I think he became a baron. But he married her after Henry tired of Bessie. So it may have been some money to encourage him to marry quote unquote used goods.
An Imperial Match: Anne Boleyn marries Charles V
- Thread starter pandizzy
- Start date
Hmm well it's interesting to see James realize that his recklessness can very well hurt him, I hope this prompts him to at least be more discrete in the future. Also nice that Anne and James's son seems healthy enough for now...
I wonder if it will work because if what the man said is true, then the Lenape follow matrilineal lines, meaning children born from those marriages might be taught by their mothers to feel more loyalty to the Lenapes than to the Scots. And I don't see anyone in the 16th century being a stay at home dad.
Honestly I'd love for that to happen, especially if said son becomes King of France though that might mean Mary Tudor has no sons with her own husband.
Bessie wasn't married off to Gilbert Tailboys until after her relationship with Henry had ended, IIRC. So no.
Well, after it ‘ended’ (personally I’m of the opinion that Elizabeth tailboys was very probably Henry’s daughter)Bessie wasn't married off to Gilbert Tailboys until after her relationship with Henry had ended, IIRC. So no.
Well, the Lenapes that have come into contact with the Scots at Nova Scotia aren't in a full out war so, hard to predict what should these children's loyalties lies.
Yeah. As long as they don't have to choose, they will probably be fine.
25th of July, 1531.
Palace of Placentia, England. 25th of July, 1531.
To my Queen,
I write this letter from the halls of the Alhambra Palace, where I have taken up residence in my new role as the governess to Infanta María. The palace is as beautiful as the songs claim, with the fountains and the architecture delighting all who come near it. I know it was the Queen’s wishes to see it for yourself one day, and my joy is diluted in knowing that you will never have the chance.
María de Austria is a cheerful and happy young girl, seven years old at the moment. She has blonde hair and dark eyes like her mother. Her teeth are rather crooked, and she is considerably short, but there is nothing in me that doubts she will grow into a beautiful young girl worthy of becoming the wife of the Prince of Portugal, as is your wish. Her Highness has already mastered the basics of Portuguese and is eager to know more about the country that she will one day call her own.
I brought with me a portrait of Prince Afonso, a miniature one, that shows his hair and his handsome face and the Princess was delighted by it. She prays over the portrait every day and every night for his health and good will. I hope this pleases the Queen of England, who is an aunt to the heir of the Portuguese throne.
I know Her Majesty wants news from her family, so I will not ponder anymore. Last I saw the Prince, he was playing with his sisters in the Castelo de São Jorge, his father’s birthplace. He is almost nine and grows stronger every day. His hair has turned from the reddish-brown of his infancy to a light blonde that shimmers like gold.
Infanta Joana, however, has her father’s dark curls, a colour that seems almost black with all her light-coloured clothes and is very clever, but a perfectionist at heart, which the Queen encourages. She was speaking French perfectly to the envoys sent by King Francis on my last day at court, entertaining them with a presentation of the virginals. She is a precocious young girl, much like her aunt, the Queen of England was at her age.
It is, however, very difficult for me to write about Infanta Manuela. Not because she was in poor health when I left, but rather because there were many rumours, rumours that have already reached Alhambra, that King João will be dissolving her betrothal to the Prince of Wales. I heard the King, your brother, was very offended by the treatment of the Portuguese by King Henry and, already regretting sending the Queen there, does not wish for the same to happen to his child. I’m sure that, if there is any truth to such gossip, the Queen shall hear it from more official messengers soon enough.
I know King Henry hoped to arrange an Iberian match for his oldest son, but it seems now this will be impossible, unless the Emperor is willing to betroth his daughter Margarita to the Prince of Wales. Which, I doubt the King will accept, seeing as the Infanta has epilepsy. Though, she is a Habsburg and whoever marries her will receive an enormous dowry to compensate for her faults.
Thus, if the King truly insists on a bride from Spain for his son, I believe his hopes lie with the Empress’ current pregnancy. The child is expected to be born in late November, and everyone is seeing it will be a boy, but the Queen knows very well how these things are never certain. If it is the Queen’s wish, and Her Majesty knows that she will always be my one true queen, then I will happily pray for another girl to marry the Prince of Wales.
I end my letter with news of the Queen’s youngest nephew and nieces. Clemência de Beja now stands as heiress to her mother’s lands, at least until two or more younger brothers come in. The Queen knows the Coutinho lands will be inherited by the second son of your brother Luís and the Condessa, or the eldest daughter.
The Duchy of Beja, however, is not in check yet. Although the Condessa and the Duke despise each other, there may be a chance to alleviate the embarrassment of Clemência’s birth with a younger brother. Or, of your brother remarrying in his widowhood. Either way, I’m afraid I am no longer the best source for such information. Margarida, who has remained in Portugal to marry the Lord Admiral, will be more than happy to inform the Queen.
Infantes Filipe and Margarida are well and healthy. Though Filipe, as a son, ought to have more attention, him being younger and the second in line prevents me from knowing so much about his life and accomplishments. Infanta Margarida is much the same.
By the hand of your loyal servant,
D. Leonor de Mascarenhas
Isabella let the letter fall from her hands, chewing the inside of her cheek in her nerves. She didn't know what to say, or even what to think. Her friend was in Spain, deep in Granada and yet she herself was not there. She was not the Empress, the mother of the little girl that would one day become Queen of Portugal and she didn't know what to think of it.
