Reluctant Queen: Tudor Historical Novel About Mary Rose Tudor, the Defiant Little Sister of King Henry VIII

by Geraldine Evans

  Charles had hung back. He attempted a smile for Henry, but it only betrayed his nerves. Mary felt a surge of compassion. Doubtless, he would tell her afterwards that his low birth had never prepared him for showing defiance to a king.

  But Henry was set on playing the jovial prince. He slapped Charles on the back and bellowed, ‘Well, brother-in-law, so you’ve brought our sister home to us. We are pleased.’ With narrowed gaze he asked, ‘You have her dower safe we trust?’

  Mary bit her lip as Charles threw himself on his knees before Henry. He clutched Henry’s hand and kissed it fervently. His lips moved, but it seemed his ability to speak had deserted him. Before Henry began to suspect they had lost her dower, Mary answered his question.

  ‘Aye, brother. We have my dower. My lord Cardinal has it safe for you.’

  Henry smiled. ‘Good, good.’ He gazed benevolently at his handsome friend, humbly kneeling in the dirt of the road. ‘Get up, man, get up,’ he told him. ‘There’s no need for you to kneel in the dust. We forgive you your presumption in marrying our sister. We gave her a promise and kings, my lord, do not forget their oaths.’

  This was a taunt for the vow-breaking Charles. Mary felt the temptation to respond in like manner with the rejoinder - especially when they’ve been well bribed so to do - wisely, she remained silent. But for her rich dower their homecoming might have been very different. She must be grateful for that.

  Henry made much of them both as they rode the short distance to Barking. He was boisterous and merry as he related to them all the doings of the court.

  He could well afford to be merry, was Mary’s thought. This day’s dawning had brought him great riches and Henry’s delight in them was evident. It soon became apparent that others were less delighted. Mary noted the many envious and grudging glances directed at her husband. She could read in their faces what they were thinking - that Charles was a low-born upstart who had wed a queen when he had naught but a king’s stature and handsome looks to recommend him. Mary supposed it was natural that many were jealous of his altered circumstances. She was thankful the king was behind them. They could weather the jealousy of others.

  Soon, they travelled on to Greenwich, their journey made doubly joyous by the brightness of the May sunshine and the anticipation of another celebration of their marriage. This one, the third, was all that Mary could have wished for. After so many betrothals and weddings, she felt fully able to do justice to the occasion. Her looks had recovered and her mirror told her she had never looked lovelier. At last, as she clung proudly to Charles’s arm, she was truly a willing and beautiful bride.

  Henry was still being magnanimous, but he was keen to cover up their previous marriages in France, the first and secret one and the second, more open ceremony. The first he could conceal, but the second was too widely known and its concealment proved impossible. Mary didn’t greatly care. She and Charles threw themselves into the public celebrations of their marriage. They had been unhappy forever it seemed. Now they were free to enjoy life. Mary was determined to do so.

  Henry held tournaments in honour of their nuptials at Greenwich Palace. Mary watched with bright eyes as her husband rode out, his relief and gratitude inscribed on his banner for all to see:

  ‘Cloth of gold, do not despise,

  Though thou hast wedded cloth of frieze.

  Cloth of frieze, be not too bold,

  Though thou hast wedded cloth of gold.’

  This gesture of humility pleased Henry. Mary thought it might well have saved her husband from harm as the resentment of certain of Henry’s Council still seethed. Norfolk still made loud calls for a bloody revenge for Charles’s presumption. She discovered that he had been behind the plan to use her to cement an alliance with the Low Countries for the good of trade and to still any warmongering urges that King Frances might harbour. Thwarted in this by her marriage to Charles, Norfolk went about the court with his friends, all wearing long and scowling faces.

  Mary wondered that they dared. She and Charles had Henry’s backing and that was all that mattered. Let Norfolk scowl as he may, he couldn’t harm them.

  So Mary and Charles ignored the ill-feeling. Mary, especially, considered the world and Norfolk’s friendship well lost for love. She was home. Now their love could be freely expressed and she thanked God for it. God and Henry.

