I’ve never understood why. Especially when Richard was at least bi-sexual (if not straight), because he had an illegitimate son. Perhaps he just hated Berengaria?
An Imperial Match: Anne Boleyn marries Charles V
- Thread starter pandizzy
- Start date
They were in a war zone for most of their marriage and after that he was imprisoned. Is not so strange who they were often apart
True. After their wedding in Limassol in Cyprus, they had a three week honeymoon, left for Acre and Berengaria spent two years in a weird limbo "like birds in a cage" according to Pierre de Langtoft with Richards sister Joanna.
Richard kept away for from women to a degree, to prevent any acusation of women ruining the crusades morally like his mother's entourage had done before.
In September 1192 Richard and Berengaria left Acre and they did not see one another for almost two years. Richard of course got captured. They reunited in june 1194 but they did not spend much time together and after that they were rarely together and Richard were repudiation Berengaria after 1196.
No wonder she never had any opportunity to have children. Poor Berengaria.
Which given that the First Crusade, ie The Successful One, had far more women with it than the Second, is a rather dumb argument…
10th of March, 1538.
Toledo, Castile. 10th of March, 1538.
Isabel was crying again.
It seemed to Juanita that her little sister did little else these days, since Joana entered her confinement in January. Isabel had grown very attached to their brother's wife, especially after Felipe left to be with their grandmother and her absence was felt keenly by the littlest infanta. She was not even two years old, could babble out some words and understand many more, but could not understand yet what they tried to tell her. That Joana was well, and Felipe too. Even if they could not come see her at that moment. And Isabel did not like that. She wanted them, wanted all of them to be together.
And her young age and the temper born from her auburn hair made it so that she often vented her frustrations with this business in fits of tears and tantrums, loud enough for the whole city to hear. Or so it seemed to Juanita.
Her grandmother, Lady Elizabeth, flicked her wrist as she sewed, tapping the edge of Juanita's arm sternly. "Continue," Abuela ordered in a clear voice.
Juanita moved her eyes forward, away from the heavy book opened before her. "Mulieres viris suis subditae sint sicut Domino. Quoniam vir caput est mulieris sicut Christus caput est ecclesiae ipse salvator corporis sed ut ecclesia subiecta est Christo ita et mulieres viris suis in omnibus." Her tutor, a tight-faced Italian, nodded in approval. The infanta smiled and sat down, letting out a relieved breath. She opened her Book of Hours again, the pages richly decorated with gold leaves and precious ink.
Next to her, Margarita stood up as well to mumble out her own assignment, her Latin as perfect as her Castilian, without a hint of French underneath. Margarita was the better sister when it came to languages, despite being only seven years old. Her brown hair was twisted into a braid, black eyes tinkling even as Isabel's nurses bribed her with sweets behind them both.
Juanita knew that everyone said she was the most beautiful of her sisters, but she always thought Margarita had her own charm. She looked the most like their mother, and maybe that's why Juanita thought her so beautiful. Margarita always reminded her of Mama, from the curve of her long nose to her olive-skinned hands.
She looked forward again as their tutor praised Margarita's pronunciation and asked her to conjugate another verb. Juanita saw her reflection in a mirror placed against the wall, her blue eyes and her dark hair. She was eleven now and would come of age before the end of the year, even if she had not had her first courses yet.
She was pretty. With high cheekbones hidden under round childish features. Abuela said she would make a great empress when her cousin Maximilian ascended to Papa's throne, and a great queen too. Of Hungary and Bohemia both. And an empress needed to be clever.
Her sister Catalina was sewing by their grandmother's feet, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders in its multitude of braids. Catalina was almost seven and she did not have a betrothal yet, even though Isabel was younger than her and all called her the Countess of Montfort. Juanita wondered when Father would see fit to marry her, and to whom. She did not think any of her sisters would take the veil, as Fernando was expected to do when he came of age. Catalina had to marry.
But a daughter of the Emperor could not marry just anyone. Margarita was marrying into the Duchy of Savoy just because of her frailty, and even they were powerful, and important in their rivalry with France. And María would be Queen of Portugal some day, just as Isabel would be Queen of France. Juanita was going to marry their cousin, son of Uncle Ferdinand, but who could Catalina marry?
Juanita hoped they'd find out soon. In three years' time, she would travel to Austria and never see her siblings again, save for those like Fernando and Eduardo that might make the trek to visit her in Vienna. She wanted to know where her sister would go before then.
--
Palace of St James, England. 15th of March, 1538.
The King came to visit his sister and Kitty could barely hold back her excitement. She woke up as early as possible to brush out her hair and braid it extensively under her yellow and cream French hood, wanting to look her very best. She washed her face and hands, pinched her cheeks and chose to wear her best blue dress. The sleeves were of silk, even if the gown itself was of a cheaper fabric, and there were a string of pearls attached to the neckline. And blue glass made to look like sapphires that caught the light whenever she moved.
