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To Hold the Crown: The Story of King Henry VII and Elizabeth of York - Jean Plaidy
- Дата:26.06.2024
- Категория: Разная литература / Прочее
- Название: To Hold the Crown: The Story of King Henry VII and Elizabeth of York
- Автор: Jean Plaidy
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- Комментариев:0
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Аудиокнига "To Hold the Crown: The Story of King Henry VII and Elizabeth of York" от Jean Plaidy
👑 В аудиокниге "To Hold the Crown: The Story of King Henry VII and Elizabeth of York" вы окунетесь в захватывающий рассказ о короле Генрихе VII и Елизавете из Йорка. Эта история о любви, интригах и борьбе за власть перенесет вас в средневековую Англию, где каждый шаг королей и их наследников был пропитан политическими заговорами и семейными интригами.
🏰 Главный герой книги, король Генрих VII, стремится удержать корону и укрепить свою династию Тюдоров. Его жена, принцесса Елизавета из Йорка, становится для него опорой и союзницей в борьбе за власть. Их история полна испытаний, но их любовь и верность друг другу помогают преодолеть все трудности.
🎧 Автор аудиокниги, Jean Plaidy, виртуозно воссоздает атмосферу средневековой Англии, оживляя исторические факты и персонажей. Ее книги погружают слушателей в мир старинных замков, дворцовых интриг и рыцарских турниров.
📚 Jean Plaidy - псевдоним популярной британской писательницы Элинор Бёртон, которая специализировалась на исторических романах. Ее произведения пользуются огромной популярностью у любителей истории и романтики.
🔊 Сайт knigi-online.info предлагает возможность слушать аудиокниги онлайн бесплатно и без регистрации на русском языке. Здесь собраны бестселлеры и лучшие произведения различных жанров, чтобы каждый мог найти что-то по душе.
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“Since you do me the honor of asking my opinion,” said de Puebla, “I will give it. This is between ourselves, Highness. Send the Prince and Princess away to a Court of their own . . . Wales, say. The people love the Prince there. They will love the Princess too. Let them hold Court, let the Princess wear the jewels . . . use the articles of the dowry . . . then when the time comes to hand them over you will say you cannot accept second-hand goods. The furniture will have suffered, the arras . . . the tapestries will be a little worse for wear. You can then demand one hundred thousand crowns, the first half of the dowry.”
“H’m,” said the King. “You are a devious thinker, my lord.”
“In the service of Your Highness.”
“And of your Sovereigns?”
De Puebla moved an imperceptible step nearer to the King. “My lord, I have had good friendship from you,” he said. “Better than . . .”
He did not finish and the King did not ask him to.
“I will think about this matter,” said the King.
A few days later it was announced that the Prince and Princess of Wales would reside for a while in Ludlow.
They were approaching the castle—Katharine with those who were left to her of the Spanish retinue she had brought with her, headed by Doña Elvira, and Arthur with a group of advisers who had been chosen by the King.
The castle was built high on a headland, its foundations grafted into the gray rock, and guarded by a deep and wide fosse. There was a vast early Norman square tower and impressive battlements, which gave it a comforting air of impregnability. It was set in beautiful country overlooking the town of Ludlow; on all sides was the green countryside—woods, hills and fields rolling on to the horizon.
Katharine thought it very beautiful; she loved the greenness of everything, which she had noticed on her arrival in England. She thought she would be very happy here, for she was happy with Arthur. They were good companions; they studied together; she was learning to speak English and was teaching him Spanish. She was always careful never to tire him and he was grateful because she did so unostentatiously.
The Welsh accepted them and liked them. The chieftains called at the castle. One of them brought his son hoping that he would learn to be a squire in the Prince’s household. Arthur accepted him and Griffith ap Rhys became a friend of both Arthur and Katharine, greatly to the delight of the boy’s father and the people of Wales.
Such happy days they were! Katharine had almost ceased to think of Spain and the longing to be with her mother was less than she had thought it possible to be.
Arthur’s health seemed to improve a little. He could ride for longer hours and he and Katharine tried out a few dances together. He was so grateful because if he became breathless she always made some excuse to stop.
They were ideal companions and Arthur was deeply contented with his marriage. He was able to explain to her how he dreaded having to take part in ceremonial and she understood.
“If I am ever king I shall dispense with a great deal of it,” he told her. “It is not necessary, you know. It does not make a good king because he has to dance and make good speeches. . . .”
Katharine agreed with him.
“When we are the King and Queen we will live at Ludlow . . . oh, I know, not for all the time. But we could come here often could we not?”
“We will,” said Arthur.
