Flower O'Scotland

[VVD0D95]

Flower O’ Scotland



Chapter 1: Something Real



April, 1541

​

James stood where he was, staring at the map before him. He knew things were getting more and more tense with his uncle in the south, but he refused to buckle. He refused to give into the temptation of the Devil as his uncle had. Indeed, he hoped to perhaps make things right in England, by placing his cousin Mary on the throne. He had received word that there were some nobles who wished to see the King of England dead, alongside his son, and have his only trueborn daughter placed on the throne. That was good news indeed.

Before he could do that however, he needed to have an heir alive and well. His two sons were both terribly ill, some sort of malady, though he suspected they had been poisoned by something. The doctors were coming to speak with him now. There was a knock on the door. “Enter.” He called out. The door opened and in walked the two doctors he had entrusted to seeing to his sons’ wellbeing. “Well?” James enquired, his patience not allowing for the usual courtesies.

The senior Doctor, Doctor Beaton, spoke. “Sire, the news we have is both good and bad.”

“What is the bad news?” James asked.

“His Royal Highness, Prince Arthur will not be able to walk properly for some time. The illness he has suffered has left him with some deformities within his legs. He will need aid of a cane to walk as he grows.” Doctor Beaton said.

James nodded, no doubt some Protestant heretic would try to make that seem as a punishment from God. “But he will live?” He asked.

“Yes Sire. He will live. As will His Royal Highness, the Duke of Rothesay.” Doctor Beaton said. “The malady such as it was having been removed from their bodies and their systems. They will not suffer from the illness again.”

James nodded, though he wanted sureties. Beaton was good, but he was old. “Doctor Randolph, what say you?”

Doctor Randolph was a younger man, about James’ age, and he had studied the most recent texts from the continent and practices. “I agree with Doctor Beaton, Sire. The Princes’ will not suffer from this ailment ever again; they are inoculated against it.”

James smiled. “Thank you both, good doctors, you have done Scotland a great service.” He picked up two bags filled with gold and handed them to the men. Both of whom smiled. “God bless you.” He said, they bowed and then walked out. James turned back to the map, and said to himself. “I have two sons, uncle, you have only the one. God is smiling upon me, upon Scotland.”

 

[FalconHonour]

Posting on @VVD0D95's behalf, as they have unfortunately been kicked for the week after something on another thread got out of hand... Don't worry they'll be back soon

Chapter 2: Jealousy



May, 1541​

James read through the letter again and sighed. His cousin the King’s sons had both successfully survived the illnesses which had gripped them. And whilst this was good for Scotland, it wasn’t so good for him. There would be nothing to tie him back to their illnesses, of that he knew, and yet he found little to hope for. He was now third in line of succession, but the King had strengthened the guard both mortal and otherwise around the two Princes as well as around his wife. Furthermore, the King had deigned to summons the lords of the realm to Edinburgh for a feast in Thanksgiving.

He looked at his brother, also named James and said. “The King will now have no further need of me. My services to him will be considered moot, due to the survival of his two sons. Our family is yet again going to be put out on the periphery of Scotland and the court, whilst Sinclair and Maxwell continue to dominate.”

His brother, a bastard, and yet somewhere in the line to succession also, replied. “Not necessarily. You are still the King’s only adult heir. And his two sons are young yet. They will need someone there to guide them. Install one of your own men as their tutors, and you will be able to shape their thinking for years to come. Though of course they are babes yet, so perhaps sending Helen to be a lady in waiting to the Queen would be of better use.”

“And give Campbell a chance to get himself ingratiated with the King? I think not.” James replied. Campbell was a slippery figure at the best of times. Giving him a chance to get into the King’s ear now, was not something that James wanted.

“Then it will have to be Janet. Her husband is friendly with you, is he not?” His brother replied.

“Yes. Cunningham knows which way his bread is buttered.” James said simply. “Though of course there is the other option.”

“If you go toward the English, you will face nothing but trouble. King Henry wants supremacy over the entire isles, he’s already sent his favourites off to take Ireland in hand. You do not want to be associated with that man.” James’s brother, Finnart said.

“And yet to not get involved with King Henry would mean that we are doing something horrendously wrong. I do not wish to venture toward something that I cannot get out of, but nor do I wish to stay routed within something that I do not think will go anywhere. Right now, it feels as though with the King’s sons surviving, there is little room for my own ambitions to grow.” James said simply.

“And what about the ambitions of the family? You are the Earl of Arran, second most powerful man in the realm behind the King. You have the ability to shape things for the good. Do not lose sight of that.” Finnart said, he picked up the letter. “Go to the feast, speak with the King, drink and be merry. And when all is said and done, remind him of your place in the Royal Family.”

 

[FalconHonour]

And now we go South of the border, for a glimpse at what England makes of all these developments

Chapter 3: For Want Of A Nail


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July, 1541​

Henry stared at the papers spread out before him, fighting the urge to scream. His head hurt, his leg hurt, everything hurt. All he wanted to do was sleep and not have to bother with this blasted tedium. Yet, here he was, it was late, and he was awake reading through documents. Cranmer was there also, sat on the other side of the table, waiting for him to speak, and no doubt give his own thoughts on things. Henry decided that the sooner he spoke, the sooner this could all be over.

“How trustworthy is the Earl of Arran?” He asked. They had received private correspondence from the man who was third in line to the throne, seeking an alliance against France.

“Sire, my spies in Scotland report that the King of Scots has grown tired of Francis I and his so called blustering. The thought of being allied to a man who is allied with the heretics in Constantinople makes the King of Scots blood boil. I would say that Arran’s letter is accurate in its portrayal of the King.” Cranmer replied.

“And do you think Arran speaks truly when he says that the King is indeed leaning toward the reformed church?” Henry asked. This was something he doubted, he knew his nephew, he was as stubborn as his thrice damned Mother.

“On that note I think Arran might have given himself over to hyperbole, Sire. My spies report that the King of Scots remains as committed as ever to Rome. Arran himself however, feels that the reformed church is the best place with which Scotland can go. Given the Church’s corruption.” Cranmer replied.

Henry nodded. “No doubt the man wants some accident to befall his King so that he can then serve as regent for the boy.” That mere thought was distasteful to Henry. He might not like his nephew, but he would not abide by the man being removed. “No, tell Arran that unless he can arrange for a meeting between us and our nephew, we are not interested.” Cranmer made note of that. “And what of the Howards, they are going to come to court are they not? To celebrate the birth of Eleanor?” His daughter by Catherine had been born a month ago, and though not the son he had wanted, he was happy he had another child.

“They are Sire.” Cranmer said. “Though it seems that the Duke of Norfolk himself might not be able to attend, being ill with some sort of fever.”

