The last day I spoke to Seymour was yesterday. I suppose it is no surprise Henry had laid eyes on her. She was as different from me as I had been from Katharine of Aragon. I had ordered her to come to me. She had entered, curtsying, but I could tell she had no respect for me.
“Come here.” I ordered Jane. Jane entered. I saw at her throat that she wore a locket.
“What is that?” I asked. Jane was silent. I repeated my question. Finally, she spoke.
“The king gave it to me before… before he died, Your Majesty.” Jane said. Ah. While I Had been in confinement…
“Let me see it.” I said. Jane hesitated. “Let me see it.” I repeated, this time more testily. Jane reluctantly opened the locket, and I could see that inside was a portrait of Henry. Next to it was a portrait of her! I inhaled deeply, angrily. Then I realized as Regent, I could do to her as I pleased. I swatted her, not in a manner to cause bruising or bleeding, but enough to cause pain. She winced.
“You may keep it.” I said, annoyed he had given his mistress something to remember him by but not me, his wife. Of course, it was the way of kings, but that did not change the fact that it hurt me. I knew now how Katharine had felt. My emotions towards Katharine were complicated. Outwardly, I hated her, which I knew she had reciprocated, in spite of her reputation as a saint. . Inwardly I know began to feel as she once had. Politically, I had to show mercy to her memory, lest Emperor Charles come to war. But my mind was drawn away from politics by the Seymour’s obsequious voice thanking me.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Jane said.
“You may keep it.’ I repeated, resigned to Henry’s actions to her . “But you must also leave Court, Seymour.” I said. Jane simpered.
“You cannot tell me you want to be here.” I continued. “I know where your loyalties lie. I heard you tell Cromwell I was not the real queen the night Henry summoned me and declared me Regent. Well, regardless of your thoughts, Seymour, if you have any in that addle brain of yours, I am now regent of the land on behalf of my son. The Lady Mary and the princess dowager are now dead. And so is the man who was courting you. Did you think to supplant me?”
I laughed at the thought of that.
“It would only be just retribution, madam, for what you did to Queen Katharine!” Jane said. I was surprised. She had more spirit than I had thought. Perhaps I had misjudged this woman. But as I was Regent, she spoke treason.
“You have three days to pack your things.” I said. “In the meantime, remember that I am Regent and words spoken against me are treason. I will let you live. I believe enough blood has been spilt as of late. But mind your tongue, Seymour.”
“May I… may I ask for a favor?” Jane dared. I inhaled deeply. She insulted me, now she begged a favor? What kind of woman was she?
“You may ask, certainly. But whether I will grant it is another matter.” I said.
“I… I love another.” Jane said. “I did not love the king. I love William Dormer but… his parents…”
In spite of the fact she would have been a serious rival had Henry lived, I still felt sorry for her, and I felt a pang in my conscience. I should help her. Like myself, there was a man that she loved, and the king had gotten in the way. We shared that, at least.
“William Dormer?” I said. I had not heard of this man. But married off, she could not pester me.
“Yes.” Jane said. Jesus had told us to be kind to our enemies, I knew. So yes, I would grant this. Furthermore, this was another act of gesture that could be shown to show me as a queen of mercy.
“Marry him. Have the blessing of your queen. But begone and do not speak to me ever again.” I said. Jane curtsied and left, and I wondered about this sly thing who pretended to be so sweet. She did not love the King, yet she took his gifts. She wanted to marry William Dormer. I would grant that, yes, as Regent I could do for her what Katharine could not have done for me. For a moment, I wondered about calling Henry Percy to court, and I did feel an old longing in me. But I had met with Percy, awhile back, before I had been crowned queen. Time had changed him. His loveless union with Mary Talbot had changed him. Indeed, why weep, my heart, for what never could be? God had called me to a greater mission. I wondered about my children now. Now that Henry was not here to tell me what was and was not proper… indeed, I knew I should not breastfeed Henry, much as I wished to. But I could still visit the nursery now, and as I spied Jane Seymour leaving, I decided to. Before she left, she did curtsy and thank me. How quickly her attitude and the hearts of the mob changed. When Katharine was alive, I was a thief and an adulteress. Now that Henry declared me Regent, and Katharine and Mary were dead, they begged me favors!
