Elizabeth laughed with him and showed no surprise or emotion when he mentioned his own offspring. She knew of them of course. They were the children of a certain Elizabeth Lucy: Grace and Catherine. He was very fond of them and visited them now and then, taking an interest in their welfare. The relationship with Elizabeth Lucy had been one of his more enduring. There was no doubt that he had other illegitimate children, but as he had a real affection for the mother of these two he felt more tenderness towards them.

Elizabeth had discussed the matter with Jacquetta and they had come to the conclusion that when she had children of her own she might bring the Lucy girls into the royal nurseries. It would be a gesture to enrapture the King and it would bind him even closer to his tolerant, quietly loving Elizabeth. But not yet, of course. It would be an error of judgement to bring another woman's children into the nurseries while she herself had none.

But now the great day was approaching. The whole nation was delighted. Edward was popular. Even his wife was not disliked, for anyone coming after Margaret of Anjou would seem a welcome change. Moreover Elizabeth was English and if she was not so highly born as a King's wife was expected to be, at least she had great beauty and as much—if not more—dignity than a Queen was expected to have.

Jacquetta was constantly beside her daughter and everyone

was certain that the child would be a boy.

The King was even speaking of 'When my son is bom . . / and the physicians had given their opinion that the child was male.

There was one Dr Domynyk who claimed to have prophetic powers. He could tell the sex of a child in its mother's womb, he said, and he assured the King that the Queen carried a Prince.

So there could be no doubt and all preparahons for a Prince proceeded.

Elizabeth's time came. Calm as ever she retired to her apartments. The King was in an agony of impatience.

Childbearing was no new experience to Elizabeth and her mood was one of exultation for the child she bore would be royal, perhaps a King.

She endured her pains with amazing fortitude and she was rewarded it seemed by an easy birth.

The excitement was intense when the cry of the child was heard. Dr Domynyk could not contain himself. He was determined to be the first to carry the good news to the King that he had a son and to remind him of his prophecy.

Impatiently he tapped on the door which was opened by one of the Queen's women.

'I beg you ... I pray you . . .' panted Dr Domynyk, 'tell me quickly, what has the Queen?'

The woman regarded him through half-closed eyes. 'Whatever the Queen has within it is surely a fool who stands without.'

Then she shut the door in the doctor's face.

He could not believe it. A girl! It was impossible! He had prophesied. . . .

The stars had lied to him; his signs and portents had misled him. And he was bitterly humiliated. He hurried away. He could not face the King.

Edward was disappointed when he heard that the child was a girl, but not for long. He went immediately to Elizabeth's bedside, and when he saw her so calmly beautiful in spite of her ordeal, with her beautiful hair in two luxuriant plaits over her shoulders, he knelt by the bed and kissed her hands.

'Don't fret, sweetheart,' he said. 'We'll have boys yet.'

While it was a disappointment for Elizabeth it was a triumph in a way because it showed the unabating strength of Edward's enslavement to his cool goddess for within a few hours he was

delighting in the child. 'I wouldn't change this girl for all the boys in Christendom/ he declared.

The words of a proud father! Edward had always been fond of children.

The Duchess of York surprised everyone by arriving at Westminster Palace. Proud Cis had kept aloof since the marriage to show her disapproval and her refusal to take second place to that upstart Woodville woman as she called her.

It was a year and nine months since the clandestine marriage and the Duchess felt that she had remained in the shadows long enough.

They could show their contririon by naming the child after her, and she herself would attend the christening of Baby Cecily.

Edward was pleased to see her; he embraced her warmly. She had been foolish, he thought, over the marriage but if she was going to behave reasonably now he was not one to remember that.

'A beautiful healthy child, dear lady,' he said. 'We are delighted with her.'

'A boy would have pleased the people,' commented Cecily.

'Dear Mother, I am glad you are at last concerned with pleasing the people.' He was smiling inwardly. He had always known Cecily to be concerned with pleasing herself.

Cecily ignored the comment. 'An heir. That is what you need. All kings need heirs. It has a settling effect.'

'Well, I have one. My little girl.'

'The people do not want to be ruled by women.'

Edward laughed again. 'But they often are,' he said, 'without knowing it.'

'I trust,' said Cecily, 'that that is not the case with our present King and Queen?'

'Nay, Mother, Elizabeth is no meddler. In fact more and more I rejoice in my marriage. If you would only give yourself the chance to know her. . . .'

T should like to see the child.'

'Well, come to the nursery.'

'I wish to see . . . just the child. You can have her brought to me.'

Edward lifted his shoulders. He wanted no confrontation between the two women in the lying-in chamber. Elizabeth would be calm, he knew, and he also guessed that his mother

would construe that as truculence or antagonism towards her. Elizabeth and Cecily were quite dissimilar. Cecily was explosive like a volcano always threatening to send out fire; Elizabeth was calm as peaceful meadows . . . where one could lie down and forget irritations, offering absolute peace.

So the Duchess went to the nurseries and there she seated herself on a throne-like chair and sent for the chief nurse. She signed for the woman to kneel before her and told her that she desired to see the baby.

The woman rose, bowed and retired and came back with the child.

Even Cecily softened as she took the baby into her arms. A healthy child indeed, with a look of Edward, she thought. She commented on this. This is a Plantagenet,' she said. 'No hint of Woodville here, praise be to God.'

'If she is only half as good-looking as her mother she'll be a beauty,' said Edward.

Cecily was silent. Foolish lover's talk! she thought. Is he not over that yet? Now the woman has produced a child it will be more difficult to get rid of her. Shll, one never knew, and Edward had always been fickle in his relahonships with women.

She said: 'I should be pleased if the child was named after me.'

Edward bowed his head. He had said to Elizabeth only that day that he thought the child should be called after her mother and Elizabeth had smiled and said she had thought the same.

He said nothing now. He always avoided trouble. There was no point in creating scenes which might not be necessary.

The Duchess said that she would consent to be godmother to her granddaughter and Edward replied that that would give him and Elizabeth great pleasure.

Later, he sat by Elizabeth's bed. The baby was sleeping in her ornate cradle.

'So your mother came,' said Elizabeth. 'Did she not want to see me?'

'Oh, she thought you might be a little exhausted.'

Elizabeth smiled faintly. Never question unless of course there was something to be gained from it. Edward was uneasy about his mother and as Jacquetta had said her task was to set him at ease . . . always.

'She suggested that she would be pleased if the baby were called Cecily.'

This was one of those occasions when a little firmness was necessary.