Chapter X
October, 1521
In 1520, Henry VIII had sired another bastard, whom he acknowledged as his child. The mother of the child was an Austrian noblewoman.
In fact, she was Archduchess Catharina's governess.
The Austrians weren't particularly happy, but couldn't do anything about it.
The child was named Beatriz.
Lady Beatriz Tudor.
Henry VIII had made a reputation for himself in the eyes of other European kingdoms. He was known for notoriously having open affairs with Catherine, acknowledging his bastards (which is rare amongst Kings) and having half-English, half-foreign bastards. He was also known as another warrior King who sank France and their King to its knees.
Catherine took Beatriz into her nursery without questions.
She was more fond of Henry VIII's foreign bastards than his English ones.
Catherine knew that in a couple of years, her Mary will leave England.
That day, Henry VIII called her to his chambers.
"Catherine!" he said, rubbing his hands with glee. "I've received the best news ever from your brother-in-law, the King of Portugal! It isn't particularly good news for him, but it's excellent for us! I don't need to worry about Margaret being a Princess of Portugal!"
"What is it?" said Catherine curiously.
"Our Margaret won't be an Infanta of Portugal!"
"How's that good news?"
"The Prince of Portugal's bride-to-be, Eleanor of Navarre, had died of Tuberculosis just a couple of days ago. Manuel I would be looking for a bride, and one around his son's age. Why not our Isabella marry his heir instead of Margaret for his second son? That'll sort our problems without much fuss. The Scottish affair can be handled easily. Margaret will marry the Duke of Rothesay instead of Isabella! I don't think we need to tell my sister that. Any English Princess will do for the Scottish Prince. What do you think, Cate? Is this plan worthy of an English King?"
"My father couldn't even do better!"
"Really?!"
"Yes. Have you suggested this to Manuel I yet?"
"I have!"
"What did he say?"
"He agreed with me! The only request is that Isabella would be sent to Portugal at the same time that Mary gets sent to Spain."
"I'm sure that can be easily arranged."
Henry VIII was happy.
"How about Margaret?" asked Catherine. "I don't think she'll be happy when she hears that her son's future bride will be replaced by her younger sister! She'll be furious. She might be angry enough to convince her husband to declare war on England!"
"That won't happen," said Henry VIII confidently.
He knew Margaret too well.
Catherine bit her lip.
"Have you heard from the Pope yet?" she said, changing the topic.
"Yes," said Henry VIII, pulling out a piece of parchment. "He requested that Victoire leaves for Italy at once for her to marry his illegitimate son, hold on. Why, this is amazing! The Pope requested that Victoire marries his legitimate nephew, Alessandro de' Medici, the Duke of Florence! Catherine! This is brilliant for England! We'll have close relationships with the Pope!"
Catherine was pleased.
She was a fervent Catholic, and was happy to move closer to the Roman Pope.
Even if it meant by her husband's bastard marrying the Duke of Florence. She was pleased that it was Victoire who will marry an Italian royal, instead of Matilda. Matilda may have more noble blood in her veins than Victoire, but Victoire had seemed more suitable to be wife of the Pope's nephew. She was more demure and obedient.
It seemed that Matilda was destined to be a whore, like her mother.
She was only ten, but had a liking for revealing dresses.
Henry VIII laughed when he was told this, but Catherine and the other English ladies viewed this as disgust and tried to fix her behaviour.
Nothing worked.
"When will Victoire leave England?" murmured Catherine.
"She's seven," said Henry VIII with a frown.
"His Holiness did specify for her to go to Italy at once…"
"I really don't like seeing children leave."
"I know."
"I suppose she'll have to leave England one day. I suppose Matilda will go with her. Beatriz will get along well with Edward. I'm glad we had Victoire learn Italian and Latin with the others. Now that I think of it, she is more gifted in languages than Matilda. I'll send Charles to take Victoire and Matilda to Italy. I don't know whether this is too much to ask, but can you go with them? You know, to supervise them. They might need some motherly comfort."
He watched her intently.
Catherine was thoughtful.
"Very well," she said, after a while. "I'll go with them to Italy. I might have practise saying goodbye to them as I will to Mary and the others."
