Joanna Hickson - First of the Tudors

Christmas that year was held at the Palace of Placentia at Greenwich, whither the court moved en masse two days beforehand, travelling downriver on a convenient morning turn of the high tide. Still officially serving as the king’s Squires of the Body, Edmund and I accompanied King Henry and Queen Marguerite on the royal barge from Westminster, enjoying the thrill of the slide under one of the narrow arches of London Bridge as the water churned through to escape into the wider reaches of the Thames beyond.

King Henry had inherited the palace and park at Greenwich from his uncle, Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester five years previously and it was a particular favourite of his, due to the celebrated library his cultured uncle had amassed there. It was Queen Marguerite who had renamed it Placentia for its green and rural setting – though it lay only a few miles downstream. The contrast with Westminster’s tightly packed streets and buildings was magical; an oasis, and like the outgoing tidal waters of the Thames, the queen yearned to escape from the confines of urban life upriver. Besides, hunting was one of the few pastimes Henry and Marguerite had in common and there were great chases to be had in the vast enclosure of Greenwich Park. As the oarsmen made swift work of the long meander around the north bank mudflats, I sniffed the salty tang in the air and prayed that the crisp, calm weather would persist and give us some magnificent Christmas sport.

It was King Henry’s decree that on the Eve of Christ’s birth his court should be unsullied by too much eating, drinking and merrymaking, such as had been common during previous reigns and still persisted in many noble houses. So after a long celebration Mass during the morning, there was a decent meal of three courses accompanied by a limited quantity of wine and small ale, consumed while choristers sang beautiful but plangent psalms, and prayers and Gospel readings were heard. Afterwards a troupe of mummers performed a Nativity play dressed in gorgeous traditional costumes kept in the royal Wardrobe for use on this one night of the year. It took place in candlelight as darkness fell outside and was an unexpectedly moving experience. When the shepherds fell to their knees in awe at the choir of angels, enthralled by their soaring voices and twinkling jewelled wings I felt a surge of nostalgia, recalling nights spent under the stars with Jane Hywel and her brothers while embers from the camp fire rose into the dark sky and my father played his harp and sang stories of ancient Welsh legend.

It was at the conclusion of this play, as the applause died down and a hum of conversation started, that King Henry chose to have his big announcement made to the court. He did not do it himself but, appropriately enough, through the services of his Richmond Herald, who began by sounding his trumpet for silence.

‘My lords, ladies and gentlemen of the king’s court and household, hear your gracious sovereign’s will. In so far as his grace’s uterine brothers, Edmund and Jasper, have gained their majority, it is his royal highness’s desire to recognize their legitimate descent from his beloved and much lamented mother, the right royal Queen Catherine, consort to his glorious and right royal father King Henry the Fifth of England. Therefore the honour of knighthood shall be bestowed on them and in addition the king’s beloved brother Edmund shall be created Earl of Richmond, a royal honour and title held in abeyance since the death of his grace’s uncle John, Duke of Bedford, and the king’s beloved brother Jasper shall be created Earl of Pembroke, a royal honour and title held in abeyance since the death of his grace’s uncle Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester. As blood brothers of the king, they shall be granted precedence over all other nobles of the court save the royal dukes. This is the king’s solemn intent and shall be accomplished with full ceremonial at the Tower of London on the Feast of the Epiphany. Hear ye the will of your sovereign lord Henry the Sixth, King of England, France and Ireland!’

The trumpet sounded again and there followed a pause while people digested the content of the herald’s announcement, and then suddenly our fellow squires surrounded us, clapping us on the back and uttering cries of surprise and congratulation. This tumult was brought to a halt by two royal pages calling for precedence and pushing our friends aside to clear the way for Queen Marguerite, who appeared before us, beautiful in her glittering Christmas array, and favoured us with a smile that almost outshone her jewels.

‘May I add my felicitations to those of your companions? Our court will be much enhanced by the ennoblement of two such worthy gentlemen and his grace the king will greatly appreciate your good counsel and company. But, mes presque-seigneurs , I wish to be first to retain your services as my partners for the first two dances at tomorrow night’s Christmas Ball. I trust there are no ladies of the court to whom you have already pledged yourselves.’

Brilliant though her smile was, it offered no indication that she would give way to any prior pledge we might have made. Queen Marguerite did not bestow the honour of a dance lightly and certainly did not expect it to be refused. Edmund made a swift bow and left her in no doubt. ‘I would be honoured and enchanted to be my queen’s partner,’ he said gallantly. ‘In fact I would walk barefoot over broken glass to take your hand, Madame.’

The queen’s brows rose in surprise. ‘But then you would be in no fit state to dance, sir,’ she said. ‘And the first tune is always a lively one.’

I made my own bow of acquiescence. ‘Then I hope the second may be long and slow, your grace,’ I murmured.

She gave me a quizzical glance. ‘Do you indeed, Master Jasper? Then you had better have a word with the musicians. I look forward to tomorrow, Messires . Again, my congratulations.’

Her damasked cloth-of-gold train swept the floor as she turned away.

IGNORING THE SUMPTUARY LAWS – again – Edmund chose to wear a purple doublet for the Christmas Ball although he called it violet.

‘We are royalty,’ he retorted when I questioned this. ‘The king confirmed it last night. We are “in the purple”.’

‘We have not yet been knighted or belted,’ I persisted. ‘You will be considered presumptuous.’

‘Bah! I do not care what people think. The colour suits me and I will wear it. I guarantee the queen will compliment me on my choice.’

To ensure that his appearance attracted even more attention he wore the same yellow hosen that had frightened the sheep in Wales. The belt slung around his hips was set with amethysts and the doublet was trimmed with something that looked suspiciously like sable, which was in the same sartorial category as purple, but Edmund claimed it was marten.

My own appearance was probably unremarkable beside my brother’s but I was pleased with the belt I had found, studded with stones of polished green agate to match my emerald green doublet with cream-panelled sleeves and with my parti-coloured hose of dark red and blue. The barber had trimmed my hair and shaved my cheeks smooth and I had bathed in lavender-scented water for the occasion.

Mellow with food and wine from the feast, I stood aside to observe Edmund lead the queen onto the floor and tried to steady my nerves at the prospect of doing the same in my turn. Judging by her dimpled smiles, Queen Marguerite was delighted with the nimble-footed Edmund, and I feared my ability on the dance floor would not match his, despite much effort on the part of a French dancing master.