Chapter XII

February, 1539

Standing at the door, her head held high with her black hair pinned back and swept behind her back, was Jane's predecessor; Anne Boleyn.

"What are you doing here?" said Jane, standing up quickly.

"Your Majesty," said Anne, sweeping her a magnificent curtsey. "A pleasure to meet you. I am at Court to take my place beside my husband."

Gasps echoed through the room like a ripple in a pond. All of Jane's ladies stared at Anne as if she was a ghost and whispered to each other. Mary blinked when Anne gave her a small smile. She had a feeling that Henry VIII will not be happy to see Anne back at Court.

"Your husband?" repeated Jane, her pale blue eyes streaked with confusion.

"Of course," said Anne charmingly. "A wife and husband are meant to be together."

The door banged open and Henry VIII stroded in, his face red with anger. He glared at Anne like an angry bull once he set his eyes on her.

"I see you're back at Court, witch!" sneered Henry VIII, crossing his arms. "Planning to enchant and seduce other men from their lawful wives? I don't remember asking you to return to Court! Do you think your witchcraft is powerful enough to save you from the chop? Do you think you are so great that you can defy the orders of your King? I don't remember allowing you to marry! I feel sorry for the poor bloke who found himself married to a scheming bitch the day after he bedded you! You didn't seek permission to marry either! As if you would bring your 'husband' any sons anyway! Your witchy powers haven't aided you in giving birth to LIVING SONS! Now, tell me, Mistress Anne. Who on earth would that unfortunate man be who married you?"

"Henry Percy," Anne replied. "The 6th Earl of Northumberland."

Jane, Mary and Henry VIII stared at her.

She smiled enchantingly back at them.

"NORTHUMBERLAND!" roared Henry VIII, turning to his entourage of male companions. "YOU FUCKING BLOODY IDIOT! WHAT IN YOUR RIGHT MIND HAD POSSESSED YOU TO MARRY THAT WITCH?! HOW LONG HAVE YOU TWO BEEN MARRIED? WHEN DID YOU GET MARRIED? BY THE ORDERS OF YOUR KING, YOU WILL ANNUL THE UNION IMMEDIATELY!"

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," said Anne, with a little smirk. "I'm afraid there are no grounds for divorce in any way possible. You see, I am with child. Lord Henry and I have been married for a few months, and I am three months pregnant."

Henry VIII's eyes bugged out and were as wide as dinner dishes.

Hertford's eyes darted between him, Anne, Mary and Jane.

With Anne's return, matters have just became slightly complicated…

"Mary," said Henry VIII, turning to his daughter. "Take Lady Anne for a walk in the gardens, as Northumberland and I will be having a nice chat, just the two of us. Jane. I'm sorry for this. I had no idea that this witch is returning to Court!"

Mary nodded and with Anne, the two of them left Jane's chambers, trying to ignore the stares and whispers of passing courtiers.

"Why are you back here?" Mary said curtly.

"I'm bored in Alnwick Castle," Anne said truthfully. "My husband is always at Court, and my mother-in-law, the Dowager Countess never liked me. She stayed mostly away from me and had her meals in her chambers. All of my brothers-in-law lived in their own parts of the Percy estates and never bothered to talk to me. The Dowager Countess's oldest daughter Margaret, stayed in Skipton Castle with her husband Henry Clifford, 1st Earl of Cumberland and their children. Her younger daughter Maud, was alright. She talks to me, but is more religious. I only have the library for company."

"The quietness of Alnwick Castle would do you good. You could learn demureness and live a good life without involving yourself in Court intrigues. I believe the Percys have become interested in the Protestant faith? You probably influenced them."

"Princess Mary, The duties of a common country housewife do not suite me. I belong in Court. It doesn't matter whether I was in Court as a Queen Consort or now as a mere Countess. I assume you still hold a grudge against my family? I do not wish for you to have an alliance with them, but perhaps you will have one with me and the Percys?"

"Not a chance."

"I know you still harbour grudging feelings towards me, but I mean you no harm. I heard that you're having an alliance with the Seymours. Is it true?"

"Whether I have an alliance with the Seymours or your family is no concern of yours. Why did you marry Northumberland? Did you father or uncle push you into that match? As far as I'm concerned, you could still be working for Norfolk and plotting my children's death. If not mine, perhaps Queen Jane's. I saved your life and those of your daughters. Isn't that enough for you to leave us in peace? I have other matters to attend to than to keep you away from the King."

"I married Northumberland for love, and I'm content. I don't want you dead."

"Norfolk might still want Elizabeth as Queen of England."

"I severed all ties with Norfolk and the Howards. I can promise you that. I'm satisfied with my life, but I long to be a courtier again. I won't mind being a lady-in-waiting, as long as it isn't for Jane Seymour. I also wish to see my daughters."