Her cousin Charles had been married to Anne Boleyn for many years, practically a decade already. Isabella did not allow herself to think of him since the day she received the news. She had been heartbroken, as it had always been her dream as well as that of her parents that she should marry her cousin and be his empress, the Queen of Castile. The woman that could sit on the throne of Isabel la Catolica and see the Palace of Alhambra as her own.
It did her no good to dwell on the past, and yet Isabella dwelled on it anyway. She closed her eyes and imagined a life with Charles, ruling over Castile and Aragon as regent, bearing his children. It would be heavenly.
She opened her eyes again when the child inside her kicked. Isabella could not have those thoughts. They were surely only going to upset her more, as well as her baby. And if it was a Duke of York, as everyone was saying, then he could not be upset inside of her. He had to be perfect.
She resumed reading her letters. Jane Howard, wife to Henry's envoy to the Low Countries, sent another report of Isabella's goddaughter and her child, Alice. The baby seemed to be growing well and both Jane and her children had returned to Little Bookham, rather than stay in her father's house.
Isabella wrote a quick response, detailing her happiness at Mistress Alice's health, and she decided she'd ask one of her ladies to send out a gift for the little girl. She still had some things of Bessie when she was younger, a doll or two in pristine conditions that she lost interest in quickly. Her daughter really did like only the newest and shiniest of things. It was good thus, that her husband sought to marry her to the Duke of Burgundy. The Low Countries were very rich and her daughter was well on the way to grow up to be a woman with expensive tastes.
After that, she didn't have much else to do so Isabella picked up her embroidery wheel. She wanted to do some mindless sewing, just something to keep her mind and fingers busy while the hours passed.
However, it seemed Fortune had other plans and before she was ready to eat lunch, Lady Dudley came to whisper in her ear. "Your Majesty," she began, "The Prince of Wales is here to see you."
Isabella leaned back in shock. "Already?" she asked. "His Highness wasn't expected until next week." Lady Dudley didn't answer, maybe because Isabella didn't give her a chance to say anything before she stood up and waved for them to let John in.
The first thing she saw was how taller he was. John was eight now and yet she dared to say he was almost an entire foot taller, already at a whopping 4'6'' feet. He was wearing a cream doublet and a dark overcoat lined and trimmed with fox fur. His light-coloured pants were clearly new, as was his cloak pinned with a Tudor rose of enamel and the chain that spoke of him as a Knight of the Garter hung from his neck. John removed his feathered hat when he came inside, bowing deeply to her and Isabella smiled as she opened her arms.
"Good morrow, Lady Mother," he murmured as he straightened up, smiling.
"Good morrow, John," Isabella responded. "Come here so I may hug you." He did without hesitation and Isabella wrapped her arms around him tightly, hugging him close to her chest. Or as close as she could with the pregnant belly between them.
John let out a breath of relief as his mother hugged him. He could hear her heart beat against his ear and cheek, the smell of perfume that she had used since forever. She was warm and familiar, even when she dropped a kiss to the crown of his head. He could feel the love she felt for him, the type of love only a mother could feel for her son.
She stepped back and took his face in her hands, her many rings catching on his cheeks. "You are much grown and changed," she said, "But I still know your face."
He smiled. John wanted to hug her again, but he didn't. Instead, his mother waved her ladies away and brought him to sit down, not letting go of his hands.
"How are you?" she asked, worried. "I hope the travel from Wales was not too arduous for you."
He shook his head. "It was not!" John said, excited. "It was very fun. Lady Willow and Sir Nicholas allowed me to ride in my own horse and even Charlie was allowed to be by my side!"
His mother frowned, tilting her head slightly. "Charlie?" she asked.
"Charlie Howard. He is my friend," he answered. "My best friend. You must meet him, mother! Charlie is so fun, and he is very smart."
"I'm sure he is," she answered, "But right now, I just want to enjoy the presence of my son for a minute without his friends to influence him."
John didn't say anything. He didn't want to correct her and say that Charlie was his only friend, because he disliked all the other boys at Ludlow. His mother had dark bags under her eyes and she looked much too thin. He didn't want to worry her.
John Tudor is precious and must be kept away from all lakes and horses at all costs. Hopefully Isabella's next child is healthy even if it's not a Duke of York, and hopefully Henry will not blame her for her brother's actions against him... Although, knowing Henry, it is fairly likely that he will (the absolute pendejo)
Oh, at least John arrived to be a balm for Isabella’s heart as she suffers from some heartache and homesickness
It’s so cute that he refers to Isabella as his mother (and understandable given Catherine died giving birth to him and Isabella has been there for most of his life) but I wonder if anyone is telling him about his birth mother?
It’s so cute that he refers to Isabella as his mother (and understandable given Catherine died giving birth to him and Isabella has been there for most of his life) but I wonder if anyone is telling him about his birth mother?
Lady Willoughby is, though John still sees Isabella as his one true mother.
I understand lakes but horses... I think I already mentioned some therapy over that particular trauma that has no place here.
Hmm…I’m concerned about Isabella. Tired and thin doesn’t seem like a very healthy description.
Yes, she is quite exhausted. Pregnancy takes a toll upon her.