The Queen is Dead!: Katherine of Aragon dies in 1518
- Thread starter FalconHonour
- Start date
How is More a traitor? He's only doing the best he can to both appease his King and remind him that he still has to treat the French with some semblance of dignity.
Henry's doing a fine job of that on his own. I don't think he needs my help...
The way you wrote the war, it seemed like Henry wouldn't have to give any of Normandy back.
Do you really think he's going to stand by that promise? It's a long way from betrothed to the altar, after all... But my reasoning is that he may well find that Normandy is more of a drain than an asset in the long term, so I am giving him an easy way to get rid of it should he choose to... and if the story goes that way...
Normandy is a big, disjointed territory. Links to England or not, Henry and his people will have a hard time pacifying it and/or making it English.
Though I'd would to read a timeline where Henry VIII and his descendants managed to keep Normandy in Britain - hopefully this will be it.
Though I'd would to read a timeline where Henry VIII and his descendants managed to keep Normandy in Britain - hopefully this will be it.
It does make sense for France to be able to negotiate at least a 'partial' return of Norman territory to France at the end of this war, while England has come in 'like a wrecking ball', it doesn't necessarily translate into total control of 100% of the duchy, though I think half is a bit much.
I could see France making that initial demand and getting negotiated down to something a bit more realistic, like 30% on the high end, or something like that. England's hold on Normandy will be solid along the costal cities, and it would get weaker as you go further inland depending on how far they can project military strength and what (if any) fortresses they can build and maintain inland.
Normandy could prove to be a huge drain on England, or a boon, it depends on how well Tudor England is ruled.
I'm fairly certain that Alencon and Evrexu will go back to France, everything else I think is flexible due to the distances and personalities of the negotiators involved.
I could see France making that initial demand and getting negotiated down to something a bit more realistic, like 30% on the high end, or something like that. England's hold on Normandy will be solid along the costal cities, and it would get weaker as you go further inland depending on how far they can project military strength and what (if any) fortresses they can build and maintain inland.
Normandy could prove to be a huge drain on England, or a boon, it depends on how well Tudor England is ruled.
I'm fairly certain that Alencon and Evrexu will go back to France, everything else I think is flexible due to the distances and personalities of the negotiators involved.
Do you know, I have no idea what to do with Normandy now? This part was never in my original story, it's just taking on a life of its own... 
Trade it for Brittany.Do you know, I have no idea what to do with Normandy now? This part was never in my original story, it's just taking on a life of its own...
Do you know, I have no idea what to do with Normandy now? This part was never in my original story, it's just taking on a life of its own...
Have it go wrong. Kill some people close to Henry. Have Mary make a messy marriage because her husband dislikes her father. If you want to have some real fun have a regency when Henry is ambushed in France and killed.
Best idea yet! Have the King's sister in law, Anne, travel with Princess Mary to France. After all, she knows the court well. She can be Mary's closest friend and confidant.
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Do you know, I have no idea what to do with Normandy now? This part was never in my original story, it's just taking on a life of its own...
Give it to a competent English Lord to rule over for Henry and 'English-ise' it? Develop it, fortify it, and break its connections to France? Is there space for more ports? Make the exports goto England instead of France? Use English over French everywhere- signage to documents? Child swaps with English Lords? Marriages into English families? Ignore the deal with the French King - keep Normandy English forever!
Agreed. Let's not eff the King over because it's Henry we're effing over. There are lots of other TLs that do that just fine. Let's give Henry a bit of a break here, and let things go right for him...
Well, not too right. This is Tudor England we're talking about here. I'll have to balance things out. Although, without spoiling too much, he has about a 70% success rate when it comes to children... So that's one thing that won't be perfect forever...
Section LIII- February 1521
Flowers were everywhere. The Tudor Rose was emblazoned on the herald’s shields, on the white and golden banners of victory snapping above people’s heads, and the daffodils of Wales were in people’s hands as they thrust the earliest blooms found in the hedgerows into their King’s hands as they showered him with them.
There was no hint of the gloom that had palled London for over two years. Not today. Today was a day of delight, of triumph...and of love.
Of a people’s love for their King, of a King’s love for his country and, as Henry finally rode into sight of the steps of Richmond Palace and saw Marie standing there, holding little Mary by the hand, of a husband and father's love for his wife and daughter.