  Charles was full of plans, as happy as she’d ever known him. Henry’s name was mentioned in his every sentence. Inwardly she would smile as she listened to him when he spoke to his friends. It was all ‘the king, my brother-in-law’, or ‘my wife’s brother, the king.’ Mary couldn’t resist teasing him about it when they were alone.

  ‘For such a reluctant bridegroom, Charles, you certainly make a keen brother-in-law.’ She saw by his frown that she had touched a tender spot and instantly regretted her words. ‘Nay, don’t look at me like that Charles. I’m only teasing. But did you not realise how often you mention your brother-in-law, the king, in your conversations? I’m sure Henry would be flattered if he realised.’

  Charles pulled a face. ‘What else can I call him, Mary? I don’t feel he would welcome the presumption of me calling him Henry. I’ve presumed enough for one lifetime. I aim to please the king now in all things. He’ll find none as loyal to his desires as me.’

  Piqued and more than a little jealous, Mary asked with a pout, ‘Can you spare a little time to please the king’s sister also, Charles? It seems your thoughts are so much on the king that I feel sore neglected.’

  His scowl vanished at this. But he took the hint and quickly covered the two paces that were between them. He picked her up bodily and threw her on the bed.

  Mary gave a mock cry of fear.

  Charles told her, ‘Now woman, I’m about to stop neglecting you. I’m sure my brother-in-law, the king, can spare me for long enough to pleasure his sister.’

  Mary gave him a lazy smile. ‘He’d better, Charles. I feel sure I’m going to require a lot of your attention. A wife surely has first call, ahead of a mere in-law on her husband’s time.’

  Charles bent over her, his body shutting out the light. ‘You can be sure, sweetheart, that I’ll always have my priorities well ordered. At worst a king can only kill you, but a frustrated wife can make of life a hell on earth, if she’s a mind to.’

  Mary gave a contented sigh. ‘It’s true. I hope you remember that, my love, should you be tempted to neglect me again. I’m sure my Mother Guildford could give me a few tips on how to correct errant husbands.’

  He drew back in mock horror. ‘No Mary, anything but that. I’m yours, now and forever. Please God don’t learn any tricks from Lady Guildford. I’m sure she would teach you things that would make of me another Louis. From what I hear, she helped to unman the old king.’

  Mary softened. She curved her body into his and gazed lovingly up at him. ‘Don’t worry, Charles. With you, I have no desire to learn such tricks.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it, sweetheart.’

  Mary smiled and demanded, ‘Is your pleasuring made up of words only, my lordly husband, or do deeds figure also?’

  ‘You’re lucky, sweeting. I was ever a man of few words and much action.’

  To Mary’s delight, he proceeded to demonstrate just how much of a man of action he was.

  Daily now, Charles expected Henry’s forgiveness to take a more tangible form. They had handed over the money that had ransomed his life and Charles had waited, confident Henry meant to make them a gift of much of it. Only slowly did it dawn on him that his optimism had played him false. For even though their expenses were mounting, still Henry made them no offer. Charles began to worry. He was head over heels in debt to the crown and to others, as the cost of his embassies, tournaments and marriage had been large. How casually he had incurred the debts. But then he had not expected to have to pay them. As it sunk in that his jovial brother-in-law had no intention of paying up, Charles became so hung with gloom that Mary asked him what had happened to so lower his spirits. />
  ‘It’s what hasn’t happened that worries me, Mary,’ he told her.

  ‘Were you expecting something to happen, then? What could it be? Is it a surprise?’

  It was clear Mary thought he had planned some treat for her. He was quick to disabuse her of the idea. ‘It’s a surprise, all right. One I wasn’t expecting.’

  Her face fell. ‘Can you not tell me plain, Charles? I’ll not break, you know.’

  ‘It is all these debts, Mary. How are we ever to pay them. They mount daily.’

  To his consternation, Mary’s pretty mouth puckered as she realised what he had been hoping for. ‘Did you think Henry would settle the debts?’ He nodded. ‘But – but you said you didn’t care about my dower money. You said you were satisfied with me and didn’t want the money also.’

  ‘That was before I realised the true extent of our debts. We can’t pay them, Mary. We’ll have to leave the court. Leave the king.’

