by Tony Riches
‘In that case, I shall not do so.’
Brandon smelled of horse sweat and woodsmoke and wore his riding clothes. She’d not seen him since her daughter’s wedding and reached out her hand. ‘I’m so happy you’re back.’ Her voice sounded weak. ‘I’ve been unwell.’
‘You should not have travelled to London, Mary.’ He crossed to the window and opened it. The sweet song of a thrush drifted into the room with the warm summer air. He returned to sit in the chair at her bedside and loosened the fastening at the collar of his doublet. ‘Your physicians despair of you.’
‘I couldn’t miss my daughter’s wedding – but I’m not sorry to miss the coronation.’
He gave her a wry look. ‘There are to be four days of celebration, although some still risk their lives by shouting ‘‘Whore!’’ and spitting as her carriage passes.’
The thought made Mary smile, despite her illness. ‘My former lady-in-waiting might have won my brother’s heart but not the affection of the people.’
Mary woke from a troubled sleep as Brandon took her thin hand in his. She felt a sudden misgiving as she saw the sadness in his eyes. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’ Her heart raced as she prepared herself for bad news.
He sat looking at her for a moment as if unsure what to say. ‘I have to return to London, Mary, there is much to do.’
‘You’ve only just come home...’
‘Eleanor and Katherine have promised to care for you until I return.’
He kissed her. ‘I love you, Mary Tudor.’
‘I need you here, Charles... Please, stay a little longer.’
‘I’ve stayed longer than I should.’ He forced a smile. ‘I shall return as soon as Catherine’s crown is on our new queen’s head.’ He didn’t try to hide his bitterness.
Mary listened to the steady clump of his riding boots on the wooden stairs, then the girls and little Henry saying their farewells. She heard his horse being led to the doorway and tried to climb out of bed to reach her window before he rode off. Summoning all her strength she managed to stand. The clatter of hooves told her it was too late. Mary sat back on her bed and wept as she wondered if she would ever see him again.
She called for her son and heard him complaining as her housekeeper told him he had to see his mother. She remembered how her brother had been the same when their father was ill, always ready with some excuse. Eventually, Henry pushed open her door and stood at the foot of her bed.
‘You sent for me, Mother?’
Mary smiled at her son, who made it obvious he’d rather be out hunting than looking after his ailing mother. She’d never felt the same bond as with her first boy, but loved him all the same. It amazed her that he was ten years old now, with the same rugged looks and adventurous spirit as his father.
‘There is a small wooden casket by the window. Will you bring it to me, Henry?’
His curiosity overcame his desire to be back outside in the sunshine. He lifted the casket and placed it on the bed in front of her. Mary unfastened the silver latch and opened the lid. The contents were wrapped in colourful remnants of silk. She reached for one and unwrapped it while her son watched.
‘This is the official seal of the Queen of France, Henry.’ She turned it in her hand to show him the engraved base and was overwhelmed by the memories it evoked. ‘I would like you to have it.’
‘Is it valuable, Mother?’
‘It is priceless. You must keep it safe, to remind you your mother was once the Queen of France.’
Brandon woke her with a kiss on the cheek. She opened her eyes and stared at him, unsure for a moment if she was dreaming. ‘You’ve returned...’ Her voice was a whisper.
‘I cannot stay long, Mary, but I bring good news. Thanks to Cromwell, the king is fully reconciled with you – and I am back in favour at court.’
She studied his face, pleased to see he looked his old self again, the glint of ambition back in his eyes. She noticed a large jewel in the silver-handled dagger at his belt as it flashed in the light.
‘A gift from the king?’
He glanced down at the dagger. ‘Your brother is grateful for my support. He made me High Constable for the coronation day.’
‘That means he sees you as the senior earl.’
‘It might – but Norfolk has demanded to be made Earl Marshal in my place.’
‘That is an outrage. Thomas Howard can never uphold standards and discipline, the man’s a rogue.’
‘Henry agreed to Norfolk’s demand. He thanked me for taking it so well and offered me the royal forests.’ He scowled. ‘I could have refused but no longer care.’
With sudden insight she realised what a great sacrifice he’d made for his family. He’d been used by her brother, forced to publicly declare his loyalty to the new queen. It must have gone against everything he’d lived for.
‘How long can you stay this time?’
‘Only one night. I regret that this is such a busy time at court.’
‘But now Anne Boleyn is crowned—’
He held up a hand. ‘There is even more for me to do.’ He sat at the side of her bed. ‘I know how unwell you are, Mary.’ The sadness returned to his eyes. ‘You hide it from me but I’ve spoken with your physicians. I will return as soon as I can.’
‘Then will you spend your one night with me, my lord the Duke of Suffolk?’
‘I would be honoured, my Queen of France.’
Mary lay awake in his arms while he drifted off to sleep. She understood the sacrifice he’d made for his family. He would never admit how difficult it had been to accept Anne Boleyn as his queen, but now he would show her absolute loyalty.
She caressed the greying hair on his chest as she remembered how she’d longed for him as a girl. She had a sudden recollection of the time Henry’s lance shattered with brutal force on Brandon’s chest. He’d admitted to her he had allowed the king his moment of glory. That was over twenty years ago but he was still putting her brother’s wishes before everything.