His heart swelled at the sight of his Marie, his lips parted into the widest smile it was humanely possible to give and seconds later, he was drawing rein and leaping down to kneel in supplication at her feet, Francis’s sword held high above his head.
“My Lady Queen, as Ramses laid his sword of victory before Nefertari, as Julius Caesar laid his before Cleopatra, as Arthur laid his before Guinevere, so I lay mine before you today. Please accept it, if not from your husband, then from a conquering hero who wishes to dedicate his success in battle to the peerless lady of his heart.”
His voice carried, holding every single person in the courtyard captive, spellbound by the spectacle unfolding before them. Marie paused, looking down at his golden head, bowed before her. Then, releasing Princess Mary, who stood obediently beside her, transfixed at the unfamiliar sight of her Papa kneeling to her Mama, Marie bent to take the sword from his grasp, holding it high in both hands. The movement was awkward, for at almost seven months pregnant, her belly had swollen to great proportions, but she knew she couldn’t let this stop her. Henry had spent Christmas in Rouen, holding state alone as the new Duke of Normandy. His return for Mary’s birthday was the first time they had been together since August. She had to prove herself his partner in public today as she never had before.
Her voice rang as she responded, “My Lord, I thank you for this display of your gracious affection for me. I count myself deeply honoured to have such courageous exploits undertaken in my name and thank God both for their success and for the fact that He has seen fit to let you return to me unharmed.”
She turned, handed the sword to her Uncle, the Earl Marshal, who stood only a pace away from the kneeling King and then extended her hand to Henry, helping him up. As she did so, she whispered a short sentence to him in Latin.
“My Lord’s Happiness is my happiness?” Henry queried softly.
“My new motto. And my device is a swan. A crowned swan with a Tudor Rose in its beak. Do you like it?”
“Like it?” Henry whispered, after a few moments, “I love it, sweetheart.”
To prove just how much, he caught her in his arms and kissed her full on the mouth, eliciting wild bursts of joy from the masses around them.
Then he swept little Mary into his arms, “Mary, my pearl. Have you been good while Papa was away?”
“Oh yes, Papa,” she said complacently, “But I’m not Mary anymore.”
“Oh no? And who are you then? Robin Hood’s Maid Marian?” he asked teasingly, knowing the people loved to see him with his pretty little girl in his arms.
“Don’t be silly, Papa!” she giggled, “I’m not Maid Marian. I’m Maria.”
“M...Maria?”
“Yes, Maria. Since Mama’s Marie and I’m named after Mama, I must be Maria, mustn’t I?”
Henry nearly lost his grip on her. His heart lurched painfully at her innocent words. At her unconscious claiming of the Spanish name her mother used to call her in a particularly tender moment.
His breathing sped up and it was only with a concerted effort that he managed to answer her worried “Papa?” with a reassuring smile and the words, “Of course you must. Forgive me, darling. Papa’s just a bit tired at the moment. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Of course you’re Maria.”
Wanting to regain control of the situation as quickly as possible, he shifted her on his hip so he had a free arm to wrap around Marie’s waist. Thus securing her in his embrace, he turned back to face the crowd, turning them with him as he raised his voice from the tender whisper he had just used with Mary – nay, Maria, he reminded himself sternly – to one that would carry across the courtyard.
“Good people, I thank you for the love and respect you pay me. I could not think of truer subjects I would wish to share my triumph with. As such, it gives me great pleasure to make a public pronouncement of what you must all already know. Her Grace Queen Mary is with child. God willing, England will be blessed with a Prince within a month or two!”
If anything could send the Londoners into even wilder spasms of delight, that was it. Every eye in the crowd flicked to Marie, and, when she smiled and rested her hand on her enormous belly in a silent confirmation of her husband’s words, joy tore itself from every throat in the vicinity in an exultant shout of, “God Bless Queen Mary!”
There was no hint of the gloom that had palled London for over two years. Not today. Today was a day of delight, of triumph...and of love.
Of a people’s love for their King, of a King’s love for his country and, as Henry finally rode into sight of the steps of Richmond Palace and saw Marie standing there, holding little Mary by the hand, of a husband and father's love for his wife and daughter.
His heart swelled at the sight of his Marie, his lips parted into the widest smile it was humanely possible to give and seconds later, he was drawing rein and leaping down to kneel in supplication at her feet, Francis’s sword held high above his head.
