He chuckled, understanding Rosamund’s distress at the rather large royal residences she kept encountering. “Well, lovey,” he began, “once it was a simple manor much like Friarsgate, but it has been renovated several times since its beginnings. A rather large guesthouse has been established there just this spring, I fear. It has a large park where the king hunts whenever he visits his mother there. We should not bide too long before we must continue on our way.”
They departed Richmond precisely on schedule, arriving at Collyweston, which was just a few miles west of Stamford on July fifth. They remained three days, entertained by the countess’ choir, along with choirs from Cambridge and Westminster. There were contests of archery and dancing and a hunt. Rosamund, however, was far more interested in the architecture of the house, particularly four great bay windows that had been specially built for this visit. They were decorated in stained glass, the first Rosamund had seen outside of a church window.
While the rest of the court pursued deer in the park at Collyweston, Rosamund questioned the countess’ domestic butler on any number of household matters, for she much admired the king’s mother’s sense of organization. Mr. Parker was flattered that a member of the court, even one so unimportant as this girl, would be interested in how the house was run. He was most forthcoming with Rosamund.
Rosamund also spent her idle hours in the Venerable Margaret’s rose gardens with the Princess of Aragon. Poor Kate had no horse of her own now, so while she enjoyed hunting she was forced to remain behind. Most of her servants had been sent away, and she was struggling to support those who remained on her meager income. It was very embarrassing for the princess who had a great sense of pride. Two years ago she had been the bride of England’s next king. Now she knew not what she was to be. Her father and King Henry argued over monies while completely forgetting about her. She was grateful for Rosamund’s company. While the girl seemed to favor the young Queen of the Scots, she had ever been kind, respectful, and generous.
“How fortunate you are to be going home,” Kate said to her companion. “Sometimes I wish I could go home again.”
“Do not despair, your highness,” Rosamund said softly. “You are meant to be England’s queen one day, and you will be.”
“Your faith shames me,” Kate replied. “I must be strong, I know, but sometimes I am so afraid.”
“If you are, dear Kate, no one would know it,” Rosamund responded, “and I shall certainly never tell on you,” she finished with a smile.
The Princess of Aragon laughed. “You are unlike anyone I have ever known, Rosamund. You are open, and honest, and your heart is so very good. I am sorry you are going. I have few friends here.”
“It matters not if I am here, or at Friarsgate, dear Kate,” Rosamund answered the princess. “I am your true friend, and I shall be your liege woman always.” She knelt, and kissed the princess’s hand.
Young Katherine of Aragon felt tears pricking sharply at the back of her eyelids. She fiercely blinked them back, saying as she did so, “I will remember you, Rosamund Bolton of Friarsgate. Your kind words, and your promise will help me to keep my spirits strong. I offer you my thanks for your friendship for I have nothing else to offer you now.Vaya con Dios, mi amiga.”
On the eighth of July, Margaret Tudor bid farewell to her father and her grandmother, as well as to many in the court. She would be under the protection of the Earl of Surrey, a soldier well-known for his suppression of border raids. The Countess of Surrey would act as Margaret’s chaperon and mentor. The current Scots ambassador, the Bishop of Moray, accompanied the bridal progress, and the Somerset herald John Yonge was chosen to chronicle the entire journey for posterity.
As the royal progress began, the Earl of Surrey rode with a troupe of his armed men. He was followed in their proper order by lords, knights, squires, and yeomen soldiery. The man chosen to be Margaret Tudor’s standard bearer, Sir Davey Owen, always preceded his young mistress. Mounted upon a snow-white mare, the young Queen of the Scots followed, magnificently arrayed, bejeweled, and gowned each day. Her master of the horse followed her, leading a spare mount. On the chance that Margaret should grow tired of riding, a litter was affixed between two beautiful horses.
Behind Margaret, her ladies and their squires followed along. They were all beautifully mounted upon superb horseflesh. The older women rode in unsprung carriages drawn by six fine chestnut horses each. Behind the horses came the rest of the gentlewomen, Rosamund among them. Owein, of course, rode with the knights at the beginning of the procession. It was a lonely time for Rosamund, for she really didn’t know most of these women who accompanied Margaret Tudor. Some, of course, were with the court, but others had come just to be part of this historic occasion, and others joined them along the way. There was little chance for idle chatter amid the spectacle of the bridal progress. In a sense, they were an entertainment for the populace.
