In the Shadow of the Crown - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,71

which would be recognized as a poison.”

“Ah,” I said. “So the thought did occur to you.”

He was silent.

Then he went on, “After she died …” He paused. Evidently he was trying to decide how much he should tell me. He seemed to come to a decision. “Eight hours after she died she was embalmed and her body enclosed in lead. I was not allowed to be present… nor was her confessor.”

“It seems as though they were in something of a hurry.”

He lapsed into silence.

I wanted to ask him outright if he believed she had been poisoned, but I could see how uneasy he was. One simple remark could lose him his life.

I felt I could ask no more; but the suspicion remained in my mind.

How had she died? Had she been poisoned? Heaven knew her health was in a sorry state, and those who wanted to be rid of her would surely not have had to wait very long.

The thought hung over me, and I felt it always would. I should never know the truth now.

I was angry and desperately unhappy. I had lost the one I loved most in the world, and I should never recover from that loss. But she would be happy now. She had lived a saintly life; she would be at peace in Heaven. It was what she had been craving for over the last years.

ONE OF MY MAIDS came to tell me the news. My father had had an accident. It was at Greenwich during a joust. He had been riding a great warhorse when suddenly the creature had fallen to the ground, taking my father with him.

There was terrible consternation. Everyone present thought my father had been killed, for he lay unconscious on the ground. They carried him to his bed and gathered round it. It would seem that this was the situation which had been most feared. The King dead… and no heir to take his place except the baby Elizabeth. And might there not be some to think that she was not the true heir to the crown?

He was not dead and very soon recovered but this incident did stress the need for the King to live a good many more years until a healthy son could appear to take over from him. At such a time as this, his death would cause great trouble in the country.

No one would have thought that my father could be near to death. He was strong and could still outride all his friends; he was always the champion of the games—though perhaps there was a little contriving to reach that result, and the most agile always managed to fall in just behind him. To win in a paltry game would be foolish if by doing so the winner risked the King's displeasure. But this did bring home the fact that even one as hale and hearty as my father could be struck down at a moment's notice.

There had been the usual murmurings. This was God's revenge for the manner in which he had treated his wife. This was his punishment for raising up his harlot and living in sin with her while his poor wife was neglected and left to die.

But that was soon over. Within a day or so he was his exuberant self again.

My mother was given a dignified funeral. My father dared not further offend the Emperor by giving her anything less. It had to be remembered that after all she was the daughter of the late King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella.

I longed to go, though I knew it would be a harrowing experience; but that was not permitted.

She was to be buried at Peterborough, in the abbey church there, and three weeks after her death her body was conveyed there by two stages. I should have been there. I was the one who mourned her more than any. I wished that I could have shared my grief with the Countess of Salisbury, but I was denied that comfort. The daughter of Mary Tudor and the Duke of Suffolk were the chief mourners in my place. The King's sister had always been a friend to my mother and had deplored the manner in which my father had put her from him. It seemed fitting therefore, that if I could not be there, her daughter should take my place. The procession rested for a night at Sawtry Abbey before proceeding to Peterborough; and there my mother was solemnly laid to rest.

Perhaps it