Chapter 31
Chapter 31 at your service. I hope everyone enjoys reading it, as I enjoyed writing it. In this chapter, several things will be happening, but by the next chapter, we will be in the year 1554 and it will be amazing and full of surprises I can guarantee that. I can't wait to finish this chapter, so you can all see what's in store for the year 1554. It will just keep getting better and better. So please Read and Review and enjoy Chapter 31!
July 13, 1553
A Field On The Border of Aragon and Navarre
The dust had settled and all was quiet. The past two days had been filled with smoke, the roar of cannons, and the sounds of men dying as they fought through the bloodiest battle of the war, which had been raging for over a year. All around the battlefield, men lay dead in pools of their own blood, and most of those who survived were injured and being treated by the physicians who had volunteered their services to the troops.
Carlos V, Holy Roman Emperor, stood outside of his command tent, studying their losses. As an Emperor, he understood the necessity of war, but as a man, he despised the taking of lives unnecessarily. His mother would have criticized this thought as being weak, but Carlos believed that a man could not be a humble servant of God unless he felt the loss of every life that was taken, even if necessity prevailed.
A messenger arrived and bowed, shaking him out of his thoughts and once again drawing his attention to reality.
"Majesty," the man began, "we have received word from our spies in the French camp. They have suffered as many, if not more, losses as we have this day and their leaders are debating a withdrawal from the field."
"This is good news indeed," Carlos replied. "Thank you. Now please, have something to eat and rest before returning."
The man bowed and headed towards a camp fire in the distance. Carlos watched him walk away, wondering if he had a family that was waiting for his return.
"Father, I . . .," Infante Juan began as he exited their command tent, but stopped when he saw his father's gaze on the messenger. "Is everything okay, Father?"
"Yes, Juan. The man brought word that the French are contemplating retreat from this field. They have suffered great losses today, as we have, apparently. What did you want to tell me, my son?"
"I have more good news for you, Father. I have received a letter from Lilliana. She says that Prince Edward, Duke of York, Infanta Elizabeth's nephew, has survived the attack on his life and is recovering quickly. I have told Luis, but thought you would want to inform Abuela yourself," the Duke of Franco replied.
Carlos crossed himself and looked up at the heavens. "That is good news indeed. I will let our Queen know as soon as possible."
Juan bowed to his father and returned to the command tent, leaving Carlos to further contemplate the events of the day.
July 15, 1553
Bradley House
Edmund couldn't sleep this particular night. There was a thunderstorm outside and he could never sleep. Ever since he was a child, storms made him worry. It was during a storm that a messenger came to Eltham Palace to inform him , his brother, Henry and his three sisters, Margaret, Elizabeth and Mary, that their elder brother, Arthur, was dead. Since that day, over fifty years ago, Edmund never liked storms.
Edmund decided to check on his children. He walked down the hall to the nursery where little Lady Anne was sleeping. Edmund opened the door and sat down beside his youngest daughter. Little Anne would be approaching her fifth year next month, and Edmund could hardly believe that so much time had passed. He was fond of all six of his children, but his three daughters held soft spots in his hearts. With both Charlotte and Mary married, Anne was his only daughter at home and he wanted to cherish every moment. He gently kissed her forehead and stood to leave. It was at that moment, he discovered her governess, Lady Alice Compton, was nowhere to be found.
"The storm must have woken her and she's restless herself." he thought to himself.
Edmund left the nursery and continued to walk toward his son, John's room. John had finished his training and was soon to depart for a few months on a ship. He had to admit that his seventeen year old had changed, since his return a week ago.
As he approached John's rooms, he could hear the sounds of a woman moaning in sexual pleasure and the groans of a man, while the bed banged the wall.
"What the hell?" Edmund asked aloud, as he opened John's bedroom door.
As he entered the room, he saw Lady Alice on top of his son, as John had a firm grip on her waist and was bouncing her hard on him.
Lady Alice threw her head back.
"OH LORD JOHN! HARDER!" she screamed.
In anger, Edmund slammed the door behind him. The two young people looked up in alarm and when they saw Edmund, they both made a move to cover their naked sweaty bodies.
John spoke first.