“Mama, look!” Edward said to me as I entered the nursery. He was two and a half now. He had acknowledged me as Mama too, as had Elizabeth. Edward smiled. He was walking now, and I smiled at him
“Good! You can walk now! Can you walk like a king?” I asked him. I wondered if the children had any understanding of what was going on, if their father was dead. My question was soon answered when Elizabeth spoke.
“Mama, how haps it yesterday only ‘the king’s wife’ and now ‘the queen of England?” Elizabeth asked. I wondered at that child. She and Edward looked so much alike, but Elizabeth, though only a baby, seemed an adult already. Indeed, Mary had told me that even when Elizabeth was born and my life had been feared for, that the babe seemed already to have no need of her mother. I believed Mary had said that to hurt me, but I saw now Mary was likely speaking the truth.
“Elizabeth… your father is dead.” I said. “Do you know what dead means?”
“Dead?” Edward asked.
“Your father jousted in honor of the death of someone in our kingdom who was a great threat. Her name was Katharine and she claimed to have been queen instead of me.”
“Then she was very naughty.” Elizabeth said. Lady Bryan scowled but then quickly changed her expression when she saw I was watching to one of a smile.
“Well…” I knew no child, even one as precocious as Elizabeth, could understand what had occurred in the King’s Great Matter, in which Henry had divorced Katharine, ending the Roman Catholic Church in England, tearing aside a kingdom. So, I explained it as best as I could, but I did not simplify it too much. I had faith my children could understand what I was about to tell them.
“She was… she was naughty, yes. She came from Spain and she wanted to make England like Spain. Spain is a wicked land, Elizabeth. They are bad people and spies. They are not friends to England. So, your papa was jousting in celebration that we got rid of the naughty Spanish spy. But, there was an accident. An accident is when something happens that is not purposeful. Henry Norris, a man of the court, pierced your papa badly. Papa got sick, and he died. Now, your twin brother, Edward, is the King. But Edward is only two, like you. And while he can certainly be king, he needs an adult to govern for him. That is why Mama is now queen regent.”
Elizabeth’s eyes first lit up, then she burst into tears. “Papa! Where’s Papa! I want him!” Edward began to cry too, both of my babies, and their crying woke Henry, the newborn, whom Lady Bryan tried to comfort.
“Papa is dead, my dears.” I said. “He has gone into Heaven.” Actually, I was not certain of that myself. Henry had had his friends killed, and the Bible said a murderer had no eternal life in him. But would Henry truthfully go to Hell? I hoped not, I hoped God would show him mercy. He was at the very least in Purgatory. But the children could not hear of that yet.
“I’m the king!” Edward said.
“Yes, you are. But until you are big enough, Mama is going to rule for you.” I said to Edward. Edward stopped crying, but Elizabeth did not. Henry had been unusually affectionate to her, I knew. Of course, he had given far more attention to Edward, but it had been dear to see him call Elizabeth ‘his Elizabeth.’ She now held a doll in her hands. It had been a gift from Henry, the past Yuletide, before I had gone into confinement. In her tears, she stamped her feet and dropped the doll, and
the doll’s head popped off.
“Your Majesty, please pardon me!” Lady Bryan begged. She had calmed Henry, but could not save the doll. She reached down and picked it up.
“You are pardoned. Children are children and they break things. Even royal children. You did no crime, Lady Bryan. And in fact, I do not even think it is permanently broken. Give it to me.” I ordered. It was an easy fix, to be certain. The doll’s head neatly slipped back on. The Seymour idiot could have fixed it! But I could fix my daughter’s doll. I could not, however, bring my children back their father, and that night, when I had thought of it all, I, too, sobbed.
Chapter 7
May 19th, 1536.
I was not permitted the luxury of grief for Henry. I had to secure Edward’s position quickly and absolutely. Already there were rumors of rebellion in the North. Seeing the chance of a woman on the throne, instead of a young boy, I was reminded of the death of Edward IV and Edward V’s subsequent disappearance. Elizabeth Woodville had insisted her young son be accompanied to London by a strong army, and she had wept when her suggestion was dismissed. Indeed, I was spoken of often as a second Elizabeth Woodville, and I knew this. But I would not have the sad fate of this queen, not if I could help it.
