The Golden Years

by melanietudor312

With Henry VIII now dead and his son,Henry IX now on the throne, how will the Tudor Family live through the Golden Years? (Sequel to A Change For The Better)

57. Chapter 57

Chapter 57

Thank you all so much for staying tuned for the beginning of 1560! This year will be very eventful and there may be moments that may break your heart, but keep reading, because it will always get better. The Chapters for 1560 may come out a little faster than usual this time, because my writing partner and I have already had it planned for awhile now. Please Read and Review and enjoy Chapter Fifty-Seven!

3 January 1560

Archbishop's Palace, Madrid, Spain
The Great Hall

King Luis and Queen Elizabeth were sitting on their respective Thrones, enjoying the wedding banquet of Lord Manuel, the eldest son of Lord John, Duke of Vendome and his Portuguese wife, Infanta Maria, Duchess of the Viseu and Lady Elizabeth Brandon, the youngest child of the late Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk and the late Princess Margaret of Aragon. Lady Elizabeth Brandon was also a first cousin of Queen Elizabeth. The two had gotten married in the morning and this banquet was to celebrate. Luis was enjoying and Elizabeth, who was currently expecting their sixth child, unfortunately could not dance.

Lord John and his wife, Maria, walked up and bowed to the King and Queen.

"Your Majesties, thank you so much for this wedding for our son. We didn't expect all of this." Lord John said.

Elizabeth nodded.

"It is nothing, Lord John. You have served me well nearly six years. Also, we are all family. I wanted Manuel and Elizabeth to have a beautiful wedding and an even more grand marriage. I am so thankful it is a love match." he said.

Infanta Maria nodded.

"Yes, Your Majesty. I believe our son has seen our love and wanted that for himself." she said.

Suddenly, Lord James Brandon, Duke of Beaumont and Lady Elizabeth's older brother, walked up and bowed to Luis and Elizabeth.

"Your Majesties, I beg your pardon, but I was wondering if you wanted me to look over any letters for you?" he said.

Luis laughed.

"It is your sister's wedding. This is not the day for affairs of State. We will discuss that tomorrow. Now, go dance with your sister." he said.

Lord James smiled and walked away. He spotted his twenty year old sister dancing with her nineteen year old husband. James smiled in pride. His sister, while extremely beautiful, was always shy and he was happy she had finally found love. He didn't have to worry so much anymore.

Elizabeth looked over and smiled. She kissed Manuel and walked over to her older brother. She was gorgeous. Her long brown hair was down her back and she wore a silver gown adorned with teardrop-shaped diamond on her bodice. She wore around her neck a diamond necklace that he recognized as one of the pieces of jewelry that belonged to their late mother. Elizabeth had received a box of her mother's jewelry from their late half-sister, Lady Catherine Brandon-Stokes, Marchioness of Pembroke, after her death the previous November.

She grabbed her brother's hand.

"Dance with me, Jamie." she said.

James rolled his eyes and began to dance with his younger sister. Although he was twenty-four and was used to Court life, he absolutely hated dancing.

He smiled.

"You look like mother, Lizzie." he said.

Elizabeth smiled softly. Their mother had died when they were ten and six years old and James had more memories of her.

"Do you think she would be proud of me?" she asked.

James nodded his head.

"Of Course. Her and Father both would be proud." he said.

Elizabeth smiled harder.

"Do you remember when we first came to Spain, after Mother's funeral?" she asked.

James chuckled.

"Of course I do. Aunt Juana wanted to spoil us. You shared a nursery with Cousin Juana and I had to share a governess with King Luis. I remember you used to cry, unless I came and held you until you fell asleep for a month." he said.

Elizabeth nodded.

"I am glad that we overcame that. We have wonderful lives here in Spain. Aunt Juana was good to us, God rest her soul. Now, we have King Luis and Queen Elizabeth, our cousin. We are blessed. I wanted to talk to you about something, Jamie." she said.

James nodded.

"Anything." he said.

She touched his hand.

"Promise me that you will find a wife soon. You have devoted your entire life looking after me and protecting me. I want you to find the same happiness that I found with Manuel. I do not want you as a lonely man." she said.

James sighed. He had thought of marriage recently. He was twenty-four years old now and he wanted to have a family and raise then in the Spanish Court. He had looked after his sister after their parents died, but now she was a wife and he knew he had to let her go.

He smiled.

"I promise, Lizzie." he said, as he hugged his sister.

---

7 January 1560
St. Hilarion Castle, Kyrenia, Cyprus
The Royal Bedchambers

King Janius of Cyprus was lying in the bed he shared, with his wife, Queen Christina. He loved watching her sleep. He hadn't seen her sleep so peacefully in a long time. She was mostly up at night, watching their five month old son, Prince Yiorgos, who wasn't well most of the time. However, it seems that the little Prince had finally slept through the night, allowing his exhausted mother to sleep.

Janius began to kiss Christina on her neck, which made her moan and stretch, as she began to wake up. Janius began to stroke her long wavy dark auburn hair and kiss her cheek.

She opened her hazel eyes and met his mischievous green orbs.

"Good morning, sweetheart." Janius said, as he softly grabbed Christina's breasts.

She playfully slapped his hand away.

"It is always a good morning, when I see you in the morning." she said.

Janius kissed her. Christina sat up, looking worried.

"Yiorgos didn't cry. He had a slight fever last night." she said.

Janius put a finger to his lips.

"He slept all night. He needs it and you needed the rest as well." he said.

Christina nodded her head. She hadn't had a good night's rest since Yiorgos was born, as she wanted to make sure he never fell seriously ill.

"You need to get ready. You have a Council meeting today and and the Ambassador from Candia is going to arrive soon to discuss the betrothal between our Nicholas and Princess Helena of Candia." she said.

Janius rolled his eyes.

"I just want want to stay in bed with my beautiful wife and try for a daughter." he said.

Christina looked at him, in surprise.

"You actually want a daughter?" she asked.

Janius nodded.

"Of course. I want her to look just like you." he said, as he caressed her face.

Christina smiled and kissed him deeply. Janius responded enthusiastically, but groaned when Christina broke away.

"I love you, sweetheart, but you must get ready." she said.

He rolled his eyes again.

"Fine, I am going to bathe in your bath. I hope you look at my nakedness and realize what you refused." he said, playfully as he went to her bath.

Christina giggled to herself. She grabbed her robe and put it on. She looked at the cradle, where her infant son slept and she knew she had to wake him up, he could feed from his wet nurse.

She walked over and gazed down at her baby.

"Good morning, my angel. Time to greet a new day." she said.

She smiled, as he continued to sleep.

"My sweet boy, you must eat. Wake up for Mama." she said, as she gently touched his little chest.

As she touched him, she realized that he was cold to the touch. There was no trace of fever, but no body warmth either.

"Yiorgos?" she said, as she gently tried to coax him awake.

She slowly began to back away from the cradle, but not taking her eyes off it.

"Janius?" she softly called.

There was no answer.

"JANIUS!" she screamed.

Rapid footsteps were heard and Janius appeared by her side.

"What is it, sweetheart?" he asked.

Christina began to take deep breaths.

"There is something wrong. There is something wrong with Yiorgos." she said.

Janius looked at the cradle and walked over to it, as Christina backed away, with her hands over her mouth.

"Oh, God." she said.

Her doors opened and one of her ladies-in-waiting, Lady Daphne, walked in.

"Your Majesty, what is the matter?" she asked.

Christina didn't take her eyes off her husband, as he touched their baby. Unbeknownst to both of them, the Queen Mother Rebecca walked in, looking concerned, after she heard her daughter-in-law scream.

Janius touched his young son and was shocked. He felt tears in his eyes, but tried to fight them back.

"Dear God... He's dead... Yiorgos has died." he said.

Queen Christina shook her head.

"No, he can't be." she said, rushing forward to grab her son.

Janius grabbed her and held her tightly.

"NO!" Christina cried, as she held her arm out I'm the direction of Yiorgos' crib.

The twenty-one year old Queen broke down in her husband's arms. She couldn't believe her child had died. She couldn't understand why. He had survived his early birth for several months. She couldn't handle it.

"My baby! No!" she cried, as she sunk to her knees and sobbed harder into her husband's chest.

Janius, not caring who saw him, also began to break down. He cried into his wife's hair, sharing her grief over their lost baby boy.

Queen Mother Rebecca, wiping her eyes over the loss of her grandson, turned to Lady Daphne.

"Let us leave them alone. We must have the Prince's body. You shall see to that. I will inform the Council that we will not hold a meeting today. We have lost an heir and they will be patient. Let us go." she said.

Both women looked at the two young parents, with pity. Rebecca wanted to grab her son and hug him as he wept over his dead son. However, she had to handle something for him. After she addressed the Council, she would come and comfort the young Royal Couple.