Henry snorted. “That man is always ailing, that is all there ever is to him. But very well. We will of course want grand celebrations, and we suppose that if we must, bring our two illegitimate daughters to court also, so they might see the celebrations.” He did not like Mary, but Elizabeth reminded him of himself at her age, so that was tolerable.

“Yes, Sire.” Cranmer replied. The man paused and then said. “There is also a petition from Lord Stafford for the return of his father’s estates and his restoration by blood.”

Henry stiffened. “And what, pray tell, does the man think he has done to earn the restoration of what his father’s treachery had cost him?” He like Stafford, the man had sense where his father had had none, but still this was something else entirely.

“He points to the good service he offered during Your Majesty’s last campaign, as well as the information he provided to you during the turmoil of the traitor Anne Boleyn. And finally he points you to the information he provided during the recent seizures.” Cranmer said.

Henry considered this and then asked. “What would your advice be?”

“I would advise, Sire, that you return some of the estates to Stafford, and perhaps raise him to an Earldom, but not to the full Dukedom. Let him earn that much for himself.” Cranmer replied.

Henry nodded. “Very well, have the papers drawn up. We shall get to that at once.” A headache hit him then and he waved a hand. “First let us rest for a time.” Cranmer bowed and departed, Henry rose, and stumbled into the next room, where his bed awaited him.

NB: Eleanor was never born in history. Chalk her existence up to butterflies: Henry trying to keep up with his Scottish nephew now that the Scottish Princes have survived.

 

[FalconHonour]

Chapter 4: Culpepper


​

September, 1541​

​

Thomas entered the room, nodded to the guards and bowed before the Queen. He kissed her outstretched hand and then straightened. “Your Majesty.” He said simply.

“Sit.” The Queen commanded him and so he did. She looked him over once “You are well?” She asked.

“I am, Your Majesty. And yourself?” Thomas asked knowing that they had a very dangerous game to play, there were ears in the walls.

“As well as can be.” The Queen replied. Silence followed for a time, then the Queen said. “You have done as I have asked?”

Thomas nodded. “I have, Your Majesty. His body will not be found for some time. Enough time for all evidence to be burned. As I have told my people to do.”

The Queen gave him one of those rare smiles, and he felt his heart lift. “Good, you have done well.” Another pause, and then the Queen continued. “And those who have spoken ill of me in the past?”

“I have spoken with John and we have reached an agreement. I shall speak with his niece and see whether we can reach an agreement for a marriage.” Thomas said. He knew that his Queen would not like that, but if it kept her alive, then it was for the best.

The Queen put a hand on his face. “You are so gallant as to do this for me, Thomas. I know what it will cost you.”

“I do it for you, Your Majesty. That is reward enough.” Thomas said. He kissed her hand.

The Queen said nothing, merely allowing her hand to trace over his face, she then said. “I think that we must seek to remove Cranmer, though I know not how.”

Thomas hesitated. “Your Majesty, removing Cranmer will not be as easy as dealing with the two other problems you have faced. I am a friend to the King, but Cranmer is his chief advisor. He would take anything I say and discard it if Cranmer told him it was wrong.”

The Queen did not seem perturbed however. She merely removed her hand and said. “But you are not the King’s wife. I am. And I have given him a daughter, a daughter he dotes on. He continues to seek my bed, and soon I shall be heavy with child once more. When that happens, then I shall tell him that Cranmer has betrayed him.”

“And what of the King’s other children?” Thomas asked. “Will you remove them if you bear the King a son?” He would not be surprised if she did. The Queen was ruthless when she needed to be.

“Edward is sickly, he will die soon anyway. Bess is a bastard in the eyes of the Catholic Church, and Mary, now Mary is the most difficult one to handle. She will need to be dealt with. Frances might just do the trick, though I am unsure of that.” The Queen replied.

“Frances gets along well with Mary, Your Majesty. Perhaps if you convince the King of the danger Mary poses?” Thomas suggested.

“I will see. The King’s mood can and does change. But if I give him a son, then he will most certainly see what I mean.” The Queen said.

Thomas bowed before her. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 5: Plots



December, 1541​

“How do the accounts look?” James asked. He knew they had spent a fair sum celebrating the birth of his heir and spare and their survival. He also knew his wife was pregnant once more and he wanted to know if they could afford another celebration. He hoped for a girl this time.

Sir James Kirkcaldy, Lord High Treasurer looked at the documents before him and said. “Sire, we have enough money to see through another three celebrations, including the great feast planned in three days time for the celebration of Christ’s birth. Furthermore the income from the monasteries is bolstering the royal coffers.”

“Good.” James said, he did not know how he felt about charging the monasteries for their land and their produce, but if it strengthened the coffers then so be it.

“And what of those heretics, where do they stand?” James asked. He knew some of them had tried to bring Arran over to his side, but he was not sure if they had succeeded.

“So far they remain silent.” Cardinal Beaton said. “They have seemingly accepted the Edicts that Your Majesty issued some months ago. However, my sources report that they are still unhappy over what they term the abuses of the clerical purse.”

James snorted. “How surprising. They read one chapter from that fool Luther and then they suddenly think they know more about the Church and the doctrine that His Holiness. Tell me, why is it always those who were the leading exploiters of the corruption within the church that embrace this heresy?” This was something he had long wanted to know for it made no sense to him.

“Sire, they are the ones who wish to gain something from pointing this out. It is popular with their tenants and they are hypocrites, possessed by the devil.” Cardinal Beaton replied.

“I do not think it is as simple as that, Sire.” Sir James replied.

“And what pray, do you think the reason is that has led these men toward blasphemy and treason?” James demanded of his treasurer.

“I think we can see the hand of England within this. Notice how they do not espouse that form of heresy found within the continent. Instead they follow a similar line as that preached within England’s churches. I believe that King Henry is their main benefactor.” Sir James said.

James thought on this for a moment and then nodded. “Of that we can see. Our Uncle has never quite realised that Scotland has and always will be independent of the English in every way.” He paused then and then asked. “What might we do to drive them away from his grasping hands?” He did not want his lords being in debt to the King of England.

“I would say call for a meeting of the lords and clergy to discuss how to reform the church. Take opinion and then go from there. I am sure none of the lords currently speaking of heresy would last long if their arguments were heard.” Sir James said.

“What say you, Cardinal?” James asked.

Cardinal Beaton hesitated for a moment and then said. “I think such a thing could be useful, Sire. It would certainly quell any malicious rumours out there.”

James clapped his hands together and said. “Then let the letters be sent out. Let us have this council and put all matters to rest.”

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 6: Knox



February, 1542

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The Archbishop had brought him to court, to present him before the King. John did not know how this had happened. He had been content to tutor Hugh Douglas’s children and to be a minor member of the Parish in St Andrews, and yet here he was, standing before God’s representative in Scotland. John took a moment, and swallowed with nerves as the Cardinal introduced him.

