A Queen Twice Over: Mary Tudor the Elder Marries Francis I of France
- Thread starter FalconHonour
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What sadness for Marie...I knew that she was pregnant again but I did not expect it to end like this.
Damm that was a kick in the teeth, Milan is secured and that might set the mood for the rest of the campaign: securing their objectives but at a great cost.
Poor Marie, one of her close ones is killed, she's miscarried and she definitely prays everyday that Francis will come back whole, it's truly a iron will and composure that she's managing to keep a cool and rational head, let's hope whatever news come her way will be a more positive one.
Poor Marie, one of her close ones is killed, she's miscarried and she definitely prays everyday that Francis will come back whole, it's truly a iron will and composure that she's managing to keep a cool and rational head, let's hope whatever news come her way will be a more positive one.
She'd had four pregnancies go full term back to back, with four healthy children. Not losing at least one would have been pushing it, and she's under so much pressure at the moment I couldn't see her keeping this one.
Given Odet managed to hold Milan OTL without extra troops, I thought he'd probably manage it here too, but I didn't want to make the campaign too easy, hence Alencon having to go. We'll hear from Francis next, I promise!
They certainly hope the same thing.Poor Marguerite and Marie! Two tragedies in such a short period do fine, hopefully things go better for them, from now on.
Poor Marie and Marguerite... Hopefully, Marie is able to recover and find solace in her other children... Great (but sad) chapter!
It was, but as I said up thread, Marie had to have at least one miscarriage/stillbirth to keep things somewhat realistic.
Low Countries next chapter!
Section XXXIV: September 1521
I couldn't leave you in despair for too long...
I know, I know. You haven’t been wed yet. I can see you rolling your eyes from here in Antwerp. But Papa has been so cock-a-hoop ever since he gave permission for your wedding that one could – in fact should – be forgiven for thinking you are Lady St Pol already. I can only hope Papa will be half as proud when I wed our Irish cousin Lady Catherine this autumn.
Although, given that my future brother covered himself in glory during yesterday’s battle, that might be hard. St Pol led the vanguard alongside King Henry when we breached the walls yesterday, and their forces pierced so deep into the city that St Pol succeeded in capturing the Emperor himself!
True, King Henry is much peeved that he cannot claim the honour of having done so, and King Francis has already bought the Imperial ransom off your betrothed, but still. It was a great moment for Fran, as he insists I call him, and I am sure rewards will soon be coming your way because of it…”
Anne drops George’s letter from nerveless fingers, her mouth falling open as its words sink in. Antwerp has fallen! Antwerp has fallen to the Anglo-French forces, and the Emperor has been captured! The Emperor! Captured! And by her own future husband to boot!
She lets out a most unladylike whoop of triumph, snatches George’s letter from the floor and bolts for the Queen’s rooms.
She has her hand on the door when it is suddenly flung open from the inside. Queen Marie stands there, face alight with joy.
Anne blinks. It is the first time she has seen the Queen out of bed since her sudden illness last month.
A second later, however, the delightful news bubbles up inside her again and she laughs.
“You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”
Swept away on a torrent of Anglo-French pride, Anne forgets every bit of protocol she has ever been taught. She forgets to curtsy; she forgets to call the Queen ‘Your Grace’ or ‘Madame’. And Marie, proud, impulsive Marie, doesn’t think to remind her. They are simply two young women caught up in the same flush of heady delight.
“Indeed. I’ve had a letter from the King. Both Kings, actually. Who told you?”
“My brother, George. He was on the flank with Lord Suffolk.”
Laughter peals out of Anne again; laughter that is suddenly choked off into a squeal as the Queen catches her hands and swings her around.
“Run and tell Marguerite,” she orders breathlessly, when they have stopped spinning, “Run and tell Marguerite. And tell her we ride for Rouen at once!”
Anne doesn’t need telling twice.
*** *** ***“But sister, are you sure you should be riding so far? It’s barely three weeks since you lost the child!”
Marie knows Marguerite’s cautionary words are born out of a place of caring, but that doesn’t make them any the less galling.
