A Song of Sixpence: The Story of Elizabeth of York and Perkin Warbeck (36 page)

I have always been fascinated by the idea of Perkin Warbeck being one of the Princes in the Tower but I never thought I’d have the pleasure of imagining it in detail. The true identity of the man hanged at Tyburn in 1499 will now remain a mystery. It seems incredulous that a foreign commoner would be able to pull off a credible impersonation of a royal English prince. He gained the support of half of Europe which, to me, suggests either his claims were true, or people really didn’t like Henry.

To create this story I have ignored Warbeck’s confession, which seems to have been largely a construction of Henry VII’s. Most of The Boy’s story is the work of my imagination, aided only by a few recorded facts. Please bear in mind that it is a work of fiction. There are some easily accessible non-fiction books detailing every perspective of the story, which I list below.

Elizabeth was a much easier character to access. She is well documented and the few portraits that do survive show a pretty, confident and quietly determined woman. On the surface she may seem to have deferred to all that life threw at her, but it was part of a princess’s training to conceal her feelings and I prefer to think that is precisely what she did.

She was family orientated. David Starkey is quite convinced that Henry VIII’s handwriting proves that his mother had a direct hand in his education. Throughout her life she supported her sisters and remained close to her cousin, Margaret Pole. Margaret is, of course, the Countess of Salisbury whom her little cousin Henry VIII executed for treason in 1541 when she was in her late sixties. A fact that makes the scene in the nursery when she dandles little Harry on her knee that much more poignant. As to Elizabeth, as is often the way with women, I think history has undervalued her place in world events.

Unlike her son, Henry VIII, and the granddaughter named in her honour, Elizabeth of York isn’t a household name. When viewed against the backdrop of other Tudors she is far less splendid than her children; she is conventional, and appears obedient, even cowed perhaps. Her portraits show a pretty, plump and resigned-looking woman who doesn’t adhere to our imagined picture of the mother of a king, the grandmother of a king and two queens. Her husband is usually given the credit for founding the Tudor dynasty, but he could not have done it alone. He needed her Plantagenet blood.

Elizabeth was born on February 11th 1466, into the bloody era now known as the Wars of the Roses. She was the first child of Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville. To everyone but the couple involved, it was an unconventional and unpopular match, but unlike other queens, Elizabeth Woodville was to prove satisfactorily fertile.

It was a time of upheaval and when Edward was forced to flee the country to Burgundy, the child Elizabeth joined her mother and sisters when they fled into Sanctuary at Westminster Abbey. There, safe from conflict but estranged from the exiled king, the first of Elizabeth’s brothers was born. (Edward would later earn his place in history by ‘disappearing’, along with his brother Richard, from the Tower of London, igniting a mystery that continues to burn today.)

Meanwhile, the exiled king gathered his forces and with the aid of his brother-in-law, Charles the Bold of Burgundy, returned to England to resume the battle for his throne, finally defeating Warwick and Margaret of Anjou, and having the old king Henry VI murdered. This initiated a time of relative peace.

For Elizabeth, now five or six years old, it was time for her education to begin. As well as the skills of running a huge household, she was also taught to read and write, and given some instruction in accounting. Contemporary reports describe her as pious, obedient and loving, and dedicated to helping the poor.

In 1475, when Edward made his peace with France, it was arranged as part of the treaty that on her twelfth birthday she would go to France to prepare for marriage to Dauphin Charles. But before this could take place, France reneged on the deal and married Charles instead to Margaret of Austria.

Things ran smoothly for a while, or as smoothly as they ever do in royal circles until, on the unexpected death of the king in 1483, the queen, taking her children with her, fled once more into Sanctuary at Westminster. Richard of Gloucester took his place as Lord Protector, and her brother, the Prince of Wales, was brought to London to await his coronation, as was tradition, in the royal apartments at the Tower.

Shortly afterward it emerged (whether true or not is another question) that Edward IV’s marriage to Elizabeth Woodville was bigamous due to a prior contract of marriage. All children of the union between Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville were pronounced illegitimate. As we all know, Gloucester was declared King Richard III and at some point between 1483 and 1485, Elizabeth’s brothers disappeared from the record. (That is not proof however that they disappeared from the earth – there are any number of possible explanations).

How must it have felt to one moment be the princess of the realm, Dauphine of France, and the next an illegitimate jilted nobody living in exile from court in the squalor of Sanctuary?

And what of her brother’s fate? Elizabeth would have been ignorant of that, and the resulting uncertainty, mixed with grief for her father, would have been terrible. It is possible that her mother knew, or at least believed, the boys were safe. Why else, after scurrying into the safety of Westminster in fear of her life, would she suddenly hand her daughters into the care of the very man suspected of injuring her sons? We cannot know the answer to that, and that lack of historical clarity provided the catalyst for this novel. The numerous ‘what ifs’ in this period are invaluable for an author of historical fiction.

Elizabeth and her sisters returned to court to serve Richard’s queen, Anne Neville, where they were treated with every courtesy. Queen Anne was ailing and clearly dying. It was at this time that rumours emerged of a relationship between Richard and his niece, Elizabeth. It is now impossible to be certain of the truth behind the allegation, but at the time gossip was strong enough for Richard to publically deny the accusation. Whether the claim was true or not, Elizabeth would have suffered some degree of shame, but she seems to have continued to be prominent at court, serving the queen until her death in March 1485.

In August, when invasion was looming, Elizabeth and other children from the royal nursery were sent north for safety while the king dealt with the threat from Henry Tudor.

