‘Clothing,’ she cried. ‘What sort of clothing?’
‘A gown of some sort and a pair of shoes...the shoes are very important. You must give these. The people expect it.’
‘But how many garments and pairs of shoes must I provide?’
‘As many as the years you have lived. In your case it will be fifteen. Oh, do not worry. We have arranged everything and the gowns and the shoes are all ready. They will be handed over as soon as they are paid for. The people of Rouen never trust anyone...even Queens.’
‘I can see they are a wise people,’ said Margaret a little grimly, ‘for frankly, Alice, I cannot pay for these things. If I do I shall not be able to continue the journey. There are other expenses yet.’
‘Your father will pay, I doubt not.’
‘Alice,’ said Margaret slowly, ‘my father can never pay. He is deeply in debt now and has been for as long as I can remember.’
‘I shall have to lend you the money,’ said Alice.
‘I will put some of my silver in pawn with you. You shall hold it until I can pay you back.’
‘There is no need...’ began Alice.
But Margaret silenced her. ‘I do not want to build up debts,’ she said firmly. ‘I do not want to be careless with other people’s money. I fear my father has always been like that and see what has happened to him. He is always warding off some creditor. Not that he minds. He is sublimely indifferent to such matters. Oh, he is the dearest man, the finest man...I love him very much, but he does have this characteristic...and I do not want to be like that.’
So Alice took the silver and found the money for the garments and shoes, and more also for there were all sorts of people to pay on the way and the Queen could not begin by making a bad impression by not paying her dues.
At last they came to Barfleur where two ships lay in the bay awaiting them. One was the Cokke John of Cherbourg in which Margaret and her immediate entourage were to sail and the other, Mary of Hampton, was for the rest of the party.
It was a short journey across the Channel for the strong southeast wind blew them over, but it was exceedingly uncomfortable and almost as soon as they had left the shore Margaret was dreadfully sick.
Most of the party were ill but not as violently so as Margaret. Alice, feeling dreadfully ill herself, tried to minister to her but Margaret could only murmur: ‘I never before felt so ill. I just want to die.’
It was a great relief to all when land was in sight.
Alice bent over Margaret and whispered: ‘We have arrived. This sickness will rapidly pass once we are on dry land.’
All the same she went to call her husband for the Queen seemed to her to be suffering from something more than the effects of the sea.
There was great consternation for spots were beginning to show themselves on Margaret’s face. Alice opened her gown and saw that they were also on her chest.
‘God help us,’ she cried. ‘The Queen is suffering from a plague.’
The Marquess told his wife to wrap the Queen in a blanket and he would carry her ashore. Alice did as she was bid and taking the Queen in his arms Suffolk waded through the sea with her to the beach. From the town came the sounds of revelry and many people having seen the ship lying off the land had come down to greet her.
There was a hushed silence as Suffolk placed her in a litter and took her with all speed to a convent in the town of Portsmouth. This convent was known as Godde’s House, and there the doctors attended her and under their instructions the nuns nursed her.
There was great consternation for it was believed that the Queen was suffering from the dreaded small pox which would almost certainly mean her death or at best her disfigurement, so it was with tremendous relief that after a few days Margaret appeared to be suffering not from small pox but a mild form of chicken pox and the spots began to disappear without leaving any mark behind them and she herself, under the care of the nuns, began to recover.
Meantime Henry, all impatience, came riding to Southampton and immediately sent for Suffolk to hear the latest news of the Queen.
‘She is recovering, my lord,’ said Suffolk. ‘We have all been so anxious, but the Queen’s illness was not what we feared. There is nothing but a minor outbreak of some pox and she is recovering fast.’
‘I wish to see her. Does she know I am here?’
I think not, my lord. But you may rest assured she is as eager to see you as you are to see her.’
Fearful that he might find her hideously disfigured and might not be able to hide his revulsion, Henry said on impulse: ‘I will not come to her as the King. I wish you to tell her that I am a squire who has brought a message for her from the King. Then I may see her as she is...naturally...without ceremony, you understand.’
‘Perfectly, my lord. I will tell her that the King’s squire has brought a letter from him.’
Margaret was seated in a chair. She was pale and wan and had a rug wrapped round her. Suffolk came to her and told her that the King had sent one of his squires with a message for her. Did she feel well enough to receive him?
‘But I must receive the King’s squire,’ she said.
‘Then I will bid him come to you.’
Vaguely she saw a slight young man, simply dressed, with a self-effacing manner. She scarcely looked at him as he knelt before her and presented her with a letter. She took it while he watched her as she read it.
‘Is there an answer, my lady?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘I will write to the King when I feel a little better,’ she said.
When the squire had gone she lay back in her chair and Alice came in to her.
‘I understand,’ said Alice, ‘that a squire brought a letter to you. What did you think of him?’
‘The squire?’ cried Margaret. ‘I scarcely noticed him.’
Alice began to laugh. ‘You have no idea then who that squire was?’
Margaret continued to stare at her.
Alice went on: ‘It was the King. He was so eager to see you and he did not want to disturb you by a formal visit so he came as a squire.’
‘The King!’ cried Margaret aghast. ‘My husband. But I allowed him to stay on his knees!’
‘Serve him right,’ said Alice. ‘If he comes as a squire he must expect to be treated as one.’
‘Oh Alice,’ cried Margaret, ‘you ask what I thought of him. I wonder what he thought of me!’
Henry was meanwhile writing to the Archbishop of Canterbury. He had seen the Queen in private and he was delighted with her. She was all that he had believed her to be but it was clear to him that she was still very weak and forsooth they must wait awhile before the marriage could be celebrated.
The marriage was to take place on the 22nd day of April in the Abbey of Titchfield and the Bishop of Salisbury would perform the ceremony. Margaret was quickly recovering from her malady; she was young and healthy and the fact that her indisposition had not been that dreaded one which at first had been feared was a sign, said those about her, that she would be fortunate in her new land. Alice could not help commenting that it would have been even more fortunate if there had been no illness at all, but she did not say so to Margaret who in her weak state of health was happy to be assured of good omens.
She thought a great deal about the humble young squire who had knelt before her; she greatly wished that she had taken more notice of him; but she did know that he had a gentle face and that made her feel reassured.
Henry was thinking a great deal of Margaret. She had seemed so young and frail wrapped in her rugs and he had been overwhelmed by tenderness. She was also very pretty in spite of being pale but that somehow made her vulnerable. He was delighted with what he had seen and he was looking forward to their marriage with an enthusiasm of which he would not have believed himself capable before he had seen her.