"Father, what are you doing here? It's late." he said, in a nervous voice.
Edmund glared at his youngest son, but then turned his attention to Lady Alice, who couldn't look at him.
Edmund turned away, to give the young lady some decency and because he wasn't comfortable looking at this naked woman, who wasn't his wife.
"Lady Alice, I pay you to look after my young daughter, not sneak away during the night, like a filthy rat and fornicate with my son, who is at least six years younger than you. You should be ashamed of yourself. Return to the nursery and pack your belongings, quietly. You will be leaving first thing in the morning. I will also send a letter to your parents, explaining the details of the loss of your position in this household. You may leave now." he said, trying to control his Tudor temper, that was threatening to come out.
Lady Alice, with tears falling down her face, put her robe on and left the room, quietly closing the door behind her.
Edmund glared at his son again and began to turn red in his face. John had stood up and placed his robe on himself and was looking at his father, in slight embarrassment and also fear.
Edmund finally spoke.
"How dare you return to our family home and act like this? Your younger sister is right down the hall and you have the nerve to take her caretaker to your bed. Where did I go wrong with you?" he asked.
John looked at his father, in shock.
"You didn't go wrong, Father, but I'm not longer the little boy who likes to read under the shade of the trees in the Gardens. I'm a man now and a man has needs. I heard you having intercourse last night and I didn't think anything was wrong." he said.
Edmund began to yell.
"I'M MARRIED TO THE WOMAN YOU HEARD ME BEDDING! I COMMITTED NO SIN, UNLIKE YOU." he said.
John yelled.
"I'M ALLOWED TO HAVE A WOMAN PLEASE ME! THE WOMEN CAME IN GROUPS WHEN I WAS IN TRAINING AND I ENJOYED IT!" he screamed back.
Edmund looked at his son, in shock.
"I refuse for you to treat our home as your own personal brothel." he said, in a dangerous shaky voice.
John smirked.
"Well, Father, maybe you shouldn't employ beautiful women to work here. They are just asking to get fucked." he said, in a disrespectful tone.
Suddenly, Edmund slapped John so hard, that his nose began to bleed. John grabbed his nose in shock and looked at his angry father.
Edmund looked at his youngest son, in disappointment. He knew that the Navy could take his son's innocence, but not his morality.
Edmund turned his back to his son.
"John, I am very disappointed in you and can barely look at you. I never thought I would say this to any of my children, but at this moment, I am glad your mother isn't alive to witnesse how you've turned out. I don't think I could stomach the hurt look in her eyes. The eyes that I have missed for the last fifteen years, since her death. I'm ashamed to call you my son at this moment. I'm going to go to the chapel and pray about this shame I feel towards you. Goodnight son." he said, as he left his son's room.
John took a handkerchief and began to wipe the blood from his nose and cry silently. He couldn't believe his father could say something like that to him. He knew he had done something wrong and just hoped his father could forgive him.
July 17, 1553
La Mota Palace
Medina Del Campo, Valladolid, Castile, Spain
Princess Isabella, Marquesa de Moya's Bedchamber
Isabella was praying for the safety of her husband. Andres had joined the Spanish troops and she greatly missed him. Her greatest fear was losing him. She loved him too much.
Suddenly, there was a knock at her door. Isabella looked towards it.
"Come in." she said, in Spanish.
One of her maids walked in and bowed.
"Excuse me, SeƱora, but the Princess of Asturias is here to see you." she said.
Isabella opened her eyes in shock and immediately stood up.
"I am coming immediately. I can't believe I am going to see my sister." she said, happily.
Several moments later...
Isabella was walking towards one of the sitting rooms of the Palace. After arriving at the door, that's when she saw her beloved baby sister. Elizabeth had her wavy chestnut brown hair down her back abd was dressed in an elegant dark green dress. She looked much more mature than a woman of nearly twenty years. The little brown-haired six year old sister that she left behind in England fourteen years ago was now a beautiful woman.
Isabella was about to drop to her feet in a curtsy, when Elizabeth rushed to her and enveloped her in a tight hug. Isabella, after realizing what was happening, returned the hug, equally.
Elizabeth began to lightly cry.