“My Lady Queen, as Ramses laid his sword of victory before Nefertari, as Julius Caesar laid his before Cleopatra, as Arthur laid his before Guinevere, so I lay mine before you today. Please accept it, if not from your husband, then from a conquering hero who wishes to dedicate his success in battle to the peerless lady of his heart.”
His voice carried, holding every single person in the courtyard captive, spellbound by the spectacle unfolding before them. Marie paused, looking down at his golden head, bowed before her. Then, releasing Princess Mary, who stood obediently beside her, transfixed at the unfamiliar sight of her Papa kneeling to her Mama, Marie bent to take the sword from his grasp, holding it high in both hands. The movement was awkward, for at almost seven months pregnant, her belly had swollen to great proportions, but she knew she couldn’t let this stop her. Henry had spent Christmas in Rouen, holding state alone as the new Duke of Normandy. His return for Mary’s birthday was the first time they had been together since August. She had to prove herself his partner in public today as she never had before.
Her voice rang as she responded, “My Lord, I thank you for this display of your gracious affection for me. I count myself deeply honoured to have such courageous exploits undertaken in my name and thank God both for their success and for the fact that He has seen fit to let you return to me unharmed.”
She turned, handed the sword to her Uncle, the Earl Marshal, who stood only a pace away from the kneeling King and then extended her hand to Henry, helping him up. As she did so, she whispered a short sentence to him in Latin.
“My Lord’s Happiness is my happiness?” Henry queried softly.
“My new motto. And my device is a swan. A crowned swan with a Tudor Rose in its beak. Do you like it?”
“Like it?” Henry whispered, after a few moments, “I love it, sweetheart.”
To prove just how much, he caught her in his arms and kissed her full on the mouth, eliciting wild bursts of joy from the masses around them.
Then he swept little Mary into his arms, “Mary, my pearl. Have you been good while Papa was away?”
“Oh yes, Papa,” she said complacently, “But I’m not Mary anymore.”
“Oh no? And who are you then? Robin Hood’s Maid Marian?” he asked teasingly, knowing the people loved to see him with his pretty little girl in his arms.
“Don’t be silly, Papa!” she giggled, “I’m not Maid Marian. I’m Maria.”
“M...Maria?”
“Yes, Maria. Since Mama’s Marie and I’m named after Mama, I must be Maria, mustn’t I?”
Henry nearly lost his grip on her. His heart lurched painfully at her innocent words. At her unconscious claiming of the Spanish name her mother used to call her in a particularly tender moment.
His breathing sped up and it was only with a concerted effort that he managed to answer her worried “Papa?” with a reassuring smile and the words, “Of course you must. Forgive me, darling. Papa’s just a bit tired at the moment. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Of course you’re Maria.”
Wanting to regain control of the situation as quickly as possible, he shifted her on his hip so he had a free arm to wrap around Marie’s waist. Thus securing her in his embrace, he turned back to face the crowd, turning them with him as he raised his voice from the tender whisper he had just used with Mary – nay, Maria, he reminded himself sternly – to one that would carry across the courtyard.
“Good people, I thank you for the love and respect you pay me. I could not think of truer subjects I would wish to share my triumph with. As such, it gives me great pleasure to make a public pronouncement of what you must all already know. Her Grace Queen Mary is with child. God willing, England will be blessed with a Prince within a month or two!”
If anything could send the Londoners into even wilder spasms of delight, that was it. Every eye in the crowd flicked to Marie, and, when she smiled and rested her hand on her enormous belly in a silent confirmation of her husband’s words, joy tore itself from every throat in the vicinity in an exultant shout of, “God Bless Queen Mary!”
I know. This has always been one of my favourite bits of the entire story.
It's all a bit TOO perfect, isn't it?
No, that's a dirty lie. Things are HORRIBLE. Couldn't possibly be worse. Henry probably threw out his back lifting his daughter and hugging his wife at the same time.
And then there are the undoubted slew of hangnails dogging him. Normandy has notoriously bad manicure and pedicure services. Its a fact. He'll be lucky if a finger or toe does not turn gangrenous.
And then there was the bit about him hobbling about on a gouty foot during that Victory Ceremony. For some reason I can't find the exact quote at the moment, but it was there. I swear I saw it, damnit.