Chapter XIV
August, 1534
"Yes, Your Majesty," said the midwife, turning to face her, a broad smile on her face. "You have given birth to a healthy baby boy!"
The King cheered and embraced Anne deeply.
A bonny son! At last!
"A son," said Anne, staring at the squirming bundle in her arms. "A son. God is pleased with us and rewarded us with a son!"
"He will be a 'Henry'," the King decided. "Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury will be his tutor in theology. Our boy will be raised with the thoughts of the Church of England in his mind since he is in a cradle. He will not be polluted with Catholicism. Once you are well, I will hold a grand feast and distribute free wine to the people! Henry, Prince of Wales!"
Anne cradled her infant son gently.
"Can we name him 'Arthur'?" she said more timidly than she had ever spoken to him before.
"Arthur?" the King frowned, as his late brother appeared in his mind. "Why do you want to name my son after my dead brother?"
"Of course not after your brother! I was thinking of the king of Camelot. Our son is the jewel of a new era. An England where there is peace and prosperity. It will be more fitting to name him Arthur, after that legendary king."
"Very well. Arthur Tudor, Prince of Wales. He will go to Hatfield after the celebrations and once he reaches his tenth year, he will leave for Ludlow Castle in Wales. Guillame will accompany him. A wife must be found for Arthur when he is fifteen, and I plan to choose him a Protestant wife."
"Can we please not mention your bastard?"
Anne was tired of her son already being sort of compared to Guillame.
"Bastard or not, he is still my son," said the King shortly. "You are fortunate to be blessed to have given us a prince. If you gave me a daughter, I would have taken steps to fully legitimise Guillame and make him the prince of Wales. I need sons. You know that."
"He is an infant!" said Anne spitefully, furious that the King did not even thank or properly bless her for completing her duty. "And he has a French name! Do you honestly think the people will accept a French bastard as king when you have two legitimate daughters? If you must have legalise a bastard, why not Fitzroy? He is older, more mature and English!"
"He bears the last name 'Fitzroy', not 'Tudor', and is married to your cousin! Do you honestly believe I will allow your uncle more power if I die and Fitzroy ascends as king?! His blasted daughter will become the next queen. Besides, he is a Catholic. I need a Protestant son to succeed me, not a Catholic son or any daughter. I hope next year you can bear England another bonny prince. One is never enough. You do not have another son, I will proclaim Guillame my legitimate son and the duke of York. Of course if he ever succeeds to the throne-"
"God forbid."
"If he ever succeeds to the throne, he will take the English translation of 'William'. I expect you at tonight's feast, Madame."
He kissed her coolly on the forehead and left, taking the crying babe with him.
Tears brimmed Anne's eyes.
Not even a son could please the King anymore...
Not even a son could rekindle the King's passion for her anymore...
Not even a son could rip the King away from his French whore.
"Anne," said Mary, squeezing her hand. "What is it? I saw the King leave with the babe. Is it another daughter? She is perfectly healthy."
"A son," murmured Anne, wiping away her tears with the handkerchief Mary handed her. "I have given England a prince."
"Congratulations! God is pleased with you! Why are you weeping? You should be rejoicing!"
"Whatever I do, the King compares me to his whore. He says one son is not enough, and he will legitimise his bastard if I give him a daughter next time! I even preferred Fitzroy than his French bastard, and the King accused me of supporting my uncle's ascent to power! By God! What don't I have that his French harlot does?!"
"I heard that he allows her in his council meetings."
"No! That is not true! George! Tell us that it isn't true! There is no way he will invite his mistress to listen in while I am forbidden from it!"
Before George could speak, Norfolk slipped in and cleared his throat.
"Forgive me, Your Highness," he said, bowing to Mary. "I do not mean to ah…sneak up on you. Is it possible if you can give me a moment alone with the Marquess and the Queen? I only wish to congratulate the Queen on the birth of a dear prince." Even though he still viewed her as a sort of threat, he was obliged to show her the respect required.
"Of course, Your Grace," said Mary, giving Anne a sympathetic smile. "Your Majesty, dear husband. I will be outside if you need me."
Norfolk waited until she left from sight before beginning his rant.
"A son," he said, his voice revealing neither joy nor disappointment. "You finally bore the King and England a prince with the stamina to live through childhood. How long did that take? Four years? His mistress is pregnant with her second child that is also the king's. Even George's wife had a child. What do you prove to us? You're only capable of having weak children, daughters and pitiful sons. If you don't have another son, the King will legitimise his bastards and I will abandon you. The family will abandon you and I expect the Princess Mary will be delighted to as well. With the King's permission, I will annul her marriage to George and marry her to my own son."
