A Queen Twice Over: Mary Tudor the Elder Marries Francis I of France
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Section CXXV - May and June 1535
Chateau de Chambord, 12th May 1535
“Ma Chere Annabelle,
I am not going to start this letter the same way I’m sure everyone else has, by expressing, yet again, how sorry I am that Francis has died. You’ll have heard that a thousand times in the past few weeks, and I’m sure you’re sick of it.
What I am going to say, even though I know you’ll not believe me yet, is that it does get easier. I swear on the Virgin that it gets easier. It’s over eighteen months since I lost Francis, and there are times when I don’t think of him anymore. An hour or two here and there, even a whole day, sometimes, if I’m busy.
The children are a great help. Admittedly, as you know, I try to avoid Court when I can these days. At eighteen and twenty-four, François and Renee are more than old enough to rule without my looking over their shoulders, and indeed, I think their popularity swells when I am not with them, not around to remind people of what my precious son was forced to cede to the English. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be involved in Charley and Lisabelle’s lives. Raising my son and my daughter is a blessing, and gives me a purpose, now that I am no longer France’s Queen.
And of course, Margot has made me a grandmother again. Little Catarina arrived ten days ago, and I was informed by express messenger. I hear it is your sister Lady Rochford who is her namesake godmother too. Isn’t that a fine thought? Your sister, the Queen of Portugal’s confidante and godmother to an Infanta.
Take pride in that, Annabelle. Your family has come a long way since you were a little girl poking her tongue out in concentration over Margot’s napkins. You and your siblings play a central role in several Courts in Europe, and so will your children. Georges is already showing signs of being a fine Count, from what I hear, and his sisters will make fine matches, I promise you. How can they fail to, when you are their mother and first, finest example?
So, if you must, subsume your grief into caring for your children. Let them be your guides, your purpose, when you feel like floundering. There’s no better cure – and you’ll regret it if you don’t. Trust me.
And if it all gets too much, then come to Chambord. Leave Georges in the care of his Uncle Louis and bring the girls to Chambord. Lisabelle would be thrilled to have some other girls to play with, and you know I’ll let you walk the road of grief in whatever way you need to.
But if you don’t want to travel, if you would rather just write, then I understand that too. You’ve been a good friend to me ever since you were a child, and I wish to repay that friendship now. Just let me know how.
You remain in my prayers – all of you.
With every blessing,
Marie R.”
Brussels, 26th May 1535
“My dear husband,
Christina insisted that I wrote to you while you were in Spain, so that she could enclose a letter for Phillip. She claims that, at thirteen and eleven, they are quite old enough to begin a correspondence – that it is high time that they get to know each other.
Now, I don’t normally indulge the girls so, but since I had to put pen to paper for you anyway, now that we have had word of Infanta Catarina’s birth, I thought it would do no harm, just this once. Our future daughter aside, however, I want to be sure you’re certain that you don’t want to ask for a dispensation for a double match. Isabella to Afonso as planned and then little Catarina for Juan. I know you’re keen to get Bruges and Ostend back by way of Lady Cecily’s dowry, but you know the rumours that are swirling round Christendom, the ones the Savoyards brought back from London when they went to visit their future Princess. Are Bruges and Ostend really worth the risk of a daughter with tainted blood, especially given your own mother’s madness? Do we really want to risk mixing the bloodlines so?
The County of St Pol is vulnerable, now that it has a twelve-year-old boy at its helm. Why do we not push to take St Pol and reclaim some of your ancestral lands that way, and indeed, expand into France in the process?”
Charles sets down his wife’s letter and leans back, arching an eyebrow at what Marguerite is suggesting. Invading the County of St Pol, when its young lord hasn’t done anything to deserve it. Expanding into her beloved natal homeland. Well. He never thought he’d see the day. The rumours of young Lady Cecily’s possession must really have unnerved her, if she’s willing to go to such lengths to avoid her being Juan’s Duchess.
Interesting though her suggestion is, however, it won’t get her anywhere. St Pol is a rich county, yes, and it certainly contains parts of Flanders that Charles would like back at some point. But he doesn’t want them back as much as he yearns to regain Bruges and Ostend. Privately, Charles is willing to admit that he’d sup with the Devil himself if he thought he’d be able to regain his ancestral heartlands through doing so. And besides, there’s the English grasp of Boulogne to be thought of. As long as the English have Boulogne, they keep the French penned up where they belong and stop them raiding the Low Countries with daredevil impunity. As such, it behoves him to keep the English sweet.
