Six Roses, Red and White: A Tudor TL
- Thread starter HortenseMancini
- Start date
It is Mary. Anne will show up ITTL too, she just won’t be on Henry’s radar as a mistress/wife.
The first Duke of Guise, Claude (who was Marie Stuart‘s maternal grandfather) was the eldest of the four surviving brothers of Antoine of Lorraine.
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XVII: April-October 1515
Stirling, March 1515
Nine-day old Henry Stuart, Duke of Ross squinted up at his mother as Margaret leaned over his cradle, the same richly carved one which her grandmother had sent to her on the occasion of the birth of her first short-lived son, almost eight years ago now.
“Hello, my sweet Harry,” Margaret cooed as she scooped the infant up. Henry just continued to stare at her, much like his older brother had barely a year previously. Margaret could not say that she was thrilled about having fallen pregnant again so soon after Alexander’s birth, but she was undoubtedly pleased to have given James another healthy son. Alexander, of course, had not met his brother yet. He was not a gentle child, being not even a year old, and newborns like Henry were delicate.
“Ah, you are tired from yesterday’s events?” Margaret said with a little chuckle as Henry gave a wide yawn. Henry had been christened the previous day, with the King of England as one of his godfathers. As a gift, Margaret’s younger brother had sent his nephew and namesake an extravagant gold chalice and a beautifully illuminated book of hours. Margaret thought the gifts were lovely, even if Henry couldn’t appreciate them yet.
Suddenly, Margaret herald’s entered the room, “His Majesty, The King.” James swept in a moment later, looking somewhat peeved. Margaret smiled sweetly at her husband and handed little Henry off to a nursemaid before sinking into a curtsey.
“My lord,” she greeted him, “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
“What, a man cannot visit his wife and newborn child?” James said, his irritated expression melting a little before he lapsed into silence, “Ah, you are too smart, Meg, to be fooled by that. I have received a proposition that I must discuss with you…in private.” He eyed her ladies, some of whom were English, and Margaret began to worry that this may have something to do with his alliance with her brother.
“Leave us, please,” Margaret said, and her attendants filed dutifully out of the room, the nursemaid placing Henry back in his cradle.
“He really is very…Tudor, is he not?” James said once they were alone, strolling over and picking up his son, “I have no doubt this lad will prove to have your coloring.”
“That he might,” Margaret said quietly. Her mind raced with all the possibilities of what James needed to discuss with her and she wished he would just get on with it, however much he wished to indulge his love for his new son.
“You seem anxious,” James commented as he pacing with Henry still in his arms, “Meg, you need not worry over what I have to say, truly. But it is necessary to discuss. I was approached by the new French ambassador the other day. Apparently my cousin has convinced King François that we can be bought out of our alliance with England for the right price.”
“Truly?” Margaret asked, raising an eyebrow, “But we have just signed the treaty with the English, and Alexander is betrothed to Lady Mary.”
“Indeed,” James replied, “Which is why I told the French ambassador that I am not likely to take his offer. But you should know that the French are proposing a betrothal of their own for Alexander - to Queen Claude’s younger sister, Madame Renée.”
Margaret’s eyes widened a bit in surprise, “Madame Renée…is she not a potential heiress of Brittany? The French must want this terribly.”
James nodded, “Yes, they do want this. I cannot say which offer is the better, though. François proposes to give us his wife’s sister, but Henry would give us his own daughter.”
“You must take my brother’s offer,” Margaret said firmly, “It would be a grave insult for us to abandon him after things have so recently been improved between us. And if things are well with England, then there is no need for the French to alliance.”
James studied her with a strangely appreciative look, “I suppose you are right, Meg. But still, I must consider things more before I tell the French ‘no’ for sure.”