---

10 January 1560
Turkey

Suleiman I, Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, sat with his wife, Hurrem, in his chambers. Hurrem was watching her husband intensely as he thought but was not able to read his mind. She was certain he was thinking about the little Princess who had been brought to them a year ago. He worried about the girl, not being able to speak her language, and whether or not they would figure out where she was from. Their only tie to the girl was the older woman that she was brought to Turkey with, who was definitely not her mother. Neither could speak Turkish, and the Sultan could not speak their language, whatever it was, making communication nearly impossible.

"Have you heard from the Pope about the little girl?" Hurrem asked.

"No, and I do not know why," Suleiman answered. "The messenger I sent to deliver the letter. He said he gave it to one of the men of religion at the Pope's palace in Rome."

"That makes no sense," Hurrem replied. "Why wouldn't he answer you?"

"I do not know. Perhaps he does not know who she is?" There was a brief silence, but before Hurrem could speak again, there was a knock at the door of the chambers that was unexpected.

"Enter," Suleiman said, and the doors swung open. One of his guards stepped in the room. "What is it?"

"Sultan," the man began, "one of the Eunuchs has just informed me that the older woman from Europe is dead in her chambers."

Suleiman stood, and Hurrem followed him out of the room and towards the harem section of the palace. When they arrived at the room shared by the woman and her charge, two of the Sultan's other ladies were there, along with two Eunuchs and the court physician. The woman was indeed dead; it was obvious to the Sultan, and the little girl was crying on their bed. Hurrem went to her, and the girl climbed into the Sultana's lap, burying her head in Hurrem's shoulder. Hurrem was surprised by the action and looked to her husband for advice.

"Take care of her, Hurrem," he said. "Treat her as our daughter, for she is a princess, even if she is not our princess." Hurrem nodded and cuddled the little girl.

The physician bowed to Suleiman. "Majesty, what should we do with the woman's body? She is not of our faith, and we are uncertain what rites she would have performed."

"I believe she is Catholic," he answered. "Find our emissaries to Rome and see if they know what traditions are appropriate." The older man bowed and left to do as he was told.

Hurrem stood up from the bed with the girl in her arms. "I will take her to my chambers for now. What will we do with her if her parents are never found?"

Suleiman thought for a moment. "We will raise her as if she was ours, or at least a princess of the empire."

"She is Catholic, though, not Muslim," Hurrem reminded her husband.

"She will be whatever faith she is instructed in," he replied. "She does not know what faith is yet, and Allah can help her understand that, regardless of the faith she was born to."

Hurrem nodded. She had been raised Orthodox but was now a devout Muslim. She had converted, of her own accord, to live as a free woman and to marry the Sultan, the man who had captured her heart. However, she was worried. What if this little girl decided to become Catholic later?

"She will be free to choose when she is old enough to understand what happened here," the Sultan said, catching Hurrem before she left the room. "I will not force anyone to be something they are not, but she does need to learn that we are not the ultimate beings in this world. For now, we are her guardians, her parents, if you will, and until her natural family can be found, she needs what every child needs, love and security and guidance."

Hurrem smiled at her husband. He was wise beyond his years, as he had always been. She looked at the girl in her arms. "Then for now, we will call her Banu," Hurrem declared. Suleiman nodded. It fit. The name meant princess, and that was one thing that they were sure she was, a princess.

---

17 January 1560
Archbishop's Palace, Madrid, Spain
Queen Elizabeth of Spain's Privy Chamber

Queen Elizabeth, Lady Sancha de Mendoza and Princess Giovanna, Duchess of the Infantado were enjoying a quiet day in Elizabeth's Chambers. The three women all had the interests in common and had developed a trio together. They were rarely seen apart.

Elizabeth looked up at Giovanna and sighed.

"I am so sorry to hear the loss your sister, the Queen of Cyprus, suffered. Is she well?" she asked.

Giovanna shook her head.

"The letter said Christina was in deep mourning. Her second son was not a strong child. She took care of him herself." she said.

Sancha looked at her stepmother-in-law.

"I will keep her in my prayers. I am sure the Lord will bless her with many more children." she said.

Giovanna smiled.

"God willing." she said.

Giovanna stood up to go look out of the window, but she suddenly felt a bit dizzy, but thankfully caught the back of her chair.

Sancha and Elizabeth stood up, in concern.

"Giovanna, are you well?" Elizabeth asked.

Giovanna nodded, as Sancha helped her to sit down in her chair.

"Yes, Your Majesty, it is just fatigue." she said.

It was at that moment that Elizabeth thought she knew what was afflicting her friend she decided to have fun with the situation.

"Tell Me, Giovanna, have you bled this recently?" she asked.

Giovanna shook her head.

"No, Your Majesty. Why do you ask?" she asked.

Elizabeth and Sancha looked at each and smiled. Giovanna caught the two younger women and their glances and then shook her head.

"No, it is not that. I promise it is just fatigue." she said.

Elizabeth stepped forward.

"Do you not perform your marital duties?" she asked.

Giovanna blushed.

"I do. More often than decorum permits. My husband is in his fifties, but he has not lost his... appetite." she said.

Sancha smiled.

"How could he? You are still very beautiful." she said.

Elizabeth nodded. Despite nearing her mid-thirties, Giovanna's beauty rivaled many women at Court. There were even whispers from men at Court that were jealous that the Duke of the Infantado, who had first been married to the late Infanta Maria of Spain and was beautiful, was now married to the Italian Princess, who was even more beautiful than the first

Giovanna sighed.

"It has been four years since I gave birth. The Lord blessed me with my Alfonso and Maria. I am not expecting more blessings my womb. Also, I am nearly thirty-five years old." she said.

Elizabeth smiled.

"My mother gave birth to me in her forties. We will not argue about this. Especially since I know someone very recently who had to tell me that I was with child, when I myself doubted it." she said, putting a hand on the small round bump on her stomach, that currently carried her sixth child.

Giovanna looked to the floor. She knew they her bleeding was regular and in her life, she had only missed her bleeding twice: When she was expecting her five year old son and four year old daughter.

Elizabeth looked at Sancha.

"Find the midwife. We will be discreet." she said.

Sancha nodded and left the room.

---

Giovanna took a deep breath as Queen Elizabeth's midwife examined her. She didn't see any point to this, but it was her Queen's orders and she had to obey.

The midwife smiled.

"My Lady, it is a little early, but you are definitely with child." she said.

Giovanna say up, not believing what she was hearing.

"Are you absolutely certain?" she asked.

The midwife nodded.

"Yes. You are not very far along, however you are showing the usual signs. You must make sure to get plenty of rest this time. You just not travel far distances or be on horseback for too long." she said.

Giovanna nodded her head.

"I will take care of myself. Thank you for your services." she said.

The midwife nodded and bowed to Queen Elizabeth and departed the room.

Elizabeth and Sancha looked at Giovanna.

"Well, it seems my unborn child will have a companion. Are you not happy?" Elizabeth asked.

Giovanna smiled and placed a hand on her stomach.

"More than you know, Your Majesty. My words are unable to describe this blessing from the Lord." she said.

---

31 January 1560
Hampton Court, England
King Henry IX of England's Bedchamber

Harry was enjoying a peaceful sleep. He and his wife, Queen Lillian, had spent most of their evening in bed together. He loved the nights when they made love continuously. He didn't have much in common with his late father, but he had to admit he craved the constant touch of a woman, as long as it was a woman.

Suddenly, he heard a woman crying and he woke up. He looked over and he could see Lillian crying.

He moved closer to her and cuddled her.

"Lily, what' is wrong? What troubles you, my love?" he asked gently.

Lillian sniffed and snuggled more into Harry's arms.

"I didn't mean to wake you up. I'm just so sad right now." she said.

Harry held her tighter.

"What is making you sad?" he asked.

Lillian sighed.

"I miss my father so much." she said, softly crying.

Harry held her more, whispering comforting things to her, trying to soothe her we best as he could.

After awhile, Lillian wiped her eyes and turned to face Harry.

"Do you ever miss your father? I never hear you talk about him." she said.

Harry sighed.

"He was my Father. However, I do not wish to discuss him. He was not a good man for many years. Especially to my mother." he said.

Lillian looked at her husband.

"What did he do?" she asked.

Harry sighed.

"He was constantly unfaithful and was not happy about the fact that I was the only son. He even announced his mistress being with child at my mother's birthday celebrations." he said, glaring.

Lillian put her hand over her mouth, in shock.

"I can't believe he would do something like that. I didn't think he was that bad." she said.

Harry nodded.

"I miss who he used to be. Your father was a much better person than mine was. Let us go back to sleep, sweetheart." he said, as held Lillian close to him.

