The Queen is Dead!: Katherine of Aragon dies in 1518
- Thread starter FalconHonour
- Start date
- here are his choices
France-Catherine/quiteria of Navarre
Spain-Isabel of portugal
France-Catherine/quiteria of Navarre
Spain-Isabel of portugal
I don't think his choices are quite that limited, really, but thank you for the suggestion.
IX: April 1519
Bessie tumbled into her family’s apartments, almost shouting with glee.
“Cecily! Cecily!”
“What is it, Beth?” Her older sister appeared from the other room, frowning slightly at the open excitement in Bessie’s eyes.
“Bessie. I’m Bessie now, Cecily.”
“Not to me, you’re not,” Cecily murmured, flicking her eyes downward in a stab of regret. If only their mother were here. She’d have been able to temper Beth’s vivacity. For all she was three years older, Cecily was often overwhelmed by her sister’s forceful personality. Beth might only be eighteen, but she knew her own mind, that much was sure.
Giving herself a little shake, Cecily looked up and smiled, “Anyway, you had something to tell me. What is it?”
“I’m to ride out with His Majesty tomorrow.”
“You’re to – Beth!”
This time, Bessie didn’t complain about the use of the childhood nickname. Instead, she laughed in triumph.
“Yes, me. He asked me. Not his sister, but me.”
“You’ll have to look your best,” Cecily, ever the pragmatic one of the sisters, went straight down to details, “Have you thought what you’ll wear?”
“My cornflower blue velvet with the swansdown cape?”
“Yes, maybe. Blue suits you. And we can put Mama’s sapphire around your neck.”
“Hmm,” Bessie was saved from answering properly by a knock on the door.
“Come in,” Cecily called. The door opened a crack and their cousin Mark put his head round it.
“I heard our Bessie’s been noticed. Are you planning for the ride?”
“Yes,” Cecily answered, before Bessie could do so.”
“Good, then my errand isn’t in vain. Father will want to see the Blounts do as well as he can out of this. If you get the opportunity, give this to the King,” Mark produced a rosary of polished mahogany from his pocket, “It was our grandmother’s and the King likes family loyalty. He attaches a great deal to sentimentality. Giving him this will show that the Blounts are willing to sacrifice their own family treasures in order to succour him in his grief. And even if the opportunity doesn’t arise, you’re to wear it on your belt by your hunting flask. He’ll appreciate the show of your piety. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mark,” Bessie sighed, taking the rosary from her cousin. He raised his eyebrows at her reluctance.
“I thought you’d be happier than that. I’m trying to help you.”
“Who says I want your help? The King noticed me, not the Blounts. I’m not a child any more. I’ll handle him, thank you.”
“What do you mean, ‘handle him’? What do you want out of this?” Mark started at the ferocity in Bessie’s tone. She shot him a winsome smile.
“I don’t know yet. Let me start the game before you ask me what the end moves will be, Mark. Now, I must go, or Duchess Mary will miss me.”
She moved the door, brushed her cousin’s cheek with her lips as she passed him and hurried off, leaving her cousin and sister exchanging worried glances.
“Mistress Blount. Forgive me for having kept you waiting. Such behaviour is unpardonable in a gentleman.”
“But not in a King,” Bessie replied, “I quite understand that matters of State must come before something as trivial as honouring an unworthy lady with Your Majesty’s attentions.”
“Oh, not unworthy. Never unworthy!” the King hastened to assure her, kissing her hand briefly before swinging himself into the saddle, “What do you think of my Perseus?” he added, a note of pride creeping into his voice as he gathered up the black’s reins.
“A fitting foil for so golden a King,” Bessie murmured, tipping her hood back half an inch so that her golden curls, so unlike the late Queen’s, shone visibly in the early spring sunshine.
A weak smile tugged at the King’s lips, “You think me golden, Mistress Blount?”
“As the noonday sun, Sire,” she replied, glancing at him as she allowed her mount to break into an easy loping trot, “Has Your Majesty given any thought as to where we might go today?”
He started at the direct question, then recovered, “The lake, perhaps?”