There were celebrations all over England as the Royal Family travelled to the closest part of English territory to Italy.
The English always loved royal betrothals and weddings.
They remembered the free wine distributed at Henry VIII's marriage with Catherine.
They were all pleased that England will have closer ties with Rome and the Pope, thus having closer ties with God, even though they'll be putting their faith through the seven year old illegitimate daughter of the King and a French maid.
Naturally, Victoire was frightened.
She knew she wasn't the real daughter of the King and Queen of England.
She knew that she was illegitimate and not a Princess.
Victoire was a Tudor Lady, not a Tudor Princess of England.
At least she wasn't the only illegitimate daughter of the King.
Victoire knew she was accepted in the royal household by the grace of Queen Catherine, who had also agreed to be her stepmother. She knew that her real mother's identity was unknown, and she had died giving birth to her. Victoire was ashamed that she was the fruit of a relationship out of wedlock, and named ironically after the English success over the French, and given the French feminine version of victory. She was embarrassed to be named Victoire.
She envied her elder half-sister, Matilda.
Matilda was fully English, and her mother was a noblewoman and alive.
Victoire didn't know why Matilda's mother refused to see Matilda.
To her, a mother was the most wonderful thing in the world.
Catherine could never be a real mother to her. No matter how kind and motherly she is, she'll never be a true mother to Victoire.
"Are you excited?" said Matilda, her eyes shining.
"We're leaving England," said Victoire mournfully.
Somehow, she inherited the French accent from her mother and she was raised in England!
"It's a new adventure!" said Matilda excitedly. "Imagine that, Toire! Just you and me! None of the boys are in this adventure! Just you and me! Imagine what we can find and see when we arrive in Italy without them! They'll be so envious of us! Don't look so glum, Toire! We'll love Italy! The new food, the new style of dresses to wear, new people to meet! You'll have a higher ranking than Mary! You'll be the Duchess of Florence in a matter of days! You'll be related to the Pope himself! Wouldn't that be grand? You'll soon be a mother too!"
Victoire was frightened.
She was afraid of marrying the Pope's nephew, but being a mother!
She was only a young girl!
"Don't worry," said Catherine, giving Matilda a warning look. "You'll be attending your lessons with your future husband, Matilda and a few other English noblewomen. They'll leave Italy eventually, but will stay with you for the time being."
Victoire sighed in relief.
She was glad she already knew Italian and Latin quite well!
"I can't wait to see the Italian fashion!" said Matilda happily.
"Of course you can't," said Victoire softly.
"I heard that the Italian dresses are more beautiful than the English ones!"
"What?"
"The Italian dresses seem decorated all over!"
"The Italians are fine artists."
"And dressmakers! I also heard that some women in Italy have their necklines quite low, so Lords can see the top of their breasts! Think of that, Toire! If you wear a dress in that fashion, your husband will surely find you attractive and can't resist you! You'll have a horde of children in no time! I can design the dresses for you if you like! There's nothing that'll please me more than to design exquisite dresses for you that'll make you attractive. If your husband doesn't fall for you, I'm sure there are other ways to make him love you. For the babies of course."
She looked craftily at Victoire.
Victoire was horrified.
The last thing she was expecting was low neck-lined dresses!
"That's enough!" said Catherine sharply. "Matilda, I don't know where you hear such things, but I want you to behave! You're scaring Victoire! Remember, you'll be watched at all times like in England. Don't think you can get away with matters since you're not in England. If your conduct does not improve, you'll come straight home and get married off to a squire!"
Matilda's bottom lip stuck out.
She hated being told off.
Especially by the Queen of England.
"You can't stop me," she couldn't help saying. "You're not my real mother. My Papa won't let you marry me to a squire! He'll want the best marriage for me! I'll soon be a Queen or Duchess too! Maybe I'll marry for love which Victoire can't do!"
Victoire began crying.
She wanted to go home.
She wanted to be back at the nursery with her half-siblings.
"I want to go home!" she wailed.
"Matilda!" said Catherine angrily. "See what you've done?! Your conduct will be under constant scrutiny the whole time! Do you understand?"
Matilda meekly nodded.