"He is married," George pointed out, referring to his first cousin, the Earl of Surrey. "Surrey is married to Lady Frances de Vere, and Mary and I already have a child."
"Yes, a daughter. Surrey can put the princess in her proper place when they are married. As for your daughter, you will have custody of her and you will marry another noble lady who will bear you sons. A duty the princess failed in."
"The King will never allow it. He elevated me to marquess for his daughter! Not you!"
"How dare you defy me?! I-"
"I am not defying you, lord uncle! I am stating a fact!"
"If the divorce is permitted, she will be countess of Surrey. It is not particularly different from being the marchioness of Ormond. Perhaps the King will elevate my son to a marquessate. It will not be long before the Princess Royal becomes Lady Surrey."
"I am not signing the divorce papers."
"By God George! Your sister only had one son. I doubt she is capable of bearing more. Will you stay on a sinking ship, or will you do the clever thing and leave?"
Both Norfolk and Anne stared at George.
"You are not a Boleyn," said George coldly. "You are a Howard. You do not know us Boleyns. We stick together through thick and thin. We never abandon each other. Not for gold, power or land. Father may have joined you in desperation, but I will not. My father abandoned my sister Mary, when the King lost interest in her, and that I will never do. I will never allow my daughters to be used as pawns and whores for anyone. Ever. Not for father or not for you."
"You dare speak to me like that, boy?!" growled Norfolk, red in the face. "You will apologise or I will pull both you and Anne down to the mud and crush you!"
He shot Anne a scathing look and stormed out.
In his haste, he did not see Mary in the shadows of Anne's outer chamber.
She had heard every foul word he uttered.
She slipped back into Anne's bedchamber, her heart filled with rage and vengeance.
"Maybe you should go," said Anne, glancing at Mary quickly before looking away. "You do not need to hear what we will say."
"I heard everything," answered Mary sympathetically. "Your uncle is indeed the scheming wolf I thought he is, and I will never be his daughter-in-law! George and I took our vows, and I intend to keep them till my death. I will help you stay as queen."
"You do not need to," said Anne, managing a sad smile. "It was my fault for putting you in a precarious
position like this. If the King never fell in love with me, you will be married to a royal duke or king."
"It was you who brought me happiness. I can stay in England. The King may not want me married to a royal prince and sent to another kingdom, but my mother would've. It is thanks to you that I can live at home here in England for the rest of my life."
"I suppose we are cursed and gifted at the same time!"
"Perhaps. What worries you? You have a son now."
"Madame Isabelle de Luil." She spat those words as if they were a deadly poison. "The King will never let her go. I am nothing but a queen in name. She occupies his heart, and he views her opinions much more than he does to mine!"
"Very well. As a gift to you, I will help ruin Madame de Luil's reputation and hopefully ship her back to France. The King needs to wake up."
Le Sauveur watched her soldiers fight against the tired English troops as a physician wrapped a bandage around her arm.
The day before, she had been shot by a stray arrow, but showed no pain.
It surprised and impressed the Frenchmen, as it was said that not even the bravest man can keep a straight face when shot by an arrow.
"Any news from Madame de Luil?" inquired Jeanne, as a messenger entered her tent. "I heard she is the King's favourite mistress."
"Oui, Sauveur," answered the messenger, producing a letter.
"Read it please."
"Oui, Sauveur. Madame de Luil says that reinforcements will be coming from England, and the Duke of Suffolk's life is on the line. If he fails, he will be executed. The troops will arrive in Picardy within a few days. On a personal note, she says that the King of England does not seem to trust her as much as he did before and wishes to send her back to France. However, she says that the news of her pregnancy has mellowed him and she remains in England."
"Good. It will be a pity for Suffolk to be executed, but France comes first."
"Sauveur, Suffolk is the enemy!"
"We are enemies on the battlefield, nothing more. He is equally the Almighty's son, as I am the Almighty's daughter. Any other news, good messenger? Has Suffolk asked for armistice yet? Of course it is more honourable to die in battle..."
"His Majesty has promised more soldiers, and Breton troops are marching here as we speak. Your men are getting restless, Sauveur. They were promised an easy victory, and it has been three months. How long will this battle go for?"
"We are in God's hands, good messenger. We will fight as long as we need to."
