Arthur

Prologue

Elizabeth of York; September 20th 1486. Winchester, England.

 

“It is done!” the maid screamed. “It is done, your Majesty, it is done!” I felt the excruciating pain finally leaving, and I was able to smile. “Well done, Your Majesty.”

The room was dark, the windows closed, so it seemed as if I was in a dungeon. It was hard to see anything; there were shadows and blurs around me, and the delicious infant cry. 

“What is it?” I managed to whisper weakly. One of the maids was wiping my forehead with a towel.

There was no reply; I knew they would come to me and show my newborn child. But before, they needed to clean and examine the baby, making sure it was perfect. I was not bothered, I was sure my baby was perfect in every sense. That baby was the child of mine, and grandchild of my mother, Elizabeth Woodville. It was a Rivers baby; there was no way my child would be less than perfect. I was merely anxious to see if it was the son I had predicted, the heir I had foreseen.

My baby had its own court waiting on him, ever since I discovered I was with child. A court of maids, physicians, midwives and pages. The finest clothes had been made for the first child of the King; the best fabric was used to sew the capes, dresses, socks, gloves and towels. The crib was specially made by an Italian woodsman. I had asked for a fat wet-maid to feed my baby, and she had been fed with the best food in court so her milk would make the child strong. I knew my husband was waiting anxiously on the Great Room, with his counselors and friends, hoping that he would soon receive the news that he was now a father of a healthy child, and on the best of his hopes, the father of a healthy son. Everything was ready. I was ready.

Slowly, I felt my body relaxing; never had I ever felt such pain. I knew I had to be cleaned after the sinful act of giving birth; I knew the priest would come to my room the next day and I would confess my sins to him and be christened. And my sins would be conceiving a child for my kingdom and giving birth; my sin was my duty. As my Lady Mother used to say, “Sometimes men have their mind nowhere near God, especially when they try to condemn the women’s role.”

I could see a maid coming in my direction with a small pack on her arms, covered in a white towel. She had a big smile on her face when she approached me.

“Here is your baby, Your Majesty.” She said. “A son. A perfect healthy son.”

I took the baby in my arms, trembling; I had always known the importance of a boy to a King. My mother loved her sons more than anything in the world. Only now I could understand the unconditional love a mother had for her son. My baby was perfect. His tiny hand had small fingers and nails, delicate and thin shells. I moved the towel and saw that he had inherited his father’s light brown hair. But when he opened his eyes, I saw the bluest eyes, Rivers eyes.

I laid a kiss on his forehead, and held him closer to me. I only knew I loved him and I would do anything in the world to protect him. He was my new purpose, my cause, my biggest love.

“God bless you…” I murmured.

I had to give him away to the maid; she softly took my son from me to be taken care of. I knew someone had already left to inform Henry that the Queen had given birth to an heir to England.

But in the back of my mind, I felt a cold, strange feeling; I shivered, trying to avoid that thought. Somehow, I had the worst feeling. I could not see my son becoming King. I wanted to keep him in my arms; I wanted to make sure he would be safe. And I prayed God and Melusina that they would protect my prince.

“Is everything alright, my Queen?” the maid asked.

“Yes.” I replied, firmly. “Everything is well now. We have an heir. My son will rule this land, and will be one of the best Kings England has ever had.” I thought for a few seconds, trying to convince myself of that. “He shall be named Arthur.”