“John Knox of St Andrews, a member of my parish, and a valued tutor to Hugh Douglas’ children, Sire.”

John bowed before the King, and then walked forward, still bowed and kissed the King’s outstretched hand. “An honour, Sire.” John said, his heart in his mouth.

“Rise.” The King said with authority, he was tallish, with dark brown hair and piercing eyes. “Cardinal Beaton, you may leave us.” The Cardinal bowed and walked out of the room. Once the Cardinal was gone, the King spoke again. “The Cardinal tells us that you have some interesting notions about the Holy Bible and Rome. We would be much pleased to hear them.”

For a moment John froze, and wondered if he had said something out of line. He knew the King had ordered reformers burned before for heresy, but nothing he had said so far counted as such. He wondered then if Cardinal Beaton was trying to play him, but the Cardinal was not as smart as that. He took a breath and then said. “It would be my pleasure, Sire.”

“Then do go on.” The King said.

“Sire, my initial thoughts are not on the Bible itself, for that book is God’s word. No, my thoughts are more on management of the church and how it can be improved.” John said, he saw the King smile and took that as encouragement to continue. “Sire, currently there are any number of priests or bishops wandering around with bastards roaming after them. This is a terrible stain on the reputation of the Scottish church. Rome will never allow these people to marry and sire legitimate children, for Rome is filled with old men who are nothing short of hypocrites. Therefore, I propose that we allow these priests and bishops to marry, not only to spare themselves hell and damnation, but also to spare the souls of their children.”

“And why would I do that?” the King asked. “I am not the Vicar of Christ, but merely a King.”

“But you are God’s chosen in Scotland, Sire. The Church here is under your control. The church already gives you a portion of their rent as money in lieu of tax. Why not charge the priests and bishops who sin for said sin, and encourage marriage?” John replied.

“And you think the clergy would be amenable to this?” The King asked.

“Sire, I think the clergy have no choice but to be amenable to it. Otherwise they are committing sin, and losing the respect of the people.” John said, he already knew of the out roar that had come when the Bishop of Dundee had been revealed to have sired some thirteen children with three different women.

“Then we propose that you come with us when we host our conference in Stirling later this year. We would much like for you to present this argument before the lords and clergy of the realm.” The King said.

John was surprised by that, he had not thought the King would make such a generous offer. He saw his chance, to grow beyond what limits he had now, and perhaps with time become the King’s main councillor. With that in mind he said. “It would honour me, Sire.”

The King clapped his hands then and said. “Then it is decided.”

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 7: Maria



April, 1542​

Mary sighed. She had returned from court and now all she felt was the sin of jealousy. She did not remember her father ever being so kind and generous to her as he was to her sister Eleanor. He seemed to have become ever more the doting father in his old age. Mary felt jealous, and she felt aggrieved. Seeing her new step mother with her daughter made Mary pine after her own family, something her father steadfastly refused to give her.

She pushed the thought aside and looked at her mother’s former friend, who Father had thankfully allowed her to retain. “Lady Maria, tell me something, is it normal for someone to feel loss for something they never had?”

“Madam?” Lady Maria replied sounding uncertain. They spoke in Spanish, a language Mary had been taught as a little girl by her mother.

“Is it normal for someone such as myself to feel jealous over something she has never known? Meaning, a family.” Mary said.

“Oh Madam, it is normal as anything. Especially when one is cruelly denied it as you have been.” Maria said.

Mary sighed. “I do not know what to feel. I feel jealousy is unbecoming of a Princess, and yet it strikes me whenever I see my father, the King with his daughter Eleanor. I do not know my brother or my other sister. But I know that the King’s new wife is content to show the world how much the King dotes on her daughter.” She did not like Catherine Howard and found her to be overbearing and with ideas above her station.

Catherine, Maria’s daughter, who supported the reformation, but was also fiercely loyal to her, said. “Madam, there is no question that Lady Howard is nothing more than an upstart, but that does not mean you need feel jealousy. I am sure the King’s heart will soften with time.”

Mary laughed. “It has been years since, my Mother the Queen died, and yet he remains against my marriage. I do not know what to do.” Truth was, she had almost given up hope.

“Then perhaps there is another option open to you, Madam.” Catherine said.

“What do you mean?” Mary demanded.

Dorothy Stafford, another lady in waiting and long time friend spoke. “My lady, there is the option of finding help in the personage of the imperial ambassador.” A pause then. “You know he is a great friend to you, and has always been friendly toward you.”

“And how would he help me? He cannot help me escape from this fate, nor can he help me convince the King to let me wed.” Mary said sadly.

Maria spoke. “He has the option of taking you for a visit to see your cousin, the Emperor. The King cannot deny you that, especially if the Emperor issues you a formal invitation, madam.”

“And what could convince the Emperor to do that now, when he has not done it before?” Mary asked.

“The prospect of gaining your hand away from anyone else. The fact that the King is looking to renew his wars with France, and all sorts of other things.” Maria supplied.

“You mean his war with Spain, if there was a war with France, I would be stuck here.” Mary said.

Catherine spoke then. “Madam, I am going to court by month’s end. Let me see if I can meet with the ambassador and see what he says. You never know how God might favour you.”

Mary thought about this for a long moment and then said. “Very well, try it, but no word to anyone.”

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 8: Aviz



June, 1542
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“We continue to face obstacles at further expansion and the proper establishment of trade links within the country due to the actions of the Princes and the Sultans. We will need to put more funds into ensuring they do not undermine everything that we have achieved Sire.” Teodosio his trade minister said.

John looked at the man and then asked. “Which princes are the ones who stand in the way of our expansion and trade?” He had studied India for as long as he could remember, there was a patchwork of alliances in place which his forbearers had developed, but this, this needed to be done properly.

“It is the Sultanates, Sire. They stand opposed due to what they see as our heresy.” Teodosio replied.

John sighed. “And what of the Hindu Princes?”

“They are busy fighting one another, Sire. They see no benefit in getting involved.” Teodosio said.

Duarte, his cousin spoke then. “Sire, I think it would be best if we approached the Hindu Princes and took it from there. We do not want to make a move that could endanger everything.”

“You are right of course.” John acknowledged. He looked at Teodosio. “Tell our governor that we wish for him to begin a cautious approach and go from there.” The man nodded and John turned his attention elsewhere. “Now, what of Spain and France, where do things stand there?”

Duarte spoke then. “Sire, Emperor Charles remains indifferent to the moves the French are making within their own borders, however, he has sent word that he wishes to discuss a renewal of an alliance. A potential marriage between his son and Princess Maria.”

John looked at his cousin and fought back a sigh. Another marriage with Spain? That would make them the heirs to his son and only surviving heir. “And what would he offer in return for this?”

“A continuation of the non-aggression pact that he has shown since his ascension.” Duarte replied.