"Perhaps you should've requested permission to be allowed back to Court instead of suddenly appearing in the Queen's chambers."

"Princess Mary. I thought we were friends. What happened?"

Mary fidgeted with her Cross uncomfortably.

"We are too different," she said finally. "You may be content now, but for how long? What if your husband dies and the King takes away your land and fortune? I'm sorry, but I can't trust you. You wanted me to marry your rapist brother! How can I believe you're a changed woman? Your brother is still unmarried and a womaniser."

"You're assuming I'm all that," said Anne calmly. "Perhaps if I invite you and Charles to my chambers for supper and we can talk? My husband can join us. I can see in your eyes that you do not wish to. Very well then. How are my daughters?"

Mary's expression softened at the thought of her young half-sisters.

The two of them sat on a bench and watched other nobles walk around.

"Elizabeth and Eleanor are growing to be healthy and robust girls," Mary told Anne. "I believe Elizabeth is now six and Eleanor five? My daughters have grown fond of them and your daughters are like sisters to my own daughters rather than aunts. My Katharine and your Elizabeth have been inseparable since they first met. They were born in the same year and I believe separated by only a month. Elizabeth is definitely the King's daughter and she has a temper of her own! Her red hair is obviously from the King, but she inherited your black eyes. She is intelligent and hard working in her studies. Something that she shares with Kate. Both of them have excelled greatly in Latin and French. That reminds me. Would you like Elizabeth and Eleanor to be taught Spanish, Portuguese and Flemish? My children will be given lessons on those languages when they are a little older, along with German and ancient Greek and Italian. Charles and I both want our children to be thoroughly educated and linguistic. Perhaps you would wish your daughters to be as well?"

"That is really thoughtful of you," said Anne, touched at Mary's kindness towards her daughters. "I had no idea you would discuss their education with me. If the King left them with a different noble family like the Seymours, they would never give my daughters a good education. What about religion? They are taught in the Catholic faith, I believe?"

"Not exactly."

"What do you mean? You are a devout Catholic! You despise heretics."

"You are a Protestant. Your daughters should be raised in the faith you wanted them to believe in. I've given them a Protestant tutor and a Catholic one. Both your daughters are aware that in their hearts, they will be Protestants, but on the outside, they will be good Catholics. Charles and I have agreed upon that. I wasn't forced into allowing them believe the Protestant faith."

"Thank you, Princess Mary."

"You are their mother. Even if the King views them as bastards, we know the truth. No true God will believe that they are illegitimate just because they're female. If Elizabeth was a son, you would still be married to the King. Eleanor is more quiet and obedient than Elizabeth, but she is liked by my Mimi, who is a year younger than her. Katharine views her as a friend, but I suppose she is closer to Elizabeth. Eleanor's blonde hair will be turning golden in a few years' time, and she has the King's blue eyes. She will be as beautiful as Elizabeth."

"She didn't inherit anything from me?"

"Hard to tell now, but if she did, I'll let you know. Elizabeth is more your child. It's hard to figure whether she inherited that temper from you or the King. I remember that you had a vicious temper when you didn't get your way."

"Yes, it is now gone. I realised that shouting and fighting will do no good against the King's will. I suppose age does give you wisdom. Is it possible if I can see my daughters? I am a desperate mother. I am carrying the Percy heir, but I want to see my daughters. Please."

Mary frowned slightly.

Henry VIII would not like it, but both she and Anne are mothers…

"Maybe in a few days," she decided. "When the King settles down and all resumes back to normal. I will find Charles tonight and discuss it with him. Perhaps we will invite you to Westhorpe Hall for a while. You haven't been there, and I don't think Northumberland has either. Hertford's eldest son, Viscount Beauchamp is with them as well."

"Thank you," said Anne, grasping her hand warmly. "You are a good friend, Princess."


Mary sat alone in her chambers, tears streaming down her face.

"Are you alright?" said Charles, sitting down next to her. "Henry VIII wishes to know if you're able to join us for supper tonight."

"I cannot sup with the Court tonight," said Mary, wiping away tears with a crumpled handkerchief. "I just received news that Chapuys had passed on. I can't believe it. He was the only friend I had when my mother was banished from Court. He placed me before himself in his heart, and even his ambassadorial duties! He aided me and my mother when we thought that God had turned his back on us! I was in Westhorpe when Chapuys died! I should've been by his side! He would've wanted to talk to me! I'm such an ungrateful person! Why wasn't I notified about his passing a little earlier? I would've rushed to his side without hesitation at all!"

"You were giving birth."

"You knew about this?!"

"Not exactly. The King mentioned it a couple of times when we were hunting, but he made it seem like Chapuys was alive! I would've told you about it at once, but he refused to grant me permission to leave the hunt! I'm sorry, dear Mary. It would be wise for you to go to supper tonight. Chapuys's Will is going to be read out, and I'm sure he left something for you."

