The Other Elizabeth *OLD VERSION*

XLVII. February 1461

XLVII

February 1461

City of London, St Albans & Barnet, Hertfordshire, England

But I was not prepared for the task ahead of me. It was two weeks since Jacquetta had scuttled off to the Queen, when another messenger came.

"For My Lady Rivers."

"She is not here presently, pray, what news have you? It may be of some value to me," I had said.

"I would like to ascertain her whereabouts then, My Lady, for I have a summons for her, the Duchess of Buckingham, and a Lady Scales from the Lord Mayor of-"

"Lady Scales?" I interrupted with a jolt, "I am Lady Scales."

He frowned, drawing out another letter, peering at it, and then me. "You are Lady Scales of Scales Hall, Middleton?" I suppose he was expecting someone older than I was. What summons have there been for me? What for?

"Yes I am." I fumbled for my necklace beneath my gown and drew it out, swinging the pendant with the Scales escallop upon it. "I am My Lady Rivers' daughter-in-law. I shall take my letter, and My Lady is with Her Grace's army, wherever that may be." We thanked each other, I tossed him some coins, and I opened my letter, frowning.

The Lord Mayor of London, his aldermen and the city fathers requested us three ladies to treat with them and Queen Marguerite. That day we saw the three suns, a battle was indeed fought- York the victor, Owen Tudor and his allies' heads on the block in the end. All this bloodshed, so many men gone. It was fought at Mortimer's Cross- rather favourable for Edward, bearing his ancestral name- and he has stated that the three suns supposedly, fancifully, represent him and his two younger brothers; three suns of York.

Alas, the York sun did not shine for long, for another faction of his army, led by Lord Warwick- the only one left of the original triumvirate- tried to stop Queen Marguerite's army advancing into London. There was a skirmish at St. Albans, that very day I received the letter, that dreaded place which bears so many negative memories. The Yorkists, outnumbered, were defeated.

And now, the men of London call on us to stop her army pillaging London when they enter, as they have done so all throughout the North, running into abbeys and convents alike, looting as they went, those Scottish churls. The Londoners are terrorised, and we ladies, 'being such women of position and trust with the Queen and respected noblewomen, should sue for safety.'

My first thoughts were why I should ever sue for safety of the Londoners who killed my Father, and then why I had been chosen, for I am hardly the Queen's companion. 'Tis then I placed a hand to my former quizzical face, for this letter was not intended for me. This was for the other Lady Scales; this letter was meant for my Mother. They do not know of her quiet passing. They have summoned her, because she is so respected; I am hardly an intimate of the Queen. It was in one way lovely to know my Mother, of all woman, was so competent to carry out this task, and would be called beside two Dowager Duchesses, that she was valued in so high esteem in London, even if my Father was not by the commoner men of the city. I felt somehow proud of my Mother, would that she were here to do this great honour, of how respected she must be at court. Although, do I really want to be the daughter of so great a friend to Marguerite of Anjou? Mayhap I underestimated my Mother, as she once did with me. My Father would have been so happy too, that his little Cornish wife was so well thought of.

I wish that they could see me now, cantering as fast as the wind through the night. My hands are throbbing and I am finding it increasingly harder to sit straight, but as I look at the celestial moon, methinks I am honouring them. This is what they would have liked to see, I hope, their daughter upholding the Scales name, taking a place in this realm, undergoing an important role to ensure the imperative safety of our capital city. I must do this; I must serve the Lancastrian cause, in honour for what my Father died for, even if he was a rogue, begetting himself with bastards. I must make my new husband proud of me, that I, his wife, Elizabeth Wydeville, am responsible enough to fill my Mother's title, take her place. I am no girl- I am a woman. I may not know how I will converse with these men, but I will fulfil my task. Mayhap the men will not want to deal with me when they asked for my Lady Mother, an obscure young woman, no great confidante of the Queen to persuade her, but I do this, riding through the harrowing cold, out of respect of Mother's memory, to show the realm I am competent enough, and to try to make peace.