“Of course.”
Bessie spurred her bay forward and the King fell into step beside her. The two of them rode along in silence for a while before he finally broke it.
“You ride better than my wife did, Mistress Blount. Not that she didn't have skill, but she wouldn’t have dared canter along as you are doing. It wouldn’t have been fitting for a Queen.”
Pain sparked in his eyes and, to her surprise, Bessie found her heart melting at the lost note in his voice. Thanking heaven for Mark, she pulled the rosary from her belt.
“I know the Queen was a wonderful woman, Sire. My family and I say prayers for her soul every day.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, I use this rosary. It was my grandmother’s.”
He half-reached for the beads and Bessie dropped them into his palm, “Take it, Your Majesty.”
“But…it was your grandmother’s.”
“She left it to me in her will, so it is mine to do with as I please,” Bessie lied, continuing, “I’m giving it to you. I would be honoured to think that my humble gift will be giving such a great King a little relief from his pain,” Bessie closed the King’s fingers gently over the rosary, letting her hand linger on his for just a moment. He raised his eyes to hers.
“You have a noble heart, Mistress Blount.”
“A heart always at Your Majesty’s command,” Bessie whispered, somehow instinctively knowing what to say. A heartbeat passed. Two. The King leaned from his saddle. Bessie felt his hand on her cheek and let her eyelids flicker shut. His lips brushed hers, their touch light as a feather’s.
“Thank you…Bessie.”
“Cecily! Cecily!”
“What is it, Beth?” Her older sister appeared from the other room, frowning slightly at the open excitement in Bessie’s eyes.
“Bessie. I’m Bessie now, Cecily.”
“Not to me, you’re not,” Cecily murmured, flicking her eyes downward in a stab of regret. If only their mother were here. She’d have been able to temper Beth’s vivacity. For all she was three years older, Cecily was often overwhelmed by her sister’s forceful personality. Beth might only be eighteen, but she knew her own mind, that much was sure.
Giving herself a little shake, Cecily looked up and smiled, “Anyway, you had something to tell me. What is it?”
“I’m to ride out with His Majesty tomorrow.”
“You’re to – Beth!”
This time, Bessie didn’t complain about the use of the childhood nickname. Instead, she laughed in triumph.
“Yes, me. He asked me. Not his sister, but me.”
“You’ll have to look your best,” Cecily, ever the pragmatic one of the sisters, went straight down to details, “Have you thought what you’ll wear?”
“My cornflower blue velvet with the swansdown cape?”
“Yes, maybe. Blue suits you. And we can put Mama’s sapphire around your neck.”
“Hmm,” Bessie was saved from answering properly by a knock on the door.
“Come in,” Cecily called. The door opened a crack and their cousin Mark put his head round it.
“I heard our Bessie’s been noticed. Are you planning for the ride?”
“Yes,” Cecily answered, before Bessie could do so.”
“Good, then my errand isn’t in vain. Father will want to see the Blounts do as well as he can out of this. If you get the opportunity, give this to the King,” Mark produced a rosary of polished mahogany from his pocket, “It was our grandmother’s and the King likes family loyalty. He attaches a great deal to sentimentality. Giving him this will show that the Blounts are willing to sacrifice their own family treasures in order to succour him in his grief. And even if the opportunity doesn’t arise, you’re to wear it on your belt by your hunting flask. He’ll appreciate the show of your piety. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mark,” Bessie sighed, taking the rosary from her cousin. He raised his eyebrows at her reluctance.
“I thought you’d be happier than that. I’m trying to help you.”
“Who says I want your help? The King noticed me, not the Blounts. I’m not a child any more. I’ll handle him, thank you.”
“What do you mean, ‘handle him’? What do you want out of this?” Mark started at the ferocity in Bessie’s tone. She shot him a winsome smile.
“I don’t know yet. Let me start the game before you ask me what the end moves will be, Mark. Now, I must go, or Duchess Mary will miss me.”
She moved the door, brushed her cousin’s cheek with her lips as she passed him and hurried off, leaving her cousin and sister exchanging worried glances.