"Typical of the King to talk only of what he wishes to speak about and lie about the truth that affects others and not himself. He knows that Delft is the new Spanish Ambassador, and Chapuys would only remain in England until his death!"

"Will you go?"

"Very well. Chapuys would've wanted me to go. I will go in black."

"Of course. I shall meet you there."

"No. Please stay with me. I don't want to go by myself. I can't stand all those fox-eyed weasels stare at me as I walk down the stairs. I need you by my side. I'll be quick and dress myself. Just wait for me outside and I'll be there in a minute."

Charles nodded and gently kissed her forehead. He walked out of her chambers and Mary stood up quietly. She pulled out the black velvet gown she wore upon Catherine's death. She hadn't grown much, but was a little rounder in the stomach than before. She stared vaguely at the black Spanish hood placed on the mahogany table in front of her, one of the few accessories her mother left her that she personally took to England from Spain.

Chapuys would've wanted me to wear this, thought Mary mournfully, picking up the Spanish hood (the coif bedecked with small jewels). He loved Spain, my mother…and me. If only I could've been by his side when he joined God! Why wasn't I told?! Chapuys…how can I live on without you? You and Charles have held me to keep me alive, and now you're gone! You've been there for me since I was a young girl, and watched my children grow. It is fitting my latest child is named after you.

She allowed her thoughts to travel momentarily to a few weeks ago.

It was rather easy, labouring a child. Mary had to admit that from seven pregnancies, giving birth to little Eustace Francis Brandon was the simplest and least painful. Henry VIII was pleased it was a boy, but was disappointed at the name choice.

"You gave him the name Francis?" she remembered the disgusted tone when she informed him the name of her baby. "Why on earth would you name my grandson after that fucking son of a bitch King of France? What kind of English name is 'Eustace'? Only the Spanish and Portuguese would give their sons that name! You could've named him 'Edward' or 'Edmund' or even 'Owen', but you choose that bloody foreign name after that common Spanish Ambassador?"

Mary felt a sudden dislike against her selfish father.

She smirked at the thought of naming her son after the caring Chapuys.

The more Henry VIII hated that name, the happier she felt!

A few minutes later, Mary descended the stairs with Charles at her side and saw the peculiar expression on Henry VIII's face. It wasn't disgust nor anger, but it wasn't sympathy or compassion either…what could he be possibly thinking?

"My Pearl," said Henry VIII, embracing Mary. "Charles. I'm glad you can come."

Mary said nothing, and Jane offered her an encouraging smile.

"The last Will and testament of Senor Eustace Chapuys, Spanish Ambassador to Charles V," read Hertford. "I leave Her Royal Highness, the Princess Mary Tudor all my worldly possessions I had brought with me from Spain and all the accessories I bought from the routes to and from England and Spain. I wish to be buried near the sainted Queen Catherine of Aragon in England, but for my heart to be sent back to Spain and to be buried in the family plot. I also wish to give the custody of my illegitimate daughter, Dona Maria Catalina Chapuys to His Grace, the Duke of Suffolk, and the Princess Mary Tudor. She was named in honour of Queen Catherine and Princess Mary, and would be found with Sir Thomas More. If they refuse to take custody or are unwilling due to financial strain, Sir Thomas may have the choice of taking care of her or giving her into the custody of His Majesty, King Henry VIII of England."

"What?!" spat Henry VIII. "That is unacceptable! How dare that no good Spanish dog leave all his prized possessions to a mere girl?! He should've left them to me! All he does is give me the possible custody of his fucking bastard girl?!"

"He has a child?" said Mary, in a daze.

"Probably your half-sister," said Henry VIII sarcastically. "Who knows? Maybe the 'sainted' Catherine of Aragon isn't so saintly after all! Who knows? Maybe one night, when she is hurt and upset, Chapuys offered her some calming words, and they conceive a child, and look what it resulted in! A bastard girl being named after Catherine who's now an orphan!"

Boiled with anger at the insolence Henry VIII had towards the late Chapuys, Charles slapped him in the face with all the strength he could muster.

The guards instantly drew their swords.

Stunned Henry VIII placed his hand to his cheek and stared at Charles.

"Well!" he said finally. "Charles! You finally act treasonously against your King! I was wondering when you would show your true colours! For the last couple of years, were you on your best behaviour for Mary's sake? Now that I have a son, do you decide that it's a good time to show your true feelings about our friendship? It won't save you from a hefty fine! Guards! Arrest him and take him to the Tower on the grounds of high treason!"

"Wait!" said Mary hastily, as Hertford and the royal guards stepped towards Charles. "If Chapuys had told the truth and his daughter is illegitimate, what do we do about her? She's a foreigner in England, a bastard without family and probably landless."

