To Hold the Crown: The Story of King Henry VII and Elizabeth of York

So now he knew the extent of the conspiracy. He had been wise to intercept the messengers.

He thought constantly of Sir Robert Clifford. He knew the man well, remembering him from the days in France. He was not a man whom he considered would be distinguished for his bravery, and it occurred to the King that Robert Clifford might be very useful to him. The men whose names had been revealed were not of any great importance perhaps. They were not the leaders of the conspiracy and Henry’s natural suspicions led him to believe that there might be men close to him who were working against him. They were the ones he must try to catch.

He made a decision. Could he use Robert Clifford to work for him as an informer, a counter spy? It seemed possible. He immediately sent one of his spies to Flanders in the guise of a merchant with the instructions that he was to seek out Robert Clifford, sound him, offer him a pardon, offer him money, if he would work for Henry instead of for this Pretender whose claims he must know were as spurious as those of the scullion Lambert Simnel.

Henry eagerly waited for the response. It came quickly. Robert Clifford was ready to work for Henry Tudor.

Henry was pleased. Robert Clifford should be given a free pardon—he had the King’s word for that. When it should be ripe for him to return to England he should have a grant of five hundred pounds; and there should also be a free pardon for his servant Richard Waltier who would also be expected to serve the King in this matter of revealing those who worked against him.

This was a wise move. Henry now began to realize how deeply the dissatisfaction had gone in England. He was amazed at those who were ready to listen to this preposterous claim of young Perkin and moreover dally with the possibility of betraying their crowned King.

Henry Duke of York

n the nurseries at Eltham Palace the royal children played their games and grappled with their lessons unaware of the fact that their lives could drastically change within a few days if their father’s enemies were successful.

In spite of the fact that he was the youngest and only three years old, Henry was already making his presence felt. Arthur, five years his senior, was a quiet and studious boy, rarely asserting himself and leaving his sister Margaret and young Henry to fight together for supremacy. Five-year-old Margaret was showing signs of a forceful personality, which was matched by that of three-year-old Henry who would send his bronze horse on its squeaky wheels shooting across the nursery in pursuit of any who offended him. He loved that horse for on it sat a knight with a lance and a shield and Henry had always seen himself as that knight, fearless, ready to attack his enemies, and at the same time it offered a certain comfort in the dark. Margaret had complained many times to Anne Oxenbrigge, whose task was to watch over Henry, that her brother had grazed her legs with his silly old horse.

Anne would scold Henry in a mild way, which was no real scolding. Henry knew he only had to bury his face in her skirts and look woeful and she would pick him up and cuddle him. He liked cuddling Anne; she was warm and soft with enormous bosoms from which he had sucked his milk when a baby. She had been chosen because she was young and healthy, large of hip and bosom with a red and white complexion which showed good health. Henry knew of course that she was only a nurse and that his mother was a queen, but a lady so noble that she could not be concerned with children in nurseries. But children in nurseries grew up and when they did they became important as his mother and father were.

He must wait for that day. In the meantime he had to rule the nursery. It would not have been difficult but for his rival Margaret who could scream as loud as he could, kick and cajole as effectively. He did not have to worry about Arthur. Although he was big and old he never listened to their quarrels, and never took part in any; he was always meek and anxious to do his lessons.

Anne said: “Your brother Arthur is a good boy. Now why don’t you try to be more like the Prince of Wales?”

“I should be Prince of Wales,” said Henry.

“Now, now, that’s silly. Arthur is older than you. It is his right.”

“It’s my right really. . . .”

“The pride of him!” said Anne, kissing him. “Now you try to be a good boy and don’t send that horse of yours crashing into Margaret. You hurt her badly.”

“I’m glad.”

“Now that is really wicked.”

“I am wicked. I want to be wicked. I am going to hurt Margaret with my horse. My knight doesn’t like her. He doesn’t like Arthur. He thinks I ought to be Prince of Wales.”

“Tut, tut!” said Anne; he heard her say afterward to one of the maids: “Our young Henry has a fine conceit of himself. I fancy he is jealous of his brother. I’m always telling him he ought to be more like him. I thank the Virgin that he is not.”

Henry was all ears. The perfidy of women! Wasn’t Anne always telling him that he should be good and quiet like Arthur, studying his lessons—and now she was thanking the Virgin that he was not! This was interesting.

“Delicate,” whispered Anne. “Takes after his mother.”

“Don’t suppose he’ll make old bones.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me at all. It’s a good thing we have young Henry.”

“There’s a sturdy little fellow for you. They say he takes after his grandfather King Edward. I never saw him but I hear he was big and tall and more handsome than anyone ever before.”

“I reckon that’s about right and young Henry will be such another. It’s a pity he wasn’t born first. . . .What a king he would have made!”

“Well . . . who knows . . . ?”

“Hush! We shouldn’t talk like this. The Queen would think we were illwishing her eldest.”

“God forbid. He’s a dear boy.”