Henry Tudor, the Lancastrian heir, was aided by his mother, Margaret Beaufort, in England. Margaret had devoted her life to her son’s cause. She served at court but untiringly devised methods to secure the throne she saw as rightfully her son’s. In order to muster support from the Yorkist faction, Henry promised that, if he became king, he would marry Elizabeth of York and unite the warring houses of York and Lancaster, putting an end to the Wars of the Roses forever.

After Richard III’s defeat at Bosworth in 1485, Elizabeth was taken to Margaret Beaufort’s house at Coldharbour but Henry was slow to marry her, and slower to crown her. This can be seen as reluctance, but we should consider the logistics of arranging a royal wedding, although his son never seemed to find it an obstacle. To some it is almost as if the king wished to deny that she had any influence on his claim at all.

They were married in January 1486. Elizabeth gave birth to their first child, a son whom they named Arthur, in September of the same year, scarcely nine months later. She had no further children until two years after her coronation, which took place in November 1487.

Henry Tudor’s reign was fraught with rebellion. Pretenders emerged throughout; some were swiftly dealt with but one in particular, Perkin Warbeck, claiming to be Elizabeth’s younger brother, Richard, harried the king for years. We will never know his real identity, although the king went to great lengths to provide him with a lowly one.

Elizabeth is always described as a dutiful wife and devoted mother. She took no part in ruling the country and there are no reports of her ever having spoken out of turn or ‘disappointing’ the king. Henry appears to have been a faithful husband; his later relationship with Catherine Gordon, wife of Warbeck, was possibly no more than friendship, but she did very well at his court.

Although Prince Arthur was raised, as convention dictated, in his own vast household at Ludlow, Elizabeth took an active role in the upbringing of her younger children, teaching them their letters and overseeing their education.

When Arthur died suddenly in 1502, both Henry and Elizabeth were distraught, the king thrown into insecurity at having been left with just one male heir. Reports state that the king and queen comforted each other and, although there are some hints of a possible estrangement between the royal couple, Elizabeth promised to give Henry another son. She fell pregnant quickly and gave birth to a girl, Katherine, ten months later, but succumbed to puerperal fever and died on her birthday, 11th February 1503.

I believe Elizabeth deserves more credit. There is as much strength in resilience as in resistance, and I believe she was both strong and resolved, bound by duty to serve her country as best she could.

Her union with Henry negated the battle between York and Lancaster, and the many children she bore provided political unions with France, Scotland, and Spain. If a king dies dutifully on the battlefield, serving his country, he is usually credited with heroism. Ultimately, Elizabeth died in exactly the same manner, doing her duty to England.

Further reading

Alison Weir: Elizabeth of York: The First Tudor Queen

Amy Licence: Elizabeth of York

Lisa Hilton: Queen’s Consort

Christine Weightman: Margaret of York

Elizabeth Norton: Margaret Beaufort

David Baldwin: Elizabeth Woodville

D.M. Kleyn: Richard of England

Ann Wroe: Perkin

Ian Arthurson: The Perkin Warbeck Conspiracy

David Baldwin: The Lost Prince

Elizabeth Jenkins: The Princes in the Tower

Michael Hicks: Edward V: The Prince in the Tower

Peter Hancock: Richard III and the murder in the Tower

Ketih Dockray: William Shakespeare, The Wars of the Roses and the Historians

Williamson: The Mystery of the Princes

Thomas Penn: Winter King

James Gardiner: Henry VII

Robert Hutchinson: Young Henry

David Starkey: Henry, Virtuous Prince

Desmond Seward: The Last White Rose

Also see
http://www.richardiii.net/
for countless articles on the era and the people.

For more information and articles visit my website
http://www.juditharnopp.com

Scroll down for an excerpt from
Intractable Heart: the story of Kateryn Parr

England, 1536.

As the year to end all years rolls to a close the Holy Roman Church reels beneath the onslaught of the reformation. And, as quickly as the vast abbeys crumble, so do the royal coffers begin to fill. 

The people of the north, torn between their loyalty to God and their allegiance to their anointed king, embark upon a pilgrimage to guide their errant monarch back to grace.

But Henry is unyielding and sends an army north to quell the uprising. In Yorkshire, when unrest breaks out again, Katheryn, Lady Latimer and her step-children, Margaret and John, are held under siege by the rebels at Snape Castle.

Part One

Margaret Neville

January 1537 - Snape Castle 

“There she goes, grab ‘er!”

As they lunge for me I dive into the bushes and scramble up the incline toward the house. The ground is damp. Wet slippery leaves hinder my progress but I struggle onward, desperate to reach home. Katheryn, my step-mother, told me not to come. I should have listened but, resentful of her taking my own mother’s place, I ignored her and came outside to spite her.

I hate it in the castle; the heat of the fire, the chattering of the women, the never ending unpicking and re-stitching of the tapestry I am working. Usually I like it in the woods; I feel free. I can breathe and run, and love the sensation of the wind on my face but now I am sorry I disobeyed. The stifling women’s quarters are suddenly a haven. I wish I’d never left it. I should have remained at the fireside and attended to my detested needlework as I’d been told.

“Oh dear God,” I gasp. “I promise, if you just help me get safely home, I will never be bad again.”

At last, the angry voices behind me begin to dwindle, and the pain in my side forces me to stop, just for a moment. I am not far from the hall now. Through the branches I can just glimpse the red brick walls of Snape Castle. Hiccupping in fear, I crawl on until I am close to the drive where, gathering all my courage, I throw myself from the safety of the covert and dash beneath the gateway into the barton.

There are men massing before the house. Not soldiers, not gentlemen, but peasantry. Ordinary men who, on a normal day, would pull their cap and treat us with respect. But yesterday I saw their leaders bear my father away, leaving us defenceless and the castle to be ruled by rough-clad farmers, millers, dispossessed monks and the like.