Chapter XVI - A Queenly Meeting
October 1293. Berkhamsted Castle, England.
Edward observed the children playing in the gardens, the little girls running behind the bounding and energetic puppy. The little queen had named the puppy Oslo, after the city in her father’s kingdom, which seemed to him to be a great mistake. But he said nothing, merely observing.
His own son had seemingly decided not to join in the fun, playing a game with hoops under the careful eye of his guardian. Edward could not say whether or not that was good. Perhaps the boy only needed some encouragement, an invitation from the girls. He was awfully awkward and shy.
Edward hoped that he would step out of his own shadow soon. The Scots were sure to shame him into acting out.
The door opened behind him and he turned to look at who was entering his rooms. Though they weren’t his rooms exactly. Berkhamsted Castle belonged to his cousin, Edmund of Almain, and the Earl of Cornwall allowed them the use of his property for the first meeting between the betrothed pair, as it was thought best to have the two meet in a more relaxed setting, rather than the royal court at Westminster.
And yet, Edward arrived first, as Edmund was escorting Queen Margaret south, and he took over the best apartments in the castle. So he turned around and saw one of his grooms step inside, bowing deeply at the waist.
“She has arrived, Your Grace,” the man said. The King took a deep breath and nodded.
“Send her to me,” he told him. The man nodded and walked out, careful not to show him his back. Edward turned back to look out the gardens, the girls running around with the dog under the careful eye of the little queen’s Scottish governess and his son with his guardian, standing aloof to the side.
The day was a leisure day, so there were no lessons to be had. The children were playing happily and yet he felt a strange sensation deep in his stomach. It was almost like fear. Only Édouard of the heirs of his body was present in the gardens and perhaps that was why he felt so strange.
His daughter Elizabeth was in her rooms, buried too deep in her own self-importance to join the other children. She thought of herself as a grown woman, despite only being eleven years of age. Mary was already a nun at Amesbury Priory, Eleanor was the Queen of Aragon, Joan was with her husband and Margaret had left for Brabant just two months prior. And Constance, his newborn daughter, was with her wet nurse at the castle of her birth.
The door opened behind him again and this time, he didn’t turn to look, already knowing who it was. He could imagine her curtsying deeply for him before she walked to him, her hands sliding across his midsection so as to embrace him from behind.
“Your Grace,” his wife whispered gently, the warm air of her breath hitting the back of his neck. Yolande was always physically affectionate with him when they were alone, which he imagined was due to her young age. He placed his hand over hers, stroking her knuckles gently. “How was the first meeting between the children?”
He turned his head slightly to look at her. “It could have gone worse,” he admitted. “Just as it could have gone better.” He stepped away to allow her to look out the window, so she could see the Scottish girls playing and his son, standing far from them. “The dog was a good idea, I’ll admit. It softened her heart to us all.”
“The King knows I only aim to please him,” Yolande said. She touched his back gently, the hanging sleeves of her cream dress falling to the floor. Edward had let her know that she was to go to Berkhamsted as soon as she was churched from her childbirth, so they could all enter London together. “There is still time for the Queen of Scots and the Prince to grow close. You must know that.”
“I do,” he told her. “We must find English girls to serve in Margaret’s household. I trust you to select suitable candidates.”
Yolande smiled. “Of course, my love.” She ran her hand up his back, so as to squeeze his shoulder. “I was hoping we might discuss something. About the Queen of Scots.”
“What about her?” Edward asked. He walked past her to fill up two goblets of wine and Yolande smiled when he handed one to her. “The match is suitable. They are of similar ages and will grow together, not to mention finally unite this forsaken island under one head once and for all.”
“I do not doubt it,” she said. “The King knows how the subtleties of politics often elude me, but I’m concerned over the matter of precedence.” She blinked her big and dark blue eyes. “She and I, well, we’re both queens. Equal as women beneath you, but I wonder who will enter the rooms first. Who will give way for the other.”
“You spend far too much time worrying over silly matters,” Edward said. “I have a realm to rule. I can't ponder about trivial things such as who bows to whom, and who is allowed to eat supper first.”
“You do, but a calm house leads to a calm life,” she said, grabbing his hand. “It really is a simple question, the King is right. I'm your wife and she is to be your daughter. Who comes first in the prayers and the hearts of the commons?” She stroked the back of his hand. “And of course, once the matter of precedence between the Queen of Scots and I is discussed, there is also the matter between yourself and the Prince.”
“What are you saying?” he asked, confused.
“If the Queen of Scots, as a queen reigning in her own right, must come before me, then surely there is a point to be made that her husband, your own son, comes before my husband,” she said. “Édouard is to be King of Scots, after all.”
“My son will not walk before me,” he told her. “And Margaret will not walk before you.”
“Of course.” Yolande smiled. “Thank you, my king, for assuaging my doubts. As always, you know best.” She kissed him then, a long and warm kiss. It took Edward only a brief moment before he kissed her back, placing his hands at the laces in her back.
