. “Hugh was a father to me more than he was a husband.”
“My grandmother bore my father when she was our age,” Meg said. “You have not met her yet, but you will. They call her theVenerable Margaret.I am named after her, of course. I do not know if I like her. Sometimes she frightens me. She seems to love me though. She is very wise and very powerful. The most powerful person in the kingdom next to my father.”
“Where does she live?” Rosamund wondered.
“She has a house in London called Cold Harbour, and several other houses scattered about the countryside as well. There are apartments here at Richmond for her, but she will not come until Christmas. We’re going to Windsor soon, but we’ll be back at Richmond for Christmas. When I was little it was Sheen, the old place, but it burned down one winter. Our father rebuilt Richmond in its place. After, we shall probably winter in London, as mother’s child is due in February,” Meg informed her companion.
“Why do you not remain in one palace?” Rosamund asked. “It seems more trouble than it is worth going from place to place.”
Margaret nodded. “I don’t disagree with you, but it is our way to show ourselves to the people in this manner. And too, wherever we are, it is the responsibility of the neighborhood surrounding us to provision us. One area could not be expected to do that year-round. So we go from place to place. Wait until you see Windsor,” she said, giggling.
“Poor Maybel,” Rosamund replied with a grin. “She is just recovering from our trek from Cumbria. Now we are going to move again? I know she is faithful to me, else she would go directly home to her husband.” Then Rosamund sighed. “Do you think they will find a husband for me by the time you must go north to Scotland next summer?”
“You are a prize to be given as a small reward to someone the king wishes to honor,” Meg said bluntly. “That is what royal princesses and girls of property are. We are sugarplums, spoils to be doled out. I have known this since I was old enough to understand who I was. Now that is what you are. You are not from a great family, it is true, Rosamund, but your lands are great and from what you have told me, fertile. You have large flocks of sheep, herds of cattle, and horses. It is serious enough wealth that your minor lineage can be overlooked. My father, who is a clever man, will give you to a husband sooner rather than later. It will be a man he trusts, and one who can be of further use to him and to the crown along the Scottish border, you may be sure.”
“It seems so cold,” Rosamund noted.
“’Tis no more calculating than your uncle seeking to control you and your lands by marrying you to a little boy,” Meg responded. Then she said, “Have you ever been kissed? I haven’t. If you have, tell me what it is like.”
“You mean a passionate kiss such as from a lover?” Rosamund said. “Nay, I have not been kissed.”
“You mean that Sir Owein did not attempt to seduce you?” The princess was most disbelieving. “He is very handsome. Did you not notice? Of course you did! Why, you are blushing!”
“He never kissed me,” Rosamund denied, “but, aye, I thought him very handsome,andhe said I was pretty.”
“They say the ladies all like him. Were he not so poor he would be an excellent husband for any wife,” Meg confided.
“Why do the ladies like him?” Rosamund wondered.
“He is very kind and gallant,” Meg said. “He knows how to laugh at a good jest. He is very loyal, and he is in my family’s favor. But as a man wants a woman of property, so too, a wise woman wants a man with property. Poor Sir Owein. It is not likely that he will ever wed.”
They decamped Richmond, first for London where the king liked to celebrate All Hallows’ Eve, All Saints’ Day, and All Souls’ Day. They came by barge, cruising the river to Westminster Palace in the city of London. The king’s barge came first. Both he and the queen, in open view of the crowds lined up on either side of the riverbanks to cheer them, were dressed in full regalia including their crowns. Prince Henry was with them as he was now the heir. They cheered him, for he was handsome and personable and obviously enjoyed their adulation. Rosamund had yet to meet young Henry Tudor, who was two years her junior.
The spectators nodded their approval as the queen was quite visibly with child. They spoke among themselves about the robust appearance of the new heir, relieved. A second equally beautiful barge carrying the Venerable Margaret followed the king’s vessel. The family matriarch, beautifully garbed, waved regally.
After Prince Arthur’s death there had been a rumor that Princess Katherine was with child. The rumor was quickly proved false. Now she, Margaret, and their companions rode in the third barge. Rosamund sat with them. Awed, she stared at the city about her. Her fingers nervously fingered her new black silk skirt, and she wondered if her black-on-black-striped bodice with its gold beading and threadwork was perhaps a trifle too elegant for a country girl. Margaret Tudor, however, had assured her it was not, as she helped her new friend into the garment that she had just given to Rosamund.
“If you are going to be my companion, you must look the part,” she said. “I’ve outgrown this bodice and skirt, but they are perfect for you, Rosamund. Hopefully by Christmas we can come out of our mourning for my brother and wear color again. I think so much black makes our skin sallow.”