  ‘Is that all?’ Mary smiled. ‘Surely that wouldn’t be so bad, my love? I could enjoy seclusion in the country with you.’

  He scowled. ‘You don’t understand, Mary. I have no desire to leave the court.’

  Charles was aware that his revelation that he had no desire for seclusion in the country with her had wounded Mary and he was sorry for it. But what did she expect? She had known when she had first married him that he was a man of ambition. How else was he to achieve those ambitions but by remaining close to the king? She was the daughter and sister of kings, had been wife to another. All her life everything she needed and more had been provided for her. Royalty didn’t bother their heads about debts. He could see that she truly didn’t understand why such matters should cause him to worry. But for all his high title, he was still of low birth. And men of low birth had no choice but to worry about debt. The world insisted on it.

  The world, in the shape of Cardinal Wolsey, was quick to remind Charles how sharp was reality. Henry, his jovial brother-in-law, wanted his money. And as soon as it became widely known that Henry didn’t intend to undertake the role of bearer of gifts to his new kin, the other creditors became even more pressing, their demands for payment louder and more persistent.

  Desperate, as his high hopes dissolved around him, Charles allowed Mary to persuade him to see Wolsey and plead for his intercession with the king. If Henry was willing to drop his demands, she had suggested, maybe all the demands of the others would ease off. Charles didn’t hold out much hope for this plan. And Wolsey, the true servant of his master, made the position even clearer.

  ‘My lord Duke, he told Charles. ‘Much as it grieves me, I am unable to help you. I have spoken to the king on this matter already and he is not without sympathy. But these debts must be paid. There is no getting out of them.’

  For all Wolsey’s smooth apology, he exuded a smug self-satisfaction that angered Charles. His promise to Mary that he would keep his temper only served to increase his anger. It was one thing to grovel to the king, but Wolsey was of even lower birth than himself. Damping down the slow burning rage that he should be forced to beg from a man who had been no more than a butcher’s cur, he tried again. ‘My lord, cannot the king and yourself appreciate our difficulties? You know how large our expenses have been of late, all these celebrations have consumed large amounts of money. I had thought that the king, now his sister and I have been publicly married, would be willing to forget these debts.’ A note of desperation entered his voice as he admitted, ‘I had depended upon it.’

  At Wolsey’s sympathetic nod of understanding Charles forgot his shame at begging from the butcher’s cur. He could not afford to take a high and mighty attitude with Wolsey. Instead, he softened his tone and pleaded, ‘You helped us in our troubles in France. Can you not help us now? You know you have our gratitude for all your exertions on our behalf. These new problems have greatly upset my wife, the Dowager-Queen. God knows we have both had anxieties enough of late, we had hoped they were at an end.’

  Wolsey appeared unmoved by this tale of woe. He took the trouble to remind Charles that his present difficulties were entirely due to his own folly. ‘No one but you brought your troubles about. We have all tried to aid you in your many difficulties, but this problem of debts you must resolve yourself. I cannot help you.’

  Wolsey rose from his chair in a lordly manner to indicate that the interview was over and Charles’s hackles rose. To be dismissed like an erring page by Wolsey of all people was more than he could bear ‘I take it that that is your last word on the subject, my lord Cardinal?’ he demanded icily.

  Wolsey inclined his head. The movement made his fleshy jowls wobble. ‘Unfortunately, yes. I can think of nothing else I can say that might help you.’

  Wolsey reminded Charles of a big, over-fed tom cat who had eaten too much cream. His fat, self-satisfied face with its hint of amusement at his visitor’s discomfiture infuriated him all over again. It was galling that he had lowered his pride and all for nothing. Who was this Cardinal, anyway, to regard him with such ill-concealed scorn? Wolsey came from the gutters of Ipswich, yet still he had the temerity to call him low-born.

  Charles felt his face flame. He bunched his thick fists on the table between them and stared over its top at Wolsey while a red mist descended. Determined to salvage some of his pride, he demanded, ‘You had no intention of helping us, did you? You prefer to see me beg.’ For a penny he would punch Wolsey’s fat face. It was only Mary’s remembered words of caution that held him in check. He took a deep breath and the red mist began to clear. But he still felt the urge to remind Wolsey that he had played his part in so reducing their means.

