|The stuff of novels|
|Doesn't really do her justice somehow.|
The folks of London didn't care for her much, at least in her first years. She brought with her a large contingent of cousins, and nobody likes to see the royal court jammed up with a bunch of damned foreigners when locals could do all those jobs. Once her barge was pelted with stones, mud, and garbage while she was out on the Thames. She began to return the hatred of the Londoners, even to the extent of claiming the Queen's Gold, a tenth of all revenue from fines in the city. This had lapsed prior to her arrival, but in her spite, she revived it.
|A mother's grief is a holy thing|
|Some look good in wimples|
Eleanora was a fashionista without rival in England. This probably didn't make her any too popular with the common folk either, but her new design of wimples was a godsend for weavers. Suddenly every woman at court needed extra bolts of fine fabric to wrap in giant sculptures on top of their heads. And Eleanora totally rocked the dagger tucked casually in her golden girdle -- Henry's girl to the end, you know.
Prince Edward was thirty-three years old when King Henry died. Eleanora, having been married thirty-seven years, settled into life as Queen Dowager. She raised several of her grandchildren, which might have been hard on some mothers, but Edward's wife (also Eleanor) was ever by her husband's side. Thus, the Queen Dowager was a very convenient and helpful woman. Canon-worthy, yet? Hmmm... but helpful, to be sure. [By the way, Edward I is one of the few English monarchs who did not have any illegitimate children. Apparently he and his Eleanor were the happiest couple to ever rule Britannia.]
|Edward I -- good husband, good son, but also Longshanks|
The next year she would lose her daughters Margaret (age 35) and Beatrice (age 33). Edmund and Edward both outlived her, which is a blessing. But a mother's grief is a holy thing, and the comfort that her daughters had lived well and borne children of their own could only partially assuage the pain of laying them in their graves. Faith beats grief, and those who knew her best attested to Eleanora's faith. If they say the wimpled queen with too many cousins at the palace was a beata, it is not for me to challenge.