Lillian held Harry's hand, as he cuddled her. She was thankful that she would not have to endure such humiliations in her marriage. She loved him so much and that would never change.

---

5 February 1560
France

Diane de Poitiers was the King's mistress and the love of his life, even though they were not married. Everyone in court knew better than to argue with her about anything, and that included the royal children, unless they wanted to get on their father's bad side. The only person in court who Diane could not really touch was the Queen herself, Catherine de Medici, and even that was sometimes sketchy, especially if Diane could sweet talk the King into seeing her point of view.

She was standing in the entrance to the castle talking to Lady Emilee, Countess of Nice, when the subject of the missing princess came up.

"No one seems to know how it happened," Lady Emilee said. "The girls were in the gardens one minute, and the next, the Spanish had them. Some say that it was not the Spanish, but a close friend of mine was at the palace when it happened. She said they were dressed like Spanish soldiers, so I don't know who else it could have been."

"I see," Diane replied, coldly, wishing the subject would change. She had been away from court when the twins had been kidnapped, and at Christmas when Princess Victoria had been returned to the palace by an unknown man, so people loved to tell her what happened from their own viewpoints. "Well, it is fortunate that little Vicky was found and brought back to her parents safely."

Within minutes, Diane felt a hand on her shoulder, and she spun around. She came face-to-face with the Queen of France, Catherine de Medici, who looked furious.

"Vicky?" she questioned. "MY daughter's name is VICTORIA. You will not impose a less than proper nickname on a princess of France, no matter who you are to the King. Do I make myself clear?"

Diane sighed. "Get over it, Catherine. I always call her that. Henri knows and does not mind it."

Catherine was more enraged by her attitude. "First, Diane, I am the QUEEN of France. You will address me as your Majesty or your Grace, not Catherine as if we are friends, because we are NOT. Secondly, I do not care if the King allows you to call her Vicky or not. I am her mother. I named her. She is Princess Victoria of France. You will address her as her Highness, or at the very least, Princess Victoria, not Vicky, as if she were your own child."

Diane rolled her eyes at that. Everyone knew that she was in charge of the royal children, not their mother. Catherine, as usual, was out of control and ranting. Diane chose to ignore her, as always.

Seeing that she was being ignored by her husband's bed-thing was too much. Diane had done a lot of things to Catherine over the years, but this was not going to happen anymore, not now that her son was King of Scots.

"I will speak to my husband about your attitude Diane, especially in the company of a noble of his court," Catherine told her. "Regardless of who you are, you will follow royal protocol while within this palace." Catherine turned to walk away, but this time, it was Diane who stopped her.

"Watch yourself, Catherine," Diane threatened. "Henri has no need of your services anymore now that he has his heirs, and you are barren."

Catherine spun on her heels. "Let me tell you something, you little whore, I am the Queen of France. My son is the King of Scotland. I am twice the woman you will ever be. I have provided heirs for France, that's true, and while I cannot have any more children, I am still the mother of the future King. Remember, no one lives forever, and when time has come, you will no longer be part of this court, nor will you have any control over this family. Your time here is limited, and I will show you no mercy when it is over. Do NOT speak of my children ever again. They are no longer your concern."

Diane watched her leave in silence. Even Lady Emilee was shocked at what she had witnessed. However, neither lady could deny the truth; Catherine was right. Diane was only here by the grace of the King, and no one lived forever.

---

9 February 1560
Warwick Castle, Warwickshire, England
The Nursery

Lady Elizabeth Brandon, Duchess of Clarence, smiled, as she sat on the floor, rolling a ball to her seventeen month old daughter, Lady Anne Brandon.

"Ma." the baby cooed, as she threw the ball at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth laughed.

"You are strong, my little one." she said.

Elizabeth noticed how much of the late Prince William was in her little Anne. Her hair was a light brown and she had William's blue eyes. Everytime she looked into her daughter's eyes, she was reminded of the life she could have had with William. Their daughter would be in the line of the Succession and she and William would be raising their child together.

"Am I interrupting?" a voice said.

Elizabeth looked up and her husband of two years, Lord Edmund Brandon, Duke of Clarence, was standing in the doorway.

Elizabeth stood to her feet.

"Welcome back home. I wasn't expecting you back from Court for another month. Is something wrong?" she asked.

Edmund shook his head and cleared his throat.

"I wanted to give you this in person." he said.

As he finished his sentence, he handed her a a small wooden square shaped box. Elizabeth took it and gave him a small smile in thanks. She opened the box and was surprised to see a diamond and amethyst necklace.

Elizabeth looked at him.

"It is is beautiful." she said.

Edmund gave a slight smile.

"Happy anniversary." he said.

Suddenly, Elizabeth remembered. Two years ago today, she and Edmund were married. She couldn't believe she had forgotten.

"Happy anniversary." she said.

Edmund kissed her cheek and left the room. Elizabeth touched her cheek. Although he wasn't William and she wasn't in love with him, Edmund was still a good husband to her and father to Anne. He even named Anne as his heir to his Dukedom if he and Elizabeth had no son. He wasn't terrible company and was even a great lover. Elizabeth knew she would always love William, but wondered if her heart would grow to include Edmund.

---

13 February 1560
Caserta Palace, Naples, Italy
Queen Adriana of Naples' Privy Chamber

Queen Adriana smiled. She was having some quiet time with her eldest daughter, Princess Lucrezia and her daughter-in-law, Princess Eleanor. Adriana knew this would be good for the girls to spend time with her.

Adriana smiled at Lucrezia.

"Your embroidery is excellent, darling." she complemented.

Lucrezia nodded.

"Thank you, Mother." she said.

Adriana sighed. It had been two months since Lucrezia had lost her unborn child and she was still very melancholic about it. Adriana prayed that her eldest daughter would heal from it.

She put her hand on Lucrezia's shoulder.

"Sweetheart, more children will come. You will be a mother. I promise." she said.

Lucrezia took a deep breath.

"Mother, I am tired. May I be pleased be excused?" she asked.

Adriana sighed and nodded her head. Lucrezia stood up and left her mother's chambers. Adriana noticed that she wiped her face as she left.

Adriana turned and smiled at her daughter-in-law.

"Are you happy in Naples, darling?" she asked.

Eleanor nodded.

"Yes. I love it." she said.

Adriana smiled.

"Hopefully you and Giovanni will have a child soon." she said

Eleanor became quiet, but subconsciously placed a hand on her stomach.

Adriana noticed the movement and her eyes lit up.

"Eleanora, are you with child?" she asked.

Eleanor signed and nodded her head.

Adriana smiled and hugged Eleanor.

"How far along are you? Why didn't you say anything?" she asked.

Eleanor sighed.

"I am three months gone with child. I didn't say anything, because I wanted to respect my brother and Lucrezia's grief over their lost baby." she said.

Adriana smiled.

"You darling child, your joyous news is welcome. Especially in sorrowful times. Your child is very important. You could be carrying a future King of Naples." she said.

Eleanor smiled. In the two months since she discovered she was carrying her husband's child and despite being only seventeen years old, she was very happy and excited to be a mother.

---

26 February 1560
Stockholm Palace, Stockholm, Sweden
King Gustav I of Sweden's Bedchamber

King Gustav had been bedridden for a few weeks from a very high fever and chills. The entire Swedish Court had been worried for his health and whether he would survive. The Swedish King was sixty-four years and his twenty-five year old wife, Queen Katherine, was personally nursing him and had refused to leave his bedside.

The door opened and Prince Eric, Princess Matilda and the King's personal Vicar walked in. All bowed to Queen Katherine nodded at all of them.

Eric sat by his father's bedside. This was his only biological parent. He was not prepared to lose him.

The physician walked up and examined the King once more. He felt the King's forehead and neck. He felt his neck snd chest and stomach.

The physician looked up and smiled.

"The King's fever has broken. He will live, but he has been weakened. I will examine him everyday. He is to eat hot hot broth and warm wine and get plenty of rest." he said.

Everyone in the room sighed with relief and Matilda, as the only Catholic in the room, silently did the sign of the Cross, thanking God for sparing her beloved father-in-law.

Prince Eric cleared his throat.

"Father's illness has finally disappeared. I have a meeting to attend to. Please inform me if anything changes." he told Matilda.

She took a deep breath and nodded. She knew that his meeting was only with his mistress, Lady Agda Persdotter, who was currently expecting their second child.

Eric walked out of the room. The Vicar said a blessing over the sleeping King and departed. Matilda and Queen Katherine stayed behind in the room

Queen Katherine sighed.

"I thank God that he will live. He was so ill." she said.

Matilda nodded.

"He was, but he is a fighter. He is a good King." she said.

Queen Katherine smiled and kissed his hand.

"That he is." she said.