John laughed. “You mean the non-aggression he has had to show since he has been surrounded by enemies on all sides.” There was a pause and then he said. “We shall consider this.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Doctor Enrique had been attending his wife spoke. “Sire, if I may?”

“Speak.” John said knowing what the man was going to say.

“Her Majesty the Queen is not getting any better, and whilst it pains me to say this, perhaps it would be wise to consider another marriage for Your Majesty? After all, the succession is not secure.”

“What, offer us as a contender for the hand of one of Charles’s daughters?” John asked, fighting back a laugh. “You think the man will accept that?”

Before the Doctor could respond, one of his servants came and whispered something in his ear. The Doctor stood up and said. “Sire, the Queen is ailing.” John stood up immediately then and walked with the doctor, the councillors coming with him.

They got to his wife’s room, the Doctor took her pulse and then looked at him. “Well?” John demanded.

“I would summon the priest, Sire.” The doctor replied.

John did as was suggested and the priest came, the last rites were performed, and John watched as his wife died before his eyes. He sighed and murmured to himself. “God has shown on you today Charles.” With that he turned and stalked from the room.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 9: Henry, King of England



September, 1542
​

Henry’s head hurt. But that was nothing new, it always hurt, and had done since his accident six years ago. Back when he’d been a young man, fit and healthy, not the fat, grotesque monster he often saw before himself in the mirror in the morning. He took a deep gulp of wine to clear his head and looked at his council of advisors. “So, what word has there been from the north?” He had heard rumours, whispers, nothing more of some planned uprising in his daughter’s name. Mary had written to inform him of some meeting she had heard of between Percy and Neville, but nothing more than that.

Norfolk, his Lord Treasurer and one of his closest confidants spoke then. “Sire, Percy writes denying any involvement in any scheme, but his cousins write that they have been included in councils between him and Neville. Whether they are saying this for their own gain or for truth, I do not know.”

Henry’s headache grew, he took another deep gulp of wine. “Then send Francis onto the case and find out. I do not want another uprising.” Henry snarled.

“Yes, Sire.” Norfolk said making a note and passing it to Francis who stood in the corner.

Henry then turned his attention to another matter that had been bothering him for some time, fighting against his headache he asked. “What of France, what is that oaf Francis doing now?”

On this note, his ever faithful Archbishop replied. “Sire, King Francis remains within his palace, painting and giving persecution to the Protestants within his realm. He does little else. Though our spies report that he is preparing to go to war with the Emperor once more.”

“Of course, those two are like two peas in a pod, always fighting but always the same. Has the Emperor responded to our request?” Henry asked. Support in a war against France, in recognition of English claims to Calais and more of northern France.

“He has, Sire.” Cranmer replied handing Henry the paper. Henry read it quickly and then smiled.

“Excellent. No doubt when Francis hears of this he will try to get Scotland involved.” Henry replied.

“And he will find King James tied up in trying to resolve those issues within the council of religion he has called.” Cranmer said.

Henry looked at the councillor and asked. “You managed to plant the seed then?”

“Yes Your Majesty, King James won’t be leaving Stirling for some time yet.” Cranmer replied.

“Excellent.” Henry said clapping his hands together, any event to frustrate his nephew brought him untold joy.

“There is another matter, Sire.” Norfolk said then.

“What?” Henry demanded, his headache was growing ever more wrathful.

“The Imperial ambassador has approached me, stating that the Emperor would like to see his cousin, the Lady Mary.” Norfolk said.

Immediately Henry’s hackles rose and he asked. “Did he say why?”

“Simply that the Emperor wished to see his cousin.” Norfolk said.

Henry thought for a moment and then said. “Summon her to court, let her answer this herself.” He would imprison her if he had to. Letting her out of his sight would be far too dangerous.

“Yes Sire.” Norfolk replied.

“Very well. If there’s nothing else.” With that Henry rose, and walked out of the room, toward his bed and a cup of wine.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 10: Doctrine



December, 1542
​

It had been almost a year since he had called the meeting of the nobles and clergy to discuss reforming the faith to avoid potential war. In that time, Mary had given birth to a little girl they had named Mary after her and after James’s cousin. James’s heir had started talking and walking and his brother Arthur had started talking as well. Both of them appeared as if they would be as thick as thieves when they grew older, which was something he looked forward to.

However, not everything was going according to plan. The council had been one of the most fractious of all time. Through much head smashing and bartering he had managed to narrow down the points of contention to two issues, the matter of Bishops and the matter of transubstantiation. Right now, was the final session for the year and he wanted this all said and done before they broke for Michaelmas. He cleared his throat.

“We have heard the reasoning put forward before us, we all have. But now let us hear from both sides on the matter of Bishops.”

Cardinal Beaton stood and spoke as was expected. “Sire, the system of bishops is an integral part of the church. They allow for complex matters to be discussed and then disseminated in a manner to which is understandable to lay person. After all this council itself could not have been possible without the presence of myself and my fellow bishops.” There was some murmuring there, Beaton sat down.

Knox, who James had increasingly taken a liking to, due to his forthright speech and manner stood then. “It should not surprise anyone that His Holiness thinks himself and his fellows essential. They are after all dependant on such a view for their livelihoods. However, the corruption within the church especially amongst the Bishops is a stain on the good nature of the church and on the King. What Rome does cannot be reflected here. We are an older people and a wiser people.” Some of the nobles nodded in agreement.

“What then would be your solution?” James asked.

“That there be a council of the clergy who meet to discuss such issues before presenting them to Your Majesty. That any and all appointments be decided by Your Majesty and not by Rome. Bishops are not necessary, they are merely a formality imposed by a foreign power. The Scottish people demand direct access to learning.” Knox said. That got some rapturous applause from the nobles, some of whom James knew could not read.

“We might as well break from Rome if we are to do that.” Beaton said angrily.

Gavin Dunbar, Archbishop of Glasgow stood up and said. “That is the point!”

A hushed silence fell over the crowd then, the man looked at James nervously. James looked at him and then said. “We are not breaking with Rome, Your Holiness, merely speaking of reform internally. We are not England.” The Archbishop bowed his head and sat down. James turned to Knox and said. “We shall accept these proposals, but with a change. There shall still be an Archbishop of St Andrews and one of Glasgow, there shall also be priests who may consider themselves available for promotion in good time.”

“I have no issue with that, Sire.” Knox said. There were murmurs of approval, James didn’t bother to look at Beaton.

“Now on the matter of Transubstantiation.” James began, before Knox rose.

“Sire, if I may, might we instead consider the issue of the language of the Holy Scriptures?”

Surprised, James thought for a moment and then said. “Very well.”

Knox looked surprised but then he recovered. “Sire, Latin is the language of Rome, but the people do not understand it. For all they know they could be told that the land is blue and the sky is green, and they might have to believe it. However, if they were listening to the sermons or reading the books in their own tongue then they would better understand the word of God, and the word of the King.”