Margaret fed Oslo strips of bacon from her plate, the grey-furred dog licking her hand with a rough tongue. She giggled happily and teased Oslo with the tip of her feet, scratching her back gently. The dog moved away under the table to chew on her meat and the little queen giggled again, looking back at her food just as Egidia Stewart shook her head.
“A lady should not feed her beasts from her own plate,” said the royal governess. “Best to have the puppy fed by the servants, my lady.”
“But I like it!” Margaret whined. Still, she returned to eat her food slowly. It came to her already cut, as it was thought knives and blades were too dangerous to be used in the Queen’s presence, and she was careful not to stain her sleeves or dress with it. Margaret might only be ten, but she already knew how to be a proper lady. And how to eat, properly.
Lady Egidia continued to observe through the meal, watching the Queen chew through her cheeses and bread slowly. She was ready to act in a moment’s notice, in case anything happened and, the Lord forbid, the Queen start choking or something. Her other ladies were not present for the meal, as they were eating in their own quarters, and all of the woman’s attentions were upon her precious charge.
“Perhaps today, Her Grace would enjoy inviting the Prince for a game,” Egidia suggested. She knew the boy was young, and her Queen’s future depended on his good will. Though she was happy with her James, Egidia knew how much unhappiness and misery a husband could bring to a woman. It was best that the Queen and the Prince become friends at this early age than leave it all to fate and the future in some years, when they would be expected to walk down the aisle.
“I don’t know,” Margaret replied. “He is strange.”
“Why do you say that, my queen?” the governess asked, walking closer to stand next to the sitting queen.
“Yesterday, Elsbeth asked him to join us in bathing Oslo, but he refused,” Margaret said with a pout.
“I doubt any young man would find pleasure in bathing a young puppy, like young girls do, my lady,” the governess said sympathetically. “Perhaps it won’t hurt to offer to do something he would like instead. Maybe you will find some common ground with him.”
“What does common ground mean?” the little queen asked, scrunching up her little nose.
Egidia opened and closed her mouth, trying to think of what to say. “It means finding shared interests,” she said at last. “Something that the both of you like and can talk about. Perhaps, we ourselves may find a dog to gift the young prince.”
“If he’s to have a dog, then I want to choose it!” Margaret exclaimed. “And it’s to be a boy dog.”
Egidia smiled, but before she could say anything, the door opened and a young servant bearing the Scottish queen’s livery stepped inside. He bowed deeply at the waist and walked closer to them.
“Well,” Egidia said. “What is it, Duncan?” She knew the names of all the servants that served under the little queen, as to better direct them into their duties and tasks.
“The Queen of England is without, my lady Stewart,” said Duncan just as the doors opened again and a young woman entered.
She was tall and well-shaped, if only because she had just given birth to a daughter for her husband. Her dress of grey velvet was fashionably made, with a thick white veil that covered her hair, and she wore rings on every finger, and a cross rested upon her long neck. She also had a dark rosary wrapped around her wrist, meaning she just left mass. And her eyebrows were angular and thin, a dark brown that made one think her hair would be the same colour, drawing shadows upon her dark blue eyes. She was a beauty and childbirth had made her even more lovely.
“Your Grace,” Egidia greeted, curtsying deeply for the Queen of England. Her eyes turned to her and she smiled softly.
“I believe we have never been introduced,” she said in a bell-like voice, taking Egidia’s hands in her own. She wore a pair of white linen gloves, but even underneath them, Egidia could tell that her hands were soft. The type of hands that had never worked in their lives.
“I’m Egidia Stewart,” she said. “The Queen’s governess.”
“Of course.” The Queen of England smiled even wider. “We have much to discuss. I’m very eager to take charge of my new daughter’s education.” Egidia opened her mouth to say that the guardians had made very clear that the little queen’s education was not to be negotiated, but the Queen of England walked away. She directed herself to the child sitting at the table, with a gentle smile, opening her arms wide as if to embrace her. “Margaret! I have been most eager to meet you.”
From behind the Queen of England, Egidia gestured for her charge to stand up. Margaret did so with a smile, perhaps already knowing how serious the matter was. Yolande of Aragon touched her face gently, towering over the little queen with a soft motherly posture to her body.
“But you are more beautiful than the ambassadors claimed,” she said. “Much more beautiful, indeed. And here I was thinking I’d be the most beautiful woman in my new country.” At the end of her words, however sour they were, the Queen laughed a high and bell-like laugh and even the little queen laughed. “We must begin planning your debut in London. And our grand entrance. I’ll be on a litter, of course, but what about you? How are your riding skills?”
“Oh.” The little queen made a face. “I’m not a good rider.”
“Never mind that, then,” said Yolande. “You’ll ride in the carriage with me. Two queens, together. You and me.” She smiled wider. “You’ll wear cloth-of-silver, and I’ll wear cloth-of-gold. We will compliment each other!”
Egidia felt her heart race. Already, the wheels were turning and the English forced their ‘superiority’ upon them.