Both women sat in silence. Both were thankful that the King, who held their family together, was still alive and they prayed that he would be around much longer.

---

10 March 1560
Portugal

Carlos, King of Portugal, shivered slightly as he dismounted his horse. The air was sharp, with an indication that winter was not completely over, but his military uniform was warm enough. His son, Duarte, heir to the throne, followed suit, as did Lord Jorge, Duke of Coimbra, and Lord Manuel de Silva, Prince of Eboli. The King's sister, the Infanta Isabel, Duchess of Coimbra, took a little more time dismounting from her side saddle, but once the party was on their own two feet again, they went inside the palace to warm up.

Carlos took them to his study and offered them all a drink to help shake the chill. Servants appeared soon after to stoke the fire, and a few moments later, Mary, Queen of Portugal appeared, followed by the Infanta Maria, Duarte's wife, and the Infanta Joanna, the eldest daughter of the King and Queen still living at home.

"How was the review?" Mary asked her husband as Maria embraced Duarte.

"It went well," the King replied. "Some of the troops are a little raw still, but I'm sure these two will have them in tip top shape by the end of spring drills." Carlos nodded at Jorge and Manuel. "Lord Manuel de Silva, may I introduce my wife, Queen Mary, and our daughter-in-law, the Infanta Maria, the Crown Princess, and our daughter, the Infanta Joanna." He paused. "Ladies, Lord Manuel de Silva, Prince of Eboli and Duke of Pastrana."

Lord de Silva bowed to the Queen, then kissed Maria and Joanna's hands.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord de Silva," the Queen said.

"The pleasure is all mine, your Majesty," Lord de Silva replied.

The Infanta Isabel, sister to the King, coughed after taking a sip of her drink. Her husband glanced at her but dismissed it. She wasn't one to complain, but she had had that cough for a couple of days now, and it was starting to worry her husband.

"Hopefully, the troops will be useless this year, as they were last year," Mary remarked. The Queen of Portugal preferred it when their nation was at peace, and given the situation between Spain and France, prior to the treaty and the disappearance of Princess Joan, peace was something that could falter at any time.

"I agree," Maria chimed in. She had lost her stepfather, Lord Andres de Cabrera, during the war, and she was not of mind to see more fighting happen, especially since she knew her husband would be part of any future battles that took place.

Isabel coughed again, this time more violently, and it took her a few moments to catch her breath. Carlos looked at his younger sister with concern.

"Isabel, are you alright?" he asked, going over to the fireplace where she was sitting.

"I'm fine, Carlos. It's just the sharp air. It tickles my throat," she assured him. Jorge looked at his wife, knowing that wasn't entirely true, but he said nothing.

"If it worsens, please let us know," Carlos instructed her. "Our physicians can give you something for it." Isabel nodded at her brother and smiled. Carlos adored her, and she felt the same about him. He'd always looked out for her, even as children, and was still doing so now.

"If you'll excuse us, your Majesties," Duarte said, bowing to his parents, "I am going to take my wife and check in on our daughter."

"Of course," Mary said, hugging Maria before they left. She was glad to see her son so happy. It had concerned her before his marriage that Maria would be too much like her own mother, the Princess Isabella, Marquessa de Moya, who had a troubled life and was prone to fits of temper, but Maria was not like that from what Mary could tell. The girl was pleasant and calm natured for the most part, and she and Maria got along splendidly.

Isabel turned to her sister-in-law. "She's nothing like her mother then, Mary?" she questioned.

Mary just shook her head. "She doesn't appear to be," Mary confirmed. "Duarte says she rarely speaks a harsh word against anyone, and she hasn't had a fit since she's been here."

"Perhaps it was the torment that Isabella endured that made her that way?" Carlos suggested. He hadn't known Isabella very well before her illegal marriage to his older brother, but she had threatened his family on more than one occasion and never really knew why she would resort to that.

"Isabella was pleasant and friendly when we were children," Mary said, recalling her younger years with her siblings at the Tudor court in England. "She was always watching out for Harry and I. Something changed when she married the late King Manuel. I know he was not kind to her, and he blamed her for their children's deaths, but there was something more to it. When she returned to England, she was happy with her second husband for a while, especially when the twins were born, but then she lost them too." Mary paused. "Her temper started to flare after her marriage to Diego was declared invalid, and it got worse when she realized that Maria would be declared a bastard because of it. But to be entirely fair, that wasn't her fault or Maria's. Diego never told her that he didn't get the dispensation. Isabella believed she was his rightful wife in the eyes of the law and of God."

The Infanta Isabel was shocked. She knew what had happened with her other brother, Diego, but she did not know about Princess Isabella's second marriage or the loss of her twin children. "It's no wonder she changed," Isabel said, sympathetically. "That's enough to break any woman."

Mary nodded. "It didn't end there though. Isabella was exiled to Spain after what happened with Diego, as you know, and she found true love with Andres, but he was killed in the war with France, and she lost her fourth husband through no fault of her own, as well."

"She had children with Lord Andres, though?" Isabel questioned, coughing again.

"Yes, two sons and a daughter," Mary said. "From the reports Carlos and I have received, she hasn't caused any trouble lately, and she even visited Maria here after the birth of their daughter. That visit went well."

"It went much better than I expected," Carlos acknowledged. "She even delivered two letters for me to King Luis when she left, and since I have had replies to both, I know she did as I asked."

"Let's hope her troubles are behind her and the rest of her life is a peaceful one," Jorge added. The group all agreed, including Isabel, who just nodded as she was coughing again.

---

13 March 1560
Portugal

The Infanta Isabel, Duchess of Coimbra, was burning up. Her husband had noticed a change in her condition earlier that morning and had summoned the court physicians to examine her. In all their years of marriage, even through the births of their children, he'd never seen her this ill, and she had never been bed-ridden for more than the few days it took her to recover from childbirth. He was worried about her.

The physicians were finishing their exam when the Carlos, King of Portugal, walked into the room. The Duchess, his sister, had always been an important part of his life, and he wanted to make sure she was getting the best care possible for whatever was plaguing her.

Jorge bowed to the King.

"How is she Jorge?" Carlos asked.

"Still burning up with fever," he told his brother-in-law. "And her cough has worsened in the past two days."

Carlos nodded, looking at the bed where his sister lay. The two men surrounding her bedside bowed to the King, then walked over to where he was standing with Isabel's husband.

"Majesty," the older of the two said, "Her Royal Highness has an extreme fever. With the cough and the chills that she has described to us, we believe that she is suffering from the influenza."

Carlos looked at his sister again, then back to the physicians. "Influenza?" he questioned. He was not familiar with the illness.

"It's an illness that most often affects the common folks, but when nobles have been exposed to it, it can be carried to higher born families," the man explained. "It starts with a slight cough that worsens, then develops into a fever, like the one the Duchess has now. The best course of treatment is rest and silence. We don't want her being stressed, which seems to make the illness worse."

Carlos nodded. "Are there any medicines?"

The physician shook his head. "Not really, Majesty. We have had some success with administering rose water to patients, but this is a relatively new illness."

"What about bleeding her?" Jorge asked.

Again, the older man shook his head. "We've found that in most cases, bloodletting makes the illness worse, rather than better."

"How does this differ from the plague?" Carlos inquired.

"There are no spots on the patient with this disease, and people do survive this once they've contracted it, whereas with the plague, it's almost always fatal," the man replied. "Adults are more likely to survive than children, but we aren't sure why."

Jorge looked at his wife. At least there was some hope for recovery.

"So, what are your instructions?" Carlos asked.

"A cup of rose water every two hours, whatever broths she can tolerate, and keep everyone away from her unless necessary, to reduce exposure," the man said. "Keep cool cloths on her head until the fever breaks and call for me immediately if she worsens."

Jorge nodded, then went over to his wife's bedside, leaving the King alone with the physicians.

"Also, your Majesty," the older man said, "if anyone shows signs of the illness, you may have an epidemic on your hands within the palace. Keep the servants away from her and assign one servant to each room where your family lives. If the children come down with this, they are less likely to recover, especially the Infantas, Isabel and Joanna, the younger."

"Thank you, Doctor," Carlos said, handing the man a sack of gold coins for his services. The two men bowed and left the room. Carlos went over to where Jorge was sitting.

"I will send for the rose water now," Carlos told him. He put a hand on his brother-in-law's shoulder in support. "She will survive Jorge. She's strong and has never been ill before in her life."

Jorge just nodded, holding his wife's weakened hand. "From your lips to God's ears, your Majesty."

---

20 March 1560
Ribiera Palace, Lisbon, Portugal
The Royal Nursery

King Carlos and Queen Mary were in the nursery, terribly concerned. Most of Portugal had fallen ill and now people were falling ill in the Court. Carlos had summoned some of the best physicians that he could keep the pestilence at a low level. However, now things had taken a turn for the worst: their fourth child, Infanta Cristina, had fallen ill from the influenza.