He could talk to Katharine as he had never been able to talk to anyone before. To her he confided that he had always thought he should have been born second, Henry first. “Henry would have made such a good king and I should have been well enough in the Church.”
“You would not have married me,” she reminded him.
“Ah,” said Arthur. “You are right. Then I would not have anything other than it is.”
News came from the Court. There was to be a grand celebration for Arthur’s sister Margaret was to be betrothed to the King of Scots. The news threw a certain gloom over the household at Ludlow. The thought of having to leave his newly found peace for the ceremonies of Court depressed Arthur.
Katharine comforted him but his depression frightened her a little. Surely their future life when Arthur was king would be a continuation of such occasions.
She would have to talk to him of this; she would have to stand beside him, help him to overcome his shyness. She was confident that together they would face whatever lay before them.
And then the good news. The King thought it was not necessary for the Prince of Wales to come to Court. His brother Henry would play his part in the ceremonies and Arthur should stay at Ludlow.
Arthur was overcome with joy and Katharine was delighted to see him so relieved; but afterward she thought of the matter and she knew that the reason his father had not wished him to be present was because he feared the journey to Richmond would be too strenuous for him and might have a damaging effect on his health.
She was very anxious when he looked so tired, but she assured herself that he was better since they had lived quietly at Ludlow. All was going to be well. She would look after him, make sure he did not exert himself and in time, she assured herself, his health would improve.
She must count her blessings. She was lucky. She only had to look back a little way to remember how she had been dreading her marriage; and here she was with the gentlest of husbands, who was kind and clever, interesting and tender. What good fortune was hers! She would write home and tell her mother how happy she was.
Another ceremony! How young Henry loved them—particularly, as on this occasion, when his brother was not present. That gave him added importance. He walked beside the King and was accorded the homage which would have been Arthur’s if he had been present, so that he could imagine that he was the Prince of Wales—king-to-be.
And he was secretly delighted by the reason for this occasion. Margaret was to be married—by proxy it was true—to the King of Scotland. Soon his sister would depart and he would be relieved of her irritating presence. Margaret was too much like himself, too forceful, too aware of her dignity, always trying to push herself forward. Moreover she was perceptive. She saw through him too easily and often put into words something which was only a thought in his mind. It was disconcerting. She was clever and older than he was. Perhaps she wished that she had been a boy and then . . . if anything happened to Arthur . . . she would have been the Sovereign.
Arthur was constantly in his mind—the health of Arthur, the possibilities of his death. Such thoughts were best hidden and the notion that Margaret guessed at them disturbed him a great deal. Therefore it was comforting to reflect that Margaret was destined for Scotland. It was a pity of course that their father had decreed that she was too young to leave England immediately.
Well, she would have to go in time and Skelton had told Henry that when she did get there she would find a situation which would engage all her talents to unravel.
What did he mean by that? Winks and nudges and those intriguing innuendos which were so characteristic of Skelton.
“James the King is a wild laddie, my lord. He abounds in love.”
“Well, is that not a good thing?”
“Love for women, my lord, reckless love for women. Mind you, none could compare with your own illustrious grandsire, so I’ve heard, but I’d be ready to swear James of Scotland runs him pretty close.”
“But when he is married to Margaret . . .”
“Ah, when he is married to Margaret! Marriage . . . that is the time when men repent of their sins; they have sown their wild oats and now settle down to sow a few tame ones, eh. I would I were there to see how Dame Margaret handles the Boyds, the Kennedys, the Drummonds . . . Ah, and how they handle her!”
Henry laughed. “She will know what to do, I promise you.”
“ ’Twill be a sight worth seeing I am sure.”
“And now I am to go to this matter at Richmond . . . in my brother’s place.”
“It becomes you well, my lord . . . your brother’s place . . .”
And there was Skelton, his expression changing from one of lewdness to speculation.
And so to Richmond and the ceremony. His father looked at him with a certain criticism as though reproaching him for his too healthy looks and his exuberant manner. The King might not like them but the people did, and Henry shrewdly suspected that the people’s approval was more important to him than even his father’s. It was not real criticism, Henry understood. It was only the wistful thought of how pleased he would be if Arthur had one half of Henry’s good health.
The Queen was looking pale though she had made attempts to disguise this. Skelton—who had a way of learning such things—said that the apothecary was constantly sending remedies to her and she often sent monks and priests to make pilgrimages to the well-known shrines of the country to pray for her.
Margaret was radiant. She had few qualms about going to Scotland. It was typical of Margaret that she could not imagine herself failing to succeed at anything. If she had heard rumors of her future husband’s irregular life she gave no sign of it. She would be sure that as soon as he clapped eyes on her and realized his good fortune nothing else would be of great importance to him.