Put the two together, and, quite frankly, betrothing Juan to the devil’s daughter would seem a fair trade, never mind a girl whose reason can be questioned. Whether Marguerite likes it or not, Lady Cecily will be Juan’s Duchess and damn the consequences.
She is, however, quite right where Phillip and Christina are concerned. It is high time they started writing to one another. Why, he’d been writing to his betrothed for years by the time he turned eleven!
True, she ended up marrying his greatest rival, but that wasn’t entirely her fault. Looking back, Charles can admit, even if only to himself, that he may have been a little bit foolish in letting his grandfather talk him out of marrying Marie Tudor.
Ah well, what’s done is done. He and Marguerite have managed to build a reasonable working relationship, at least.
Charles shakes his head to clear it of thoughts of the past, and sets Christina’s letter aside, seal unbroken. He finishes reading his wife’s letter and then sends a page to fetch his son.
When Phillip arrives, panting slightly from his dash across the palace, Charles looks the eleven-year-old up and down. His lip curls, ever so slightly, as he realises how round-shouldered his heir has become, how soft his hands and edges are. Do the boy’s tutors not urge him to practice the martial arts at all?
Oh, Phillip’s lesson reports are glowing and Charles can admit he’s a handsome lad, with his mother’s chestnut hair and sharp, pointed chin, rather than the unfortunate Hapsburg jaw.
Still, one needs more than books, good looks and cleverness to be a good King.
Sniffing contemptuously, Charles tosses Lady Christina’s letter at his son, grimacing as Phillip fumbles the simple catch.
“Your betrothed has written. See to it that you write back to her with the appropriate courtesies. It will serve you well to have a reasonable working relationship with your Empress one day.”
“Yes, My Lord Father,” Phillip nods obediently, then waits, heavy and flat-footed, to be dismissed. Charles waves him away without undue delay, but, just as the boy reaches the door, he lifts his head for the briefest of moments.
“Have your horse saddled after dinner. I want to see you ride at the quintain this afternoon. Your tutors have been most remiss in telling me how your riding is progressing.”
Phillip concurs politely and Charles turns back to his correspondence without a second thought.
He therefore misses the way the colour drains from Phillip’s face.
Segovia, 15th June 1535
Margarita,
Never mind the rumours about Lady Cecily’s conduct. Your concern does you credit, but an English County of Boulogne is only to our advantage. Not to mention what we’ve been promised as her dowry. I am not about to throw Bruges and Ostend away over some mere tittle-tattle. Now, I am not utterly immune to your worries. We shall take a leaf out of our sister’s book and send a governess to London, one who can teach Lady Cecily some manners befitting the Duchess of Burgundy. Perhaps you’d like to select one sooner rather than later so that the lady in question can sail before the winter storms set in?
But Lady Cecily is only six. We have a nearly a decade before we need her to know her dignity. Phillip, on the other hand, is a far more pressing problem.
Oh, fear not. The boy is not ill. Nor is he behind in his lessons. On the contrary! Señor de Toledo is more than pleased with his academic progress, as are Señor de Zuniga and Señor de Vives.
His sporting prowess, on the other hand, leaves a great deal to be desired. I saw him ride yesterday afternoon, and Mon Dieu! The boy jounces in the saddle as though he’s a sack of apples, being thrown off as often as not! As for his swordmanship, well, Señor de Toledo says he’s at his wits’ end as to how to work with our ham-fisted son. He fears it will be a long time before Philip can be trusted with anything more than the bluntest of practice swords, if indeed, he ever can be.
What are we to do? While I’ll admit that Phillip’s progress as a statesman pleases me – he’s learning a great deal now that he attends meetings of the Council of Asturias – and I hope he can continue to foster the positive relationships he seems to be building with the Spaniards, a King cannot hope to rule by virtue of being a scholar alone. He must needs also be a warrior, capable of defending his realm, and that our son most certainly is not!
I would welcome your thoughts on the matter, and perhaps also those of our sister Marie, if you can find it within yourself to write to her. She’s a mother eight times over, after all. Surely one of her children has suffered a similar ailment as our Phillip.
In other news, my business here in Spain is nearly finished. I shall leave for Burgos next week and aim to sail back to Flanders in time for Juan’s birthday. Perhaps we could all celebrate together in Mechelen this year?
