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Authors: Bertrice Small
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shouting, “Make way for my lord, the Earl of Leighton! Make way!”
Carts were drawn to the road’s edge, and grumbling people stepped aside until a narrow path was formed, allowing their party through. The queen’s steward met them at the door to the house. Grooms hurried forward to take their horses as they dismounted. Robert Bowen took his daughter by the hand and beckoned Orva to follow them as the steward led them into the house and to the hall.
Cicely’s little heart hammered with a mixture of both fear and excitement. She had chosen her new burnt orange velvet gown to wear this day. It had a turned-up collar and long, trailing sleeves. She wore the gold chain with the little jeweled crucifix about her neck, and rings on several of her fingers. Her gold coronet was worn about her head, and beneath it was a delicate lawn veil barely hiding the rich russet of her hair. She knew she looked most elegant, because Orva had told her so. Still, she worried that she would not please the queen. She cast a quick glance about the hall.
Queen Joan stood waiting for the child to be put into her care. Seeing Cicely, she smiled. The little girl was absolutely adorable. Leaning to the right, she murmured to the child by her side, “Now, Joan, here is the companion I promised you.”
The earl reached the queen’s chair. He bowed low with an elegant flourish that his wife had taught him when she’d learned he was
speaking with the queen. He looked then to his daughter, and Cicely curtsied prettily.
“So here you are at last, my lord. And this will be your daughter, Lady Cicely Bowen, will it not?” Queen Joan said.
“It is, madam, and again let me express my gratitude for your generosity and kindness in fostering my child,” Robert Bowen replied.
Queen Joan nodded graciously, then asked, “This is Lady Cicely’s servant, my lord? Come forward.” She gestured to Orva.
Startled to be noticed, Orva stepped forward, and then curtsied politely.
“Your name?”
“Orva, madam,” was the reply.
“You are welcome to Havering-atte-Bower, Orva,” the queen said. Then she looked to Cicely. “Come here, child, and let me see you better.”
Cicely stepped forward.
“Your father tells me you speak English and French,” the queen said.
“Aye, my lady, I do,” Cicely responded.
“And you do sums?”
“Aye, my lady.”
“You are a good Christian maid? You make your confession regularly?” the queen continued.
“Oh, yes, my lady!” Cicely said earnestly.
The queen smiled a small smile. “Do you think you will be happy with us?”
“I do not know, my lady,” Cicely said honestly. “I have never before been away from home. But I am told in a few weeks this will be home, and I shall be content.”
Again Queen Joan smiled. “Aye, I think you will be. Then you are content to come into my care.”
“Oh, my lady, this is a great honor you do me, do my family,”
Cicely answered her. “My father is not an important man. I am very grateful for your kindness to me.”
The child had, of course, been told that the queen understood, but she seemed intelligent. She knew the advantage being given to her. Queen Joan drew the other girl by her side forward. “This is your new companion, Lady Joan Beaufort,” she said. “Joan, this is Lady Cicely Bowen. You will share a chamber, and lessons, and learn how to be great ladies in my care. My lord of Leighton, bid your daughter farewell now.”
The earl knelt and drew Cicely into his embrace. He kissed her rosy cheeks, and his eyes grew misty as she put her arms about his neck.
Then she whispered, “I will do my best to bring honor to Leighton, my lord father. I swear it on my mother’s name.”
Robert Bowen’s heart contracted. “I know you will,” he responded. Then, kissing her smooth forehead, he arose, saying, “Farewell, my daughter. We will meet again, I promise you.” Bowing to the queen, he then turned and left her hall.
Cicely stared after her
Carts were drawn to the road’s edge, and grumbling people stepped aside until a narrow path was formed, allowing their party through. The queen’s steward met them at the door to the house. Grooms hurried forward to take their horses as they dismounted. Robert Bowen took his daughter by the hand and beckoned Orva to follow them as the steward led them into the house and to the hall.
Cicely’s little heart hammered with a mixture of both fear and excitement. She had chosen her new burnt orange velvet gown to wear this day. It had a turned-up collar and long, trailing sleeves. She wore the gold chain with the little jeweled crucifix about her neck, and rings on several of her fingers. Her gold coronet was worn about her head, and beneath it was a delicate lawn veil barely hiding the rich russet of her hair. She knew she looked most elegant, because Orva had told her so. Still, she worried that she would not please the queen. She cast a quick glance about the hall.
Queen Joan stood waiting for the child to be put into her care. Seeing Cicely, she smiled. The little girl was absolutely adorable. Leaning to the right, she murmured to the child by her side, “Now, Joan, here is the companion I promised you.”
The earl reached the queen’s chair. He bowed low with an elegant flourish that his wife had taught him when she’d learned he was
speaking with the queen. He looked then to his daughter, and Cicely curtsied prettily.
“So here you are at last, my lord. And this will be your daughter, Lady Cicely Bowen, will it not?” Queen Joan said.
“It is, madam, and again let me express my gratitude for your generosity and kindness in fostering my child,” Robert Bowen replied.
Queen Joan nodded graciously, then asked, “This is Lady Cicely’s servant, my lord? Come forward.” She gestured to Orva.
Startled to be noticed, Orva stepped forward, and then curtsied politely.
“Your name?”
“Orva, madam,” was the reply.
“You are welcome to Havering-atte-Bower, Orva,” the queen said. Then she looked to Cicely. “Come here, child, and let me see you better.”
Cicely stepped forward.
“Your father tells me you speak English and French,” the queen said.
“Aye, my lady, I do,” Cicely responded.
“And you do sums?”
“Aye, my lady.”
“You are a good Christian maid? You make your confession regularly?” the queen continued.
“Oh, yes, my lady!” Cicely said earnestly.
The queen smiled a small smile. “Do you think you will be happy with us?”
“I do not know, my lady,” Cicely said honestly. “I have never before been away from home. But I am told in a few weeks this will be home, and I shall be content.”
Again Queen Joan smiled. “Aye, I think you will be. Then you are content to come into my care.”
“Oh, my lady, this is a great honor you do me, do my family,”
Cicely answered her. “My father is not an important man. I am very grateful for your kindness to me.”
The child had, of course, been told that the queen understood, but she seemed intelligent. She knew the advantage being given to her. Queen Joan drew the other girl by her side forward. “This is your new companion, Lady Joan Beaufort,” she said. “Joan, this is Lady Cicely Bowen. You will share a chamber, and lessons, and learn how to be great ladies in my care. My lord of Leighton, bid your daughter farewell now.”
The earl knelt and drew Cicely into his embrace. He kissed her rosy cheeks, and his eyes grew misty as she put her arms about his neck.
Then she whispered, “I will do my best to bring honor to Leighton, my lord father. I swear it on my mother’s name.”
Robert Bowen’s heart contracted. “I know you will,” he responded. Then, kissing her smooth forehead, he arose, saying, “Farewell, my daughter. We will meet again, I promise you.” Bowing to the queen, he then turned and left her hall.
Cicely stared after her
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