The physician walked up to the monarchs.

"The Infanta definitely has the influenza. Her fever is very high and she has a terrible cough and she has purged her stomach twice." he said.

King Carlos sighed and Mary had tears develop in her eyes.

"What can you do for her?" Carlos asked.

The physician looked at the coughing ten year old.

"She must drink two cups of heated rose water. She needs to eat broth as well. My main concern is her fever. She's hot to the touch. She feels as if fire consumes her from the inside." he said.

Mary looked at the physician.

"Will my daughter survive?" she asked.

The physician looked at his Queen.

"We will do everything we can for the Infanta." he said.

Another physician came over and whispered into the main physicians' ear. He had been examining little Infanta Isabel, Carlos and Mary's youngest child, who was not yet five years old.

The physician looked at Carlos and Mary again.

"The youngest Infanta does not have the influenza. She has no fever and no chill. Her appetite is normal." he said.

Mary sighed in relief

"Do you think she will catch it?" Carlos said, looking at his youngest child.

The physician sighed.

"It is not possible to say. The influenza is not difficult to pass between others. From what we can see, children and the old are more vulnerable. The youngest Infanta catching the influenza could be dangerous for her life." he said.

Carlos held Mary, as he could sense her emotional state was not the strongest at this current moment.

"What can we do to protect her?" Carlos asked.

The physician cleared his throat.

"We must move the youngest Infanta away from the nursery. The longer she is around the sick, the more likely she is to become ill." he said.

Mary nodded.

"She can stay in my Chambers. I will watch her." she said.

The physician shook his head.

"Your Majesty, she must be alone for three days. You could become ill." he said.

Mary shook her head.

"I do not care. I am her mother. She will not leave my sight." she said.

Carlos looked at the physician.

"We will move her chambers immediately and the Queen and I will not visit, until you have declared it is safe. Take care of Infanta Cristina." he said.

The physician bowed and walked back to the ailing ten year old.

Mary looked at Carlos.

"I want Isabel with me." she said.

Carlos nodded his head.

"I know, but we must keep law and order. Our land is in crisis. Our children will be fine. My sister had the influenza and she had recovered fully." he said.

Mary nodded her head. Her sister-in-law, Isabel, Duchess of Coimbra, had recovered from her bout with the Influenza and had no I'll effects.

Mary sighed.

"Our poor Cristina. She' has always been so frail." she said.

Carlos hugged and kissed his wife of twenty-five years.

"Do not worry, darling. Our little girl will recover." he said.

---

21 March 1560
Portugal

The Infanta Joanna was sitting in her chambers, with her Aunt, the Infanta Isabel, Duchess of Coimbra. The two were discussing the Duchess' recovery from her recent illness, and the outbreak among the other members of the royal family, while they were embroidering.

Joanna's younger sister, the Infanta Cristina, was not doing well at all. The young Princess had never been healthy, but now, with the influenza, she was even weaker than before. Joanna was also worried about her other sister, also called Isabel. There had been no news of her health since she was moved from the nursery that she shared with Cristina.

Joanna was picking out a stitch when a knock came on the door to her chambers.

"Enter," she said.

The door swung open, and Manuel de Silva entered the room. He was a handsome, young nobleman who had accompanied her father, the King, back to the palace after the quarterly troop review. Her father said he was the Prince of Eboli and was an excellent commander. She couldn't but notice his handsome features. He was tall, dark-haired, olive-skinned, but his most striking feature were his piercing blue eyes.

"Highnesses," he said, bowing to both ladies, "I was instructed to inform you both that the Infanta Isabel is showing no signs of the illness, and if she continues to show no symptoms in the next two days, she will be joining you here for her safety."

The Duchess looked at Joanna and smiled. "That's wonderful news!" she exclaimed.

Joanna was relieved. "Thank you for bringing us this news, Lord de Silva."

"My pleasure, your Highness," he responded, then turned to leave, but paused before exiting. "That is a beautiful piece you are creating, your Highness."

Joanna looked at him, rather shocked that a man would have any interest in embroidery. "Thank you," she replied, after taking a moment to gather her thoughts. "Embroidery is not my favorite hobby, but it passes the time."

"Oh?" he questioned, looking at the older woman for approval to continue the conversation with the Princess. The Duchess slightly nodded. "What would your favorite pastime be then?"

"I much prefer reading, or horseback riding, your Grace." she said.

Lord de Silva thought for a moment. "Perhaps we could discuss some of your favorite books at another time, your Highness? If that would be agreeable to you?"

Joanna was not sure what to say. She looked at her aunt, who smiled. "I think I would like that," she told him. He nodded to her, then bowed, and left the room, leaving Joanna with a strange, but warm feeling in her heart.

---

23 March 1560
Ribiera Palace, Lisbon, Portugal
The Nursery

Duarte, the Crown Prince of Portugal, was standing outside of the nursery doors, hearing his younger sister, Infanta Cristina, cough and hearing her labored breathing. Her condition had deteriorated over the last two days and the physicians were stressing over how to treat her from the influenza. He hated that his younger sister was suffering alone and he felt that if she could see people she loved, it would help her get well

Duarte sighed and cleared his throat. He didn't know what was wrong with him, but he wanted to see his younger sister. He opened the door and he saw a priest, giving his ten year old sister the Last Rites. He had tears in his eyes. He had never seen Cristina so ill, despite her weak constitution.

Duarte walked into the room and the physician looked at the twenty-one year old Prince.

"Your Highness, you can not be in here. The Infanta is gravely ill." he said.

Duarte held his hand up.

"Everyone step outside." he said.

Everyone stepped out and Duarte sat down by his younger sister.

Cristina looked up at him.

"Duarte." she said, weakly.

Duarte shook his head.

"Do not speak, little sister. You have to save your strength." he said.

Cristina held her hand out and Duarte held it.

"I am tired." she said.

Duarte nodded.

"I know. When you get better, I will take you horseback riding. We will have fun." he said, with a smile.

Cristina looked at her older brother.

"Duarte, you and I both know that I will not get better." she said.

Duarte shook his head.

"No, you are going to get better. The entire Court are praying for you to get well very soon from this damn pestilence." he said.

Cristina coughed and took several breaths.

"It would do everyone better to start praying for my soul, instead of praying for the body that has always failed me. I am dying and refusing to see that is not helping anyone." she said, as a tear rolled down her face.

Duarte began to cry.

"Do not speak like that." he said.

Cristina looked at him.

"Duarte, I am tired. I have always been ill and I hate it. I can not play with other children without getting tired. I have always prayed that God will heal me. Now, he finally is." she said.

Duarte cried and couldn't look at his sister, as she spoke like this. Cristina never complained about being frail before. She always had a loving and demure attitude.

Cristina looked at her brother, lovingly.

"Do not weep for me, brother. I will be able to finally never be ill again. Tell our parents that I love them and that I pray that I was a dutiful daughter to them. You will be a wonderful King." she said.

Duarte looked at his sister and smiled.

Cristina looked away from her brother and looked at the cross that was near her.

"Into your hands, O Lord, do I commend my Spirit." she said.

With that, Infanta Cristina of Portugal took a deep labored breath and became still. Her hand became limp in Duarte's hand, causing him to break down in tears.

"NO, CRISTINA! NO!" he cried.

The door opened and the physicians ran in and moved the grieving Prince out of the way. They began to examine Cristina.

Suddenly, Queen Mary walked in.

"Duarte! You shouldn't be here." she said.

Duarte looked at his mother.

"I didn't want her to be alone." he said, through tears.

The physician walked up to Queen Mary.

"I am sorry, Your Majesty. The Lord took the Infanta into His embrace." he said.

Mary looked from him and looked to where her ten year old daughter lay. She caught a glimpse of her daughter's earthly remains, before the physician covered her with a white sheet. Mary couldn't believe it. She had lost another child. She instantly felt her heart break and she had tears fall down her face, but she didn't yell. She knew she had to guide her people.

Mary sighed.

"We are in mourning for the late... Infanta Cristina." she said, trying not to sob openly for her daughter.

Suddenly, Duarte leaned on his mother and before she could ask what was wrong, he collapsed on the floor.

Mary began to panic.

"DUARTE!" she yelled, as she knelt down.

Mary touched her son's forehead and realized he was burning with fever.

She looked at the physician.

"He's burning up." she said.

Several guards and physicians picked the sick Prince up and took him to chambers, so they could begin to properly treat him.

Mary walked up to the physician, who treated her daughter.

"He was only with her this one time. How could he already be ill?" she asked.

The physician sighed.

