Chapter 19
Six weeks later, the day had come. It was St George's Day in the Year of Our Lord 1547 and I was to be coronated. Coronated and hailed as Queen Elizabeth of England, Wales, France and Ireland.
The palace had been in a fever of preparation for weeks now, particularly in my own apartments, where fittings and trimmings seemed to take place on an almost daily basis, but now time had run out. I had overseen the final details, stayed the traditional night in the Tower. In a matter of hours, I would formally be God's anointed Queen. As I had always believed I would be.
So why, rather than rejoicing, was I drifting around as though I was in a daze.
I couldn't tell, yet I was. I couldn't get my mind to focus on anything. There was nothing for it but to let my body take me where it would.
In the end, I found myself in my bedchamber window seat, an ebony box beside me. Its' contents – a miniature of a lone sitter, a small family portrait, two lockets and a string of emeralds, besides the cloth I held in my hand – lay scattered across my lap.
Smoothing the cloth with the flat of my hand, I placed it back in the box, though not before kissing both the emblem and the monogram tenderly.
My hand hovered for a moment, unable to decide between the two paintings. Suddenly, releasing a breath that I didn't even realise I had been holding, I opted for the family portrait.
I am standing at Father's side, clearly delighted by the honour, though the book I am holding and the cross around my neck lend a serious note to the picture. On Father's other side sits a smiling woman with dark golden-brown hair, a golden haired baby on her lap. All four of us look happy, secure in each other's love and in the knowledge that we four, we four and no one else, are England's future.
None of us, not even the woman at Father's side, give any indication of the tragedy that, little more than four years later, will tear us apart.
"Mama." I whispered, running a fingertip over her delicate painted features. "Why, Mama? Why? You could have been Queen Dowager. I would never have stopped you marrying again. Jess and Nora could have been born legitimate. If you'd only waited…"
I broke off. Crying now was not an option. The people expected a joyous face from me and that was what I would give them.
However, the portrait remained in my hand as I lapsed into a fit of brooding, which was only broken by Kat's knock on the door.
Startled, I snatched up the larger of the lockets – mother of pearl set with a large black pearl – and swept the rest of the objects back into the box, only calling out to let my old governess back into the room when I had done so.
I let Kat dress me in near silence, but when she turned to find me a necklace, I handed her the locket.
"Thread this on to the ribbon Lady Stafford's ward made me, please, Kat, and tie it round my neck,"
I spoke formally, half-hoping that to do so might avoid debate, but I was wrong. Kat frowned as she picked up the ribbon.
"Are you sure, Elizabeth? Not only is the locket too simple for a coronation, the ribbon you choose for it is decorated by -"
"No one need know where it came from. I'm sure, Kat." I cut my governess off, voice hard.
Knowing better than to argue with me when I was in this mood, Kat tied the locket around my neck. Not a moment too soon either, as it turned out, for a second later, the door opened and the Lady Mary walked in.
"Mary." I rose to my feet as she entered, but I barely noticed her curtsy.
"Your Majesty."
I dismissed Kat without another word and Mary took over, putting the final touches to my hair and gown with gentle hands. As I stood before her, I found myself wishing, not for the first time, that my mother was here to see me all grown up.
"Do you think they're proud of me?"
"Excuse me, Madam?" Mary asked, for once formal when I didn't want her to be.
"Do you think they're proud of me, Mary? Father? My mother?"
Mary's hands froze in my hair as I mentioned my mother. Yet, as I glanced at her in the mirror, her eyes suddenly softened. It was as though she had suddenly remembered that, Queen or not, I was still only sixteen.
"Oh Bessie. Of course they are. They always will be. I'm sure they've made their peace in Heaven and are watching you together today. I'm sure they're both proud of you."
I could see that it cost Mary to say that my mother, her worst enemy and an adulteress into the bargain, was in Heaven and had made her peace with my father, which only made me doubly grateful to her.
"Thank you, Mary. You don't know what that means."
Impulsively, I embraced my elder sister and then, as yet another pair of footsteps sounded outside my room, released her.
"I suppose it's time."
"Yes."
Mary went across to open the door for me and then fell into step behind me as I sailed past her.
Edward was already mounted when I reached the courtyard, holding his own grey on a tight rein. Sovereign stood beside him, half-prancing with excitement.
My husband smiled at me as Sir John Dudley helped me into the saddle.
"Ready, Queen Elizabeth?" he inquired.
"Ready, My Lord of England." I responded, arranging my skirts and then reaching out to take his hand in mine.
There was nothing more to be said. Hand in hand, we rode out to make our way to the Tower. As we did so, a group of choristers began to sing and I knew the first pageant wasn't far off.
I was right.
Scarcely ten minutes later, already half-deafened by the cheers of the crowd, we drew rein by a glittering makeshift stage, on top of which a choir was singing. By listening closely, I managed to make out the words of the song.