"Oh, Isabella. I have wanted this moment for so long. I've been here three years and I finally get to see my sister again." she said.
Isabella kissed her sister.
"My darling, I have heard about all you have done. I am proud to call you my sister. I was scared I would never see you, especially since you are the only sister who I am in good terms with." she said.
Elizabeth looked at her eldest sister, in confusion.
"Didn't you and Mary reconcile your differences?" she asked.
Isabella nodded her head.
"We did, but we are still not as close as we used to be. I wish we could be close again, but it won't happen. That's why I hold on to my family as tight as I can. I finally have what I want, sweet Elizabeth. I have a loving husband and four beautiful children. No one can take them from me. Andres may not be a King, but he loves me and I love them. Now enough of me, tell me about your happiness about that beautiful little daughter of yours." she asked.
Elizabeth smiled.
"Isabel is already two years old. She was born exactly one year after Luis and I were married." she said.
Isabella developed a sad look on her face.
"I'm shocked she wasn't named Catalina, since Mother died a few months before her birth" she said.
Elizabeth tried to hold back tears.
"I was tempted to do that, but I wanted my daughter to have her own identity and Luis was adamant that she be named after me. However, I'm sure I will have a little Catalina someday, if God wills it." she said.
Isabella smiled.
"From what people say, God already smiles upon you. The people already have a name for you." she said.
Elizabeth looked at her sister, in curiosity.
"What do people call me?" she asked.
Isabella walked closer.
"La Princesa de Oro or the Golden Princess. They love you Elizabeth, so I want to give you some sisterly advice. Never forget the love of your people. God may have chosen your rank, but you prosper by the love of the people. My reputation has been forever tainted, because I did not follow the advice I am giving you now. Don't make the same mistake I made." she said.
Elizabeth nodded her head. She was only six years old when Isabella made the scandal of marrying without a dispensation and was the only Tudor Princess with an illegitimate child. The only thing she knew is that she was finally happy to have her sister back in her life.
July 23, 1553
Bradgate House
Lord Henry and Lady Catherine Grey's Bedchamber
The sweltering heat of the night poured into the room as he threw open the windows, anticipating a nightly breeze that simply wasn't there. Lord Henry Grey walked to the bed where is wife, Lady Catherine, was already asleep. As he joined her, he thought to the day they were married and how he had felt fortunate to be marrying so closely to the royal family. He had regretted that decision the moment that their only son died. His wife appeared to have all of the flaws of the Tudors, as well as their temper. He was no longer the young man who had married her, but had hardened to accept the world for what it was; a place where rulers controlled everything and everyone else were merely pawns in their games, himself included.
As he began to drift into sleep, there was a loud pounding at their door. "Your Grace," a servant said, "Your Grace, some of the King's guards are here to see you. Wake up sir."
Henry Grey shot out of bed, putting on his dressing gown. The noise had woken Lady Catherine, as well, and she too was dressing to accompany him downstairs. The couple reached the bottom of the stairs and were face to face with ten of Harry's most loyal guards.
"What is the meaning of this?" Grey asked, directly.
"Lord Henry Grey," the guard began, pulling out a scroll of parchment, "you are under arrest for High Treason. Your crimes include the following: The attempted murder of our beloved Prince Edward, disobedience to your King and sovereign lord, and coercion of other subjects of the King to do your will through force and fear. You are, according to His Majesty's orders, to be taken to the Tower of London to await your trial on these charges. Furthermore, His Majesty, King Henry IX of England, Ireland and France, hereby orders the arrest of your wife Lady Catherine Grey, and your three daughters, the Ladies, Jane, Catherine, and Mary. They are also to be taken to the Tower until a time where their names are either suspected or confirmed guilty of the same crimes as listed above."
Henry Grey looked at his wife. They were arresting Catherine and their daughters for the same crimes. 'Well, at least if I am going down, I will not go alone,' Grey thought. Just then, other guards brought his daughters down the staircase from their rooms. He could see his daughters were crying and trying to figure out what was happening, or so he thought. When he looked at Jane, he realized she was not as distraught as her sisters were, and for that matter, neither was his wife. 'Did they do something?' He wondered. 'Did they cause this?'