"Send her back to Spain," said Henry VIII easily.

"Please, Your Majesty. I will not watch you arrest my husband and allow a poor child to remain alone in a strange world," said Mary fiercely. "I rather take his place and die. Sending her back to Spain is easy to you, but will be difficult for the child herself. Charles has done no wrong. It was you who spoke cruel worlds about a child you have never set your eyes on!"

Everyone held their breath. Had Mary gone too far?

"Very well," grumbled Henry VIII begrudgingly. "I shall see this bastard before we discuss anything further. Charles, you are fortunate this time. Hertford! Go to Sir Thomas and fetch this worthless girl and take her here now! I don't care if she's asleep or having a bath! Drag her here naked if needed! Hmmph, I feel rather peckish! Servants! Supper!"

Hertford bowed and stroded off, wondering how Chapuys could hide his daughter from the King for so long, and what happened to her when Sir Thomas was exiled to Italy. Surely the Mores wouldn't have wanted to be burdened with a bastard that wasn't even theirs!

"Hertford," said Sir Thomas, opening the door. "What do you want?"

"I'm here on the orders of the King," replied Hertford.

"I am forbidden to see him, remember?"

"Are you aware that Chapuys had died? From his Will, we've learnt that he left an illegitimate daughter in your care. The King ordered me to bring her to him no matter what. Now, I will offer you this choice. Will you go and fetch the girl to me, or will I have to go in there and pull her to the King? Whatever the case, I must bring her to him."

"I suppose by 'we', you mean the whole Court."

"Not exactly. Only me, the King, Queen, Princess Mary and Suffolk. Enough talk! Do you want me to report you for refusing to obey the King's command?"

Giving Hertford a long hard stare, Sir Thomas went away and a few minutes later, returned with a young, sleepy girl (no older than four) with curls of light brown hair and dark brown (almost black) eyes. She wore a white nightgown made from cotton and clung on a tattered and patched small doll. Hertford had to admit that she was quite beautiful.

Even for a bastard.

"Here," said Sir Thomas, gently handing the child to Hertford. "I assume that Chapuys had decided to leave Maria Catalina to Princess Mary and the Duke of Suffolk. She is a good child. Unusually quiet for a girl her age, but obedient."

Hertford nodded at him and walked off, unsure how to hold the silent child. She is like a delicate, fragile doll, he thought, as he uncomfortably shifted her in his arms. I should've learnt or spent more time carrying children. Are they usually this heavy? I thought four year old children are already capable of walking and talking! What's wrong with this one?

The doors opened and he stroded in, carefully placing the child on the ground.

Everyone stared at her.

"Hello," said Mary, looking at Catalina in the eye. "Who are you?"

"Maria Catalina Chapuys," whispered the wide eyed child melodiously.

"Can I call you Catalina? Maria Catalina is quite a mouthful! I am Mary Tudor and a good friend of your father. I am half-Spanish like you. Your father has been called to God's side, and wanted me to take care of you and welcome you to the family. You will have new brothers and sisters who can also speak and listen to Spanish if you can't understand English well. If you want to stay with Thomas More, you can, but he is a very busy man and won't be able to give you everything that your father would've wanted you to have to be happy. I will be your new Mama and this man here is my husband. He will be your new Papa and we will take good care of you."

"My Papa has joined God…he is dead like my Mama?"

"I'm sorry darling. This is my father, the King of England, and my stepmother, the Queen. They are very kind. If you want something when I am away, you can ask them for it. That is a lovely doll. Where did you get it? Who gave it to you?"

"My Papa did at Christmas. He said that it was his sister's doll when they were children, and she would've wanted me to have it."

"Are you tired?"

"Yes…Mama."

Mary glanced at Charles, and he nodded. They both knew that it would be best if they foster Chapuys's

young daughter rather than Henry VIII, who would probably abandon her to the mercy of governesses.

"Take her if you want," said Henry VIII carelessly. "You get no money from me."

"Very well," said Mary coolly, picking up Catalina. "Catalina's fees will be taken care of from my own purse. I shall pay for her education, clothes, food and take responsibility and custody of her. She will be a member of the Brandon family and can change her last name to 'Brandon' if she wishes it. I will view her as my own daughter even though she is not by blood. Charles, I'm returning to Westhorpe Hall at once. You can stay if you want."

"I'll go with you," said Charles, tired of Henry VIII's unreasonableness. "The country air would do both of us some good. Besides, I want to see our children. The cooing over the Prince of Wales reminded me of our own young ones. I'll get the carriage ready."

"YOU CANNOT LEAVE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION!" roared Henry VIII.

Mary and Charles looked at each other and shrugged.

They bowed/curtsied and departed, without glancing back at the furious, red-faced King and the worried, pallid Queen for another second.


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