That is certainly my plan... but that hardly means his second match will be paradise all the time!
The Queen is Dead!: Katherine of Aragon dies in 1518
- Thread starter FalconHonour
- Start date
That is certainly my plan... but that hardly means his second match will be paradise all the time!
Well...Getting married to Henry VIII wasn't exactly paradise. Even under the best of circumstances...
IV: December 1518
The fog pressed thick and close about the funeral cortege, muffling the hoof beats. The Londoners had to strain to see the bier as it was borne past them. Nevertheless, every man, woman and child in the crowd behaved with the solemnity that befitted the occasion. None jeered or catcalled. Every man doffed his cap. Many of the women and children stretched costly lighted tapers – far more costly than they could really afford- out to the procession, or else fell to their knees, weeping openly, as it passed.
However, Queen Katherine wasn’t just being mourned in the streets of London. Up in a sumptuous room high above the street, her former husband was also watching the procession pass by. He hadn’t intended to; hadn’t wanted to put himself through the pain, but he hadn’t been able to keep away. His conscience, the sense that Cata deserved to have him pay his respects, had driven him to the window.
He saw his sister ride by, her young back drawn up ramrod straight as she tried to put on a strong façade for the people. Sweet Mary. What would he have done without her in these last two weeks? Henry didn’t know, but he didn’t have time to consider it.
As Cata’s bier reached the section of street directly beneath his window, the sun suddenly broke through the fog. The burst of golden light illuminated the body on top of the bier, accentuating the richness of her scarlet robes-of-state, sparking off the jewel-encrusted rings, brooches and necklaces draped over the figure’s slender fingers, full breasts and graceful neck. It caught her flaming auburn hair and made it flame up, bright as the fires she had loved to sit beside.
What impressed Henry most, though, was the way the light caught the golden circlet mounted on her brow. It made it gleam, encircled Cata in a ring of golden light. It was almost as though God had already made her an angel.
“Take her then. Take her and take care of her. For she of all people deserves to be with you. She was the sweetest, most caring, most beautiful..,” Henry couldn’t go on. His tears threatened to choke him and all he could do was emit a strangled gasp, “Cata! Cata!”
He sank to his knees, burying his face in his hands. “Why, Lord, why? Why her? Why him? Why them? Don’t I deserve them? Don’t I deserve a son? A son and a Queen? Why did you take them from me? Why?”
The tears started flowing and this time he didn’t hold them back. Instead, he let himself howl for his Queen and unborn son, howl out the pain that had lodged itself so deeply within his broken heart.
“No! No! No sleep! No!”
Lady Bryan heard her young charge’s screams long before the maid appeared in the doorway.
“She won’t sleep?”
“No, Lady Bryan. The Princess is exhausted, but she’s fighting it.”
“Again,” Lady Bryan sighed. The maid nodded.
"And she needs to be well-rested for her mother's funeral tomorrow. Otherwise we'll have a tantrum on our hands in the Cathedral."
The younger woman opened her mouth to protest, but Lady Bryan held up a hand.
"Don't tell me we won't, Joanna. You know what Her Highness is like when she's tired."
Joanna exhaled and nodded, biting back a grimace despite herself. Several moments passed as she hesitated, “If I might be so bold, Lady Bryan?”
“Go on.”
“I believe the Princess needs her father. If we could only persuade the King to pay Her Highness a visit once she returns to Eltham, things might be easier. Her Highness isn’t just grieving for her mother, it seems to me. She’s aching for her father too. I don’t think she knows he loves her anymore.”
Exhaling slowly, Lady Bryan got to her feet.
“Your concern does you credit, Joanna. But the King is the King. We cannot presume to tell His Majesty what to do.”
“But then, is there anything we can do?” Joanna’s face fell, even as she saw the sense in the older woman’s words. Lady Bryan laid a gentle hand on the young woman’s shoulder.