Thus, I asked the Army accompany myself, my son, and my train into the city of London for my son’s coronation as King Edward VI. He would wear the robes of state. I wondered about a date for the coronation. The month was May, the same month that, just three short years ago, I had been crowned as Queen of England. Indeed, my mind returned to that day as I rode into the city in a carriage with m/y children around me. I had insisted that they accompany me that day. Of course, baby Henry was too young still. Edward and Elizabeth, however, rode with me. Edward dressed in robes of state. I also dressed Elizabeth in a gown of cloth of gold, embroidered with the Tudor rose and the fleur de lys. I wanted to show her to my people as an English princess who was to be the future Queen of France.
As we rode from Hampton Court to London, I amused the children with the story of my coronation three years ago. In fact, I had been crowned as a queen regnant, whereas Katharine of Aragon, my predecessor, had been crowned only as queen consort. For the coronation, I had insisted upon Katharine’s emblem, the pomegranates, being removed and replaced with mine, the falcon. Indeed, my new emblem now was a crowned falcon with a Tudor Rose, showing the union of the house of Tudor and House of Boleyn. As queen consort, my motto had been ‘The Most Happy.’ As a widow and regent, it was now ‘Semper Eadum’- always the same. I was meaning to show the people that though I was queen regent and Henry had changed, I would not change from the days of their beloved Henry and that I would be loyal to his memory with my son.
“Mama was crowned queen three years ago.” I told Edward and Elizabeth.
“Who was the naughty woman who pretended to be queen?” Elizabeth asked.
“No like naughty lady!” Edward repeated. I laughed at this. The two twins were becoming very close to each other. I was reminded of the legend of Arthur and his twin, Morgan le Fay. Thick and close together as twins, they later grew to be rivals. I shuddered at that. By my side, Lady Bryan noticed my unease. Then I breathed a prayer to God, that let Edward and Elizabeth’s love and loyalty not be tampered with, as was Arthur’s. My Elizabeth would be no wicked Morgan le Fay. Indeed, her brother would be king of England and she as Queen of France.
“The naughty woman was known as Katharine of Aragon. Now, she was…” I thought of a way to explain this. The children would learn the whole truth later, but I felt it best to simplify it for them. Also, I did not want them to think I had lied to them. Jesus said not to lie. I smiled
“Katharine of Aragon was naughty in the sense she defied your father, but she also was a princess of Spain whose desire was to be Queen of England. Her parents were Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain. They united Spain and made it a great threat to England, and they sent many people to the New World” I said. Elizabeth listened, wide-eyed. Edward did too, although he still sucked his thumb. I tried to distract him, but he would not take the thumb out of his mouth. Finally, I said, ‘Edward, kings don’t’ suck their thumbs.’ He pouted, but removed his thumb from his mouth.
“Now, Katharine came from Spain. She married your father’s brother first, and then said she was never his wife. But this is why your father’s marriage to her was cursed. It is naughty to marry your brother or sister, or their husband or wife.” I said.
“Bad lady!” Elizabeth said.
“Bad lady!” Edward repeated, and I laughed. Lady Bryan scowled again.
“So, your father met me and fell in love with me.” I said. Marriage was not for love, but Henry had believed in marrying for love, I knew that. He had once loved Katharine as much as he had loved me, and I had seen his affections turning to Jane before his death. “Now, he wanted to make me his wife. But he had to break away from Rome to do that. England is now free of Rome, and from the naughty Spanish princess. The naughty Spanish princess, though, had a daughter. And that daughter was even naughtier. She claimed she was princess instead of you, Elizabeth, and Edward, she never acknowledged you as heir. So she was struck down with illness.”
Lady Bryan sniffed again. She dared not speak.