Margaret nodded but said nothing more. She had said her piece in defense of maintaining good relations with England, now all that was to be done was for James to listen to her instead of the Duke of Albany and the French ambassador…
Amboise, June 1515
“Did any of you see the Duke?” Mary asked with all the excitement expected of a teenage bride as her maid pinned her hood in place. She was not going to Antoine, Duke of Lorraine as a virgin, and so her hair was to be covered for the wedding. Not that Mary cared one way or the other - all she could think about was the fact that Duke Antoine had arrived at the Château d’Amboise earlier that day and that, in less than two hours, they would be husband and wife.
Giggles erupted through her ladies, a gaggle of French noblewomen and girls mostly around Mary’s own age.
“I did see him, but only from the back so all I saw was that he has dark hair,” one of them volunteered.
“He was very tall and well built,” another added.
“His face had a kind look to it,” said yet a third, “I could not tell what color his eyes were though.”
Mary’s heart thundered in her chest, “Well, tall and dark haired...are you quite sure that you did not see His Majesty?”
“No,” giggled Mary Boleyn, one of Mary’s few English ladies who was still with her, “The King was right there to greet him. It had to be the Duke!”
“Oh,” Mary exhaled in relief, “That is good. I must say, I think that I will find him attractive enough. I just hope that he treats me well.”
Just then, the King’s page was announced - it was time for Mary’s wedding. The last pins of her hood now in place, she gave herself a quick study in the mirror. Satisfied with the way that she looked in her new gown of light blue-grey silk with white ermine lined sleeves, she turned and nodded to King François’s page. She was ready, or at least as ready as she could be. What would it be like, being married to Antoine of Lorraine? Would he be as kind as Louis had been? Would he be a gentle lover? Would he make Mary send away the last of her English-born attendants? She could only guess at the answer to these questions and so many more...
Mary felt like she was floating as she and her ladies processed down to the royal chapel. There were to be English dignitaries present, of course, and the King and Queen would be there as well. And then, there was Antoine. Antoine whom she had never even laid eyes on before. Antoine who would be her husband within the hour. The mere thought made Mary’s stomach churn with nervous anticipation and not a small amount of fear.
Finally, she arrived at the doors to the chapel. Mary took a deep breath as they opened and she stepped forward. Her heart nearly stopped when she finally saw Antoine, standing by the altar. He did indeed resemble the King, and Mary wracked her brain trying to remember if they were related and could vaguely recall hearing that their grandmothers were sisters. At any rate, Antoine was shorter and huskier than François, an impression which was only highlighted by the bulkiness of the doublet that he wore. Overall, Mary could not admit herself to be displeased with his appearance.
Antoine took her hand when she reached him, leading her forward to kneel with him before the altar while mass was said. Mary couldn’t help but notice that his hands were large and calloused from bow use - she guessed that he enjoyed hunting, which was something of a relief. Some of Mary’s fondest memories were of hunting with her brother Henry, but Louis had been far too weak for it himself during he and Mary’s brief marriage. At least now she knew that she and her new husband had something in common. As the final benediction was said, Mary and Antoine rose together.
“Hello, my wife,” Antoine whispered in a deep voice before leaning in and pressing a kiss to Mary’s cheek.
“Hello, husband,” Mary said, blushing despite herself as she kissed Antoine’s cheek in return.
Nancy, September 1515
Mary rested her head on Antoine’s chest, savoring the feeling of happiness and contentment that came from laying with him like this. They had stolen away from their hunting party and gone off to a meadow together - it wasn’t the first time that they had done so either and, God willing, it wouldn’t be the last.
After another moment, Mary let out a sigh and sat up, readjusting her petticoat and grabbing her gown.
“If only my mama could see me,” she said wryly as she brushed some grass off of her gown, “You have turned me into such an...undignified woman.”
Antoine let out a snort of laughter, “Me? As I recall, the first time that we did this it was your idea.”
“Ah, but as I recall you went along with it happily,” Mary retorted, flashing a teasing smile at her husband.
“I did,” Antoine conceded, “But only because I was slightly frightened of you, ma chère.”
