Edward's Reign
May 1554. Queen Katarina goes into labour, and, once it is born, Lady Elizabeth and Lady Mary are informed of the birth. King Edward now has a child... but is it a son? And what of the Queen?
Chapter IV: Life, Death and Birth
14th May 1554: Whitehall Palace, England: Queen Katarina's Chambers
Queen Katarina was bored. For the last three months, she had been confined to her chambers ready for the birth of her child, which was due to be born within the next few days.
Glancing out of the window, she got to her feet, and felt a sharp sting in her stomach, and giving a cry of "Argh!" placed her hand onto her stomach as another sting of pain shot through her. Her ladies clamoured around her, and she clutched the table nearby to stabilise herself as she spoke "I think my time has come."
As the ladies began to panic, Lady Mary Fitzroy, Dowager Duchess of Richmond and Somerset, took control "Fetch a bowl of water and a cloth! And for heavens sake, someone fetch a Physician and alert the King!"
Three of the Queen's ladies left the room to alert the King, fetch a physician and fetch the bowl of water and a cloth.
"Come, Your Majesty," Lady Mary Fitzroy led Katarina to the bed.
The physician arrive a few moments later, and, apart from Lady Mary Fitzroy, the rest of the ladies were shooed out of the room. Outside, in the hallway, stood the King "What happened?" He asked "Mistress Mackwilliam said that something was wrong with the Queen."
"Wrong?" Mary Fitzroy glanced back to Mary, with a look that plainly said I will deal with you later, before looking back to the King and smiling "There is nothing wrong, Your Majesty. I sent Mistress Mackwilliam to tell you that the Queen has gone into labour but she thought that something was wrong with the Queen."
The King, already pale, due to his complexion, went even paler and sat down in the chair nearby. He would be a father soon.
Six hours later, one final scream echoed from the birthing chamber and the sound of crying followed a few moments later. Edward looked up, relieved. As the door opened, he stood up. Lady Mary Fiztroy was stood in the doorway "Would you like to see your child, Your Majesty?"
15th May 1554: Hatfield House, Hatfield, Hertfordshire, England: Home of the Princess Elizabeth
Robert Dudley had been sent to Hatfield immediately after the birth of the King's child. He knew that The Lady Mary had been summoned to Hatfield as well, by the King's orders, as The King had said that it would make it easier to tell them the news if they were together.
"Your Grace," Robert kissed Elizabeth's offered hand, before rising from his bow "The Queen has given birth."
"To what, Lord Dudley?" Mary asked, eagerly, before her sister could even open her mouth to speak "To a son, or a daughter?"
"A daughter, Lady Mary," Robert replied. Once he had spoken, he noticed Mary's eyes fill with delight. In her eyes, The Queen had failed in her duty.
"Give the Queen my condolences, Lord Dudley," Mary had managed to keep the deight out of her voice and laced it with a fake sympathetic tone as she spoke.
"I cannot, Lady Mary," Robert replied "For The Queen is dead. She died in childbirth."
"Oh!" At the news of the Queen's death, Elizabeth's hands flew to her mouth in shock, and her blue eyes sparkled with grief "Poor Katarina."
"Indeed, Your Highness," Robert agreed "It is a sad occasion for us all,"
"What has the King called his daughter?" Mary asked.
"He has named her Margaret," Robert replied "after your aunt, The former Queen of Scotland."
Mary nodded, and left. Robert watched her go, and was not surprised. He knew that Mary hated The King and The Queen and only wanted the throne.
"I hear that Amy gave you a daughter, Robert," Elizabeth stated, more than asked after Mary had left the room. Robert could hear the coldness in her voice as she spoke.
"Yes," Robert replied "We named her Elizabeth, after you."
Elizabeth merely smiled, before moving to the window "How is the King?" She asked.
"He is happy at the birth of his daughter," Robert informed her "but is sad at the loss of the Queen."
"Do you think that he will remarry?" Elizabeth asked. She had seen her father marry four other women after the death of her mother.
"I do not think that the King will remarry straight away. He will have a period of mourning first."
"And what will happen to Princess Margaret?" Elizabeth asked "Will she stay at court, or have an establishment of her own?"
"The King has ordered for Castle Mound, in Cambridge, to be repaired and refurbished." Robert replied "Once it has been repaired and refurbished, it will become the main residence of the Princess."
16th May 1554: Whitehall Palace, England: Chapel of Westminster
"By the god of Grace," the Herald, leading everyone from the ceremony, began "I give you Margaret Tudor, Princess of England, Ireland and France, may she be eternally blessed, and loved,"
Margaret, encased in a bundle of blue blankets, was carried from the ceremony, in the arms of her aunt, Elizabeth. Margaret was sleeping soundly.
"Make way for His Majesty!" the crowd parted, to allow The King to walk through the newly created space. At the sight of the King the crowd burst into applause, which became even louder when Elizabeth, with Margaret in her arms, passed them.
Mary curtsied as they passed, but she was, inside, thrilled that her brother had failed to have a son. His daughter was a legitimate Princess who, with the right tutors, could become a very fervent catholic and restore England to the rightful church and the See of Rome.
Perhaps, the birth of Princess Margaret was better than she thought. Maybe the girl would be good as a Catholic Queen of England. All she needed to do know was convince Edward to appoint a Catholic was his daughter's tutor.
That...
...Would be difficult...
...Very difficult...
17th May 1554: Whitehall Palace, England: King Edward's Chambers
"You are lucky, Barnaby." The King informed his former whipping boy as they sat in Edward's chambers that night "You really are."
"I am, Your Majesty?" Barnaby asked, as he sat opposite his King. He waved off the groom, who had offered him a goblet of wine, for the fourth time.
"Yes," The King informed him, downing another goblet of wine, before gesturing for another "You can marry whomsoever you like, and if they die, you can just marry for love the second time."
"So can you, Your Majesty."
"I cannot marry whomsoever I please." Edward informed him, downing another goblet of wine and calling for another "I have to marry whomever is chosen by my council. Whether is be a Spanish Infanta or one of the many French Princesses."
"At least there are a lot of French Princesses, Your Majesty." Barnaby laughed. Edward silenced him with a drunken glare as he drank his goblet of wine. Barnaby knew that the King had drank more than he could take.
"Indeed," Edward replied, beginning to show his drunkeness "It shows that The King and Queen of France have no life outside of having children." Now, Edward was definitely drunk, Barnaby was sure of that, for Edward never normally spoke about a fellow Monarch, or a Monarch's children, like that "I do hope that my Scottish cousin, Mary of Scotland, knows that she will be marrying into a family of sex crazed, French bastards who think it is their job to rearrange Europe!"
Edward called for another glass of wine, having drunk his last one and Barnaby reached out, taking the goblet from Edward.
"What did you do that for?" Asked Edward, drunkenly.
"You're drunk, Edward," Barnaby replied, pointing out the obvious.
"I am not drunk!" Edward replied, snatching the goblet back "And even if I am drunk, it does not matter, since I am the King!"
"A drunk King!" Barnaby commented. Edward called for another goblet of wine, and Barnaby could barely believe that Edward was still conscious "God's Blood, Edward!" He cried, disbelieving, as Edward emptied the goblet in one gulp "You've only lost your wife! You can marry again and sire a son from someone else! You could have a harem of women if you wanted! Many women would love to be Queen and would willingly throw themselves into your bed in the hope of siring a son!"
Edward got to his feet, and Barnaby was on his feet in an instant, ready to support his drunken monarch... and drunk, Edward definitely was.
To Be Continued
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