Six of One Read Online Free PDF

and one son with a lucky star were all that our dynasty required in the way of insurance?”
    I began to take a professional interest in the conversation these two women were having over my supposedly sleeping self. I could only guess that they were meant to be Margaret Beaufort and Elizabeth of York, Henry VIII’s paternal grandmother and his mother, respectively. The relationship between Margaret Beaufort and her son, Henry VII, had been remarkable: She gave birth to him when she was a child-widow of thirteen and nearly died doing so. The boy was a political football if ever there was one; his mother punted him away from his enemies for safekeeping from the time he was two years old. Between then and his return from exile and triumphant accession to the throne twenty-five years later, Margaret Beaufort seldom saw her child. In spite of this, or maybe because of it, she was known for her obsessive devotion to him, and never for a moment ceased machinating to secure the crown of England for her only son.
    “You wouldn’t heed my advice, Elizabeth,” Margaret continued. “You insisted on conceiving one more time, in spite of your age and in spite of all the risk that it entailed. Your sacrifice—on young Henry’s behalf—cost you your life.”
    “Had I but known,” answered Elizabeth, “and not conceived that last and fatal child, I might have lived to see my son Henry crowned king as the eighth of that name. I would have been blessed to succeed you as My Lady the King’s Mother.” I had a feeling Elizabeth really regretted that particular missed opportunity.
    “It would have been a blessing for you to have seen young Henry crowned. It would have been a curse, though, to see all that followed afterward from the vantage point of the mortal world instead of the next one. So do not castigate yourself; better to have seen the progression of your six daughters-in-law through a glass darkly, from the beyond, than to have had an unobscured view of the bloodbath from down there on earth. You didn’t deserve that, my dear; you were ever humble and reverent, a dutiful wife to my son, King Henry VII.”
    Castigate? These two were more than a match for me in the vocabulary department and might just be contenders in the history department as well, if the content of the discussion to that point was any indication. There was more dialogue in store, though, and the daughter-in-law, Elizabeth, picked up the conversational ball.
    “I was not dutiful only to my husband; I did the right thing by you as well, mother-in-law.” The younger woman had dropped her eyelids so that her mother-in-law couldn’t see that she was rolling her eyes just a little. “Do you forget so soon that I always gave you your place? It was only right for me to do so; you were the king’s mother, after all.”
    The old woman started to get teary-eyed, and the moue that accompanied her companion’s rolling eyeballs dissolved into a pitying smile. “I do not forget, Elizabeth. You know I am always remembering! Being My Lady the King’s Mother, the creator of Henry VII, was my life’s work!”
    “And a job well-done it was, too.”
    “My job was never done! Once my son was on the throne and you were busy childbearing, there was the education of the little princes and princesses to be seen to. I was pleased to step into the breach and supervise their educations.”
    “Especially young Henry’s,” replied Elizabeth. “He was always your favorite amongst my children.”
    “You know I preferred little boys to little girls. I always did, I suppose because my own child was a boy. Your oldest boy, Arthur, was a nice-enough child—but that silly name you went and gave him! Henry —now that was a name I could conjure with. I chose Henry’s tutor the most carefully of all. John Skelton was perfect for the job. Do you not agree, Elizabeth?”
    “In terms of erudition, education, literary merit, yes, I agree. Skelton was such a prankster, though. I often