As they entered each town and village, drummers, trumpeters, and minstrels went ahead of the procession announcing with song and music the arrival of the young Queen of the Scots. Everyone dressed in their finest, with the badges and arms of their own houses or masters displayed. Sometimes Margaret rode upon her palfrey, wearing the crimson velvet gown trimmed in ebony black pampilyon, a fur resembling Persian lamb. It had been one of the last gifts her mother had given her before Elizabeth of York’s death. The snow-white palfrey was magnificently caparisoned with a cloth of gold covering sporting the red roses of Lancaster. But in other towns Margaret entered seated within her litter, which was hung with cloth of gold edged with black velvet and jewels.
All along the route, for the journey would take a total of thirty-three days, the people came out to see the Tudor princess, to cheer the young Queen of the Scots. As they passed through the various districts the local lords and their ladies joined them. Some to go the full distance to Scotland, some simply to ride with the great progress for only a day or two.
At Grantham the bride was greeted by the Sheriff of Lincoln. A group of friars came out from the town singing anthems to her. The young queen dismounted to kneel and kiss the cross presented to her. The sheriff of each county would ride with her into the next county but for the Sheriff of Northampton, who went as far as Yorkshire. The bridal party passed through Doncaster, to Pontefract, and on to Tadcaster. The roads were lined with cheering people, calling out their good wishes to Margaret Tudor.
The Earl of Northumberland, the famed Harry Percy, joined the procession. His magnificence of dress was spectacular. He wore crimson velvet with jeweled sleeves and black velvet boots with gilt spurs when he met Margaret. The bridal progress began to swell in greater numbers as many sought to join in this historic occasion. As they headed toward York, a rider was sent on ahead to warn the lord mayor that the Queen of the Scots’ procession had grown so large that it would be impossible to get it through the city’s gates. In response the lord mayor removed a section of the city’s ancient walls. Bells rang out joyously, and trumpeters sounded a fanfare as Margaret Tudor entered the ancient city through the wide opening created just for her. From every window people hung, curious and welcoming. It took two hours for the young queen to reach York Minster, where the archbishop awaited, so thick were the streets with revelers.
The following morning, a Sunday, Margaret attended the mass gowned in cloth of gold, her collar sparkling with precious gemstones. It was one of the few times that Rosamund was able to join her betrothed husband and Maybel. They stood, garbed in their finest, shoulder to shoulder within the crowded cathedral. Because there were so many people attempting to crowd into the archbishop’s open house, the three escaped to sit by the river with a meal of bread and cheese.
“I would not have in my wildest dreams imagined such a time as we have been having. The journey, while interesting, is utterly exhausting. I wonder how Meg endures it, but the Countess of Surrey thinks I am not worthy to associate with the Queen of the Scots. I hope I will have the opportunity to bid her farewell,” Rosamund said.
“We leave the progress at Newcastle,” Owein said. “Be glad we are not accompanying the bride all the way to Scotland, lovey. If you think the procession is bad now, just wait until it crosses over the border and the Scots begin to join the train.” He chuckled. “It would almost be worth it to continue on and watch while they all jockey for position with the new queen.”
“Well,” Maybel said, “our departure for home can’t come soon enough for me. All us serving women have been sleeping in haystacks and barns, wherever we can find accommodation,” she grumbled.
“So have the knights and yeomen,” Owein admitted.
“Only Meg’s intervention with that overweening Countess of Surrey has saved me,” Rosamund admitted, “although I have slept more on the floor of the halls we’ve visited than anywhere else. Even a convent’s straw pallet will be an improvement.”
“So we are agreed,” Owein teased the two women, “that we will all be happy to be home at Friarsgate again?”
“Aye!” they chorused, and then they laughed.
Maybel arose from her place on the riverbank. “I need to move these old bones of mine a bit. Call me when you are ready to return to the general hubbub.” Then she moved off slowly.
“She has done it to leave us to ourselves,” Owein said.
“I know.” Rosamund smiled at him. “Do you really think of Friarsgate as home, Owein?”
“Aye, strangely I do,” he admitted, reaching out to take her hand in his. Lifting it to his mouth he began to kiss her fingers one by one. “I liked it from the start, even as I liked its lady,” he told her.