A shaft of bright sunlight woke her and she reached out to find an empty space at her side. Rubbing her eyes, she raised herself on one elbow and saw him pouring water into her bowl from the jug. She watched the muscles of his bare back, with the familiar scars of old accidents, as he splashed his face with the cold water.
He dried his face and hands then turned and saw her as he pulled on a clean linen shirt, one she’d spent hours sewing for him. ‘I must leave now, Mary.’
‘When will you return?’
‘A week, perhaps two, then I will stay and care for you.’
‘Promise?’ She heard the pleading in her voice.
He fastened the front of his doublet and strapped on his sword, then leaned over to kiss her. ‘You have my word.’
When she opened her eyes again he was gone but she took comfort from the knowledge he would soon return. She missed her husband more than he would ever know.
Mary asked her maidservant to summon Eleanor and tried to sit up as her daughter entered. ‘Will you bring...’ The pain stopped her continuing.
Eleanor stared at Mary, her eyes wide with concern. ‘Do you wish me to send for the priest?’
Mary shook her head. She was not ready for absolution yet. Although she felt too weak to talk she summoned the strength to continue. ‘Bring me that little casket by the window, if you will.’
Eleanor carried it to her bedside and opened the lid. ‘I’ve never seen inside, Mother. What do you keep in it?’
‘I wish you to have it Eleanor but...’ She struggled to remember then it came to her. ‘You must hide it somewhere safe until the king has forgotten.’
Eleanor looked confused. ‘Forgotten what, Mother? I don’t understand.’
Mary closed her eyes for a moment and prayed for strength. By some miracle she managed to forget the pain and explain to her daughter. ‘My brother made me promise to hand over my French jewels...’ She took a gasping breath. ‘He thinks he has them all but is mistaken.’
Eleanor took one of the folded silks from the casket and unwrapped it. A fine gold necklace with a large pointed diamond and a single red ruby tumbled into her hand. She held the necklace up for Mary to see and it flashed as the diamond caught the light.
‘It’s beautiful, Mother.’
‘King Louis of France gave it to me – on our wedding day.’ She reached out a thin hand to touch the precious jewel one last time. ‘Keep it safe for me, Eleanor.’
Mary told her maidservant to comb her long hair over her shoulders. ‘I must look my best for my husband.’ She struggled for breath as she reached for her silver mirror. ‘He’s coming home. He gave his word.’
Her maid remained silent and a tear ran down her young face as she stroked the comb through Mary’s red-gold hair until it shone. She didn’t speak as she dressed Mary in her best nightgown of pure white linen decorated with pearls.
Mary lay back on her bed, each breath an effort. She heard the maid close the door and her soft footsteps going down the stairs, then a deeper voice. Her heart raced. Brandon had returned, as he’d promised he would. She listened for the familiar clump of his riding boots.
Her door opened and she tried to sit to show him how much better she was. She failed and let her head fall back to the pillow, closing her eyes as she coped with the pain and prepared for Brandon’s kiss as he entered the room.
Instead she felt a finger trace the sign of the cross on her forehead. She opened her eyes and saw the village priest, a prayer book in his hand and a look of great sadness in his usually cheerful eyes. Behind him stood her daughter Eleanor, her hands clasped in prayer. Their ward Katherine wept at her side.
She tried to ask for her husband but the words didn’t come. Mary choked as she struggled to draw breath. Eleanor stepped forward and helped raise her head with the support of a silk pillow. She saw a table had been set up near the foot of her bed. Covered with fresh white linen, it was empty except for a silver crucifix with a white church candle burning on either side.
‘Through this Holy Unction, and through the great goodness of his mercy, may God pardon thee whatever sins thou hast committed...’
The prayer sounded unfamiliar to Mary. She closed her eyes and prayed for her husband. He was a man of his word. He would come as soon as he could. She felt the pain ease, for the first time she could remember, and let her mind focus on the priest’s soft-spoken prayers.
‘O Holy Lord, Father almighty and eternal God, we pray to thee in faith that the holy body of our Lord Jesus Christ, thy son, may profit our sister who has received it as an everlasting remedy for body and soul, who being God, lives and reigns. Amen.’
Author’s Note
Mary Tudor, Dowager Queen of France, died at Westhorpe before eight in the morning on 25 June 1533. She was thirty-seven years old.
Brandon was not expected to attend Mary’s funeral, in keeping with the tradition that husbands did not attend the funeral of their wives. This seems strange now but it would have been a breach of protocol. He did send his guards to represent him and the funeral was delayed to allow for a delegation from King Francis to arrive.
Mary was laid to rest in the abbey church of Bury St Edmunds. Her alabaster monument was destroyed in the dissolution of the monasteries and her tomb moved to the nearby St Mary’s Church, where it is to this day.
In 1784, Mary’s coffin was moved to the chancel of St Mary’s and placed under a plain slab of Petworth marble, with the simple inscription: ‘Mary, Queen of France, 1533.’