Beaton stood up. “That would be breaking from Rome.”

“Actually it wouldn’t.” Dunbar said standing up. “The French are printing their own bibles, why should we not also do the same?”

There were mutterings of agreement, James considered this for a moment and then replied. “And if we were to agree to this, what would be included within this Bible?”

Knox smiled. “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s.”

James heard that and smiled, he liked the sound of that, of being able to control the contents of the sermons even more than before. “Very well, we agree with this.” He clapped his hands and said. “We break for Michaelmas to return in the New Year.”

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 11: Catherine Concerns



February, 1543

​

Catherine sat as still as she could. The King’s hand was in her own, his face looked peaceful in sleep, though she suspected there was some inner turmoil raging within. He had been bedridden since the Michaelmas feast some months ago, and since then had barely opened his eyes, only long enough to name her as the power to enact his will. Only three laws had been passed in that time, all of them to do with minor things. But there were other things brewing and she needed him awake.

“Your Majesty.” Doctor William said, disturbing her from her thoughts.

“Yes? How is it?” Catherine found herself asking.

“I have conducted as many tests as I am able, and I think the problem is only going to get worse.” The doctor replied.

Catherine kept her face expressionless, but internally she wanted to curse. “How worse? And what is the cause?”

The Doctor said nothing for a time, simply looked at the King, and when her patience was about to run out, he spoke. “Your Majesty, I think that there has been some major problems with the King’s internal headspace, he took a blow some years ago and that has done a lot to damage him. His brain, from what I can tell has moved somewhat. As such this has caused some sort of formation atop it and meant that without treatment it could’ve worsened. As it is, it is quite bad.”

Catherine wanted to ask the question, but to speak of the King’s death was treason and therefore she simply asked. “What now?”

“Now all we can do is pray and hope His Majesty recovers.” The Doctor said.

Unsatisfied but knowing to ask anything more would be damaging, Catherine nodded and waved him off. She looked at her husband for a time, her mind whirring with possibilities. He’d demanded that Mary come to court, and the girl was here, she remained in her rooms barely eating, barely speaking, but she was here. That was good, for it mean that she could be kept an eye on and that anything suspicious could be tapped down. The other girl, her cousin Elizabeth was more difficult. She was elsewhere, under custody and therefore unlikely to change places. She looked at her husband and said. “I’ll keep Edward safe, do not worry.” The Prince of Wales was a nice boy, but a bit slow sometimes, and annoying at others.

Eventually she kissed the King’s hand and rose, telling the nurses and guards to keep an eye and let her know if there was any change. She left the room, accompanied by three guardsmen, shortly after, her uncle, the Duke of Norfolk joined her. “What news?” he asked.

“The King remains the same.” Catherine said simply, she would not tell her uncle everything, she knew how this game was played.

“You must decide what to do about the Lady Mary and her sister.” Norfolk said.

“Mary yes, Elizabeth is just a girl.” Catherine said. “Besides both are illegitimate.”

“And yet the Imperial Ambassador approached the King about giving the girl leave to visit her cousin the Emperor. You think he would have asked that had they not plans? Mary is dangerous to you and to Eleanor. Think on that for some time.” Norfolk said.

Catherine looked at her uncle and said. “The King is not gone from this world yet, Your Grace. I would watch what you say for some time.” With that she waved him off and made her way to the nursery where her daughter Eleanor sat and played with some toys. She watched her, and thought ahead. Eleanor was a Princess of England, she would make a great marriage, perhaps to Scotland, or perhaps to France one day. She would not be relegated as Mary and Elizabeth had been.

She turned around, as she heard someone calling for her. A servant, dressed in red and white stopped before her. “Your Majesty, it is the King.” Catherine felt her heart drop.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 12: God Save the King!



February, 1543
​

His head no longer hurt, he was not sure what that meant. Was he cured of the infernal headaches and everything else that came with them? Henry looked around and wondered where he was. It was dark, so very dark. There was no light and no people. “Hello?” He called out into the darkness, nobody replied but his voice echoed around the darkness. “Pah.” His headache was gone, but the chaos was clearly still there.

“They cannot hear you.” Henry turned around at the sound of the voice.

“Father?” He asked surprised. Henry Tudor stood there, staring at him.

“What have you done to the realm I worked so hard to forge.” His father demanded of him.

“What do you mean?” Henry asked surprised.

“Your hubris will cost England her place in this world. You could not simply have waited for your first wife to die. You had to rip England from Rome.” His father replied.

“England was going to stray from Rome. Better it happened under me than someone else. I am Defender of the Faith!” Henry protested. “A son is necessary for the continuation of the dynasty! You taught me that!”

His father snorted. “And yet do you even know what Faith you are defending? Your son is a weakling who won’t last the reign you put him through.”

“You are lying!” Henry snarled.

“Do not accuse your father of such a crime, Henry.” Henry felt as if he was going to die, for his mother stood before him then.

“Mother? What are you doing here?” Henry demanded.

His mother said nothing, but his father continued. “You have brought shame onto our house, onto England. You are no better than the Plantagenets with their egos and their lack of humility.”

Before Henry could respond, his brother appeared before him then. “I asked you to protect Catalina, not shame her.”

“I needed an heir! England needed an heir!” Henry roared back in defiance.

“It was never her fault, and you knew it. It was yours.” Arthur said back softly.

“You lie!” Henry roared.

“They do not lie, Henry. Your seed was never pure.” Now it was Anne Boleyn who stood before him. “I had to get someone else to get me pregnant with Elizabeth, you know this.”

“Lies!” Henry roared.

“You never could face the truth.” Catherine said appearing before him then. Her hair was long as it was when last he’d seen her.

“You’re dead! All of you!” Henry roared.

“And so are you!” His father said simply.

Henry’s eyes flew open. “Catherine!”

“I’m here, my King!” He heard.

“Catherine, my regent, you are my regent.” Henry said as he saw the darkness grow again.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 13: Scotland the Bold



April, 1543​

Spring had come and with it had come the resolution of most of the quandaries of the church. They were to be publishing bibles in Scots from this month, after the Pope had reluctantly agreed. The pomp and ceremony remained and the hymns of the bible to spread God’s message were to continue as well. And of course, in the south, well that was the main focus of why he had called this meeting. His councillors were looking at him, waiting for him to speak. James smiled at them.

“Our Royal Uncle, the King of England has been dead for two months now. His death has left England in a state of chaos, with different factions fighting over who has the best claim to the regency. As such, it is our opinion that Scotland can gain from this. Lord Sinclair, you have looked through this have you not?” James said.

Sinclair smiled. “I have, Sire. From my own studies, I think we have two options before us. We can either go forward with alliance with the French and invade England now and try and take some land in Northern England. Or we can negotiate with the English now, and get Berwick back and some border towns also.”