"Of course, Sauveur. There is also another message from His Majesty of France."
"What does it say?"
"He will reward you with a title and land will be bestowed upon your family-"
"Non, good messenger. I only want to rid France of foreign invaders. I want no titles, land or gold. I only seek to protect France's honour. Madame de Luil deserves a title. She is risking her life-and bearing enemy children-as we speak."
"Oui, Sauveur. I will write to His Majesty immediately."
Jeanne nodded, wishing she could read and write more than the few words and numbers her parents taught her, but what would words do on a farm? After Picardy returns to France, King Francis I will surely forget about her, and she will return to her daily chores of counting sheep!
"Sauveur?" another messenger entered.
"Oui?" Jeanne said with a nod.
"His Majesty of France wishes for you to broker peace with the Duke of Suffolk for five months and for battle to recommence in February next year. The Duke desires to go home, as do the soldiers, and the people of Picardy need peace. Even if it is temporary."
"Very well. I will speak to the Duke of Suffolk at the main gates of Picardy. It will be a break from
traditional peace talks, but I will not go in to be killed, and I doubt he will come out to risk the chance of being shot with an arrow."
"Indeed, Sauveur. Shall I go and tell the Duke of Suffolk the message?"
"Oui, good messenger. Go and tell His Grace, the Duke of Suffolk, that I am willing to discuss peace with him, but only at the gates."
"Oui, Sauveur." The messenger bowed and left in wonder, proud of speaking to the great Jeanne. HIs spirits high, he went to deliver the message.
Jeanne stood up and picked up her sword.
"Do you wish to change?" asked Michel, with a smirk. "I heard that the Duke of Suffolk is a notorious womaniser. Perhaps peace will come-"
"Hold your tongue, Monsieur," Jeanne cut in sharply as if she sliced his wrist with her sword. "If you must speak that way, do it outside with the other soldiers. I have no desire to hear these...rumours you are repeating. If what you say is true, I rather not hear of it. I will treat with him like I do to any nobleman, with respect, politeness and patience."
He rolled his eyes.
Outside, both the French and English forces stopped fighting.
Jeanne and the Duke of Suffolk emerged from their respective headquarters-her tent and his hastily built fort behind the Picardy gates-and saw each other for the first time. Their messages had been conveyed to each other by couriers, and neither of them had actually met.
"Battle will stop today!" announced Jeanne, with the Duke nodding in agreement. "Both French and English men will lay down their swords for peace!"
As a show of good faith, she sheathed her sword.
Suffolk sheathed his, and the soldiers followed, relief on their faces.
Jeanne walked up to the Picardy gates.
"Your Grace," she said with a polite nod.
"Sauveur," the Duke greeted back. "You are a child! You should not even be here on the battlefield, nor leading an army! At the most, you should be at home raising children."
"A womanly life at home is not the chosen destiny for me. You are tired of France and wish to be back in England, do you not?"
"Indeed, but my place is here to protect English land."
"Come, come, Your Grace. You know as well as I do that Picardy is French, not English. Would you not prefer to stay with your family for Christmas and New Year celebrations rather than here, shivering in the cold with no festivities?"
"It is my duty to stay here. The King believes in me." He sounded uncertain.
"The King of France is willing to compromise with the King of England for a truce of about five months and battle to recommence next year in February. No matter if Picardy is French or English land, can we not agree that the people of Picardy have suffered enough?"
"Yes. The people need peace. Very well. I suppose we both need rest and as do our troops. I suggest our men celebrate with a feast together as a sign of good will between our kingdoms. However, that is not enough to solidify a temporary alliance between our nations."
"I believe alliances are secured through matrimony?"
"Are you given enough authority to do that, petite Sauveur?"
"Yes I am, Your Grace. Are you?"
"To an extent, I am. I doubt our respective kings will be happy to join unions only for the peace of one town. It is not worth it."
"Peace for six months can stop unnecessary bloodshed. Madame de Luil has a son that is old enough for marriage. You have a young granddaughter I believe, from a daughter of yours in your second marriage. I believe the child in question is not royal or even half-royal."
"You want my granddaughter to marry the King's mistress's son?! No!"
"The terms of their marriage contract could be that they will be the future joint rulers of Picardy and a few other close towns and villages, and His Majesty of France will grant them titles. The King of England will not view the match as particularly threatening. You are his best friend, are you not? You and your family will not be viewed as a threat if your granddaughter marries Madame de Luil's son. The two of them can be joint rulers of Picardy and they can be founders of a new House; the House of Stanley de Luil perhaps. Your granddaughter is a Stanley is she not?"
