The White Countess - The White Queen

Westminster Palace, London, England, Autumn 1453

Jacquetta and the intolerable Anne Buckingham set about preparing the royal confinement chambers. I decide to help them, as I want to be as useful as possible to the queen during the kings illness but I find the task daunting as there seems to be one million different little traditions that must be followed. Some of them I believe are just plain silly like the tapestries having to come down and the windows having to be shuttered and the fires always having to be kept on to make the room intolerably hot. The doors also have to be barred, something that concerns me if we had to get to the queen but found ourselves locked out.

Then a bunch of other silly things are done. Herbs are scattered on the floor, a special bed from the birth is brought into the room and draped with special sheets. A private screen must be set up outside the room so that a priest can come in and serve mass and the queen can observe it without being seen. It is a rule of confinement, even in Italy, that men not be allowed in the birthing chamber for six weeks before the birth and six weeks after. It's quite ridiculous if you ask me.

The only tradition that I find that is not completely outdated or unuseful is bringing in of the royal cradle. It is an heirloom from Margaret's family that her sister sent along with a note that makes Margaret miss home even more. The cradle itself is beautiful, made a fine craftsmanship with rich wood and engraved with little pieces of gold. I also have personal fun making lace sheets and little socks and outfits for the baby and I am almost a static when Queen Margaret likes my handiwork and request that I make brand new sheets for the baby to be placed in the crib for when it is born. 

In the meantime everybody spends most of the day with the queen, everyone except the men. I play card games with her and try to distract her with the latest talk and gossip from the court where she has been banished from till the baby is born. We observe mass together, though I can see one time that it makes her more depressed than anything else.

Wondering why the service of the Lord makes her so upset I ask her, "Your Grcae, is there something wrong?"

"Oh nothing," she quickly shrugs off, "though I wish it was somebody else at the door."

"Somerset?" I ask, "But didn't he just visit this morning?"

"Oh no, not Edmund."

That's when it hits me. How could I have been so inconsiderate? She was talking about her husband the king. I knew that in most loving households many men would break confinement as soon as the baby was born to see his wife and his new child. This was not the case in our household, for most men still believe a woman is unclean shortly after giving birth, but in a loving household a husband sets the superstition aside. It is sad for me and it makes me guilty to know I have reminded Margaret that there will be no loving husband to greet her when the baby is born, besides Edmund Beaufort, no man who holds her close to his heart will be coming to say affectionate praises and give their joy to her when her child comes into the world. 

The news of the kings health is still a tightly knit secret. It is held between just a handful of people. Edmund Beaufort, Jacquetta, the queen, and I are the only nobles who know the full extent and severity of the kings illness. The grooms of the kings chamber now, and they are disgusted by what they have to do to conceal at all. However, it is it hard for Edmund Beaufort to locate each one and their families, order them to swear to secrecy, and threaten to give them the most terrible punishments if one whisper echoes outside of the palace walls. I think it is a bit cruel and a tad too much, but I suppose that Edmund Beaufort is too worried about losing the power that he now wields with the king indisposed then he is about making his already unpopular self even more unpopular.

Other strokes of luck help us keep the kings illness under wraps as well. Most of the great lords and gentry who left smelly London for the summer are very slow to return. Somerset makes a smart decision, for once, not to call parliament into session, and so the lords of January who haven't returned have no reason to come back. He makes up the easy lie that the king is unwell, too fatigued to come to counsel, and that he has the most trusted adviser to the king will take up the royal seal and roll in his place until Henry, who has never been an active man when it comes to governing his realm, decides that he wants to come back and rule. So used to the Royal counselors of Edmund Beaufort ruling the country but they don't even bat an eyelash at this. I don't know whether I should be elated that this is happening or completely disgusted by the fact that the king has allowed one man to run the entire country.