There were some murmurs there. James knew his council was split, as it so often was on various things. He would need to sort the matter out himself. The Earl of Atholl spoke then. “Sire, I believe that negotiating with the English would be our best bet. We can invade, but men would die. Right now we are at a position of strength. We have cards to play. Negotiate and get what we want without bloodshed.”

Bothwell who was very much in favour of the French alliance spoke then. “Sire, I think if we negotiate we shall look weak. Our alliance with France goes back to the wars of independence, to abandon them now would be cowardly.”

There was grumbling at that. “Will you be leading troops into war then?” Atholl demanded of Bothwell.

“If His Majesty wishes to grant me the honour such a thing, then I will.” Bothwell shot back.

Atholl snorted, but before he could say anything, James spoke. “Your Eminence, please do inform the council of the proposal from Paris.” He had kept this secret for some time hoping to get the feeling from his council. It seemed he would need to act sooner than he had hoped.

“Sire,” Cardinal Beaton said. “King Francis has proposed a marriage between his granddaughter Elisabeth and His Royal Highness the Duke of Rothesay, for when they come of age. He also adds that a significant dowry would come with this.”

James let this settle for a time, and then spoke. “Such a marriage would continue the alliance, without needing to wage war. For King Francis makes no mention of such a thing does he?”

“He does not, Your Majesty.” The Cardinal replied.

Sinclair spoke. “Then perhaps that is the best solution. Negotiate with England, and then negotiate a betrothal with the King of France. Betrothals can be broken later on if nothing comes of it.”

“Such a thing would reflect badly on His Majesty.” Bothwell replied.

James looked at the man, already tired, “Send word to Arran, he shall negotiate with the English. Sinclair you shall go to Paris and negotiate with Francis.” Perhaps some good could come from all this mess.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 14: Cranmer

June, 1543
​

Thomas took a deep breath. It had been months since the King had died. The wounds he had taken long ago finally doing in for him. Since then, the government had been in a state of crisis. The Queen Dowager claimed the King had named her regent for his son, but no document had been found saying anything of the such. Still she persisted. Eventually, a compromise had been reached where the Lord President of the Council, would act as regent, and the privy council would continue on its functions. But this had not truly worked. They were all combative personalities, and without the King being a man grown to stem the tide, things had gotten into disarray.

Cranmer had asked to meet with the Lord President and the Duke of Norfolk who was still Lord High Treasurer, to discuss what was happening and to try and find a solution. Both men were sat next to him, in his solar in the Palace of Whitehall, where the King, a mere boy of six had decided to make residence. Thomas took another breath and then spoke. "We cannot go on like this, Your Graces. England is in crisis. It is a wonder that our enemies have not tried to invade and take land from us."

Suffolk snorted. "What do you call what the Scots have proposed? That is as good a land grab as any."

Norfolk replied. "We would be wise in considering their proposal seriously. We cannot afford to have them barking on our heels and allied with the French."

Before Suffolk could retort, Thomas spoke. "They ask only for Berwick and one other border town that they claim was taken without their consent in the treaty of 1482. I say we consider it."

Norfolk nodded. "I agree, I think we would be wise to consider their proposal. If they align with France, we are going to be surrounded by two hostile powers, though Francis of France is himself ailing, you can be sure his son will continue his policies."

Suffolk said nothing for a time, and Thomas feared he would object, then he said. "Very well, I can see the sense in that. We will need to ensure the council to get this through, properly. Seymour will object, as will Dudley, but they can be dealt with easily enough. I suggest we put in our own proposal."

"A proposal of marriage?" Norfolk asked sounding surprised.

Cranmer seized on it. "Yes, let's offer the Lady Elizabeth or Princess Eleanor's hand in marriage to the Duke of Rothesay, with the town of Berwick as her dowry."

"I would offer the Lady Elizabeth myself, Princess Eleanor is the heir to the King. We cannot risk her." Norfolk replied.

"Lady Elizabeth would need to be legitimised. We cannot have a bastard marrying into Scotland, otherwise they will definitely align with France." Suffolk said.

"Not to worry, that legitimization can be performed easily enough. It just needs the King's signature." Cranmer said.

"And what of the Queen Dowager? We cannot have her wandering around causing trouble. We could use her expertise and her relationship with the King. It would take away Hertford's influence." Suffolk said.

"Why not name her regent, confirm her in her deepest desire, and then we can get to work?" Cranmer suggested.

"I agree, she would make a good regent, the King trusts her also. " Norfolk said.

"Very well then, let us confirm that." Suffolk said. A piece of paper was brought forward, their words dictated, and then their seals affixed to it. They would present this to the Queen Dowager on the morrow and ensure the troubles went away.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 15: Guise

September, 1543
​

Mary took a breath, looked at her husband and then spoke. "Your Majesty, I have tried to reconcile myself with the changes you are bringing to the church, but I find that I cannot quite agree with them anymore. I feel this is something we must speak about to prevent a rift within our family."

Her husband stopped what he was doing and looked at her. "Then speak your mind."

"Sire, whilst I agree the church needs reform, I think that the manner in which this reform has been achieved will undermine its position in the long term. Placing the focus on hymns and translating the Bible into Scots is not something that is right. God's word is in Latin as decided by His Holiness in Rome. Why go against that?" Mary replied.

Her husband smiled slightly. "Mary," Here, her husband took to Scots, a language she only knew slightly well. He then switched to French. "We cannot expect the people of Scotland to follow us if our religion is different to theirs. The Pope has shown he wishes not to make changes that need to be made for the church to survive. I do not want some heresy from Luther or worse Calvin coming to infect my Kingdom, therefore I have taken the steps I have. Our sources report that Lutheran and Calvinist preachers have had to flee southwards to England, or to the continent as a result. We have stopped potential war, and for that we must be grateful."

Mary thought about that and then said. "Yes, it is good that war has been avoided and that heretics have been removed without violence. But Sire, what happens if the lords or someone else decides they want more? What then?"

Her husband laughed. "What more could they want? We have given them the reforms that they spoke of. Should anymore corruption become apparent, those responsible will lose their heads and their lives. That I made sure of."

"And you do not think anything like what is happening within England could happen here, Sire? The regent is having to handle those foolish Puritans and other forms of bigots." Mary said.

"The regent is a woman and her charge is a boy. Her council is divided, ours is not. We shall face no such issues so long as we remain in charge." Her husband replied confidently.

Mary said nothing to that, for speaking of the King's death was treason. Instead she tried changing tack. "And what of our sons tutor? John Knox, a low ranking clergyman, His Eminence, Cardinal Beaton does not like the man. Surely that should cause a pause for thought over whether or not he is a good fit for our sons."