“The Queen Dowager of France is His Majesty’s sister and, next to Queen Katherine, the woman he loves most in England. There is a chance that she may be able to exert some influence on him. Let me settle the Princess and then I will send Her Grace a note, asking her to let me speak to her.”
“Yes, Lady Bryan,” Joanna curtsied and drew back to let the older woman past as she went to try to soothe the Princess.
Inside the opulent bedchamber clustered four or five young women, all desperately trying to calm the screaming toddler who lay in their midst.
“No sleep! No! Want Papa! He no make me sleep! Papa! Papa!”
“Leave us, Ladies,” Lady Bryan’s voice rang out hard over the Princess’s screams. Looking relieved, the bevy dropped the requisite curtsies, murmured, “Your Highness. Lady Bryan,” and disappeared through the open door. Lady Bryan sat down on the end of the bed and drew the sobbing child on to her lap.
“Come, Your Highness, what’s all this noise, hmm? Princesses aren’t supposed to behave like this, are they?”
“I no want sleep, Muggie”, Exhausted by her fit of temper and reassured by the warmth of her governess’s lap, Mary appeared reasonably calm, but Lady Bryan knew it wouldn’t last. They’d been over this ground too many times in the past fortnight for her to be taken in by this lull in the storm.
“I know, Your Highness, but you have to sleep. Otherwise you’ll be too tired to ride in your mother’s procession tomorrow and that would be no good at all, would it? Come, lie down and let me sing you to sleep."
“But I no want sleep! Want Papa,” Mary cried, “Want Papa!”
“Your father the King isn’t here, Princess. He’s not allowed to be here at the funeral, in case people imagine his death. Which isn’t allowed because he’s the King. He’ll come and visit you once we’re back in Eltham, though. I’m sure. And he’ll come all the sooner if you’re a good girl and get some sleep. Hush now. Hush.”
“No. Papa! Papa!”
“You can’t have Papa. You’ve got to sleep.”
All of a sudden, the little girl broke in the face of her governess’s implacable reasoning.
“I no want sleep! I scared, Muggie!”
“Your Highness, there’s nothing to be scared of. Sleeping’s lovely and we all need it. I do too, you know.”
“Is! What if I no wake? Mama no wake, what if I no wake?”
The innocent question sent a knife through Lady Bryan’s heart. “Oh, Your Highness!”
“Mama no wake. What if I no wake?” Mary repeated. Lady Bryan pulled the child even closer.
“You will,” she promised, “You will. Mama’s an angel now. She’ll watch over you and make sure you do. And I’ll wake you myself. Go to sleep now and I’ll wake you in the morning.”
“Promise?” Mary’s candid eyes were begging.
“On England, Harry and St George,” Lady Bryan kissed her charge’s brow and tucked the warm swansdown covers around her. She rose to leave, but Mary clung to her.
“Stay. Hold,” she demanded.
And Lady Bryan couldn’t resist. Even though it went against all her principles of child-rearing, she lay down upon Mary’s luxurious four-poster bed, fully clothed, and drew the little girl into her arms. They stayed like that until Mary had fallen asleep.
Once she had, Lady Bryan kissed her one last time, then slowly rose and untangled herself. Going to her own room, she fetched parchment, quill and ink and began to write a letter to the Duchess of Suffolk.
“Your Grace,
Forgive me for writing at such an inopportune time. I realise that now, with Her Majesty to be buried on the morrow, is perhaps not the most fitting time to ask this, but I don’t know who else to turn to.
As Your Grace may have noticed since joining up with us here at Worcester, Her Highness the Princess Mary is far from the gracious, biddable Princess she normally is. Her mood shifts violently from instant to instant. While I am sure these violent mood swings are largely caused by grief, I feel that the fact that His Majesty hasn’t visited her since Queen Katherine’s death has only exacerbated the matter. Please, Your Grace, I beg of you, if you can, use your influence with His Majesty and try to persuade him to visit the Princess once Her Highness returns to Eltham. I feel sure that a visit from the King would help Her Highness settle into her new home and come to terms with the loss of her mother.