The guard looked at the lot of them. They were all in their bed clothes, and King Henry had ordered the ladies to be treated with the utmost respect, regardless of their crimes. He whispered something to another guard, who turned to Lady Catherine and grabbed her arm. "Come with me Lady Catherine," he man commanded. "We will return upstairs and gather clothing for your family members. You will be permitted to change once you are inside the tower."
Catherine did as she was commanded without argument. She and the guard returned after some time carrying two bags. One was for her husband and was lightly packed and the other was for herself and their daughters, it was bulging full of whatever garments the ladies would need.
Henry Grey looked at his wife and his daughters then began to speak to the guards. "This is a mistake, sir. I am innocent of the crimes of which I have been accused. I know of no plot to assassinate our beloved Prince, and I have never disobeyed my King. Not once."
"Sir, I would save your argument for those who can do something about it," the guard replied. "I am merely a guard and do as I am bid by my King."
Lord Grey looked baffled at this statement. He looked at his wife, "Why aren't you speaking woman? Why are you not begging for your own life and your daughters'?"
"I am but a mere woman Henry," Catherine stated, looking at the ground. "Who on earth would listen to me and what I had to say?"
Henry's anger was boiling inside him by now. As she spoke the words that he had said so many times to her himself, his rage grew into something he could not control. He took two steps toward her and backhanded her across the face. "How dare you insult me in front of the King's guards! You forget yourself madam. I am a Lord of this realm and you are nothing, despite being the King's cousin." Catherine fell to the ground from the slap, but one of the guards helped her to stand.
"I think it is you who forget yourself, Sir," the guard responded. "You are all under arrest and if you ever strike a woman in my presence again, I will personally execute you on the spot, trial or no trial."
Henry was taken aback by those words. He was so stunned that he did not notice another guard entering the room. "The carriages await the prisoners, sir," he stated.
With that, the Grey's were led out of their home and placed into the two awaiting carriages; Henry into one and the ladies into another. Grey couldn't help but rethink the events of the night as they rode towards London and the Tower that awaited them. Jane had maintained her composure the entire time her mother and sisters were crying. Had she done this to him? Would she have betrayed her mother and sisters to get revenge on him for forcing her into helping with the deed? Did she bargain with the King to save herself? He brushed off the thought. Jane, like her mother, was nothing more than an ignorant female. She wouldn't have the intelligence to think up a plan like this. But if it wasn't Jane, who was it that had turned him in? Did the Prince recognize his voice when he spoke after the stabbing? Did he tell the King that Jane was the one who had done it and the warrant was listed in his name because he was her father? Whatever it was, he had to clear himself somehow, but he couldn't think of a way at the moment.
In the other carriage, the two younger daughters of Henry and Catherine Grey were still crying at the idea of being arrested for something they didn't even know had happened. As children, they were sheltered from the details of the Prince's stabbing and they didn't understand everything that was going on. Lady Catherine held Mary in her lap, trying to comfort the child. "Do not worry my dears," she began in a tone that was soft and gentle. "We are going to the tower for our own safety, but the King knows we didn't have anything to do with the Prince's incident."
"Mother," Jane began.
"No, Jane. No more tonight," Catherine shook her head at her daughter. "We will discuss this further in the morning. For now, just rest assured that the King knows we are innocent."
They rode in silence for some time, and as they arrived at the tower and the carriages stopped, Lady Catherine looked up at the place that was to be their home for an undisclosed amount of time and sighed. She didn't notice the hooded man at the bottom of the steps ahead of her until he took her arm and led her up the stairs behind her daughters. They stayed back from the party slightly and he accompanied the women into their cell.
"My lady," he said, once the other guards had left, "do not fear. Know that the King has never wavered from his plan and that His Majesty will come to you soon to instruct you on what is to be done."
Lady Catherine looked at the hooded man and smiled as he vanished from the room, the door being locked behind him.
"Mother," Jane began, "Who was that man?"
"Your Uncle Charles, Jane," replied Catherine Grey, "Your Uncle Charles."