*** *** ***
Bessie was already mounted when the King came hurrying into sight. He stopped in his tracks and bowed to her.
“Mistress Blount. Forgive me for having kept you waiting. Such behaviour is unpardonable in a gentleman.”
“But not in a King,” Bessie replied, “I quite understand that matters of State must come before something as trivial as honouring an unworthy lady with Your Majesty’s attentions.”
“Oh, not unworthy. Never unworthy!” the King hastened to assure her, kissing her hand briefly before swinging himself into the saddle, “What do you think of my Perseus?” he added, a note of pride creeping into his voice as he gathered up the black’s reins.
“A fitting foil for so golden a King,” Bessie murmured, tipping her hood back half an inch so that her golden curls, so unlike the late Queen’s, shone visibly in the early spring sunshine.
A weak smile tugged at the King’s lips, “You think me golden, Mistress Blount?”
“As the noonday sun, Sire,” she replied, glancing at him as she allowed her mount to break into an easy loping trot, “Has Your Majesty given any thought as to where we might go today?”
He started at the direct question, then recovered, “The lake, perhaps?”
“Of course.”
Bessie spurred her bay forward and the King fell into step beside her. The two of them rode along in silence for a while before he finally broke it.
“You ride better than my wife did, Mistress Blount. Not that she didn't have skill, but she wouldn’t have dared canter along as you are doing. It wouldn’t have been fitting for a Queen.”
Pain sparked in his eyes and, to her surprise, Bessie found her heart melting at the lost note in his voice. Thanking heaven for Mark, she pulled the rosary from her belt.
“I know the Queen was a wonderful woman, Sire. My family and I say prayers for her soul every day.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, I use this rosary. It was my grandmother’s.”
He half-reached for the beads and Bessie dropped them into his palm, “Take it, Your Majesty.”
“But…it was your grandmother’s.”
“She left it to me in her will, so it is mine to do with as I please,” Bessie lied, continuing, “I’m giving it to you. I would be honoured to think that my humble gift will be giving such a great King a little relief from his pain,” Bessie closed the King’s fingers gently over the rosary, letting her hand linger on his for just a moment. He raised his eyes to hers.
“You have a noble heart, Mistress Blount.”
“A heart always at Your Majesty’s command,” Bessie whispered, somehow instinctively knowing what to say. A heartbeat passed. Two. The King leaned from his saddle. Bessie felt his hand on her cheek and let her eyelids flicker shut. His lips brushed hers, their touch light as a feather’s.
“Thank you…Bessie.”
Damn, you actually made me feel for Henry VIII....congratulations, that does not happen very often.
Yeah, it is heady, but it still ruins your reputation (in the 16th century) if anyone finds out you've had sex with him. There were really only two kinds of women at court back then: Honorable (chaste so far as anyone knew) and Sluts (which was what cause Anne Boleyn so much trouble, she was acting the part of mistress, so everybody thought she was putting out.)
I doubt it. The Tudors tried to get Henry VI canonized OTL and the pope wouldn't bite. Not sure why the See of Rome would be any more favourably inclined, when it didn't canonize say, Felipe II of Spain or Sebastião of Portugal
Well this catholic Henry might gain more favourable from alternative Popes elected after Clement VII.
Well, I'm not sure what Henry will do to earn that sainthood. Just a treatise written in defense of the pope isn't going to be enough. And even Bloody Mary was regarded as excessive by Felipe II (although I wonder if that's where he got his ideas from for dealing with the Dutch), and it would've certainly be in Catholic interests to canonize Mary or more likely, Katherine of Aragon OTL. Yet neither option was considered. I mean, Queen St. Katherine has a nice ring to it, don't ya think, @BlueFlowwer? And it's not like the pope could've argued with Mary (like a later one did against Marie Thérèse de France) that her mother, while being an upstanding Christian, did not die because of her beliefs. KoA might not have died for her beliefs in that she was executed for her faith, but it could be argued in Rome that it was because of her faith (and her own stubborness) that she was treated as she was - which then led to her death.