Her coffin was opened and it was noted that her hair was some two feet long, a ‘reddish-gold’ colour, and her teeth were even and complete. Locks of her hair were acquired by historian Horace Walpole, Earl of Orford, and Lady Margaret Bentinck, Duchess of Portland.
Charles Brandon decided to marry his attractive fourteen-year-old ward and did so in September 1533. They had two sons, both of whom contracted the ‘sweating sickness’ and died on the same day in 1551. Brandon died on 22 August 1545, aged sixty-one, and was laid to rest in the floor of the south quire aisle of St George’s Chapel, Windsor Castle, at the king’s expense, close to the tomb of King Henry VI.
Lady Katherine Willoughby, Duchess of Suffolk, became a close friend of King Henry’s sixth wife, Queen Catherine Parr. (It was rumoured in 1546 that Henry might annul his marriage to make the widowed duchess his seventh wife.)
I enjoyed spending a year researching the life of Mary Tudor, untangling the many myths about her, from causing the death of King Louis with her ‘passionate exertions’ to her dying of ‘grief at her brother’s divorce.’ Most of her story is well documented, including fascinating details in her many surviving letters, which I have relied on throughout.
I would like to thank my wife, Liz, and my editor, Nikki Brice, for their support during the research and writing of this book. If you enjoyed reading this book, please consider leaving a short review. It would mean a lot to me. Details of all my books can be found at my author website www.tonyriches.com.
Tony Riches
Pembrokeshire
BRANDON - Tudor Knight
Handsome, charismatic and a champion jouster, Sir Charles Brandon is a favourite of King Henry VIII, Brandon has a secret. He has fallen in love with Henry’s sister, Mary Tudor, the beautiful widowed Queen of France, and risks everything to marry her without the King’s consent.
Brandon becomes Duke of Suffolk, but his loyalty is tested fighting Henry’s wars in France. Mary’s public support for Queen Catherine of Aragon brings Brandon into dangerous conflict with the ambitious Boleyn family and the king’s new right-hand man, Thomas Cromwell.
Torn between duty to his family and loyalty to the king, Brandon faces an impossible decision: can he accept Anne Boleyn as his new queen?
Available in paperback and eBook
OWEN - Book One of the Tudor Trilogy
England 1422: Owen Tudor, a Welsh servant, waits in Windsor Castle to meet his new mistress, the beautiful and lonely Queen Catherine of Valois, widow of the warrior king, Henry V. Her infant son is crowned King of England and France, and while the country simmers on the brink of civil war, Owen becomes her protector.
They fall in love, risking Owen’s life and Queen Catherine’s reputation, but how do they found the dynasty which changes British history – the Tudors?
This is the first historical novel to fully explore the amazing life of Owen Tudor, grandfather of King Henry VII and the great-grandfather of King Henry VIII. Set against a background of the conflict between the Houses of Lancaster and York, which develops into what have become known as the Wars of the Roses, Owen’s story deserves to be told.
Available as paperback, audiobook and eBook
JASPER - Book Two of the Tudor Trilogy
England 1461: The young King Edward of York has taken the country by force from King Henry VI of Lancaster. Sir Jasper Tudor, Earl of Pembroke, flees the massacre of his Welsh army at the Battle of Mortimer’s Cross.
When King Henry is imprisoned by Edward in the Tower of London and murdered, Jasper escapes to Brittany with his young nephew, Henry Tudor. With nothing but his wits and charm, Jasper sees his chance to make young Henry Tudor king with a daring and reckless invasion of England.
Set in the often brutal world of fifteenth-century England, Wales, Scotland, France, Burgundy and Brittany, during the Wars of the Roses, this fast-paced story is one of courage and adventure, love and belief in the destiny of the Tudors.
Available as paperback, audiobook and eBook
HENRY - Book Three of the Tudor Trilogy
Bosworth 1485: After victory against King Richard III, Henry Tudor becomes King of England. Rebels and pretenders plot to seize his throne. The barons resent his plans to curb their power and he wonders who he can trust. He hopes to unite Lancaster and York through marriage to the beautiful Elizabeth of York.
With help from his mother, Lady Margaret Beaufort, he learns to keep a fragile peace. He chooses a Spanish Princess, Catherine of
Aragon, as a wife for his son Prince Arthur.
His daughters will marry the King of Scotland and the son of the Emperor of Rome. It seems his prayers are answered, then disaster strikes and Henry must ensure the future of the Tudors.
Available in paperback, eBook and audiobook
The Secret Diary of Eleanor Cobham
England 1441: Lady Eleanor Cobham, Duchess of Gloucester, hopes to become Queen of England before her interest in astrology and her husband’s ambition leads their enemies to accuse her of a plot against the king. Eleanor is found guilty of sorcery and witchcraft. King Henry VI orders Eleanor to be imprisoned for life.
More than a century after her death, carpenters restoring one of the towers of Beaumaris Castle discover a sealed box hidden under the wooden boards. Thinking they have found treasure, they break the ancient box open and find it only contains a book.
Written in a code no one could understand, the mysterious book changed hands many times until it came to me. I discover its code is based on a long-forgotten medieval dialect and I am at last able to decipher the secret diary of Eleanor Cobham.
Available as paperback, audiobook and eBook