They heard Mass in the chapel and then went from the chapel to the Queen’s great chamber where the marriage by proxy would be performed.
Henry listened to the voices.
“I, Patrick, Earl of Bothwell, procurator of the right excellent, right high and mighty Prince James, by the grace of God King of Scotland, my sovereign lord, having sufficient authority power and commandment to contract matrimony, per verba de presenti in the name of my said sovereign Lord with thee Margaret . . .”
On and on . . . He would be glad when this was over and the feasting began. There would be jousts . . . dancing and he would excel at them all.
And now her turn: “I, Margaret, first begotten daughter of the right excellent high and mighty Prince and Princess, Henry by the grace of God King of England and Elizabeth, Queen of the same . . .”
By the grace of God, thought Henry. Skelton said, By the grace of good fortune, Lady Luck who came to Bosworth Field.
“Good fortune was the grace of God surely,” Henry had argued.
“It is a matter which could be debated,” was the answer.
He was wicked, Skelton was. If the King knew what treason he uttered . . .
But I like him, thought Henry. No matter what he says . . . and he laughs at me sometimes . . . still for some strange reason I would have him near me.
At last . . . it was over. Now the feasting. The Queen was leading her daughter by the hand toward the dinner table. Two queens together. Henry felt a flush of anger. Margaret was a queen. Above a duke in rank, he supposed. It was insufferable.
But at the jousting and the pageants he excelled. He was sure everyone was watching him.
“A triumph, a triumph,” said Skelton later. “The bride conducted herself with grace and charm. And now we have a queen in the nursery we must take heed of our manners.”
“Queen! It is but a proxy marriage.”
“Queen never-the-less. You will see that henceforth she will be named always as the Queen of Scotland.”
“I hope she is soon sent to Scotland. Perhaps she won’t give herself such airs there.”
“Margaret will always be Margaret . . . and Henry Henry,” said Skelton.
“They treated me as the Prince of Wales.”
“As they would, my lord . . . if the Prince himself were absent.”
“Skelton . . . I wonder . . .”
“I have had news from Ludlow. The Prince is happy with his bride. He is breathless still and I believe spits blood, which he tries to hide . . . but it is hard to hide the secrets of the bedchamber from zealous servants’ eyes.”
“Skelton . . . you know something . . .”
“All I know I would tell my lord.” He put his mouth close to Henry’s ear. “The love between the royal pair increases. They are very tender . . . and much in each other’s company.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that if you put two loving people together . . . if they be man and wife . . . well, what would you . . . nature being what it is?”
“They must not have a child,” said Henry.
“Who says so? Great Harry. And he should be obeyed. But there are times when God turns a deaf ear even to princes. What we must pray for, my dear lord . . . is good fortune . . . and the grace of God.”
Spring was beautiful in England. It seemed particularly so after the dark days of winter; now the air had a balminess in it and the whole of nature seemed to be aware that spring was coming. Arthur showed Katharine wild daffodils when they rode out together and the mingling white of the daisies and gold of the dandelions seemed enchanting to her.
She was watchful of him, always declaring when she saw him begin to weary that she had been too long in the saddle and was tired. He was always solicitous, but he knew that she was thinking of him and he loved her for it.
They touched hands; they kissed; sometimes he would put an arm about her and hold her to him; but their endearments never went beyond that. They were watchful, Arthur remembering his father’s injunction; Katharine, aware of something she did not fully understand but fearing that it would be dangerous for Arthur, kept her emotions in check.
Perhaps it occurred to both of them that it could not last; perhaps that was why they were determined to enjoy those days to the full.
Change hit them suddenly.
One of the attendants came in to say that there was a case of sweating sickness in the town of Ludlow.
There was immediate consternation in the castle. Everyone was awaiting a summons from the King. They were sure that when the news reached him, Arthur would be removed at once.
But no message came. And then it was too late.
It was inevitable that the weakest member of the household should be the victim.
There was despair in the castle. Katharine prayed for the life of her young husband. Surely God could not be so cruel as to take him away now that they were becoming so happy together? The King would send down the finest physicians in the land. Arthur’s life must be saved.
But few survived the dreaded sweating sickness. Arthur most certainly could not.
They brought the news to her. She stared at them unbelievingly. Dead! Arthur. She could not believe it. She would not believe it.
“’Tis true, my lady,” they said. “God knows what the King will do when he hears this doleful news.”
She felt bereft, desolate. A wife and no wife . . . a virgin widow.
If only the marriage had been consummated. If only she could have had Arthur’s child. Then she would have had something to live for.
Now . . . she was alone.
The King was at Greenwich when he heard that Arthur’s Chamberlain had arrived from Ludlow and was urgently requesting to be brought to him.
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