"He must have already been ill, Your Majesty. He would not fall ill this quickly. Should I inform the King?" he asked.

Mary shook her head.

"Not now. The King has fallen ill with the Influenza. His physician says that he is ill, but not severely. I am Regent, until he recovers. Please have my daughter prepared for her... burial. I want you to join the physician attending my son now." she said.

The physician nodded.

Mary walked towards the bed where her late daughter lay in eternal slumber. She removed the sheet and looked upon her daughter's face. She looked so peaceful and without pain. Mary remembered the day that she was born. Although she had been a weak child, she had always been a delightful child. Mary had always been scared to lose her and now that nightmare was true. Her Cristina was gone.

Mary caressed her daughter's face, which no longer radiated fever.

"Goodbye, my sweet girl. Thank you for the light you brought into our lives. I will always love you." she said, as she cried.

After several moments, Mary took the sheet and with one final look, she covered her daughter's body once more and left the chambers, tears falling down her face.

---

31 March 1560
Ribiera Palace, Lisbon, Portugal
Duarte, Prince of Portugal's Bedchamber

The physician sighed and shook his head. For weeks he had been surrounded by death. It had been eight days since the unfortunate death of Infanta Cristina, the fourth child of King Carlos and Queen Mary and he felt horrible. The entire Court was in mourning and he was going to hurt everyone even further.

He walked to the door of the Bedchamber and he took another deep breath. He opened the door and he saw Queen Mary standing outside. She was wearing all black, but she still looked regal. Despite her grief over the death of her daughter and her only son's illness, she had been very efficient with managing Court affairs.

He bowed to her.

"Your Majesty." he said.

Mary nodded.

"Doctor, you asked to see me. Is there something wrong with my son?" she asked.

The physician looked at the Queen. He didn't know what to say to his Queen.

Mary became aggravated.

"Answer me, I order you!" she said, her temper rising.

The physician sighed.

"Your Majesty, I am deeply sorry and I hate to tell you this, since it also is terrible for Portugal. The Crown Prince is dying. There is nothing we can do. The Prince has already received his Last Rites. He had asked to see you." he said.

Mary took a breath and nodded. She had to surpress her feelings about her daughter, Cristina's, death. She had to be stoic during her funeral. Her heart was in pieces and she could not handle another death and emotional blow.

She nodded.

"You can wait here for now. I will see my son." she said.

The physician nodded.

Mary composed herself and opened the door. She walked in and saw her twenty-one year old son in his bed, coughing terribly. Mary was in shock. Duarte had never ill in his life and now one illness and he couldn't fight.

Mary approached her son and touched his hand. Duarte looked at his mother.

"Mamae, thank you for coming here." he said.

Mary smiled.

"Of course. You are my son and I love you so much." she said.

Duarte had tears develop in his hazel eyes.

"I am dying, Mamae." he said.

Mary shook her head.

"No, my dear boy. You just have fever. You will live. Fight, my dear boy." she said.

Duarte cried.

"Mamae, please listen to me. I have seen Cristina in my dreams. I need you to promise me something." he said.

Mary, with tears in her eyes, nodded her head.

"Anything." she said.

Duarte coughed and took several breaths.

"I love my daughter. She is my greatest joy. Please convince my father to name her Princess of Portugal. I want you both to raise her, like you raised me. She can be a great Queen with both of your help. I need you to promise me that she will not be looked over due to her sex." he said.

Mary cried, but nodded her head.

"We will take care of her. I promise." she said.

Duarte gripped her hand.

"I hope I was able to make you proud, Mamae." he said.

Mary looked at her son.

"You are a gift to your Father and I. You have never been a disappoinment to us. We love you so much." she said.

Duarte looked looked up at his ceiling, breathing heavily, holding his mother's hand tightly. With a final deep breath, Duarte became still. His hazel eyes were open, but unseeing.

Mary began to sob. She held her son's hand and looked at him. She stood up and sat on the bed, looking at his handsome face. She gently closed his beautiful eyes. She caressed his face.

She cried more.

"My boy. My sweet angel boy. I love you so much. I will honor your wish." she said, as she kissed her son's forehead.

Suddenly, the physician walked in.

"Your Majesty, I am sorry to disturb you, however I have urgent news." she said.

Mary took a deep breath and took a sheet and personally covered her only son's body.

She turned to the physician and took a deep breath, composing herself.

"Yes, Doctor? Whatever it is, I am sure it can wait. My son has died." she asked, trying not to break down.

The physician sighed.

"The Princess of Portugal and your granddaughter have become ill with the Influenza." he said.

Mary almost her legs give away under her.

"Will this dreaded pestilence take away everyone I love? How fares my husband, the King?" she asked.

The physician smiled.

"The fever has broken. He will live. Your two daughters have also been spared from the Influenza." he said.

Mary nodded and took a look at the bed, holding her son's body.

"The Lord gave him to me and now He has taken him away." she said, as she left the room, tears falling freely down her face.

---

2 April 1560
Ribiera Palace, Lisbon, Portugal

The nursery of the Portuguese palace held only one child, the Infanta Joanna, daughter of the late Crown Prince of Portugal, Duarte, and his wife, the Infanta Maria. The two-year-old girl was very ill, as was her mother, with what the court knew to be influenza. On the orders of the King and Queen, everything was being done to save them both. There had been too much loss already with the passing of the Infanta Cristina, followed by the Crown Prince himself.

Queen Mary, who appeared to be immune to the illness, was sitting beside her granddaughter, reading, while listening to the little girl breathe. She couldn't bring herself to do anything else. Joanna had to survive. The girl was all they had left of Duarte.

In the aftermath of Duarte's death, the Archbishop had already given Last Rites to both Joanna and Maria, just in case they succumbed to the illness too, but that was an act, performed and over with, and now Queen Mary had to focus on trying to help them both get better.

The doors to the nursery opened. The servants entered the room and placed dinner trays for both the Princess and the Queen on tables near the door. None of them would enter the room complete, and Queen Mary didn't blame them for wanting to keep themselves and their families as safe as possible. Carlos, King of Portugal, also accompanied them, despite his own recent illness, he was doing much better, and the family and the nation were glad of it. When the servants left the room, he brought a tray over to Mary.

"Carlos," she said, "thank you, but I can't eat. My stomach is in knots."

"You are grieving the loss of our children, darling," he replied, gently. "That's understandable, but you have to keep your strength up and not fall ill yourself. Joanna and Maria need you. I need you. Portugal needs you."

Mary nodded. She reached for the spoon and took a bite of her soup, showing him that she was trying. The warm broth made her stomach feel better, but it could not rewarm her heart that was cold from the losses of her children.

While she tried to eat, Carlos brought Joanna's tray to the bed and attempted to get the little girl to wake so she could also eat. He felt her hand. It was cold to his touch. He watched her chest for a moment, and realized that their granddaughter was gone, called to the side of their Heavenly Father, as well as her own father, the late Prince, Duarte. Carlos looked back at his wife, quickly, who was still sipping her broth. He looked back at their granddaughter's body, then carefully stood with the tray and put it back on the table before walking back to where his wife was sitting.

"She needs to eat, Carlos," Mary said.

Carlos just shook his head. He took a deep breath. "Mary, my love," he started to say, but his wife already knew somehow.

"No, she isn't," Mary shook her head.

"Mary," he tried again.

The Queen of Portugal stood up so fast she knocked her tray over in the process. "She isn't dead, Carlos," Mary insisted. "She isn't! She's all I have left of my only son!" Mary cried. She hit her knees in agony, tears rolling down her face. She crawled over to the tiny bed where her granddaughter's body lay. As she picked up Joanna's hand, she could feel the cold creep into her, as it had with Cristina and with Duarte. She let out a cry that would have iced the world if it were possible.

Carlos looked at his wife with tears clouding his own eyes. They'd suffered loss before when their babies had died, but never like this. Duarte was their only living son, and now he was gone. Joanna, his daughter, was gone. Portugal might face a succession crisis in the near future, but he could only think of the crisis his beloved Mary was facing in her heart at this moment. Her wails of distress could be heard throughout the family's residential wing. He gathered his strength, then stood and went over to his wife.

"Mary," he said softly, "we need to alert the physicians and the undertaker. We also need to tell Maria that her daughter has. . . that she's. . ."

Mary shook her head. "We can't. Maria is still very weak. She wouldn't survive this news, not so soon after losing Duarte. I can't lose her too Carlos. She loved our son, and he loved her. I just can't."

"But she needs to be told."

Mary screamed as if someone were trying to attack her. "I said no!" she screamed. "I will NOT lose Maria too!" She picked up the tray and threw it through the window before running out of the room.

