Many thanks to @Tudorfan for writing the first part of this chapter for me!
Plymouth, July 1522
"Hear ye, hear ye!" announces the herald, stepping up to the newly enacted plinth at Plymouth Docks. As the crowd waits with baited breath, desperate to hear the Pope's ruling, he unfurls an enormous scroll and begins to read: "It is the pleasure of His Holiness, Pope Adrian VI, on this, the 28th day of July in the year Anno Domini 1522, to declare that the marriage of His Grace, Henry, Eighth of that name, King of England and France, Lord of Ireland, Defender of the Faith, and her Majesty, Katherine, heretofore Queen of the same, is hereby null and void!"
The crowd cheers – at last! Their King's marital strife is over! The King can marry again and sire a Prince and the Succession – the country - will be safe!
Yes, it means that the former Queen Katherine has committed a great sin, perjuring herself by declaring herself a virgin when she wasn’t, and thereby trapping the King into marriage, but that’s all in the past now. Despite his Spanish connections, His Holiness has seen through her lies and the King is free!
"The aforementioned Queen Catherine is to be known, henceforth, as Her Highness, the Dowager Princess of Wales, Dowager Duchess of Cornwall and Dowager Countess of Chester. His Majesty has decreed that Her Highness shall have £600 per annum from the estates of the late Prince Arthur to keep her in the style to which she has become accustomed. Moreover, Princess Katherine has been granted the traitor Buckingham's castles at Brecon and Thornbury to enjoy as her own, and Baynard's Castle as her London residence. Furthermore, His Holiness has decreed that, as King Henry and Princess Katherine believed themselves to be married at the time of her birth, Princess Mary, conceived in good faith, shall retain her place, rank, style and status as a legitimate daughter of the King."
"That’s not going to please the Lady Mary,” Sir Edward Guilford, Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, mutters, "Everyone knows she was hoping that His Holiness would declare Her Highness to be naught but the King’s natural daughter, so that her own children would be the only recognised heirs to the throne. "
"She can’t really have thought that, surely? Everyone knows the Church will do everything they can to keep children legitimate,” Lord Maltravers gasps, and Sir Edward nods, acknowledging his compatriot.
“The Lady Mary has never been the most level-headed of girls. Anyway, the Princess Mary keeping her status might not be such a bad thing. This way, Mary Talbot will be Queen – but the former Queen will always be there – taunting her, reminding her how easy it is to fall – in the Princess Mary,"
“Do you think that will restrain the Lady’s worst impulses?”
"I’d like to hope so, William, but I fear it won’t.”
"It might."
"It won't. You mark my words, we’ll all be ruing the King’s choice of bride before the year is out.”
Ampthill, August 1522
George Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, looks his third daughter up and down and rubs his hand across his face.
"Why do you find this so hard to understand, Mary? You can't go on like you are. Sulks and temper are all very well in a mistress. Indeed, they're almost attractive. In a mistress. But do you really think King Henry will allow you to behave with such impunity when you're married? No, of course he won't. You need to learn to control your temper."
"No, Papa,
you don't understand!" Mary tosses her dark head, eyes flashing, "Have you forgotten that
I was the one who set my cap at King Henry? It wasn't you who began this game, it was me. The King has fallen in love with
me! He respects
me. And
I am the one who will become his Queen. I'll thank you to remember that when you speak to me!"
"And, I,
My Lady Mary, am the one who gave you life. Queen or not, you still owe me that respect," George snaps, before exhaling, long and heavy, as he fights to control his temper.
"You do realise the game's not over yet, don't you?" he says at last, "It's not over until you have the King's ring on your finger and a healthy Prince of Wales squalling in the cradle. And what happens if the boy doesn't come? If the King tires of you before you give him a son? He's waited all his life for a Prince, he won't want to wait much longer."
"That's not going to happen," Mary snarls baring her teeth in fury, “Henry’s marriage to Katherine is dead and gone and the Lord is smiling upon me. I will share the King's bed and I will give him a son. And when I do, when I do, Father, I will remember that you, of all people, said I would not."
Despite himself, George takes a step back in the face of his daughter's vehemence.
Seeing it, Mary lifts her head and looks her father dead in the eye, her chin high and her shoulders set. She jerks her head, "You are dismissed, Lord Shrewsbury."
George's mouth falls open, "You dare… Where did we go wrong with you, Mary? None of your sisters were ever this intractable."
"None of my sisters are on the verge of being Queen," Mary spins on her heel, her skirts of deep blue satin flicking around with a satisfying snap. She clicks her fingers and her women close in around her, forming a human barricade between herself and her father.
A heartbeat passes. Two.
George sighs. He’s pragmatic enough to know he's lost this round. He dips his head briefly, though why he bothers when his daughter can’t see it is a mystery even to him, and crosses to the door.
The door creaks as he opened it. Mary sniffs.
"Oh, by the way," she says, almost as though talking to herself, "What I said about remembering that you said I wouldn't have a son? That wasn't a threat, Papa. That was a warning."
George's mouth falls open again, but before he can respond, Mary's new guardsman steers him from the room and slams the door in his face. George is left blinking stupidly at the heavy slab of oak, wondering how on earth he's found himself in this position.