A thousand thank yous and, once again, I offer my deepest condolences over the loss of Queen Katherine.
I remain, Madam,
Your devoted Servant,
Margaret Bryan.
When she had finished, Lady Bryan let the letter dry, then lit a candle and sealed it with dripping wax. Calling a page, she handed him the letter.
“For the Duchess of Suffolk,” she directed.
The lad nodded, bowed and was gone. Lady Bryan watched him go and then turned to her embroidery, always keeping an ear open for the muffled cries that heralded Princess Mary’s awakening from a nightmare.
However, Queen Katherine wasn’t just being mourned in the streets of London. Up in a sumptuous room high above the street, her former husband was also watching the procession pass by. He hadn’t intended to; hadn’t wanted to put himself through the pain, but he hadn’t been able to keep away. His conscience, the sense that Cata deserved to have him pay his respects, had driven him to the window.
He saw his sister ride by, her young back drawn up ramrod straight as she tried to put on a strong façade for the people. Sweet Mary. What would he have done without her in these last two weeks? Henry didn’t know, but he didn’t have time to consider it.
As Cata’s bier reached the section of street directly beneath his window, the sun suddenly broke through the fog. The burst of golden light illuminated the body on top of the bier, accentuating the richness of her scarlet robes-of-state, sparking off the jewel-encrusted rings, brooches and necklaces draped over the figure’s slender fingers, full breasts and graceful neck. It caught her flaming auburn hair and made it flame up, bright as the fires she had loved to sit beside.
What impressed Henry most, though, was the way the light caught the golden circlet mounted on her brow. It made it gleam, encircled Cata in a ring of golden light. It was almost as though God had already made her an angel.
“Take her then. Take her and take care of her. For she of all people deserves to be with you. She was the sweetest, most caring, most beautiful..,” Henry couldn’t go on. His tears threatened to choke him and all he could do was emit a strangled gasp, “Cata! Cata!”
He sank to his knees, burying his face in his hands. “Why, Lord, why? Why her? Why him? Why them? Don’t I deserve them? Don’t I deserve a son? A son and a Queen? Why did you take them from me? Why?”
The tears started flowing and this time he didn’t hold them back. Instead, he let himself howl for his Queen and unborn son, howl out the pain that had lodged itself so deeply within his broken heart.
*** *** ***
Lady Bryan heard her young charge’s screams long before the maid appeared in the doorway.
“She won’t sleep?”
“No, Lady Bryan. The Princess is exhausted, but she’s fighting it.”
“Again,” Lady Bryan sighed. The maid nodded.
"And she needs to be well-rested for her mother's funeral tomorrow. Otherwise we'll have a tantrum on our hands in the Cathedral."
The younger woman opened her mouth to protest, but Lady Bryan held up a hand.
"Don't tell me we won't, Joanna. You know what Her Highness is like when she's tired."
Joanna exhaled and nodded, biting back a grimace despite herself. Several moments passed as she hesitated, “If I might be so bold, Lady Bryan?”
“Go on.”
“I believe the Princess needs her father. If we could only persuade the King to pay Her Highness a visit once she returns to Eltham, things might be easier. Her Highness isn’t just grieving for her mother, it seems to me. She’s aching for her father too. I don’t think she knows he loves her anymore.”
Exhaling slowly, Lady Bryan got to her feet.
“Your concern does you credit, Joanna. But the King is the King. We cannot presume to tell His Majesty what to do.”
“But then, is there anything we can do?” Joanna’s face fell, even as she saw the sense in the older woman’s words. Lady Bryan laid a gentle hand on the young woman’s shoulder.
“The Queen Dowager of France is His Majesty’s sister and, next to Queen Katherine, the woman he loves most in England. There is a chance that she may be able to exert some influence on him. Let me settle the Princess and then I will send Her Grace a note, asking her to let me speak to her.”