“So, Mama was made queen three years ago, in the naughty Spanish lady’s place.” I said. Lady Bryan rolled her eyes. I knew her thoughts likely were sympathetic to the late princess dowager and Lady Mary, but thoughts not spoken could not be construed as treason. In some ways I was like Henry, in other ways I was not. I would allow my subjects to think what they wished. I had run out of time to finish the story though. We were now in London, and I heard the crowds of people. I inhaled in anxiety and trepidation as I exited the carriage, helped out by William Brereton. Three years ago, the people had been silent in the streets. When there had been cries, they had been ‘Long live Queen Katharine!’ or ‘King’s whore!” Also, there had been taunts and laughs of my initials of H and A, Henry and Anne ‘HA HA!’ they had laughed. Today the mood was different. The people were not angry as I stepped out. My bearing a son had changed that. I exited the carriage, and held Edward up in his robes of state for the people to see. I would also distribute alms and charity. I cried out
“Your King Edward VI, beloved son of Henry VIII!” I cried. For a moment, the silence remained. Then there was cheering.
“Long live the King!” the people cried. I did not hear any cries on my behalf. But as the procession continued, I did hear shouts of ‘Long live the King’s mother!’
Good, I thought. They are not calling me queen yet, but they are at least calling me his mother. That, at least, is a start.
Interlude.
Katharine of Aragon’s nephew.
Emperor Charles V, son of Juana the Mad of Castile and nephew of Katharine of Aragon, Henry’s discarded true and wronged wife, could not believe the news from England. He had known Henry VIII was dead, but had he truthfully let that whore become queen of England on behalf of the bastard son she had borne him? Worse, Anne Boleyn, the woman who had first dared to call herself queen in his aunt’s place, was now the ruler of England and planning to marry her demonic daughter off to the Dauphin of France! No! Charles swore. This would not do!
Could England be invaded? Of course, he had not done so on behalf of his aunt while she had lived. He understood that his aunt and niece were in grave danger whilst Henry and the Concubine ruled England. He had heard of Mary’s death, and Katharine’s. Perhaps, Charles thought, he should have married Mary, and not broken his pledge to Henry and married Isabella of Portugal.
No! Charles thought. Isabella was an Iberian princess and Mary a half blood English mare. Or was. Charles thought well of invading England. He knew it would require a great amount of sacrifices on behalf of the people of Spain. He thought also of his mother, shut away in Tordesillas, gone mad. It was said she still fondled the corpse of his father, King Philip. Juana had been Katharine’s sister, and he knew that a while ago, she had bee
n temporarily released, being unaware that her father was dead. Charles thought to use Juana’s madness to his advantage.
He would tell Juana Katharine was still in England, let her believe she was still Queen of Castile. Indeed, Juana stated that she was still queen. And as such, Charles made for Tordesillas.
Inside the dark and confined chambers, he was welcomed by Juana, his mother. He had secluded her away to assure his dominance, but why not bring her out again to invade England. Yes, lie to her. Juana welcomed Charles into her chambers. She was now an old woman, no longer the joyous Infanta of her youth. And time had turned her into a decrepit old lady, one fearful, anxious, and soothed only by her music. She would have no women near her, lest they come near Philip’s corpse! But Juana had loved Catalina, her sister. Indeed, it was believed Juana even thought Ferdinand, her father, still alive, still King of Aragon. Charles would use this to his advantage.
“Mother. Your sister, Katharine, the queen of England must be rescued.” Charles said. It was a lie, of course. Katharine had ended her life in a dark, dank castle, much as Juana would. It was said the line of Spain was cursed, Charles had heard. But why, he wondered? Isabella had been a holy and righteous queen, and Ferdinand a devout and loyal king.
“My sister?” Juana asked.
“Katharine, the true and lawful queen of England, has been deposed by a French concubine.” Charles said, appealing to his mother’s hatred of the French women that Philip had enjoyed. Juana raged at this.
“Katharine, my little sister Catalina, betrayed? I will go to her.” Juana said. Charles had wondered at this, and as his mother arose, he saw in her eyes wildness and anger. Then, he knew he had made a mistake in using her. Juana was mad and insane, and indeed, he wondered now at this. But he could certainly rally the people of Spain to his cause. Defeat England, dethrone the French whore.
The Most Happy Page 4