"God Bless our Good Queen Bess,
Come to save our country from distress"
With a smile, I turned to Edward and let them all see, by the look in my eyes, just how much I loved him, so that I hinted at peace and stability. Then we watched the scene together, which was charming enough, though the boy playing my half-brother was too honoured by his part to really act arrogant enough.
Nevertheless, the sweet voices and obvious pride the children took in their little tableau touched me and I took pains to reward them as they bowed and curtsied before me. I spoke personally to each of the boys and handed posies of flowers out to the girls.
Blowing them all a final kiss, I spurred Sovereign forward and the procession moved off again.
It went on like that until we reached Westminster. I kept a smile on my lips throughout, bestowing regal favour wherever I looked. None except those close to me; who knew me best, could tell that, as the crowds grew thicker and noisier, I was beginning to lose control of my horse.
Sovereign was a hunter rather than a palfrey and, today, that was causing a problem. The crowds were making him nervous. He couldn't understand why I wouldn't simply give him his head and let him run. He was sidestepping, arching his back, tossing his head. Once or twice, he even broke stride and it took all my skill as a horsewoman to get him back on the bit one handed without anyone noticing.
Much as I loved him, it was a relief to dismount at Westminster and kneel for the Dean's blessing.
"In nomine Patri et Filli et Spiritus Sanctus."
"In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost."
The blessing was repeated once in Latin and once in English before I intoned the requisite "Amen", rising to exchange the kiss of peace as the heavy Robes of State settled on my shoulders.
And then it was time. The lengthy weight of my train trailing behind me, I proceeded up the aisle to kneel once again in order to swear the Oath of Allegiance to my country.
"I, Elizabeth Tudor, by the Grace of God Queen of England, France and Ireland, swear before God and all these witnesses, as well as St. George, our beloved patron saint, always to rule my realm as well as I can. I vow to uphold justice and to always put the interests of my country and people before mine own. From this day forth, I shall love the crowns and countries of England, France and Ireland as though they were my spouse and their people as though they were my children. I do so solemnly swear."
"Amen. May the Almighty guide you in all your endeavours."
I heard Cranmer's response and crossed myself quickly. After that, I felt the warm moisture and smelt the aromatic scent of the chrism oil as I was anointed. Keeping my eyes shut until I felt the cold metal of my coronation ring meet the warmth of my skin was another tradition; one which I observed. Only after that occurrence had taken place did I open my eyes to reach for my Godfather's hand, in order that he might help me to my new throne.
"With this, St. Edward's Crown, I crown thee, Elizabeth, Queen of England, France and Ireland."
Raising the crown high for the benefit of the congregated nobles, Cranmer settled it on my head.
Prepared for the weight, I kept my head erect and beamed down upon my people joyfully. This was my day and I fully intended to enjoy it.
A commotion at the door told me Edward was now entering the Abbey to be invested as Great Lord of England and Wales, so I turned to watch him come up the aisle.
All of a sudden, the scent of roses filled the air and I thought I saw a flash of golden-brown hair and a dark blue silk gown behind him. I strained my eyes along the nave, desperate to see more.
A pair of sapphire blue eyes, moist yet sparkling, met mine. Blanche's eyes. The eyes my little sister had inherited from…
"Mama!" Half-stifling a cry, I made to leap from my throne, but the apparition vanished almost as quickly as it had come.
However, it wasn't gone without first throwing me a smile and blowing me a kiss. Those actions, small though they were, were worth more than a thousand words would have been.
Mama was telling me she loved me, one final time. She was telling me she was proud of me. Because, Prince or not, I was hers. I was her daughter and she knew that I would make a wonderful Queen.
Nodding, I mouthed "I love you" in her direction as she disappeared.
Luckily, most people thought I was only encouraging Edward as he knelt before the dais and bent his head in supplication to his Queen, though no one could explain the scent of roses that lingered in the air.
Edward reached out to me and I clasped his hands in mine, clearing my throat so that my voice rang out pure and clear as a bell.
"By the power vested in me by the Father Almighty and all that is holy, it pleases me, Queen Elizabeth, to create thee, Lord Edward Brandon, Earl of Lincoln, Great Lord of England and Wales."
"Amen." Edward replied.
"Arise, My Lord of England." I bade my husband, which, once Cranmer had placed the special coronet – pure gold and set with emeralds and rubies and wrought with the arms of England – on his head, he did.
He made his way to the throne at my side, accepting a smaller, less ornate, silver version of the sceptre Cranmer had taken from my elder sister and placed in my hand.
As I wrapped my fingers around the orb, balancing its crystal weight in my palm, Cranmer stepped back with the deepest bow he had yet favoured me with.
"I have just given you the two sceptres of the sovereign. May the both of you go forth and prosper and rule well and justly until the stars rain down from the heavens. Honour and Grace be to our Queen Elizabeth and to our Lord Edward. God Save and God Bless Her Majesty and His Highness!"
"God Save and God Bless!" The crowd roared it back and Edward and I exchanged delighted glances. We'd done it. We'd fought my half-brother and won. We'd won and now we could rule England any way we chose.