"Yes. I suppose you are right."
Jeanne held out her hand, and Suffolk grudgingly took it. They shook hands, sealing an uneasy temporary peace settlement.
Hopefully it would last until February...
Norfolk's bad mood increased once he was told the news that his youngest daughter would be married to Cromwell's son.
He scowled when he discovered Cromwell would become an earl.
Immediately, he went to the Princess Mary, Duchess of Suffolk's chambers to plea for aid. He was a man who would never sink that low, but at times like this, he needed all the help he could get from as many sympathetic royals as possible.
"Your Royal Highness," Norfolk said, with a respectable bow when he was presented to the King's favourite sister. "You are well I hope?"
"Your Grace," said the Duchess of Suffolk wearily. "I am ill with worry. My brother has sent my husband to France and it had been months! The children need him. I need him. My Frances is supposed to marry, and her betrothed is still in France! When I ask my brother when Charles will return, he never replies, and when he does, it is cold!"
"Have you heard the news, Your Highness?"
"News? What news?"
"The King has sent reinforcements to Picardy, with a warning to your husband, the Duke, that if he loses Picardy to the French and returns in disgrace, he will be executed without trial on the grounds of high treason and his possessions forfeited."
The ailing Duchess gasped with horror.
"I can help," said Norfolk, gently leading her to a chair. "The King ordered me to write to the Duke, informing him of his pending execution. I can save him from death. However, I need your help, Your Highness. Only you can help me."
"What is it?" murmured the Duchess of Suffolk, her mind buzzing with confusion. When had Norfolk ever cared for her wellbeing? "What do you need?"
"You are aware of the King's...unhealthy friendship with Master Cromwell, the commoner? He has made him the Earl of Essex, and his son, Baron Cromwell. He also procured the King's permission to have his son married to my daughter, Lady Katharine. It is outrageous, Your Highness! A commoner married to a noble girl! It is not only humiliation to me, but to all of the aristocracy! Who knows? If he can have his own son married to my daughter, he may request your younger daughter's hand in marriage to himself! It must be stopped, Your Highness!"
"By God's name! That cannot happen!"
"Exactly, Your Highness."
"Have you thought of a replacement for Cromwell's boy?"
"I thought...your younger boy? Lord William Brandon?"
"Thank you for the warning, Your Grace. I will consider your daughter, Lady Katharine Howard, for my younger son. However, I cannot make any decisions without my husband. If you bring him back to me safely with no execution warrant on his head, I will propose my son as Lady Katharine's future spouse rather than that arrogant Cromwell's son."
"Very well, Your Highness. You are indeed a woman of good understanding."
The Duchess laughed weakly and coughed into a lacy handkerchief.
She moved it and noticed blood.
Dear God...her end is closer than she thought.
"Are you well, Your Highness?" Norfolk said again, this time with more concern.
"I am fine, Lord Norfolk," said the Duchess, with a feeble laugh. "I may not be as robust as I was when I
was younger, but my mind is still strong. There is something else I wish for you to do, if you do not mind."
"What is it, Your Highness?"
"The King's mistress. Madame Isabelle de Luil. I am worried for my niece, the Princess Royal. She ought to be loved, not battle for her father's affections. I want Madame de Luil out of England and for the King to love Mary as a father should to his daughter. I once hated Anne Boleyn for replacing my dear friend, Catherine. Now, I accept her. I do not want another queen discarded."
"I will try my best to rid England of Madame de Luil, Your Highness."
"Thank you, Lord Norfolk. You complete those tasks of ridding England of Madame de Luil and returning my husband without a death warrant on his head, I will agree to a match between my William and your daughter. They are my terms."
"Very well, Your Highness. I will ensure it will happen."
The Duchess nodded and dismissed him, more exhausted than ever.
Her pale hand shaking, she grabbed a quill and a piece of parchment.
My lord brother, she wrote, another cough spasm rising in her chest. We have not seen each other in a while, and I have unfortunate news to tell you. I am not well. For the love you bear me as brother to sister, I wish to see and speak to you before I join our dear mother and brother at God's side. Please. Your beloved sister, Princess Mary Tudor, Duchess of Suffolk.
Yes, Anne had a son! BUT will it be enough to keep her on the throne? ;) Please read and review :)