“Yes, Lady Bryan,” Joanna curtsied and drew back to let the older woman past as she went to try to soothe the Princess.
Inside the opulent bedchamber clustered four or five young women, all desperately trying to calm the screaming toddler who lay in their midst.
“No sleep! No! Want Papa! He no make me sleep! Papa! Papa!”
“Leave us, Ladies,” Lady Bryan’s voice rang out hard over the Princess’s screams. Looking relieved, the bevy dropped the requisite curtsies, murmured, “Your Highness. Lady Bryan,” and disappeared through the open door. Lady Bryan sat down on the end of the bed and drew the sobbing child on to her lap.
“Come, Your Highness, what’s all this noise, hmm? Princesses aren’t supposed to behave like this, are they?”
“I no want sleep, Muggie”, Exhausted by her fit of temper and reassured by the warmth of her governess’s lap, Mary appeared reasonably calm, but Lady Bryan knew it wouldn’t last. They’d been over this ground too many times in the past fortnight for her to be taken in by this lull in the storm.
“I know, Your Highness, but you have to sleep. Otherwise you’ll be too tired to ride in your mother’s procession tomorrow and that would be no good at all, would it? Come, lie down and let me sing you to sleep."
“But I no want sleep! Want Papa,” Mary cried, “Want Papa!”
“Your father the King isn’t here, Princess. He’s not allowed to be here at the funeral, in case people imagine his death. Which isn’t allowed because he’s the King. He’ll come and visit you once we’re back in Eltham, though. I’m sure. And he’ll come all the sooner if you’re a good girl and get some sleep. Hush now. Hush.”
“No. Papa! Papa!”
“You can’t have Papa. You’ve got to sleep.”
All of a sudden, the little girl broke in the face of her governess’s implacable reasoning.
“I no want sleep! I scared, Muggie!”
“Your Highness, there’s nothing to be scared of. Sleeping’s lovely and we all need it. I do too, you know.”
“Is! What if I no wake? Mama no wake, what if I no wake?”
The innocent question sent a knife through Lady Bryan’s heart. “Oh, Your Highness!”
“Mama no wake. What if I no wake?” Mary repeated. Lady Bryan pulled the child even closer.
“You will,” she promised, “You will. Mama’s an angel now. She’ll watch over you and make sure you do. And I’ll wake you myself. Go to sleep now and I’ll wake you in the morning.”
“Promise?” Mary’s candid eyes were begging.
“On England, Harry and St George,” Lady Bryan kissed her charge’s brow and tucked the warm swansdown covers around her. She rose to leave, but Mary clung to her.
“Stay. Hold,” she demanded.
And Lady Bryan couldn’t resist. Even though it went against all her principles of child-rearing, she lay down upon Mary’s luxurious four-poster bed, fully clothed, and drew the little girl into her arms. They stayed like that until Mary had fallen asleep.
Once she had, Lady Bryan kissed her one last time, then slowly rose and untangled herself. Going to her own room, she fetched parchment, quill and ink and began to write a letter to the Duchess of Suffolk.
“Your Grace,
Forgive me for writing at such an inopportune time. I realise that now, with Her Majesty to be buried on the morrow, is perhaps not the most fitting time to ask this, but I don’t know who else to turn to.
As Your Grace may have noticed since joining up with us here at Worcester, Her Highness the Princess Mary is far from the gracious, biddable Princess she normally is. Her mood shifts violently from instant to instant. While I am sure these violent mood swings are largely caused by grief, I feel that the fact that His Majesty hasn’t visited her since Queen Katherine’s death has only exacerbated the matter. Please, Your Grace, I beg of you, if you can, use your influence with His Majesty and try to persuade him to visit the Princess once Her Highness returns to Eltham. I feel sure that a visit from the King would help Her Highness settle into her new home and come to terms with the loss of her mother.
