Read A Song of Sixpence: The Story of Elizabeth of York and Perkin Warbeck for Free Online Page A

eyes are full of questions. He swallows, licks his lips.
    “What about my mother? Will I see her?”
    Brampton ruffles the boy’s hair.
    “She will write when she can but it is doubtful you will see her. Be grateful that you live.”
    The boy is silent for a long time. He tears the soft white bread to pieces, crumbles it onto his plate before asking quietly, “What happened to Edward? Is he really dead? Or is that just another trick?”
    Brampton’s sigh is deep and long. “I wish I could say it were, boy. There was a rebellion. London, the whole of England was in chaos. Your cousin, the traitor Buckingham, tried to take King Richard’s place and have you and your brother killed, but Richard got wind of it and ordered me to get you both to safety. I failed with Edward, but you’re here. That is the main thing.”
    The boy cuffs his nose. A tear trickles from one eye; he keeps his head low, sniffs, and hopes that Brampton won’t think him a girl. Brampton stands up and tosses the boy a kerchief. It is stained with grime from the road.
    “You’ve done well, boy. We’ve come all this way and you’ve not shed a tear till now. I am proud of you.”
    His hand falls heavy on the boy’s shoulder and while he dries his eyes Brampton moves to the door, his ears alert for the sound of approaching horses.
     

Chapter Six
Elizabeth
     

December 1485
     
    “You still believe he will marry you, don’t you?”
    Cecily’s voice intrudes into my thoughts and I turn from the window to where she is sewing. She has paused, her needle half in, half out of her work while she looks at me with ill-concealed impatience. “Even though he has had himself crowned and all the nobles in the land have bowed their knee to him, you still think he needs you.”
    “He does need me.”
    I do not bother to point out that most nobles did not bow to him at all but were executed or fled overseas to safer harbours. In dating his reign from the day before the fight at Bosworth Field, Henry was able to accuse them all of treason. I try not to think of the noble souls who were punished for supporting their anointed king. There are many things I try not to think of these days.
    I pick up an apple from the table but a wasp has been at work on it, the neatly burrowed hole discoloured and brown at the edges. I put it down again and join the women who are working at the hearth. As I take my place among them, a little girl leaps up to fetch me a footstool, and I smile in thanks.
    Cecily continues her taunting. “Why does he need you now he is crowned? He can beget an heir on anyone. I’ve heard he was fond of … what is her name? Herbert. Maud, perhaps? Or Katherine? Anyway, whichever one it was, the gossips are saying that when they were young he promised to marry her, too.”
    She examines me for signs of resentment but I keep my face calm, smooth out the irritation caused by her persistent questions.
    The other women show no sign of even hearing our conversation let alone joining in. They are well-schooled but I doubt their loyalty. More than half of them are probably spies on Henry’s or his mother’s behalf. I smile serenely over their bowed heads.
    “The king may well favour Katherine, but he will marry me.”
    “How do you know?” It is a good question. Half a dozen faces turn toward me, trying not to appear eager for my answer. I stand up again.
    “Because he promised,” I reply lamely as I walk away.
    A small boy throws open the door to my inner chamber as I approach and I hear Cecily’s footsteps hurrying after.
    I am not as confident of Henry as I seem and was taken aback when the arrangements for his coronation began without a word to me. He has punished all those who failed him and honoured all who supported him. His stepfather Stanley is now an earl; his beloved Uncle Jasper now Duke of Bedford and promised the hand of my aunt, Katherine Woodville. Henry has done all he promised; all but appease the remaining Yorkist faction by