She knew that she was the only child of Henry VIII Catherine loathed.
Victoire was loved because she was motherless and Beatriz was loved because she was the daughter of an Austrian noblewoman!
Matilda was confident that she'll be a Queen or Duchess someday…
For the rest of the trip to Italy, both girls were quiet.
It took over two days for them to reach Italy, and they stopped at Austria and Navarre on the way there, and were greeted enthusiastically by the Navarrese royal family and the Austrian royal family (mostly relatives of Catharina).
Catherine felt a little guilty to be feasting and being entertained in Navarre at such a time. She knew
that the King and Queen had recently lost Eleanor.
And now they were celebrating.
England and Navarre were on friendly terms…
But not for long.
The King and Queen of Navarre would be furious if they find out that their late daughter's former fiancé had been immediately betrothed to Princess Isabella of England without even a day's wait. They would view England as an enemy and make an alliance with one of England's enemies. Their first choice would be an alliance with France, but the French were in no condition to negotiate treaties without offending Henry VIII or the English.
Catherine was introduced to the other Navarrese Princes and Princesses.
The King (Charles II) had married Princess Marie de Valois, a cousin of Francis I.
The French and Navarrese had always been close.
Charles II and Marie de Valois had five children (and three dead-Eleanor, John and Francis). The eldest was Princess Joan, followed by Henry, the Prince of Viana, Prince Louis and the last being Princess Blanche, two sons and two daughters.
They were all delightful and good-looking.
Catherine enjoyed her time in Navarre.
Victoire said nothing during the entire stay in Navarre.
Charles watched her.
He knew that his wife was Princess, and not all Princesses were as lucky as she was.
"Sad, isn't it?" he commented to Catherine.
"Hmm?" said Catherine, turning to him.
"Even illegitimate children of Kings have to suffer the fate of Princesses. Poor Victoire would have the chance to live a life in England by marrying an English nobleman, but instead, she'll be marrying the Pope's nephew, the Duke of Florence! I heard that he's a good man. What do you think will happen to her bastard half-siblings? The same treatment?"
"What are you implying?"
"Who'll Matilda marry? She seems to be on the same trail as her mother!"
"I see you mean Lady Hastings. I agree with you."
"What?! Is this the noble Catherine I hear?"
"Charles. You know as well as I, that she could've well in fact inherited this unseemly behaviour and early wantonness through both parents!"
Charles stared at Catherine, impressed.
He had never thought she would talk about the King behind his back in such a way.
The King was unfaithful, and so was Lady Hastings…
Maybe Catherine's right, thought Charles. Little Lady Matilda might be destined to be a harlot like her mother after all! Perhaps she inherited it from her father, who's known as an unfaithful husband! I wonder what'll happen in her future!
He chuckled out loud.
Catherine raised her eyebrows.
"Sorry," he said hastily. "I was thinking."
"Must be funny," said Catherine, watching Matilda converse with a Prince of Navarre. "What do you think she's saying to His Highness of Navarre?"
Matilda laughed most unsuitable for a noblewoman.
Catherine frowned faintly.
"I hate her," she confessed to Charles. "I can't help it, but I hate her. There's something about her that makes me annoyed. Probably it's because she's Henry VIII's first acknowledged bastard? I don't know! I just don't like her."
Charles knew that already.
It was pleasant to hear it from Catherine herself.
He had noticed for a while that Catherine was kinder and smiled more when she was with her own children, or Henry VIII's younger bastards. She even played a couple of times with Edward. That was rare for a Queen. Most Queens could cope with their husbands' bastards, but not one of them played or treated them like their own children.
Catherine was one unique Queen of England.
After the feast, Catherine couldn't sleep.
Charles II and Queen Marie had provided her a fine bed, suitable for her rank, but she still couldn't sleep well. There were quiet murmurings in the main part of her chambers, but that wasn't what was keeping her up. She had been separated from Henry VIII's illegitimate children, and she was worried what Matilda was up to in the Navarrese Palace.
She wasn't worried about Victoire.
Probably the poor girl was crying herself to sleep.
Matilda was the one she was concerned about.
Catherine silently changed her clothes and lit a candle.