James took her hand then and looked into her eyes. "Our sons will be the future of these isles, we must bring about their education to adapt to that. We must ensure that they are prepared for challenges and for anything else that might come their way. His Eminence has valid concerns, but this is not something I am willing to be swayed on." Mary said nothing to that, and as if sensing her hesitance, her husband said. "If it is of great concern to you, my dear, we can invite your brother to come and oversee part of the boys' education."

Mary smiled at her husband. "That would please me greatly." She kissed his cheek then.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 16: Regency



December, 1543​

Catherine looked about her, at the men of the Privy Council and she did not feel weak or afraid. They were all mighty and powerful men, but they were just that, men. They did not terrify her, she felt contempt for some and respect for others. She knew she had been chosen as regent to end the stalemate that had destroyed the country since her husband and King had died. And truth be told she did not mind. It meant a woman’s caution would be exercised over the impulses of men like Hertford and Dudley.

She cleared her throat. “My lords of the Privy Council, we have much business to discuss. First and foremost this offer from the Emperor of an alliance. My Lord Norfolk, if you could please explain it for the council.”

Her Uncle, the Duke of Norfolk spoke then, clearly and concisely. “Your Majesty, my lords, the Emperor states that if we were to declare an open alliance with him, that he would aid us in expanding the Pale of Calais, so long as we might fight against the French to the best of our abilities.”

There was a murmur there and Hertford being the most war like of all the councillors, spoke. “I think such a proposal is smart.” A pause and then. “King Francis is ailing, his heir is untested, we must make a move now before we lose momentum.”

“And what of Scotland? The moment we declare an alliance with the Emperor, the King of Scots will end our peace treaty.” Catherine pointed out. “There is only one reason why he has held out for so long.”

Hertford looked as if he wanted to fire off something at her, but he resisted and instead said. “Our army is stronger than Scotland’s. If King James wishes to wage war, then we shall do so and we shall defeat him. But I believe it is imperative that we take this offering and make good of it.”

Suffolk spoke then. “I disagree.” There was a silence and Suffolk continued. “The last war we fought in alliance with the Emperor saw us left out to dry whilst the Emperor took most of what he wanted. We cannot in good consciousness fight the French now. Not when there are a great many other problems facing the realm.”

“You think the people will care about those problems should we be winning against both the French and the Scots?” Hertford demanded.

“I think the farmers will want to know why we haven’t done more to aid them combat the poor weather, and the poor will want to know what measures we have got to ensure they do not die in the cold.” Catherine said staring down at Hertford with contempt.

There was weighty pause, then Hertford’s shoulders slumped. “So, we are to focus on those things instead of actually winning against France once and for all?”

“Considering that unless we deal with those things there will not be a nation, yes, we shall deal with them first.” Catherine commanded. She looked at Norfolk and said. “I want enough money set aside so that we might provide aid to the farmers in the new year, and I want edicts passed out to every church and abbey and poor house with instructions.”

“Yes Your Majesty.” Norfolk said.

“And send word to Edinburgh, let King James know I am willing to discuss new terms with him.” Catherine said. She might not give him Eleanor, but she would string him along.

“Yes Your Majesty.” Norfolk replied.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 17: Marriage Concerns

February, 1544​

Joao kept his expression without clarity, knowing his council members would pounce on any hint of uncertainty. The future of the dynasty rested on himself and his son, who had been in and out of health. Sometimes, he felt that God was punishing him for the closeness of the marriages he and his family had made. A curse upon him for breaking the sacred law set down in the Bible. It was a thought that haunted his every waking moment. The line of his house might die with him and his son, but his brother Luis and nephew Duarte were both still there. Perhaps it was time to look for marriages for them also.

Joao cleared his throat. "Gentlemen, it has been some time since we last met, in that time much has changed. The Emperor has signalled his intent to declare war on France, though the English are looking increasingly unlikely to join him. Consequently, we would not be surprised if he demanded something from us. Luis, how strong is our navy?" Sometimes he wondered if he had been wise to give Luis a position of power on the council, given how scattered his brother's thinking could be.

"Sire, our navy is strong. We are more than a match to sally forth and challenge the French fleet as it currently stands. However, I would hesitate to commit to a long scale commitment. We would do well in short raids to take plunder and such, perhaps even in whatever colonies the French have, but nothing more." Luis replied.

"How long could we remain within the sea as a proper combatant?" Joao demanded, that mattered more to him than the colonies.

"I would say at full commitment, some three to four months, at most, Sire." Luis replied.

Joao frowned. "That is not good enough. We cannot be considered a serious force if our fleet is unable to last longer than half a year."

"Sire, with respect, we are not meant for such engagements." Luis said.

"What do you mean?" Joao responded. "Our strength comes from our maritime presence."

"In terms of trade, yes, but in terms of active combat? We would be better suited to raiding than actual long scale war." Luis stated.

Joao went to say something, but before he could, the Duke of Braganza spoke. "Sire, perhaps for the time being we should instead focus on another pressing matter. Mainly that of the succession."

Joao gritted his teeth and nodded. "very well, who are the choices being put before us?" The thought of marrying again did not sit well, he had loved his wife, but the needs of the dynasty came before his own personal needs.

"Margaret of France is one candidate." Braganza said. "It would be a positive, Sire, it would bring a new alliance and a hefty dowry, and perhaps ensure that we are not so tied to Spain."

"And likely invoke the Emperor's wrath." Luis said. "I do not think it is worth it. Better to consider his own niece, Anna of Austria."

Joao considered that and then said. "Anna of Austria for the time being seems to be the right marriage. Send the proposal through."

Luis nodded. "I will do, Sire."

"And whilst you are doing that, consider your own marriage also, we must strengthen the house." Joao added.

His brother looked surprised for a moment and then said. "Yes Your Majesty."

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 18: France

May. 1544​

Francis fought back the urge to put a hand to his forehead. Increasingly, his head was paining and his body was giving up on itself. Why this was he did not know, nor did the doctors. It seemed as though that which had affected his great rival Henry was also affecting him. The difference being that he had a male heir whilst Henry had not had a grown adult to succeed him. He was also a grandfather, with his son Henry producing three children, Elisabeth who was betrothed to the Scottish heir, Francis, who was his son's heir, and now another son named Henry, after his son.

He took a breath and looked at his council ministers. "What word has there been from the Pale?" The fact that the English still held part of France aggravated him greatly, how they held it, he did not know.

"Sire, the current captain of Calais does not like the regent, and is underpaid. I believe that if were to offer him a sufficient bribe, he would be willing to turn the other way if we ate up part of the Pale." His Steward and Constable Montmercy said.

"And Calais itself? How has our drive gone?" Francis asked, he had made use of the publishing tools to publish pamphlets attacking the English and their abandonment of their people in Calais hoping to turn them against London.

"Unfortunately it has not worked as well as we had thought it would, Sire. The people of Calais fear English guns more." Montmercy replied.