In the meantime, I remain, as ever,
Your Lord and Husband Charles.
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Portuguese form of this name is Catarina; Caterina is the Italian
Bugger.
*scuttles off to edit before anyone else notices*
"Charles looks the eleven-year-old up and down. His lip curls, ever so slightly, as he realises how round-shouldered his heir has become, how soft his hands and edges are. Do the boy’s tutors not urge him to practice the martial arts at all?"
Perhaps Philip needs to use another weapon other than a sword? Would an axe, or mace be more appropriate perhaps? Poor boy needs some weight training.
Interesting plotting regarding Cecily - wonder how much London knows about this?
Perhaps Philip needs to use another weapon other than a sword? Would an axe, or mace be more appropriate perhaps? Poor boy needs some weight training.
Interesting plotting regarding Cecily - wonder how much London knows about this?
And Catarina is a beautiful name. More beautiful than Caterina.
Errrr. A mace would probably be worse, certainly more dangerous to those around him. The poor boy has dyspraxia, so there's only so far he'll be able to progress where physical skills are concerned...
I actually disagree. I've always thought Katherine with an e looks prettier than Katharine with two as - and the same goes for the Catarina/Caterina versions. Also, I edited the chapter so you *wouldn't* catch me out on that
Catalina has to be my own favorite version, but anyways... Charles is a very shrewd politician, even if he lost earlier, he may yet reclaim some of the lands he has lost. I do hope that he doesn't regret his decision to keep the betrothal between Juan and Cecily, however...
Well, you don't get to be the most powerful man in Europe without picking up a few tricks here and there. As for Juan and Cecily, given I have plans to finish the story in 1544, which is likely the year they'll marry, I doubt we'll see anything of their match,,,but i'm sure it won't be a happy one, even if it makes sense politically!
Well, Charles is a cunt, isn’t he?
I sound surprised by this, I know, but I had expected better of him. Alas, I suppose not…
He doesn't MEAN badly by Phillip, but dyspraxia just wouldn't have been understood back then, (and I'm making Phillip's worse than mine, poor chap...), so he's being abrupt because he simply doesn't realise that Philip IS trying, there are just certain things he simply CAN'T do....
I like that, actually! Charles is DEFINITELY going about it wrong, but he does genuinely think that he is helping his son. And even if there are people who are suggesting that Phillip does have something wrong with him, of course Charles wouldn't want to admit that his heir has a disorder, especially one that would make him "less". I'm just glad that everyone knows Phillip is at least kingly material in his mental abilities. Hopefully that means he won't be entirely looked down on by other nobles..
I didn't know you had Dyspraxia! I've known for you (at least) eleven years and you never told me that!
i have dyspraxia, practising martial arts really helped with it. drilling the forms, sparring. i never stopped being clumsy and overbalanced, but it gave me the ability to control my movements when i give it attention, and to have small quick and precise movements preprogrammed in. i started at 5, whereas i think a medieval person would start at 7? but i only did a session once a week.Errrr. A mace would probably be worse, certainly more dangerous to those around him. The poor boy has dyspraxia, so there's only so far he'll be able to progress where physical skills are concerned...
I actually disagree. I've always thought Katherine with an e looks prettier than Katharine with two as - and the same goes for the Catarina/Caterina versions. Also, I edited the chapter so you *wouldn't* catch me out on that
what the kid needs, is an anarchronistic perspective of like, compassion/ support. maybe some mirrors and videotapes.
Would the period instructor be a wrestling/boxing/ European martial arts instructor? There are some European martial arts afterall.alternatively, maybe import a kungfu instructor to whip him into shape
Mildly, yes. And I agree with @Prof_Chemical practice helps dramatically, but you'll never be marvelous at things like sport - and when you're tired/stressed (as I imagine Phillip was, riding in front of his father), it's far worse. I've had some spectacular moments over the years, where something I'm doing has just gone horrifically wrong and one of my friends has had to step in...
Wrestling was definitely a sport of the period. We could probably manage something with wrestling. But it also depends on what Phillip himself is interested in. I'm a decent runner, all right at badminton and can keep my seat on a horse because they're the sports I loved as a kid. But it takes a lot more practice to get to even passable level when you have dyspraxia. If Phillip isn't particularly interested, then he might just never get beyond the mere basics, which in a world which expects its Kings to be sportsmen, isn't ideal.