“You’re the one who decided we shouldn’t tell your brother I lost a child before we saw him face-to-face. Francis and I decided months ago that we would meet in Rouen at the end of the war,” she snaps, whirling on her heel to glare at Marguerite, “If you don’t want him to guess that there’s something wrong, then we need to be there.”
With that, she shoves past her older sister, shouting for everyone to assemble in the courtyard as soon as they can, before Marguerite can respond.
Chinon, September 1521
“Dearest Annie, or should I say Madame d’ St Pol?”
I know, I know. You haven’t been wed yet. I can see you rolling your eyes from here in Antwerp. But Papa has been so cock-a-hoop ever since he gave permission for your wedding that one could – in fact should – be forgiven for thinking you are Lady St Pol already. I can only hope Papa will be half as proud when I wed our Irish cousin Lady Catherine this autumn.
Although, given that my future brother covered himself in glory during yesterday’s battle, that might be hard. St Pol led the vanguard alongside King Henry when we breached the walls yesterday, and their forces pierced so deep into the city that St Pol succeeded in capturing the Emperor himself!
True, King Henry is much peeved that he cannot claim the honour of having done so, and King Francis has already bought the Imperial ransom off your betrothed, but still. It was a great moment for Fran, as he insists I call him, and I am sure rewards will soon be coming your way because of it…”
Anne drops George’s letter from nerveless fingers, her mouth falling open as its words sink in. Antwerp has fallen! Antwerp has fallen to the Anglo-French forces, and the Emperor has been captured! The Emperor! Captured! And by her own future husband to boot!
She lets out a most unladylike whoop of triumph, snatches George’s letter from the floor and bolts for the Queen’s rooms.
She has her hand on the door when it is suddenly flung open from the inside. Queen Marie stands there, face alight with joy.
Anne blinks. It is the first time she has seen the Queen out of bed since her sudden illness last month.
A second later, however, the delightful news bubbles up inside her again and she laughs.
“You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”
Swept away on a torrent of Anglo-French pride, Anne forgets every bit of protocol she has ever been taught. She forgets to curtsy; she forgets to call the Queen ‘Your Grace’ or ‘Madame’. And Marie, proud, impulsive Marie, doesn’t think to remind her. They are simply two young women caught up in the same flush of heady delight.
“Indeed. I’ve had a letter from the King. Both Kings, actually. Who told you?”
“My brother, George. He was on the flank with Lord Suffolk.”
Laughter peals out of Anne again; laughter that is suddenly choked off into a squeal as the Queen catches her hands and swings her around.
“Run and tell Marguerite,” she orders breathlessly, when they have stopped spinning, “Run and tell Marguerite. And tell her we ride for Rouen at once!”
Anne doesn’t need telling twice.
*** *** ***
Marie knows Marguerite’s cautionary words are born out of a place of caring, but that doesn’t make them any the less galling.
“You’re the one who decided we shouldn’t tell your brother I lost a child before we saw him face-to-face. Francis and I decided months ago that we would meet in Rouen at the end of the war,” she snaps, whirling on her heel to glare at Marguerite, “If you don’t want him to guess that there’s something wrong, then we need to be there.”
With that, she shoves past her older sister, shouting for everyone to assemble in the courtyard as soon as they can, before Marguerite can respond.
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Indeed. I basically turned Pavia on its head to write Antwerp! And yes, the war is all but over. They've just got to thrash out the terms of the peace now - which will be far from easy...
Lots and lots of things...
It really is brilliant! Hopefully Francis and Henry don’t take to much land then turn against one another. Catherine’s reaction to this would be legendary!
Oh Henry and Katherine will be at loggerheads pretty quickly...
As for Francis and Henry, they're not going to be best friends forever, but Marie can hold them together for now.
Hopefully the divorce goes better than otl and Catherine gets better treatment.
I figured the two would fall out sooner or later, what with Henry VIII wanting to be Henry V 2. Hopefully they don’t start fighting one another too soon, otherwise Charles could exploit them very easily.