Francis sighed, the pain was getting worse. He looked at his son Henry, who seemed more interested in the letter in his hand. "What does that thing say?" He demanded of his son.

Henry looked shocked that he had been asked something, usually Francis did not bother talking to him during these meetings. "It's a letter from one of our sources in London, Sire."

Francis nodded, he knew the letter's contents. "And, what do you think of it?"

His son looked hesitant. "I think that we must treat it with caution, otherwise we will bring England into the war."

Francis nodded approvingly, and then looked at Montmercy. "What has that fool the Emperor been doing?" The Emperor was his greatest rival, and the greatest thorn in his side.

"Sire, he is tied up with fighting the war against the Duke of Julich, he has strained his forces there and in the fight against Ottoman expansion. I believe now is the right time to make a move into Milan." Montmercy said.

"Agreed, we must take advantage of this. Send our cousin the Duke of Vendome to aid our allies there. We shall command the host fighting in Milan." Francis said, feeling a sharp pain in his head then.

"Yes, Sire." Montmercy said.

Francis rose, and said. "That is all for now."

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 19: Magnificent

July, 1544​

Suleiman kept his horse steady, the streets of Constantinople were winding and dangerous at the best of times, at the worst, such as during the summer rains they could be slippery and treacherous. He'd lost a few advisors to the slippery nature of the streets, and would need to do something about them before long. Still, he was in a reasonably good mood as he and his courtiers rode through the streets, the heretics in Hungary were once more on the defensive, and his grip over the Holy Land grew only stronger.

"What word from France?" Suleiman asked. The thought of being allied to a member of the infidel, was something new to him, and at time he sometimes wondered if he had made the right decision. Still to see them fight one another was a benefit.

"Your Majesty, King Francis of France declared war on the Austrian Emperor and moved southwards to Milan, to take what he believed was his." Gamal Pasha, an exile from Egypt told him. "And initially victory was his, throughout wherever he went he won, but as he approached Milan properly, he was hit by a cannonball and died. His son, the Dauphin is now trying to keep things together."

Suleiman sighed. "So, Francis is dead?" That was not good news, not good news at all. "What is his successor like?"

"Sire, so far he seems to be more interested in the pleasures of the flesh rather than anything else. He has a mistress many years older than he, he abandons his wife's bed only for the giving of children. I do not know how committed he would be to the alliance." Gamal answered honestly.

Suleiman sighed. "Then we had best ensure that he remembers the benefits that this alliance gives him." He paused, thinking for a moment. Navigating his horse through the muck, his heart going into his mouth as his horse stumbled only to be righted. "Send him spices and gold, and remind him that we keep the Austrians occupied in our north so that he can take what is his."

Gamal nodded. "A most wise course, Sire."

Another member of his court, and a senior advisor, Kamal, spoke then. "Sire, there might be another way to strengthen the alliance."

"What way?" Suleiman asked, though he had a sneaking suspicion that he knew what the man was going to suggest.

"Grant the French the right to travel to the Holy Land without the usual traveller's fee, do that and I think he will put more stock into the alliance." Kamal said.

Gamal looked at him and said. "Sire, do that and others will also demand it. They will demand favouritism, and the Safavids will want more."

"We have nothing else to offer to add to this bid." Kamal replied.

Suleiman spoke then before an argument could break out. "Very well, see to it." He would handle the Sharifs when they protested, and those guarding the Holy Land later.

His horse did a sharp bend, and once again his heart entered his mouth. He swore silently, and then spoke about his sons. "And what of Mustafa and Mehmed, how do they fare?"

"His Royal Highness Prince Mustafa continues to show himself as the right sort to rule over his regions, all reports show him as a kind and just ruler, with a firm grip of justice." Gamal said.

Suleiman nodded, he knew that Gamal was somewhat impartial to his firstborn son, but Suleiman knew there were qualities that the boy had that would make him a dangerous candidate as heir. "And what of Mehmed?"

"He displays a strength of wit and brain that allows him to ensure the administration has been greatly strengthened." Kamal said.

Suleiman hummed in pleasure, it was good to know his favourite son was doing so well. As he was about to speak, his horse hit something on the road, it raised itself high into the air, and then came crashing down to the ground. Suleiman yelled, heard something snap and then felt the wetness of blood.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 20: Whirlwinds

September, 1544
​

Tahmsap kept his breathing leveled, something the doctor had told him would help with the nerves that occasionally hit him. He'd had the doctor killed the next day, so as not to give the court gossips any reason to think there was something wrong with him. Strength was the most important tool he had in this war. If he lost the aura of strength, he would be finished, and his dynasty was too new to allow that. He took a breath and then spoke.

"Our provinces continue to prosper, the empire grows healthier and wealthier after the time of chaos, the khans in the provinces have been brought under control. Yet, we still feel that there is something lacking. Why?"

His chief advisor Muhammed spoke. "Sire, the financial in take has risen by thirty fold the number of strictures being infected onto the people has reduced. We are in fine fettle."

Tahmsap looked at the man and responded. "That does not answer our question, Muhammed, tell us something, when the wind shifts, does the tree's leaves blow or not?"

Muhammed was too use to his changing tones and moods to be thrown by this. "The tree remains stationary but the leaves move, Sire."

Tahmsap looked at the man and said. "This is what we mean. The tree is remaining stationary and it loses leaves during the ensuing wind rush. We cannot allow that to happen to us. We might be growing stronger financially, but unless we use that growth to make the state stronger we shall decline. We shall not allow that."

His chief finance minister spoke. "Sire, I would recommend investing more in centres of learning and academies, the only way we can challenge the Ottomans without the need for war is in the art of learning."

"Doing that would raise questions from the clergy." Muhammed pointed out.

"They will listen to what benefits them. This will benefit them as it will challenge that heresy the Ottomans practice." Tahmsap said warming to the idea. He turned to his finance minister and said. "You have our lead to begin this process, identify the land where the schools should go and go from there."

There was some hasty note taking, and then his spy master spoke. "Sire, we have received good news from Constantinople."

Tahmsap leaned forward, those words were rarely said together. "Go on."

"Sultan Suleiman has died." the spy master stated. "His horse slipped on something whilst he was travelling through the streets and crushed him."

Tahmsap kept his voice expressionless and said. "How have his sons responded?"

"His eldest son has hurried to Constantinople and had himself proclaimed Sultan, whilst his other son Mehmed has been proclaimed by the people under his governorship. There is a third claimant also. The Sultan's third son, Selim was proclaimed by some within the northern provinces."

Tahmsap laughed. "Excellent. And where are they drawing their troops from?"

"From the provinces near Constantinople. Though word has come that they are drawing more from Arab lands. Mesopotamia is weak."

Sensing an opportunity, Tahmsap banged his hand on the table and said. "Prepare raiding bands, we shall test the water and then make a move if the response is favourable."