Cotehele House, Kingdom of England, May 1534
Cornwall was hardly exciting, but the nature of the royal progress dictated that it be one of the first regions that they had set out for before they could be finished with the south. They were just ready to swing north, towards the Midlands, when Eleanor had felt some pangs of labor. They had turned out to be false, but the midwives had suggested that she stay at Cotehele, for her time would soon come. The women, unlike men of medicine, were usually right about such things, so the thirty-five-year-old was sure to take their counsel.
Sir Richard Edgcumbe had lent the Queen’s household use of a suite of rooms to use, and the past two weeks had gone as well as they could. The Edgcumbe’s were very pleasant, if somewhat rustic hosts. To Eleanor’s relief, Lady Elizabeth Arundell, though rather comely, was also prudish, and pious. She was no threat, and so the past week had gone decently enough.
Henry had been elsewhere that morning, at a joust being held in Plymouth, and had yet to return, but it would be fine, she was sure. The day had been unremarkable, other than dealing with the inconveniences of her pregnancy, the Queen of England had relaxed, and in particular had enjoyed some roasted pork, which had been slathered in mustard that her brother had sent her. It took her mind off of things and gave her some compensation for her condition.
She was bigger than she ever had been before. She felt like a cow, her belly so big at that moment, and she hated it. But that was the price of bearing twins, or so Johanne had told her. It would be over within a few days, which gave Eleanor great relief. She hated pregnancies at the best of the times, they were a necessary evil, and she did not shy away from saying so to her attendants.
This time it was Martijna to whom she vented her troubles. Doortje was a bit of a ditz (to Eleanor) and relegated to sewing for the Queen, while Jacoliene was in confinement in London, and Caroljin was just too damn cheerful. Martijna too did not enjoy pregnancies, so having an ear that truly understood helped.
Eleanor plopped down on the bed, as Martijna slid the blankets back over the woman,“I tell you plainly, I am glad that soon I will be too old to have more children. One or two more after this is all I can take.”
Her lady looked down at her, and shrugged her shoulders,”Once you are forty it will be less likely, Your Majesty. That is my experience.”
Well yes Martijna, but your husband is so old that he can no longer bed you, unlike mine.
Rather than making such a biting comment, Eleanor replied in a neutral tone,”Maybe I too will be so lucky…”
With that, Eleanor endeavored to relax, perhaps even take a short nap. The household was in order, with the newest addition, Catherine Howard being well-adjusted. Oh, Henry had been surprised when she asked that the Duke of Norfolk’s niece join her household, how she felt about the Howards was plainly obvious to him. What was not obvious to him was that Eleanor had designs of sorts on the girl. If young Catherine Howard could be raised in the Queen’s household, she could be made loyal to her, and ensure that she wouldn’t serve the interests of her broader family. The Dowager Duchess of Norfolk did not seem too concerned that Catherine was to be sent to the Queen’s household, and it would be foolish to refuse. Besides, Eleanor hoped to marry her to someone important once she was of age, a good match that would satisfy the girl and provide her with another ally.
It was not long after that that Catherine, also known as Kitty, came in the chambers, along with Caroljin, together they had delivered the Queen’s correspondence to the couriers.
Kitty’s eyes were wide, apparently she still couldn’t believe she was serving the Queen, but Caroljin looked… different. The woman’s face was flushed, and her face was wet.
Caroljin trembeled, “I… I’m so sorry…”
The Queen’s Obersthofmeisterin took the other woman by the shoulders, all but shaking her,“Just tell us what has happened daughter, I assure you that you won’t be blamed.”
Caroljin choked down some sobs, and just a few words,”His… Majesty… he’s been hurt… at the joust.”
Johanne was ashen, even if the old woman otherwise kept her composure. She turned to her employer, voice trailing out in an explanation,”They met with one of the couriers. His Majesty…”
“He what?!” Eleanor demanded. She had not quite heard all of what Caroljin had said, and as she and Catherine Howard were busy being comforted by Doortje, neither would be of any use.
Johanne tried again, and this time was not cut off,”His Majesty has been injured at the tourney, but I am sure he lives. We would know if it were worse.”
Would we? Eleanor thought to herself. Eleanor thought her husband had to be alive, but she was skeptical. What if he died and they were being deceived? There was little danger of her son being displaced, for he was the rightful heir but she feared being outmaneuvered, there were those who wouldn’t want her as his Regent, even if her husband made it clear that she’d serve as such. The thought of Henry dying was bad enough, but the idea of a government hostile to her would make matters worse.
The Queen of England finished thinking, crafting plans,”Johanne, I want a rider sent to Woking, to keep an eye on the Prince and another to Eltham, to report on younger my children. Also I need ink for a letter to Wolsey, if the worst happens I will write to him, so that he knows before the others.”
The old woman curseyed,“Of course, Your Majesty.”
The waiting was unbearable, and two hours passed without anything. No news, no arrivals, nothing. Laying out her writing materials had taken her mind off of it, as did some gossip that Doortje had shared. It was nothing serious, stupid little things, about Plymouth and her people, but it was something to pass the time at least.
When a group of about two dozen riders had arrived outside the house, Eleanor of Austria knew that the matter would be put to rest, one way or another. One looked especially familiar, and Eleanor believed that it was her husband. True to her hunch, her husband was among them, as the herald and later the presence of the King himself made clear.
He stepped past the entrance, she noted that a bandage covered the man’s right shoulder, but otherwise seemed fine.
“My Queen!” he exhaled, pleased to see her.
The woman got up as fast as she could in her condition, and threw her arms around Henry,”Henry, I thought the worst had happened… I heard...”
He kissed her on the forehead, and gently held her,“What is it, Eleanor? I am fine. Look, I am standing here, and my heart is still beating, beating for you.”
“I know, but you were still hurt. You are lucky it was only your shoulder. Please don’t do this again… Please Henry. For the sake of our children.
Our children…”
It was then that Eleanor pointed to her stomach, and Henry flicked his head in understanding.
“You can go hunting, you can do almost everything you’ve done before. Just not jousting, it is too dangerous. Please wait until the Prince is of age, and for my sake be careful.”
The King of England hesitated, breathing heavily.
“Henry please…”
It was this second that ultimately convinced Henry, who sighed,”If it will calm you, then yes, I can do things other than jousting. I can give that up for you and the children. I love you, Eleanor.”
Eleanor held him a little closer, happy to have her husband back,”You made the right choice, love. I know this is what will be best for us, the realm, and our children. You may even be able to see the twins come of age…”
…
It was not surprising to Eleanor, that four days later, she went into labor. It was a difficult birth, not as long as her first, but more so than any since.
The first child, a girl, the midwives found, came easily, but not the second.
In fact, it was some three hours after the arrival of the elder, that the younger twin arrived. But there was silence, the dark purple baby was not breathing.
“It is dead, isn’t it?” Eleanor asked.
Her midwife Susanna affirmed her suspicions,“Yes, Your Majesty. I am sorry, the boy was stillborn.”
Her heart sank,”Take it. Bury it with the others, that is all.”
It was then that one of the younger midwives brought over Eleanor’s daughter, for her to hold.
Eleanor nodded and took the child into her arms. The girl’s coos, and curious eyes reminded the Queen that there was more to that day than death,“Cecily. It is a good name. My daughter, the Princess Cecily. She’ll be a good girl, though I can already tell she’ll be different from her sisters. Carojljin, send for His Majesty, he’ll want to see the child who he gave up jousting for.”