Carlos stood there for a moment, trying to figure out what had happened. Was this what caused Mary's sister, Isabella, to lose control? Was this the infamous Tudor temper he'd heard so much about, the temper that his wife had managed to suppress until now. Was losing two children and a grandchild within weeks of each other what it took for Mary to also lose it? If so, then perhaps Isabella wasn't crazy after all, and it was just the loss of so many of her children that drove her to it.

Carlos did not follow after his wife, as he normally would have done. This time, he decided to give her some space. He would check on her a bit later, after he'd made the proper arrangements for his granddaughter. The undertaker would care for Joanna's body until they buried her. She was so young, but then again, so was her father in the grand scheme of things. Carlos decided then and there that they would bury her with her father, so neither would rest alone, and left the room to make preparations for the double burial of the Crown Prince of Portugal and his only child.

---

5 April 1560
Ribiera Palace, Lisbon, Portugal

The Royal family of Portugal gathered in the chapel of their palace to say goodbye to the Crown Prince, Duarte, and his only child, the Infanta Joanna, who had both died during the influenza epidemic that was sweeping the country. Normally, they would have buried both father and daughter in a royal manner, following the traditions of the past, but because the epidemic was still rampant in Portugal, they decided to hold the funerals in private instead to not risk spreading the disease to anyone else. So many of the Portuguese people had died already, and no one else needed to suffer.

King Carlos would not normally have attended the funerals, even for his own son and granddaughter, but because the ceremony was being held in private, and because his wife, Queen Mary, was distraught over the losses they had suffered, he chose to attend, knowing that none of his family would commit treason by envisioning his death.

The caskets holding the earthly remains of Duarte, Crown Prince of Portugal, and his two-year-old daughter, the Infanta Joanna, were placed at the front of the chapel. Duarte's wife, the Infanta Maria, who was mother to Joanna, was still in bed, still recovering from the illness that had claimed her husband and daughter. She had not been told of Joanna's death. Carlos and Mary were afraid that if they did, the young Princess would weaken with grief and they would lose her too.

The Archbishop started the funerals with a prayer for the souls of the departed. He prayed for the family to make peace with what happened, their loved ones having been called to God's side at such a young age, and then he prayed for God's embrace to comfort the family during their grief. The funeral rites took nearly an hour to perform, with more prayers following. Then it was time for the family who remained to say their goodbyes.

Mary and Carlos' daughter, the Infanta Joanna, knelt before the coffins, crossed herself, then kissed them both. She was openly crying, as were most in attendance, missing her brother already, and her niece. Then she stood and went to wait by the door. King Carlos did the same, then waited for his wife. Their youngest child, the Infanta Isabel, was five and they decided that she should not attend, despite the fact that it was her brother they were saying goodbye to. They did not want her to catch the disease while amongst others.

Mary, Queen of Portugal, was watched closely. She knelt in front of her son's casket and crossed herself. Then she prayed, though it wasn't typical for a Queen. She crossed herself again, then kissed Duarte's casket. Before standing, she kissed her fingers and placed them on Joanna's smaller coffin, sitting next to her father's. She closed her eyes for a moment, then began to stand. Halfway up from kneeling, her legs faltered, and she started to fall. Carlos dashed to his wife, catching her before she hit her head. He lifted her with ease and carried her out of the chapel to their chambers, with their daughter following closely behind.

Carlos laid the Queen on her bed and covered her with a blanket that was laying at the foot of their bed. He knelt by his wife, his concern growing. He felt her forehead, but she had no fever. He signed in relief.

"Father?" their daughter, Joanna, questioned.

"Your mother is fine, Joanna, at least physically," Carlos answered her. "She's emotionally distraught from the loss of your sister and brother, and little Joanna."

Before the Infanta could reply, a wail came from the doorway. It was Maria, Duarte's widow, who had heard what was said. Maria fell to her knees, sobbing, and babbling incoherently at first. Carlos rushed to his daughter-in-law, but she would not accept his help.

"I lost my husband and my sister-in-law to this disease," Maria said, shouting, "and now I've lost my daughter too? I lost my only link to Duarte, to the man I loved?!"

"Maria, please understand. . ." Carlos began, but she interrupted him.

"I don't need to understand anything other than they are gone! My mother was right. You and Queen Mary control everyone and everything around you," she screamed. "You only care about being in control, not about the people around you, who love you, who you are supposed to love."

"That's not how it is, Maria," Carlos tried to explain. "Mary and I were worried that if we told you about Joanna, that in your weakened state, we would lose you too."

"You've lost me, alright, but not from an illness, your Majesty. For not telling me that my little girl was dead!" Maria turned and ran down the hallway, crying for her daughter and for her husband, who she would never see again. She had lost them, and now she had lost the only family that she ever really felt welcome in. She was a widow, and a childless mother, and now, she was all alone in the world.

---

11 April 1560
Archbishop's Palace, Madrid, Spain
Infanta Catarina, Duchess of Franco's Chambers

Catarina laughed, as she watched her five year old son, Sebastian and her three year old daughter, Maria, playing in her chambers. Catarina adored her two children and her life in Spain. She was especially happy that her marriage to Infante Juan, Duke of Franco, was happy and strong again. She was also sewing his shirts again.

Sebastian walked over to his mother.

"Mama, will you roll the ball to me? Maria wants to play with her doll." the five year old said.

Catarina nodded.

"Yes, my sweet boy. I have to finish your father's shirt. Will you be patient for Mama?" she asked.

Sebastian put a look on his face, as if he was thinking of whether or not to honor his mother's request. After a moment, he smiled and nodded his head.

Catarina caressed his cheek and returned to her sewing.

A knock at the door made Catarina look up.

"Come in." she said.

One of her ladies-in-waiting came in and curtsied.

"My Lady, I have two letters from the Portuguese Court." she said.

Catarina nodded her head, in thanks and took the letters from her. The young lady curtsied and departed the room.

Catarina smiled when she realized both letters were from her beloved parents. Normally they wrote a letter one every other week, however there letters had not arrived for over a month.

She decided to read her father's letter first. She opened the letter and began to read its contents:

"To the Duchess of Franco,

I pray this letter finds you in good health. Your presence is required at Court immediately. You are expected to arrive in no less than ten days time upon receiving this letter. The guards who delivered this message will be apart of your travel party.

Your husband, the Duke of Franco, is also required to accompany you to Portugal. Do not bring your children. Their presence is not required at Court at this time. Do not stop at any towns or villages. You are to only stop at an empty residence that belongs to the Crown if rest is required.

Do not delay the journey. This is a direct and firm order from your King.

Your Father,

Carlos, King of Portugal

Catarina looked at the letter, in surprise. Her father's letters were always warm and loving. This didn't seem like him at all. He never seemed so cold or aloof with any of children.

She placed his letter aside. Before she could open her mother's letter, the Royal governess, Lady Inez, walked in.

"I apologize, Duchess. Most of the children are in the gardens and Queen Elizabeth wanted me to ask if your children would like to be included." she said.

Catarina smiled.

"Of course they can. You may take them. Sebastian, Maria, you two behave and listen to Lady Inez. Am I understood?" she asked sternly.

Little Maria nodded her head. Sebastian started to get a mischievous look on his face, until he saw his mother's serious face, which made her normally kind bright blue eyes blaze like a growing fire. He also nodded his head, not wanting to upset his mother.

Catarina smiled at the two and opened her arms.

"Come to Mama." she said.

The two small children ran and hugged their mother, as she kissed their foreheads. Lady Inez then took their hands and left the room. Catarina then turned her attention to her mother's letter, praying that it was more warm than her father's

"My dearest Catarina,

I am happy that I am finally able to write to my beloved girl. However, my letter does not bring good tidings. I am sorry that I was not able to send this letter sooner, but it was not safe for me to do so. I pray that my news will not trouble you into illness.

We have been under the dark shadow of an Influenza plague. It has struck with a vengeance. Many of our citizens have fallen ill or died from this retched disease. This disease has not spared our family. I must tell you of the events, in which Providence did not spare us pain.

Your aunt Isabel was the first to fall ill. She was ill, but by the grace of the Almighty, she recovered and was able to rejoin the Court. She has no ill effect from this pestilence.

Your father also fell ill. He was bound to bed for five days with a horrible fever. I was so scared that we would lose him. However, he also survived, by God's mercy. My darling daughter, the mercy was not extended any further.

On the twentieth day of March, your beloved sister, Cristina, became ill. We know that she has had a delicate constitution, but she always lived through here illnesses. The Lord had a different decision this time. On the twenty-third day of March, your beloved sister gave her soul back to the Lord. Her death has ripped a hole in all of our hearts.

Your dear brother fell to the pestilence the very day that Providence took our Cristina from this world. Duarte fought valiantly through the disease, but Providence was unkind once more. On the thirty-first day of March, our beloved Duarte was reunited with young Cristina by the side of our Lord. His death has hurt in More ways than one.

