The Thistle and the Rose Read Online Free

think?” he asked his sister.
    Margaret nodded.
    “Skelton told me that Dr. Hallyswurth is now at her bedside.”
    Margaret was suddenly afraid. Her mother was grievously ill and her illness was due to the birth of their little sister; and the bearing of children was the direct result of marriage.
    First came the jousting, the banquets, the feasts and the dancing; and then the nuptial rites; and if one were fruitful—and one must pray that one might be—this terrible ordeal, which often resulted in death, was the next step. Not once only must it be faced… but again and again.
    Her mother was very ill—many believed she was dying—and it was because she too had had a wedding, as Margaret had, and because it was her duty to give her husband children.
    It was a sad thought when one was twelve years old and just married.
    She felt envious of her brash young brother, who would one day be King in his own right—not because of a marriage he had happened to contract—and who would not have to suffer as their mother had.
    “I wish I were a man,” she said vehemently; and she watched the slow satisfied smile spread across her brother's face.
    A barge stopping by the stairs caught her attention and she said: “Look! Someone is alighting. He may bring news from the Tower.”
    They ran from the room and down to meet the messenger, but when Margaret saw the expression on his face she felt sick and wished that she had stayed in her apartments, because before he spoke she knew.
    “My mother is dead,” she said in a whisper.
    The messenger did not answer, but bowing, stood humbly before her; and in that moment Margaret was too filled with sorrow for the loss of her kindly mother to harbor fears for her own future.
    So the Queen was dead and it seemed that the little Katharine would not long survive her. The King had shut himself away to be alone with his sorrow, but those who knew him believed he would already be making plans for a new marriage. It was not that he did not appreciate his Queen who had been a good and docile wife to him; he would never forget that through their marriage the White Rose of York and the Red Rose of Lancaster had mingled harmoniously. It had been a good marriage, but it was over, while the need to provide England with sons was still present. Young Henry was a fine healthy boy—but now that Arthur was gone he was the only boy; and death could strike quickly and suddenly as he knew well.
    There was mourning throughout the Court where there had been gay wedding celebrations; and on the day when Elizabeth of York was laid in her grave the scene was in sad and bitter contrast to that of a few weeks before.
    Through the city, from the Tower to Westminster, rode the melancholy cortege, and the newly wed Queen of Scotland knewthat many of her father's courtiers watched her furtively and asked themselves whether this was not an ill augury for her wedding. On the other hand, was that a certain relish—equally furtive—which she detected in the eyes of the Scottish lords? Were they telling each other that only young Henry stood between Margaret and the crown of England now? And since Elizabeth of York could no longer give the King of England sons, that was a matter of some moment for those who had the good of Scotland at heart.
    Was there a little extra deference in their demeanor toward her?
    If so, Margaret did not notice. During those sad days she forgot that she was a newly created Queen; she was merely a twelve-yearold girl sorrowing for a mother who had never shown her anything but kindness.
    One could not mourn forever. That long winter was passing and with the coming of May the King sent for his eldest daughter.
    “Your husband grows impatient for his bride,” he told her. “It is time you joined him.”
    “Yes, Sire,” answered Margaret.
    “Preparations shall begin,” the King told her. “Make yourself ready. In June we will leave Richmond together, for I plan to accompany you on the first