I- A Princess
He looked across the hall and went straight to the queen’s chambers, soliciting a weary, panting maid.
“What her grace had?”
"Whatsoever the queen’s grace hath here within, sure tis a fool that standeth there without."
“It’s a girl, your grace. A healthy girl!” the lady in waiting squeezed queen Elizabeth’s warm hand. The queen responded with a fleeting smile, clearly not recovered.
“How does my lady daughter?” a commanding voice echoed at the doors. The women hastened to drop to their knees to make way for the royal majesty of king Edward, who looked joyful; yet disappointment lingered, if ever so slightly.
“Your majesty,” murmured Lady Rivers, the queen’s mother, handing the newborn into her father’s strong arms.
Elizabeth of York looked into her father’s eyes. She was unexpected, not bringing the multitude of joy that had been expected of a prince of wales, but she was his daughter, nonetheless.
“May her highness shortly be joined by brothers,” said her royal father. “Elizabeth, we shall call her, after her serene mother.”
II- A Surprise
That’s all the tiny Henry Tudor would remember of his birth for a few days to come before the feeble memory faded away clumsily.
When the midwife handed the skinny child into his mother’s arms, the 13 year old child had cried. Out of joy. After all that suffering, here he was. Tiny and helpless.
But so powerful.
Named Henry after the triumphant kings of the house of Lancaster, he barely cried. Unfortunately, Margaret Beaufort reflected sadly, the child’s first brush with death had come so early.