  ‘You were the one who encouraged Mary to sign all her riches over to the king so that we might secure his forgiveness. You were the one who did all the negotiating. How can we know whether it was necessary or not? King Henry has a great fondness for his sister and has always wished her well and happy. We have only your word that it was necessary for her to sign away all her pretty jewels. How much of her wealth found its way into your coffers, I wonder?’

  ‘My lord, you go too far,’ Wolsey protested.

  But now that he had spoken of his resentments, Charles couldn’t keep the rest back. ‘You were the one with the ear of the king,’ he said again. ‘Who knows what you whispered into it? He would probably have allowed Mary to keep her ‘winnings’ if he hadn’t been discouraged from it.’

  ‘Such ingratitude, my lord. It is unworthy. What of the Council? Did I whisper in their ears also? But for me, your head would have parted company from your shoulders ere this.’

  Charles drew back at this reminder. Somehow he had lost the initiative. He sought to regain it. ‘I, too, have friends on the Council. They would never have agreed to that.’

  ‘Such quiet friends, my lord,’ Wolsey taunted. ‘I wonder why I didn’t hear them speaking for you? Perhaps they gave their support in letters? I’m sure you must have received words of comfort and support from them whilst you were in France.’

  Wolsey’s voice had turned cold, but Charles refused to take the warning. The Cardinal knew very well that his friends hadn’t written one word. He was only too conscious of it. His humiliation complete, Charles stalked to the door and turned for a parting shot. ‘I’ll speak to the king and discuss the matter with him. He and I have always been like brothers. He’ll not see me driven from the court by debt.’

  Wolsey merely shrugged at this. ‘You may try, of course, but I must warn you the king does not like being put in awkward situations. He likes those who force those situations on him even less. Take care, my lord, that you do not antagonise the king. I’ve told you his feelings on the matter, that should satisfy you.’

  Charles thrust his head forward on his strong neck and retorted, ‘I will have my answer from the king himself on this matter, not from his pork butcher. I trust that satisfies you, my lord Cardinal,’ he retorted, before he yanked the door open and stalked through it, slamming it violently behind him.

  CHAPTER FI
FTEEN

  Whether by good luck or ill, the king wasn’t to be found. So Charles took himself and his anger back to his apartments. Mary was there, sewing with her ladies. She looked up expectantly as he entered and dismissed her women. When they were alone, she asked him, ‘How went it, Charles? Can Cardinal Wolsey help?’

  ‘No. Can’t help or won’t.’ He threw himself into a chair. ‘He vexed me so much that I told him what I suspected of him concerning our affairs.’ Charles saw her puzzled look and wished he had kept silent. He was reluctant to demean himself still further in her eyes after his unheroic showing in Paris, but of course she got it out of him in the end. ‘Tis my belief he persuaded the king to take your pretty jewels, convinced Henry to withhold his forgiveness till they were promised to him.’

  ‘And you told Wolsey this? You challenged him with such suspicions?’ Charles nodded. ‘Oh Charles, you fool. Surely you must realise how much influence Wolsey wields with my brother? So far he has used his influence in our favour, but if he should turn against us... He is a clever man and would be a dangerous enemy.’

  He turned sulky at her words. He had already been made to feel a fool once this day. He didn’t relish his own wife telling him he was one, nor at the same time praising another man’s brains.

  She came and sat beside him. He felt her soothing hand on his arm.

  ‘I’m sure my lord Cardinal realised it was worry that made you say such things. He will forgive you and not think any more of it, I’m sure.’

  Her words, instead of soothing him, merely angered him all over again. ‘Forgive me?’ he demanded. ‘Who is he to forgive me?’ Irritated, he stood up and turned away, shaking her hand from his arm and knocking over her tapestry frame as he did so. ‘It is for me to forgive him, if, as I suspect, many of your jewels have landed in his coffers. I told him plain that I would deal with the king, not his pork butcher.’ He tried to ignore her horrified expression.