The two then drifted into a comfortable silence, and Mary felt herself hit by a pang of sadness. For there was a reason that she and Antoine had stolen away in the middle of hunting to have sex in a meadow. He was leaving tomorrow. For war. The French king was mounting a new campaign in Italy and Antoine was to be part of it.
“Are you sure that you must go?” Mary ventured after a moment, studying Antoine as he lay on his back, looking up at the clouds. His eyes, she had decided, were a dark blue-grey, like the sky right before a thunderstorm.
Antoine just nodded, “I must. Would you really have me go back on my word to King François? Is that the kind of man that you wish to have for a husband?”
“No,” Mary said defensively, “But war is dangerous, Antoine.”
“War is dangerous? I had no idea…” the duke replied sarcastically.
Mary waved her hand, “You know what I mean. I do not want you to be hurt. Especially since…” Her voice trailed off and she wondered if Antoine would catch the implication. Surprisingly, he looked over at her with wide eyes.
“Truly?” he said, “But we have just lied together!”
Mary blushed, “Well I...I am still not absolutely certain about it. I believe I should wait another month before being sure. But I did not want you to go off without knowing...”
“Oh, what does it matter,” Antoine said, his excitement audible in his voice, “Marie, this is the most glorious news, the most marvelous thing that I could know!”
Mary grinned, “I am delighted to hear that, my husband. But you must realize this means that you can’t have me in your bed...or anywhere else.”
“I don’t care,” Antoine said insistently, reaching over and placing a hand on Mary’s abdomen, “You are carrying our child...our child.”
“Yes,” Mary said, her heart beginning to race as she realized for the first time the magnitude of what was about to happen, “I am indeed.”
Greenwich, October 1515
“What does it say, Your Grace?” the Countess of Essex asked Catalina as she sat down the letter that had come from her sister María in Portugal. Catalina glanced up at the countess and sighed.
“María is not well...her...her son was stillborn.” The words came out of Catalina’s mouth uneasily. How terrible was it that she was relieved when she had read those words? She would never admit as much to anyone, of course, but all the same - María had five healthy sons already, the first of whom had been born not even two years into her marriage, while Catalina, after well over five years of marriage, had yet to bear a single son. It seemed only fair that María should lose one of her sons.
Murmurs of sympathy erupted through Catalina’s ladies, more than one of whom had experienced a stillbirth themselves. Catalina rose slowly from her chair, walking over instead to stand by the window, her thoughts still racing. Why was it that María and her husband, King Manuel of Portugal, deserved such a bounty of boys but Catalina kept giving Henry daughter after daughter? The Lord gives what the Lord gives, Catalina reminded herself. There was no sense in asking such questions. Besides, she was due to give birth again in February and surely then she would give Henry the son whom they had so long awaited. Four girls was nothing unheard - Catalina’s own mother had borne four daughters.
“Doña Catalina,” María de Salinas interrupted Catalina’s worried thoughts, “I am sorry to hear the news of your sister’s child. You always speak so well of Doña María.”
“Thank you for your sympathy, María,” Catalina said, reaching over and giving her friend’s hand an appreciative squeeze, “I just cannot understand why God would do this…”
“His ways are not always to be understood by us,” came María’s response.
Catalina sighed at the vacuous platitude, “My heart knows that. But still, I wonder why God would give…what have I done, María?”
A confused look passed over María’s face, “What do you mean, Your Grace? How could you have anything to do with what has happened to your sister?”
“In truth, I do not,” Catalina said, her shoulders slumping a bit, “But still, María…” Catalina lowered her voice here, “I was glad that her child was stillborn. After her many years of successes, with five living sons and three daughters besides, she knows some of my pain. Can you imagine a worse thing? I regretted the thought as soon as it crossed my mind.”
“Oh, señora,” María embraced Catalina somewhat hesitantly, “I am sure that your sister would understand that you did not wish that for her in earnest. That you are only a human, as fallible and prideful as any of us. She would not wish you to feel so terribly about yourself, especially in your condition.”