Maria de Salinas hurried in.
"Catherine!" she said, surprised. "What are you doing, out of bed? You should be asleep! The journey to Italy still has a long way to go! You'll be tired tomorrow morning! What are you looking for? Allow me to find it for you."
"I'm going to see Matilda," answered Catherine.
"Matilda? Why?"
"I have a feeling she's up to no good."
"Trust her, Catherine, She's in a foreign Court. I don't think she'll be indiscreet here. She knows if she misbehaves, she'll return to England in disgrace. Catherine, she wants to go to Italy. She thinks it's an adventure. Don't worry. If she misbehaves, you'll be the first to know. I'm sure Lady Maud Parr would agree with you, and keep a close eye on Matilda. Catherine, those girls aren't your children. You don't need to feel responsible for them."
All the Florentines had left their homes to greet Catherine and the royal party. They all wanted to see their future Duchess Consort.
With them was the Pope, Clement VII.
"Your Holiness," said Catherine, kissing his hand. "It is an honour."
"A pleasure to see you, Devout Daughter of Christ," murmured Clement VII. "I heard about your greatness in England. I praise you on your fervent Catholicism when there are words of protest against the Church. You brought Dona Vittoria?"
Victoire's name had already been changed to the Italian version; Vittoria.
Catherine stood back and gestured for her to curtsey to the Pope.
Intrigued and a little nervous, Victoire curtsied and kissed his hand.
"Welcome to Florence, Dear Daughter," Clement VII said, smiling.
"Your Holiness," said Victoire, in barely a whisper.
"There's nothing to be afraid. There'll always be someone to love you in Florence and Italy. You will soon be a member of the Medici family. I'm sure my nephew will love you. As long as the Medicis remain in power, harm will never reach you."
"Thank you, Your Holiness."
"I see you brought an English retinue with you? Si?"
"Yes, Your Holiness."
"They'll have to go in a couple of years' time. When you're older, of course."
"Yes, Your Holiness."
"You are a quiet little thing! Who's this? You have brought your sister to Florence? Is there a reason for this, little, Dona Vittoria?"
"This was part of our agreement, Your Holiness," said Catherine steadily. "We agreed that Victoire's dowry is a thousand florins, and you'll allow Victoire to bring a relative and a retinue, and they'll stay with her until the consummation of the marriage can take place, which'll be when she's fifteen. Upon her death, if there's no child, the Duke of Florence will marry either Lady Matilda or Lady Beatriz, and will keep the dowry. If there is a child, and he chooses to remarry, half the dowry will return to England, but if he marries an English Princess or English royal, he'll keep the dowry and will receive five hundred florins. A match will also be made between the future Duke of Florence and an English Princess to ensure peace between England and Italy."
"Of course," said the Pope quickly.
"I expect your word of honour on this, Your Holiness."
"Of course. That is the conditions of the Treaty of Rome. I'll keep my end to the bargain. How do I know you and your husband will keep your end to the bargain? I can always excommunicate you if you break our promise, but I'd rather not do that."
"I'm a Lady of Honour, Your Holiness."
"I believe you. God be with you."
Catherine curtsied again and stepped back.
"Dona Mathilde?" said the Pope, looking around.
Matilda was uncomfortable when she heard her name being called.
She was always called Matilda in England, and it was odd for her hearing her name said differently, and by a stranger.
Catherine nudged her forward.
Matilda stumbled and fell at the Pope's feet.
The English royal party gasped.
The Pope laughed.
"Well!" he said, helping Matilda up. "This is a good sign, loyal people of Florence! Dona Mathilde is so eager to hear from God, that she fell at the feet of his representative! What do you think, Florentines? Is this a good sign to you? The speechlessness of a young girl in front of God's representative! There will be good luck for Florence as long as Dona Mathilde is here! Come, Florentines. Let's celebrate the good fortune of the English and Florentines!"
The Florentines cheered.
Matilda had no idea what was happening.
She was certain that she wasn't eager to hear from God, but was relieved that the Pope covered for her blunder of falling over her own feet.
She glanced at Catherine, red in the face.
Catherine didn't look very happy.
Here's another chapter! :) Please review!