With the dress, Kitty was sure she would be graced with a smile from His Majesty. It was all she wanted, a smile from him. Or a glance from his sparkling blue eyes that made her feel as if she was about to faint whenever he deemed to look at her over supper. Kitty wondered whether she was just imagining things, but she was certain that the King looked at her more than what was appropriate. Not like she cared anyway. In truth, she wanted him to do many inappropriate things to her, like kiss her hand. Or her lips. Maybe even have dinner without a chaperone. Like her sister Margaret was allowed to do with her husband.
She was allowed to be present when Bessie broke her fast with her brother and mother, helping serve the food with the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting. It was a great honour for a girl her age and standing and Kitty was determined to not make a mistake, especially since the King was there. He ate silently, nodding slightly as his mother spoke about something Kitty could not understand.
Royals were a different breed of people, Kitty was sure. Bessie was more beautiful at ten than Kitty could ever hope to be at fourteen, with pale blonde hair and blue eyes. Her mother was the most beautiful queen England had ever seen, and with the gentlest heart. The King loved them both well, everyone said so.
Kitty was holding the flagon of wine and the King raised his cup, indicating for her to fill it up again. Her heart raced and she chewed her lower lip as she stepped forward to do so, holding herself very carefully so as to not spill a single drop. Wine was the King's property and Kitty could never knowingly damage something that belonged to him.
"Are you sure Nora's marriage will not be affected by the war?" The Dowager Queen asked, peeling an apple with a long golden knife. Kitty filled the King's cup slowly, trying not to do it too hard.
"I'm certain of it, Mother," the King answered. He indicated with a straight hand for Kitty to stop and she did so, stepping back. "Nora will be Queen of Scotland, I promise you that."
"And Maggie?" the Queen asked again. “Have you met with the Danish ambassador? He seemed to me most anxious to see you when I last visited court.”
“I have.” The King stretched to take a piece of pork from his sister’s plate and Bessie complained loudly before her mother shushed her. Kitty giggled and the King’s face turned slightly in search of it as he sat back, hands moving wildly. "And I have already reassured him that Father's terms for the match will be maintained by me. Dowry included."
The Dowager Queen nodded, pleased by this development. Before she could say anything, however, the King shifted to take his wine once again. The movement was sudden, and repetitive, and Kitty heard the gasp before it happened, the golden cup tottling with the force of his hand. And falling.
Kitty moved at the same moment as the King did, hands stretched forward as if she could hold the wine being spilt over the precious rugs that would take hours to be washed off it. The colour was a deep purple, staining her hands and she could barely hold back her own gasp when the King knelt beside her.
The crinkling of the paper in her palm was a surprise and she gasped again, together with the Dowager Queen. "John," she said sharply, "Stand up!"
"Forgive me, mother." The King stood up as well, and holding Kitty's hands, she was made to stand up as well. "Such a precious vintage can make anyone forget their standing in the world." He was looking at her and Kitty giggled, turning away with the strength of his gaze. He was so handsome, and so kind.
She realised then that her dress was stained, purple blooming over her blue skirts and her cheeks burned furiously. Kitty looked at Bessie, who was staring at them confusedly. "My lady, may I be excused?"
"You may go, Mistress Howard," the Dowager Queen murmured. Kitty felt tears burning in her eyes and she nodded, curtsying both to the King and the Queen before she left. Embarrassed and feeling so humiliated. Her best dress, utterly ruined.
But when she came back to her room, Kitty opened her hand to look at the folded piece of paper nestled in her palm. She opened it carefully, observing the scrawled letters written at its centre.
Tonight. Royal gardens. At eight. Please, come. Ioannes R.
Oh, she could scarcely wait.
Kitty spent the rest of her day preparing herself emotionally, as well as physically. She changed into a pretty pink dress, as well as removed her French hood to wear an English veil, which she thought would make her look more beautiful. She had no necklaces to wear with her pink dress, but she did have a single pearl ring that her father gave to her once her mother died. It had belonged to Mama once, a gift from her first husband and when the Lord took her, Papa divided all her rings between her daughters. Even Kitty's Leigh sisters. And then sold the rest to pay off his debts.
The pearl ring was Kitty's most treasured possession. She kissed it one minute before eight, feeling as if she was kissing her mama's face, and turned around to meet the King in the royal gardens. Her heart was racing, almost as if it could slip out from between her ribs.
The King was sitting before a large fountain, a dark hat stuffed over his head to hide his red hair. She wondered how he managed to escape his grooms and all the people that flew around him. He had brought half the court to St James for a visit and everyone wanted to be around the King, to bask in his presence. Kitty especially.
He turned to look at her when he noticed her approach, blue eyes glowing in the dark. Kitty smiled and curtsied, "Your Majesty," before she approached. The King smiled as well and stood up to walk to her, his face as bright as any star.
