PROLOGUE HAMPTON COURT
THEqueen was dead. She had been safely delivered of a strong, healthy son on Friday, the twelfth day of October, at two o”clock in the morning. The king, at Esher when the queen birthed the prince, rode with all haste to Hampton Court to see his son. The child was sturdy of limb and fair-haired. Henry Tudor was overwhelmed with his joy. At last he had a male heir! He could even feel benevolent toward his two daughters, sallow Mary, overpious and always looking at him sidewise, and wee Elizabeth, Nan”s girl. The less said about her the better. The wench was far too pert and knowing for a baby-maid of three. Yet Jane, God bless her, loved both his girls. She wanted them with her here at court; Mary for a companion, and Bess to raise with their son.
”You have done well, sweetheart,” the king told the queen. He placed a kiss upon her brow, and patted the little hand reaching out to him. ”He”s a fine lad, and we”ll have a few more to keep him company, eh Jane?” He beamed lovingly at her. ”Three or four lads for England!” Ohh, he felt triumphant and justified now. God was but approving his behavior of the past few years by finally giving him a son.
Jane Seymour smiled wanly at her husband. She had had a long and a very hard labor, almost three days of it, but the matter of her son”s name must be settled. ”What would you call him, my lord?” she asked her husband. She did not want to think of three or four additional births just yet, as the memory of her pain was still strongly with her. If God had made men capable of childbirth, she thought secretly, would they be quite so enthusiastic about large families?
”Edward,” the king said. ”My son shall be named Edward.”
The royal heralds were sent out to every part of the country to give the people the glad news that King Henry VIII and his young queen, Jane, were the parents of a goodly lad. The church bells in the city of London began a happy pealing that lasted the whole day long and into the following night. Te Deums were sung in every church in England to celebrate Prince Edward”s arrival. There were bonfires everywhere. The Tower of London was practically ringed in blue smoke as its guns thundered two thousand times in honor of the newborn prince. Housewives hung garlands above their doorways and prepared food for the celebratory feasts that would follow the happy birth. Gifts and good wishes began to pour into Hampton Court at a great rate. Who knew where or whom the king”s benevolence might touch in light of his pleasure. All of England rejoiced with Henry and his queen at the news of Prince Edward”s birth.
On Monday, the fifteenth of October, Prince Edward was christened in the Chapel Royal at Hampton Court. The celebration began in the queen”s private apartments. The king had decided, and the queen had meekly agreed, that Archbishop Cranmer, the Dukes of Suffolk and Norfolk, and his eldest daughter Mary would act as their son”s godparents. Nan”s brat was also allowed to take part in the festivities. Softhearted Jane had absolutely insisted.
So the Lady Elizabeth, carried in the arms of the queen”s brother, Lord Beauchamp, held the chrism tightly in her little hands, extremely conscious of the importance of the event and her own part in it. She was not certain what pleased her most—being included in this great spectacle, or the marvelous rich-looking gown she had been given. After Edward was baptized, Elizabeth returned to the queen”s chambers holding the hand of her elder sister, Mary.
The queen blessed her son, as did the king. Then, having been admired all around, the baby was taken off to his own apartments by the Duchess of Suffolk, who was entrusted with his care for now.
The king, remembering past difficulties with the sons borne him by the Princess of Aragon, ordered that Prince Edward”s apartments be kept scrupulously clean. Every room and connecting hallway had to be scrubbed down with soap and water daily. Every chamber had to be swept daily. Anything that Edward touched, or wore, or needed, must be clean. Such fanaticism was unheard of with regard to cleanliness, but Henry Tudor was obeyed. The two royal wet nurses were healthy country girls, free of disease and wholesome. One had borne a dead child. The other gave her daughter to her sister-in-law to nurse. The royal infant would not share his food supply with any other child, for another, not as well cared for, could become ill and infect the prince. This child would live to succeed his father. Every precaution was taken to ensure it. Edward Tudor was a most important child.
The day after the prince”s baptism, the queen fell ill. She seemed recovered by evening, but then grew quite sick during the night. The physicians attending her agreed that she had contracted puerperal fever. During the night the queen sank deeper toward death. Her confessor, the Bishop of Carlisle, was about to administer extreme unction to Jane Seymour the next morning when she suddenly appeared to rally. By Thursday she seemed to be recovering quite nicely, to everyone”s relief. Then late Friday the queen”s fever rose dramatically once more. She fell into a coma. There was no doubt now that her death was near, but no one dared to voice it aloud.
The king had intended to return to Esher for the hunting season, which was scheduled to begin on Tuesday, the twenty-third of October. He could not, however, bear to leave his sweet Jane. It was obvious even to him that the queen was dying. He wept bitter tears, to the surprise of all about him. Few could ever remember having seen him cry. Henry Tudor remained by his wife”s bedside throughout the night. Just after midnight the Bishop of Carlisle entered the bedchamber to administer the last rites to the queen. This time there would be no miraculous recovery. Having done his duty, the bishop did what he could to comfort his master, but the king was inconsolable. At two o”clock in the morning, the very same hour in which she had birthed her son twelve days prior, Queen Jane died quietly. The king immediately departed for Windsor, and a period of seclusion. It was considered ill luck for a king to remain long in the same vicinity as death.
The queen”s funeral was, of course, a most magnificent one. Her slender body was dressed in gold tissue, her lovely blond hair combed loose, a bejeweled crown set upon her head. She lay in state in the presence chamber of Hampton Court while masses were sung around the clock for the good of her sweet soul. Queen Jane was then moved to the Chapel Royal, where her ladies kept vigil for a full week.
Mary Tudor was the chief mourner. She had loved and respected this gentle, pious stepmother who had lovingly eased her back into her volatile father”s good graces. Few people had been kind to Mary Tudor since her mother”s fall from grace, and the reign of Anne Boleyn had been hell on earth for her. Jane Seymour, however, had always been kind.
On the eighth day of November, the queen”s coffin was removed to Windsor, where she was to be buried on Monday, November twelfth. The king was yet in a depression, but he had already decided to take a fourth wife. One son was simply not enough to guarantee the continued survival of the House of Tudor. His sweet Jane was dead, but he was young enough yet to sire several more sons on a fecund female consort. The queen was dead, but the king was very much alive.