In the Shadow of the Crown - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,93

so worried.”

“I can believe that! Well now, she must have a good rest … rest and quiet and no more children for a long time.”

“The King's appetite is whetted. She has given him a son. He will want more.”

“He will have to wait. He's got one. Let him be satisfied with that.”

There must be no delay. The baby must be baptized. He was to be called Edward. The King was in a mood of exuberance. He carried the boy in his arms and had to be restrained from bouncing him up and down in his excitement. He smiled good-humouredly at the nurse who stopped him. The baby was very precious.

It was a Friday when he was born and he was to be baptized on the Monday night.

“Too soon for the Queen,” commented Margaret.

“She will be in her bed.”

“There'll be too much fuss round her.”

“I think she must be very happy, Margaret.”

But Margaret looked grim. She bore a great grudge against the King; she could never forget what he had done to her darling's mother and all the subterfuge she had had to practice to keep it from the child.

The baptism of little Edward was to take place in Hampton Court Chapel, and I was to play an important part in the ceremony. My father would feel less anxious about my position now for he had a true heir to replace me. He was therefore inclined to bring me forward a little. Perhaps this was why I was chosen to present the baby at the font.

The procession would begin in the Queen's chamber. Jane, of course, could not rise from her bed; she was far too weak. It was this which angered Margaret so much. She thought rules and customs should be set aside if people were not well enough to partake in them. These men did not realize what it was like, giving birth to a child, she said; it was a pity some of them didn't have to do it sometimes, then they would have some idea of what it was like. Even if everything had gone smoothly, the Queen would have needed rest at such a time.

However, Jane, in accordance with custom, was to be removed from her bed to a state pallet, a type of couch. This was very grand, being decorated with crowns and the arms of England worked in gold thread. The counterpane was of scarlet velvet lined with ermine.

As they lifted her from the bed, Jane was hardly aware of what was happening. She did not seem to see us as we crowded into the chamber and the trumpets blared forth.

In his benign mood, the King had decided that Elizabeth might be present. She had been brought from her bed and put into ceremonial robes. She was to carry the chrisom and, as she was just four years old, this would have been too big a task for her, so Edward Seymour, one of the Queen's ambitious brothers, carried her in his arms.

How she loved the ceremony! It was nearly midnight but she was wide awake, smiling at everyone, so happy to be a part of the procession.

I saw her grandfather, Thomas Boleyn, Earl of Wiltshire, in the chapel; he had a towel about his neck and was carrying a wax taper. I felt a wave of revulsion toward the man. How could he take part in a ceremony which could never have come about but for the murder of his daughter? I supposed his head was more important to him than his principles.

The sight of the man brought home to me a reminder of the perilous times in which we were living and that, because of my position, I was more vulnerable than most.

The baby was carried by the Marchioness of Exeter, under a canopy borne by four noblemen, to a small corner of the chapel, and there he was baptized.

“God, in His almighty and infinite grace, grant good life and long to the right high, the right excellent and noble Prince Edward, Duke of Cornwall and Earl of Chester, most dear and entirely beloved son of our dread and gracious lord, Henry VIII.”

The trumpets rang out. Elizabeth took my hand, and together we walked in the procession back to our stepmother's bedchamber.

It was midnight, and the ceremony had lasted three hours.

The King was beside himself with joy; he smiled on all. He was certain that God had shown His approval for the match with Jane. I wondered if he felt a twinge