Could she truly be in love with him? Kitty was certain that she would never love anyone else in her entire life. She would join a nunnery, so as to never betray him, or offend another man, because her heart was his just as England was. She was certain of it.
"John," said the King. When he was before her, he took her hand gently, stroking her knuckles. "Call me John, for that name is as much yours as is mine." Kitty giggled.
"I only have one name," she murmured and the King smiled.
"I know," he said. He cupped her face, rubbing the side of his thumb over her cheekbone. "I know your name, Katherine Howard. And I know your face." He breathed out slowly and Kitty closed her eyes, smelling mint leaves and wine in his breath. "This face that has haunted me since we first danced together."
"My king…" Kitty whispered, breathless. She thought she was about to faint with his touch.
"I have something for you," he murmured. The King stepped back only slightly, removing the hand from her face to take something from his pocket. The moonlight caught on the precious stones as he raised it and Kitty gasped. "A gift. As a token of my affection."
It was a necklace and perhaps the most beautiful thing Kitty had ever seen. Emeralds cut square in delicate gold setting, alternated with the most lustrous pearls in sets of four, with a large golden pendant shaped to resemble a rose bearing a brilliant ruby at its centre. It was utterly breathtaking illuminated in the moonlight, and Kitty sighed at the thought of how brilliantly it would shine by daylight.
"It's beautiful!" she gasped, reaching forward with her hand to touch. The King chuckled at that and turned the rose pendant to reveal a delicate engraving in the back, words written with a flourish on the gold. Rosa sine spina. "What does it say?"
"A rose without thorns," the King murmured, not once faulting her for her weak grasp at Latin. Kitty might have shared a schoolroom with Lady Elizabeth, but they never cared for education as they did to Her Highness.
"Oh, I love it!" Kitty grasped the necklace and held it close to her heart, feeling as if she might burst from happiness. "You truly are a rose without thorns, my lord."
"Oh, Kitty," he breathed out, grabbing her face between his large manly hands. "It's you! You are my rose without a thorn." He kissed her then, a heavy press of his mouth to hers and Kitty could feel her knees grow weak at the feel of his soft lips, the hands that stroked the slips of hair that escaped her hood. The kiss was everything Kitty had ever dreamt of and more, from the gentle tongue that licked at the seam of her mouth and she tried everything to respond to it in the same manner.
She clumsily kissed him back, squeezing his waist as she pulled him closer. Kitty felt as if she could spend eternity kissing him, but her lungs started to burn and the King forced himself to step back, blue eyes sparkling. “Oh, Kitty,” he mumbled, stroking her face. “What would I do without you?”
She didn’t know what to answer. Instead, she stepped forward to kiss him back, clinging in desperation to both the necklace and him as he awarded her with another kiss, another touch that left her dizzy and prone to fainting. Kitty thought she would die if she did not kiss him again.
But he stopped, taking the necklace from her hands. “May I?” he asked and she nodded, feeling as if he could have asked for her soul and she would have gladly given it to him. He stepped behind her and a sudden breeze hit her as the King moved the veil of her hood over her shoulder, exposing the back of her neck. Kitty felt like a lowly woman, but found herself not caring about it at all. “There,” he said, hooking the necklace in place. “Now, you may hold close to your heart something that reminds you of me.”
“My heart needs no reminder, my lord,” Kitty said, turning to look at him again. “The name of His Majesty is stamped over it, I swear to you. For my heart is his and his alone.”
“Oh, Kitty,” he whispered and kissed her again. And again, and again, until she thought she would drown in his kisses. Kitty was swooning with passion when they had to part ways at last, a distant clock ringing to warn of midnight and she barely paid attention to her surroundings as she walked out of the gardens.
But she should’ve, because if she had, then Kitty would have seen that an important man was walking across the palace at that late hour. Unable to sleep, the Duke of Norfolk found himself thinking and exploring the royal residence like a child, admiring the rich tapestries employed by King Henry VIII to adorn his creation. As well as the marvellous gardens, bathed in the clear light of the moon.
And he saw everything.
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A hundred thanks to @TheBookwormBoy for helping me describe the necklace, and for lovingly providing me with his reference.
Oh dear, the Duke of Norfolk is definitely gonna find a way to make this about advancing himself and his kids. John better be on his guard for Norfolk's shenanigans ruining his situation with Kitty.
His entire family, really. Kitty is a Howard. And the Howards want influence.
I mean, given that IOTL he basically threw Catherine at Henry VIII, I think we can trust that he’ll do everything he can to bring this to fruition.
Of course he will. Why would he care if Kitty holds the king's heart in her tiny fist?
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Trouble?? I think Uncle Norfolk might be the best shipper on deck they could have asked for.
Why would he give trouble? If Kitty was with anyone except the King, I could see it, but well...
The only thing to worry about is if John died and any child they had was still a minor, Uncle Norfolk would ABSOLUTELY make himself Regent.