There was a flurry of movement in the room beyond as Mary opened the door.

A girl of about six years old stood in the middle of the room clad only in her night gown.There was no fire in the grate and the room was cold.
There were no servants attending the children and I wondered where they could be.

As we entered the room, the girl looked up and saw Mary.
Immediately her face lit up and she ran forward to her half sister's embrace.
"Mary," she cried "He was here again. He told me you had gone away and not told anyone.
He's a liar isn't he ? Mary, dear kind Mary."

Mary bent down and wrapped her arms around the small body flung rapturously into her clasp. Effortlessly she picked her up and shifted her to a hip, going towards the ornate babies' cot that stood to one side of the fireplace.

I followed, the small girl transferring to my embrace as Mary lifted the little boy from the bed.
He smelled to high heaven and Mary pulled a face of disgust as she wrapped him in a shawl and settled him in her arms.

"There now" she crooned as he reached a small hand towards her face,
" Who is Mary's lovely boy then? Is it Edward the Prince of Wales? Of course it is. Beautiful Edward. Sweet Edward."

She glanced across at me and smiled. The little girl was inspecting my earrings and necklace and taking long, deep sniffs of my perfume . As she slid down from my arms she said,
"You smell lovely and I like garnets, although rubies are far more precious."

I was stunned to realize that this child could tell the difference between garnets and rubies. She looked up at me with wide hazel eyes, smiling at me through strands of deep auburn hair.
So this was Elizabeth. Anne Boleyn's daughter. A child of six who knew the difference between precious and semi precious stones. She was thin, but wiry and full of strength in mind and purpose.

In Mary's arms lay the hope of England, the three year old heir to the throne my husband sat upon.
He was Edward, Prince of Wales, born to Jane Seymour, Henry's third wife, who died nine days after giving birth.
Edward began to grizzle again so Mary unwrapped him and began to change his soiled under wraps.

With a swift curtsey, Mariposa took charge, whisking the dirty cloth off the child and washing him with clean water scented with rosemary. Quickly she dressed him in a warm gown and fur lined shoes, singing him a little baby song while she worked.

As I wondered again where the nurses and other attendants had got to, a small plump woman came through the inner door and stopped in surprise to see us all there.

She sank into a curtsey to Mary, but looked at me suspiciously. She glanced around to find Edward and went to his side. Mariposa had finished changing him and even coaxed a smile from the little prince whose eyes seemed too big for his small, thin face.
Mary smiled at the new comer and spoke reassuringly.

"Your Grace, this is Mrs Jenkins, Wet nurse to the Prince of Wales. Mrs. Jenkins this is your new queen. What do you say to her?
The little, plump woman dropped a dainty curtsey and dimpled a pretty smile to me.
"Your Grace," she said in a voice tinged with a Welsh accent, " An honour to meet you Ma'am. I'm sorry I wasn't here when you came in. I was called to the next room and delayed for a few minutes."

She took Edward into her arms and settled herself in a chair close to the unlit grate. He was nuzzling at her corsage as she let him into her milk. I was amazed. A wet nurse at his age. He was at least three years old. Someone had let him be indulged for far longer than was good or practical,

"But," I thought to myself "The child has been motherless from nine days after his birth. This has probably been the closest thing to a mother's love he has ever known."

After the child had finished drinking, he clambered down from Mrs. Jenkins's lap and went to his toy box. He hoisted out an extremely ugly monkey toy and wrapped its long arms around his neck.

Elizabeth frowned and went to take it away from him.
"Don't play with that Edward," she said gently, "Find Jester or perhaps this one," She offered him a fluffy bear which he reached out for leaving the monkey on the floor.
With a vicious kick Elizabeth sent it flailing into a corner and then looked up at me with
those wide, hazel eyes

" I don't knw why he likes that thing at all. It is the ugliest looking toy I've ever seen. Just like the one who gave it to him.

He comes here every day and tell me lies about Mary, or my Father or someone else and all I can do is put my fingers in my ears to shut his voice out. This morning I shouted at him to go away, but he only left when he heard someone at the door."

"And who might this be?" I asked although I suddenly knew of whom she spoke.
The hazel eyes flashed with anger as she answered ," The witch's cat, Grimalkin."

To be continued