A thousand thank yous and, once again, I offer my deepest condolences over the loss of Queen Katherine.
I remain, Madam,
Your devoted Servant,
Margaret Bryan.
When she had finished, Lady Bryan let the letter dry, then lit a candle and sealed it with dripping wax. Calling a page, she handed him the letter.
“For the Duchess of Suffolk,” she directed.
The lad nodded, bowed and was gone. Lady Bryan watched him go and then turned to her embroidery, always keeping an ear open for the muffled cries that heralded Princess Mary’s awakening from a nightmare.
I'm suing you for emotional distress *curls up in couch and cries* Someone give me a large mug of tea and tissues.
My Catherine being buried as the Magnificence that she was and the sunlight blessing her, I can't handle this, there are too much emotions
My Catherine being buried as the Magnificence that she was and the sunlight blessing her, I can't handle this, there are too much emotions
I'm suing you for emotional distress *curls up in couch and cries* Someone give me a large mug of tea and tissues.
My Catherine being buried as the Magnificence that she was and the sunlight blessing her, I can't handle this, there are too much emotions
I thought you might appreciate that. It was the least I could do.
*passes tea and tissues*
It had to be done. And Mary is not going to be easy for a while. She's not going to calm down until she gets a new maternal figure and Henry pulls his head out of his arse and starts being a father again...
Don't worry, she'll be her father's pearl again sooner or later.
I just need to decide which Prince to marry her off to... I was rereading the story this TL is based on the other day and realised I betrothed her to two Princes at the same time... Whoops.
It took me a while to find this (I.e. I have only just done so ) but its very good, especially for someone so new!
) but its very good, especially for someone so new!It took me a while to find this (I.e. I have only just done so
Thanks, that means a lot, especially as I know you prefer Documentary style TLs to story ones.
Interesting...
Poor Katherine.
One minor thing, was the "dead people are angels" thing actually circulating at that time?
I would guess it is a later affectation. It is an indisputably heretical proposition from a Catholic point of view. Christian teaching on angels always held them as distinct created beings different from humanity. Humans can become saints and thus be like the angels in heaven, not however become exactly the same as angels.
The first published work I am aware of (but I claim no expertise on the topic) referencing the idea that humans become angels wasn't published until 1758 and the author, a Swedish mathematician turned alleged mystical revelator, based the claim on having allegedly spoken with angels personally. Joseph Smith and the LDS (Mormon) Church appears to have started teaching the idea in the mid 1800s in the USA as well. Earlier examples may exist, but I don't know of any.
Poor Katherine.
One minor thing, was the "dead people are angels" thing actually circulating at that time?
I would guess it is a later affectation. It is an indisputably heretical proposition from a Catholic point of view. Christian teaching on angels always held them as distinct created beings different from humanity. Humans can become saints and thus be like the angels in heaven, not however become exactly the same as angels.
The first published work I am aware of (but I claim no expertise on the topic) referencing the idea that humans become angels wasn't published until 1758 and the author, a Swedish mathematician turned alleged mystical revelator, based the claim on having allegedly spoken with angels personally. Joseph Smith and the LDS (Mormon) Church appears to have started teaching the idea in the mid 1800s in the USA as well. Earlier examples may exist, but I don't know of any.
Very realistic how Mary reacts. Keep up the good work.
I'm not sure in Christianity, but I read that in some Jewish traditions the angel Metatron (the scribe of God) is a translated Enoch and Sandolphon (?) the psychopomp was formerly the prophet of Elijah
I'm not sure in Christianity, but I read that in some Jewish traditions the angel Metatron (the scribe of God) is a translated Enoch and Sandolphon (?) the psychopomp was formerly the prophet of Elijah
It may well be a slightly later tradition, but Queens were already being associated with the Virgin Mary, and IIRC, there are portraits of medieval monarchs wearing halos, so I thought I could get away with it...