July 26, 1553
Strafford Castle
The Drawing Room
Lady Margaret Brandon was watching John Marlowe being fitted for fancier clothing. She had taken it upon herself to help the former shoemaker become accustomed to his new lifestyle and position as an Earl. However, Margaret was also admiring him. Even though he was already in his thirties, John was really handsome. She caught herself looking at him, but she also knew she did not want to rush into a marriage with this man that she didn't know anything about, other than the fact that he saved the life of beloved Queen Anne.
John turned towards Margaret. He was wearing an emerald green doublet, black pants, leather boots and had a simple emerald ring on his right hand, to signal his position.
He smiled at her.
"What do you think?" he asked.
Margaret walked closer. She smoothed out his sleeves and smiled.
"You look like an Earl." she said.
John smiled.
"Well, I didn't mind being a shoemaker. However, since I am a member of the Nobility now, I must look the part. I hear the Court judges appearances." he said.
Margaret nodded her head.
"That it does. Unlike my late uncle, who basically forced it, my cousin makes sure that everyone knows that a position at Court is a privilege and can be taken away. May God rest my uncle's soul, but I prefer my cousin's reign so far. He is fair and kind." she said.
John nodded his head.
"That he is. I can't believe I am here. My whole life is changing. My life, my home, everything will be different. I can't wait to fix this place up and watch our family grow here." he said boldly.
Margaret began to blush.
John realized what he had said and began to regret it.
"Oh, my Lady. I an terribly sorry that I offended you. I hope you can forgive me." he said.
Margaret nodded her head.
"There really is nothing to forgive. I've always wanted to raise a nice family of my own. To be completely honest, I had started to give up that idea." she admitted.
John gave her a sad look.
"After my Cecily died, I gave up on love myself." he said.
Margaret looked at him, in shock.
"You were married before?" she asked.
John nodded his head.
"I was. Cecily and I were married when I was only eighteen years old and she was twenty-one. We lived above my father's shoe shop. We were young, but we cared for one another." he said.
Margaret smiled at him.
"How long were you married before she died?" she asked.
John sighed.
"I lost her during the outbreak of the Sweat fifteen years ago. We were only married several months." he said, with some emotion in his voice.
Margaret walked up to him and touched his hand.
"I know how you feel. I lost my older sister, Caroline, during the Sweat as well. She was only eighteen years old when she died and I was only ten years old. Now, when I sit with my brothers and my eldest sister, I always feel like she's missing. I always think what her life could have been like now. Would she have married? Would she have children? I can never seem to find the answers to those questions. May I ask you a question?" she asked.
John nodded his head.
"Ask me anything you please, My Lady." he said.
Margaret nodded.
"Why do you want to marry me so bad? I'm nothing special, besides the sister of a Duke and the cousin of the King." she said.
John smiled.
"I would want to marry you, even if you were the daughter of a blacksmith. I can't explain how it happened, but seeing you was like seeing an angel fall from the sky above. You seemed as if God himself clipped your beautiful wings and let you walk among us mere mortals, because you're beauty was that magnificent. The sun was shining brightly on you as if God was personally boasting about you, one of his most beautiful creations." he said.
Margaret couldn't believe the sweet things that were coming from this man's mouth. She never in a million years would think a man would want her as his wife so badly. However, Margaret wanted to control herself.
She touched John's hand.
"That was very beautiful. Now, let us finish seeing what needs to be done with this castle...especially if our family is to grow here." she said.
John bowed his head.
"Yes, My Lady." he said.
August 4, 1553
Westhorpe Hall
Lady Mary Brandon, Duchess of Suffolk's Bedchamber
"Hello darling," Charles Brandon leaned down to kiss his heavily pregnant wife as she sat up against pillows on the bed. Lady Mary Brandon, put down her book and smiled as he kissed her. Despite the fact that they were married suddenly, her life could have been a lot worse.
"Welcome home, husband," Mary said. "How was the market?"
"Boring, as always, but I did manage to find something rather interesting this time," he replied and pulled a box from behind his back.
"What's this?" she questioned, taking the package from him.
"Something to keep you company until our child is born," he responded, "and after I suppose."