As your brother fought for his life, the pestilence took hold of his wife and his daughter. Little Joanna drew her last early breath in the presence of your father and on the second day of April. I am sure your brother carried her into the waiting arms of our Lord. Her death nearly made me ill, but the Lord was merciful to heal my body, but not my heart.

Your sister in marriage, Maria, has recovered from the pestilence. However, her love for us died with your brother and niece. She will never feel the same way towards us again. I thought I was protecting her, but I probably hurt her worse than the pestilence's wrath on our family.

You and your sisters are all I have now, my darling. My eyes wish to see you above all things now.

Your loving mother,

Maria, Queen of Portugal

Catarina's blue eyes were shining bright with tears. She couldn't believe what she read. They couldn't really be gone. Her only brother and poor sister and little niece.

The door opened Juan walked in, wearing a smile.

"Sweetheart, you missed a wonderful day of hunting." he said.

Catarina stood to her feet, tears falling down her face. Juan looked at her, with concern.

He walked up to her.

"Sweetheart?" he asked.

Suddenly, Catarina began to sob loudly and she collapsed into Juan's arms. He caught her and they sank down to the floor. She continued to sob loudly and grabbed Juan's shirt. All Juan could do is kiss her and shush her. After an hour or so of uncontrollable crying, Catarina fell asleep in the warm embrace of her husband.

---

12 April 1560
Archbishop's Palace, Madrid, Spain
The Courtyard

Infante Juan, Duke of Franco, was exhausted and in shock. His poor wife had just discovered her only brother, younger sister and only niece had all passed away to illness. Catarina was overwhelmed with grief. His father-in-law, King Carlos of Portugal, had commanded their immediate return to Portugal. He didn't know what the reason was for, but he knew Catarina needed to be with her family right now.

The castle doors opened and King Luis and Queen Elizabeth walked out to join Juan in the Courtyard.

Juan bowed to his nephew and Queen Elizabeth.

Luis signed.

"How are you, Juan? This is a terrible thing to befall you and Catarina." he said.

Juan nodded.

"She really took it hard. I can not imagine the pain the King and Queen of Portugal are going through." he said

Elizabeth sighed.

"My poor sister. I wish I could relieve her pain. I was little Cristina's godmother. I hope Carlos and Mary can heal from this horrible time." she said, while resting her hand on her swollen stomach.

From behind Elizabeth, Catarina stepped out of the Palace. She was dressed completely in a black mourning dress with a black veil covering her hair, but not her face.

Juan walked up to her and kissed her.

"We should be leaving soon, sweetheart." he said.

Catarina nodded and gave her aunt a small smile.

Elizabeth gave her niece a hug.

"Sweet Catarina, I am so sorry about the pains to your heart." she said.

Catarina hugged her pregnant aunt back.

"Thank you, Your Majesty. I hope to be a comfort to my parents. I also want to thank you for looking after our children in our absence." she said.

Elizabeth nodded.

"Do not worry about them. We will care for them as of they were our own. Also, before leave, take this letter to my sister, your mother. Let her know if I wasn't big with child, I would accompany you myself and I will pray for her." she said.

Catarina nodded and bowed and she was helped into the carriage. After the rest of her belongings were loaded, Juan mounted his horse and then they took off. She felt a few tears roll down her face. She was returning to her home, but the pain she felt took that joy away. She hoped her parents' and her own heart would heal with this reunion.

---

16 April 1560
Ribiera Palace, Lisbon, Portugal
The Gardens

Manuel de Silva, Prince of Eboli and Infanta Joanna of Portugal were walking in the Gardens, each talking about their mutual interests. Manuel found himself drawn to the seventeen year old Princess. Even though she was currently wearing all black, due to the mourning period of her sister, brother and niece, she was still so beautiful and kind. They were being chaperoned by Joanna's aunt, Infanta Isabel, Duchess of Coimbra, but she was also preoccupied with watching Joanna's nearly five year old younger sister, also called Isabel.

Joanna looked at Manuel.

"How old are you, my Lord?" she asked.

Manuel smiled.

"I am twenty-three years old, Your Highness." he said.

Joanna smiled.

"Forgive my curiosity. I was wondering why you were not married." she said.

Manuel de Silva chuckled.

"Well, Your Highness, I just have not found love yet. I am fortunate that my marriage does not have to be arranged. However, there is a young lady who I am very fond of. She is a special woman." she said.

Joanna smiled at him.

"Is she a young woman of the Court? I would advise you to tell her how you feel. This pestilence has taught me that life is short and tomorrow is not promised and that you should not put off the truth." she said, trying to fight back tears.

Manuel stopped her.

"I am rejoiced you feel that way and may God and the King forgive me, but you are the woman who has possessed my heart. I care for you deeply. I know we have not known each other for long, but I would be a fool to not tell you how I feel." he said.

Joanna looked at Manuel and began to cry. He was scared that he had offended her and began to profusely apologize.

Joanna shook her head.

"No, my Lord. I am relieved. I have not been able to say any of e deaths in my family have hurt me so deeply. My poor sister and brother and my innocent niece. She was so young. My brother's widow hates our family. I just can't handle more hurt!" she said.

Manuel took her hand.

"I can not bring them back. However, I can heal the holes in your beautiful heart. I will wait awhile, but with your blessing, may I ask your father, the King, to pay Court to you?" he asked.

Joanna had been hurt a few times in her young life. Her destiny as the future Queen of France had been robbed of her and now these untimely deaths tore her to shreds, however she found herself nodding and even smiling through her tears.

---

26 April 1560
Hampton Court, England
King Henry IX of England's Privy Chamber

King Harry was exhausted. He had a very busy day and was looking forward to ending the day and looking forward to a relaxing night with his Queen. The sun was beginning to set snd this was his favorite time of the day.

Suddenly, there was a knock at his door.

Harry rolled his eyes and cleared his throat.

"Enter." he said.

The door opened and Queen Lillian stepped in.

Harry smiled at his wife of nearly three years.

"Darling, you didn't have to come here. I was going to join you in your Chambers very shortly." he said.

Lillian nodded and sighed.

"Harry, I am sorry, but good tidings do not bring me here." she said.

Harry stood up, in alarm.

"Is everything well? Is our Mary well?" he asked, worried about their nearly two year old daughter.

Lillian nodded her head.

"She is well. However, I just received a letter from my brother. It is regarding your sister, the Queen of Portugal." she said.

Harry began to get concerned.

"My sister, Mary? Has something happened to her?" he asked.

Lillian sighed.

"I am so sorry to tell you this. An Influenza plague swept through Portugal. Many people have died. Your sister's son, her third daughter and her granddaughter, have perished from the pestilence within over a week of each other." she said.

Harry sat down, in shock.

"Oh, my poor sister. My dear Mary. How is she?" he asked.

Lillian sighed.

"There were whispers in the Court that she was showing similar behavior to that of your older sister, Isabella. However, she regained her composure and has rejoined the Court." she said.

Harry nodded.

"I will join you in awhile, sweetheart. I want to send a letter to my sister." he said.

Lillian nodded her head and gave him a passionate kiss and left the room.

Harry sat down at his desk. His heart was breaking for his younger sister and he knew her pain. Losing his eldest son had torn him the similar way it torn both if his sisters. He hoped to help his sister as best as he could. He took a deep breath and began to write.

"My Dearest Sister,

I am sure that this letter does not find you in the best of spirits. I have heard of the unmerciful events that Providence has laid upon you. I am so sorry about the loss of your beloved children and your little granddaughter. As your brother, my heart aches as well over this.

As you know, I lost my William just two years ago and I know the pain you are feeling. You feel angry. You want to rip your hair out. You want to curse. However, I can tell you that eventually your joy will return. The joy will never repair the damage that these misfortunes have caused, however you must remember who you are.

You are a daughter of Katherine of Aragon. You are a granddaughter of the mighty Catholic Monarchs. Do not let these misfortunes consume you. You will survive this.

The times seem dark now. You may face uncertainty. You may feel lost. However, remember you still have three daughters, your husband and the entire Kingdom of Portugal who need you. Do not forget who you are, dear sister.

Your loyal brother,

Henry, King of England

Harry placed the letter down and took a deep breath. He wanted his sister to overcome her heartache. He knew she would recover. However, he couldn't help to think about the future of Portugal and what it would hold.

A/N Thank you all for sticking through this very challenging Chapter. I must admit I shed a few tears writing several scenes here. I know some of you may be sad about some of the events that have taken place, but it will all work out in the end. Now, what do you all think will happen with the Portuguese Succession? You will all find out in the next Chapter! Please Read and Review and Chapter Fifty-Eight will be up as soon as possible!