“Gracias, María, you are a true friend,” Catalina said, managing a small smile, “Now please, go busy yourself. Perhaps you should work on your trousseau - Lord Willoughby will expect his bride to be properly outfitted when she comes to him.”
“Of course, señora,” María blushed furiously at the mention of her fiancé, William Willoughby, Baron Willoughby de Eresby, before scuttling away to work on the blackwork embroidery on the shifts that she would be taking with her. The thought of her dear friend marrying and thus leaving her household was not pleasant to Catalina, but Lord Willoughby was a good man and he and María made each other quite happy.
That made Catalina think of her and Henry - he was so distant, and she knew he was sleeping with other women since she was pregnant. He wrote often though when they were not together, mostly asking after her health. She knew that he was expecting a son this time, refusing to even consider the possibility that Catalina might be carrying another girl. Ever since she had quickened, he had been making preparations for the birth of his heir. There would be a tournament, of course, and he had ordered a special font for the christening and organized a series of masques for the banquet that would follow. There would be money distributed and fountains of wine throughout London, for Henry was determined for his subjects to be as delighted over the arrival of his son as he was. He referred to the child in Catalina’s womb as ‘Prince Hal’ and ‘my prince’, and when he felt the baby kick he remarked loudly that the boy would surely come out of the womb wielding a lance. Catalina had seen as well the birth announcement that had been pre-written at Henry’s order, announcing the birth of a healthy and beautiful Prince of Wales. Yet still she was filled with dread over the one simple question: what if the child wasn’t a boy?
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Also, what's to stop the French from breaking their betrothal? After all, if the Scots can break theirs to the English, the French can do the same to the Scots. And in that case, James would be left without any alliances at all.
A very good point. And I would say that the offer of Renée was probably a bluff anyways, to lure the Scots back into the French camp.
Yeah, that was my thinking - that the real aim of the French was to break up the Scots/English alliance, and then find some excuse to cancel the betrothal (or at least delay it until Claude has had a son or two. No way are they risking Britanny falling out of French hands).
Your thinking is absolutely right. Keep in mind too that Anne of Brittany had tried multiple times to will her duchy to Renée rather than Claude, so Renée's husband would have at least a potential claim to Brittany regardless of how many sons Claude may or may not produce.
Awww little Henry Stuart is very cute, and Margaret has managed to provide James with the necessary spare. I'm so happy that Mary and Antoine are happy with each other, and I only hope he'll return home to her. While of course it's not great that Catalina is jealous of her sister, I hope that eventually she may come to terms with "only" having daughters. Wonderful chapter!!!!
I mean, it's pretty much going to wreck her marriage to Henry, and puts her daughters in danger if he tries to remarry and have a son. So I can't see her coming to terms with it.
Henry's reaction to having six daughters is going to be rather interesting, though. His argument OTL that God cursed his marriage to Catherine by giving them only 1 daughter and no sons isn't going to work very well TTL. Plus, if Henry does remarry, any potential son who tries to claim the throne is going to be challenged by his six older half-sisters.
I’m glad you enjoyed it
and lemme just say, while Catalina is a bit jealous of maria, I think she definitely still loves her and can still be glad for her when good things happen.
I mean, he could still claim only having daughters is a curse. This does not stop the daughters' husbands from riding into England to seize the throne on their wife's behalf, though.
I think Henry’s arguments for divorce from Katherine will be pretty much the same as IOTL - he married his brother’s widow and because of that he and Katherine will never be able to have a son. The fact that he has so many daughters by Katherine around (and that they will likely be of marriageable age by the time Henry starts considering divorce) definitely complicates things though.
Yeah, Catalina will fight tooth and nail here to get a chance to bear Henry a living son. She’s given him six living daughters, what’s one more kid?
It depends on the circumstances of henry’s remarriage. If it happens after Katherine has died, and results in a legitimate son, Katherine’s daughters will definitely acquiesce to their little half brother. But if Henry remarries while Katherine is still alive…things may get messy.