Mary looked at her husband with an odd curiosity and opened her present. Inside the box, sleeping on a piece of soft cloth, was a small, tan, ball of fur, resembling a puppy. "Oh Charles!" Mary exclaimed with delight, "How thoughtful."
"She will be a good companion for you and for our child," he told her, lovingly. "I hope you don't mind, but I have taken the liberty of naming her already."
"What's her name darling?"
"Serenity," he replied.
"I like the sound of that," Mary said.
"Me too. How are you feeling?"
"Not too bad today. I've had some horrible pains in my lower back though and thought I would have to call the physician to relieve them," Mary informed him.
Charles was no expert on women or their health, but he recalled how his sister, Lady Catherine Grey, had the same pains when she was in labor with Jane, her firstborn. "Mary, have you had any cramping in your stomach?"
"Some, but nothing as bad as my back," she replied. "Why?"
"Darling, don't be alarmed, but I think we need to send for the midwife," he said. "I believe you may be in labor."
Mary thought for a moment and then pushed back the covers. "Don't be ridiculous, Charles. I'd know if I was in . . ." her voice trailed off as she pulled the covers back up.
"Mary?" Her husband questioned.
"Perhaps you are right," she said as a smile broke across her face. "I think you should get the midwife."
Charles ran out of the room, flew down the stairs, and out the door to the stables as fast as he possibly could. He sent his best stable-hand to the village nearby to fetch the midwife and bring her back. Then, he went to the kitchen to see their housekeeper, who immediately started ordering the kitchen staff to start boiling water on both fires, and sent one of the girls upstairs with a bundle of cloths and some other things that had been created weeks ago in preparation for this day.
Charles leaped up the stairs two at a time and into Mary's chamber, where he found his wife yelling in an immense amount of pain. He didn't think it was supposed to happen this fast. She saw him at the foot of the bed and stretched out her hand. He went to her and took it, but soon realized that it was a mistake to do so. She must have been hurting a lot for her to squeeze his hand that hard, but he thought at one point that she broke it.
There was a commotion at the door, and Charles turned to see the midwife enter the room. She came over to Mary and looked under the sheets, then started commanding people in the room, who quickly did exactly what she said. "The baby is coming," she stated matter-of-fact like, "She's been in labor for at least 18 hours so far. How did anyone not notice?"
Charles just shrugged his shoulders because he honestly didn't know how she could have been in labor and not known it. "She said her lower back was aching, but didn't mention any pains," he responded.
"A silent labor," the midwife shook her head. "Well, it won't be long now." She turned her attention back to Lady Mary and said, "Push my lady, push."
With one final push, the baby was delivered and let out a thunderous cry. Mary collapsed back into the pillows, exhausted. "Is the baby alright?" She asked.
"Yes, my lady," the midwife said, "He's perfectly fine and as healthy a boy as I have ever seen."
"A boy?" The shock in Charles' voice was obvious as he spoke. "I have a son?"
"You do indeed, my lord," the older woman replied. She held the baby up for everyone in the room to see, but there was no doubt that Charles and Mary were the parents of a healthy baby boy, who strongly objected to being held in that manner by the cry that escaped his lungs. "The ladies will clean him up and bring him to you shortly. I will see to your wife."
Charles nodded, glanced at Mary, who smiled at him through her exhaustion, before falling asleep. Charles couldn't believe his fortune. He had a son, and the most beautiful wife in the world, who lay on her bed sleeping as peacefully as an angel. He was truly a blessed man.
August 11, 1553
Westminster Palace
The Royal Courtroom
The Courtroom at Westminster was packed with people from all walks of life. The nobles were in their galley seats at the front, followed by the rest of the Lords of the realm seated in the back, and the commoners were watching from their spots in the balconies. This was the day that had been on everyone's mind since the Grey's were arrested for high treason; for the attempted murder of Prince Edward. Lord Henry Grey entered the courtroom to stand accused of the crime, while his wife and daughters were under arrest in the Tower, waiting his fate to see where theirs stood. He took his place at the bar and waited for the trial to begin.
