She prayed that he would but even so it would be advisable to have another brother – a strong boy who would be there to take the throne if need be.
She liked Rhudlan. She immediately felt at home in a castle because as soon as she arrived she ordered her servants to hang up the tapestries she had brought with her. Then of course there were certain items of furniture which were carried from place to place – her bed, her cupboard, her chairs. So one castle was very like another.
She was glad that the custom of hanging tapestries on the walls – a fashion she had brought with her from Castile – was appreciated here. More and more people were doing it.
But Rhudlan was different, of course. The castle stood on a steep bank commanding a good view of the surrounding country. It was washed by the river Clweyd and was impressive with its red sandstone which had come from the neighbouring rocks. Her spirits had lifted when she saw its six massive towers flanking the high curtain walls of the King’s Tower above them. Edward had done a certain amount of rebuilding when he had been here. Edward could never resist improving his castles whenever he rested. He had his father’s talent for and love of architecture, only where Henry had beautified regardless of cost for the sheer joy of improving on the building, Edward was practical, never spent more than was necessary and was mainly concerned with strengthening the fortifications.
Here she waited as she had waited so many times before. This would be her eleventh confinement. Out of them there had been only three boys and two of them dead and the other sickly. Surely God would be good to her now. Surely He would listen to her prayers.
Her daughters came to see her for they were all here – even four-year-old Mary, although the Queen Mother had wanted to keep the child with her. She was determined that Mary should go into a convent. The Queen thought her daughter should be allowed to make up her own mind as to what she would do with her life. Everything would depend, the Queen Mother insisted, on how the child was brought up. She should be made aware from the first what was intended for her. It was necessary for one daughter to lead the secluded life and the Queen Mother had chosen Mary.
The Queen was inclined to leave unpleasant matters until they had to be decided, and Edward had other affairs with which to concern himself, so Mary was left a great deal to the Queen Mother who had even on one occasion taken the child to Amesbury and, no doubt, implied to her that her future would be there.
Her time was upon her. She felt the familiar signs. She was calmer than her women. She had after all gone through it so often.
She called them to her and said, ‘We should now prepare.’
A few hours later her child was bom. It was what everyone had come to expect. A daughter. But she thanked God that this one appeared to be a healthy child.
Edward would not come to her immediately but news was sent to him.
She recovered quickly as she always did. She sent for the children that she might show them the new baby; eighteen-year-old Eleanor, ten-year-old Joanna, nine-year-old Alfonso, seven-year-old Margaret, and four-year-old Mary.
They examined the new baby in its cot.
‘She is going to be called Elizabeth,’ the Queen told them.
The Princess Eleanor’s eyes were shining with an emotion her mother did not understand. Her sister Joanna did though. She smiled secretly, and when they left their mother’s apartment Joanna followed her sister to theirs.
‘Another girl,’ said Joanna. ‘Is it not strange that they who so urgently need a boy can get only girls? It is as though God is playing a trick on them. Eleanor, do you think God plays tricks?’
‘I think,’ said Eleanor, ‘that God has His reasons.’
‘We all have those,’ Joanna reminded her.
‘I mean He lets things happen in a certain way because it is all part of his plan. I used to think …’
‘I know what you used to think. Alfie would die and you would be the Queen.’
The Princess Eleanor was about to deny this but when she looked at her sister’s knowledgeable eyes she changed her mind. No one would have believed Joanna was so young. She was too clever for her age; she listened at doors; she questioned the attendants in a sly quick way, which meant that they betrayed more than they intended. Joanna thus knew a great deal.
Eleanor shrugged her shoulders. ‘I am to go to Aragon.’
‘And I to Germany.’
‘I don’t want to go to Aragon. If I do …’
‘Nothing will be as you want it. You will in time be the Queen of Aragon when you want to be the Queen of England. Queen Consort of Aragon or Queen in her own right of England. It is easy to understand.’
Eleanor said angrily, ‘If God is going to send me to Aragon why does He give the Queen another girl? It would seem as though He is on my side … all those girls … and then He lets them send me to Aragon.’
‘And me to Germany,’ sighed Joanna. ‘Though I see that is not quite the same, for I could never hope to be Queen of England. You are the one our father wants, sister, but if God does not want it that is no good.’
‘We could pray for a miracle.’
‘What sort of miracle? That Alfie would die?’
Eleanor cried out in dismay, ‘Don’t say it. It would bring bad luck. Of course I don’t want Alfie to die. I just want him to be too delicate to govern … so that they have a queen …’
‘Queen Eleanor,’ said Joanna, with mock respect.
The Princess clasped her hands together. ‘I must not go to Aragon,’ she said.
‘No,’ repeated Joanna, ‘you must not go to Aragon. How shall we prevent it?’
‘Do you believe if you pray hard enough you will something to happen?’
‘It has never been thus for me.’
‘Try it. It is all that is left to us. Pray with me that I shall not go to Aragon …’ She added as an afterthought, ‘… and you to Germany.’
Joanna loved experimenting.
‘We’ll try it! Special prayers! We’ll really mean it. We’ll give our whole minds to it. To tell the truth, sister, I do not want to go to Germany any more than you want to go to Aragon.’
The Princess Eleanor gripped her sister’s hand, her eyes shining with a fanaticism which Joanna found very interesting.
The Princess Eleanor and her sister Joanna were jubilant. Eleanor said she had never doubted her miracle would come to pass and it was for this reason that it had. It was what was called ‘Faith’.
Joanna was impressed. Eleanor must be very important in God’s eyes if He could kill so many people just to gratify her ambitions, and that it had all happened so far away over a matter which was really no concern of theirs made it doubly interesting.
It had taken place in Sicily, in that sunny island where people had loved to sing and dance before they were conquered by the French. The freedom-loving Sicilians, restive under the French yoke, had plotted in secret and earlier that year – on Easter Day to be precise – they had risen against their enemies. The signal to rise had been the first stroke of the vesper bell and the Sicilians had slaughtered all the French on the island – eight thousand of them in all.
It was some time after it had happened that the news of the massacre reached England, and it never occurred to Eleanor at the time that this could be so important to her. It had far-reaching effects, however, and the Sicilians, having taken part in what had become known as the Sicilian Vespers, were almost immediately afterwards in terror of the powerful French. They had sought the help of Pedro of Aragon – the father of Eleanor’s husband-to-be.
The reason they had turned to Aragon was because Pedro’s wife was Constance, the daughter of the old King of Sicily, and they thought that if the crown of Sicily were offered to Aragon that country would not hesitate to come to their relief. They were right and Pedro was received in Sicily with great rejoicing.