Five judges sat in precedence over the trial. All were men of honor and nobles of the realm. All knew Grey, but none liked him. Grey knew this meant his outcome was bleak, but he didn't really care at this point. The only thing that still vexed him was that he failed in teaching that Royal upstart a lesson in manners towards the Lord of the realm, for Prince Edward had not died, but Grey knew that his own time on earth was short.
The chief magistrate spoke from his chair on the dais, "You are arraigned by this commission on the charges of high treason. How do you answer those charges?"
"Not guilty," Grey responded. "There is no one who saw the alleged crime. There is no one who can say that I was there when our Prince was assaulted. How then, can I be accused of something that no one saw happen?"
Over the next few hours, witnesses were brought in to testify that Grey was angry over the Prince's rejection of his daughter, that they had heard him call the Prince names and berate his own daughter for not being pretty enough or well-behaved enough to capture the Prince's heart, and that Grey had been drinking later that night and bragged about what he had done. However, all of this evidence was circumstantial at best. Grey's hopes began to raise once the last known witness had been called.
The doors behind the dais swung open and the herald announced, "His Majesty, King Henry IX, King of England, Ireland, and France!" As the King walked in, everyone in the courtroom stood and then bowed. Grey, not wanting to anger the King, for whom he held nothing but contempt at this point, did the same.
"Magistrates of the court," King Henry began, "although highly unusual, I have one additional witness to add to the list. I do apologize for this late addition, but the witness has vital information concerning the matter. However, this witness will not be brought into the courtroom for reasons that shall be revealed once the verdict is read."
The magistrates looked at one another and then at the King. "As you wish, your Majesty. We shall adjourn to hear from this witness."
Nearly an hour had passed before the magistrates returned to the courtroom with the King.
"Lord Henry Grey, do you have anything to say in your defense?" the Chief Magistrate asked to the accused man.
"I would like to say that I find it highly unjust that I was not able to confront the witness that the King brought forth at the last moment and have no knowledge of who this witness is or what lies they might have spoken. However, I did not commit the crime I am accused of, and if sentenced here today, then it will be on your consciences, and that of the King, that you executed an innocent man," Grey stated.
"I will now charge this commission to return a true verdict on whether or not the evidence speaks to the guilt or innocence of the accused," said the Chief Magistrate.
"Guilty."
"Guilty."
"Guilty."
"Guilty."
"Lord Henry Grey, you have been found guilty of the crime that you have been accused of, the attempted murder of His Royal Highness, the Prince Edward. Your sentence is thus; you are to be drawn on a hurdle from the city of London to Tyburn, there to be hanged until you are half dead. After that, cut down alive, your bowels to be taken out of your body and be burnt before you, your privy parts cut off, your head cut off and your body to be divided in four parts. Let your execution serve as a warning to the world, those who commit treason against our King and his family will be whole-heartedly punished. This court is adjourned."
The guards seized Grey by each arm and began to drag him out of the courtroom, when he saw the King open the doors at the back of the dais. His wife, Lady Catherine Grey, entered the court with many gasps from the crowd. Grey, himself, fell to his knees. "Catherine!" he shouted. "How could you do this to me? I am your lord, your husband! God will see you burn in hell for your disobedience!"
"Gentlemen of the court," King Harry began, "This woman, Lady Catherine Grey, came forward and told us the plot her husband had against the Prince, once our beloved Edward had rejected Lady Jane as a possible wife. Although Prince Edward acknowledges the injustice that was done to Lady Jane's reputation as a result, he meant no harm. He was truly convinced that his life belonged to God, and not to an earthly marriage, and as many of us have in our youth, he acted rashly. Henry Grey refused to act as a grown man would, with temperance and patience, and took it upon himself to teach the Prince, and by default, the Royal family a lesson in manners by stabbing the Prince in the hallway after the meeting was over. Henry Grey also forced his daughter, Lady Jane, to divert the Prince's attention while the deed was done, under fear for her own life and that of her sisters'. It is therefore my decision to pardon Lady Catherine and her daughters in any wrongdoing in this matter because they were only acting as any women would out of fear for their lives and the lives of those they love. It is also my decision that Lady Catherine will be rewarded for the courage she has shown in coming forward with the information she had concerning the Prince's stabbing at a later date."
As Grey was dragged from the courtroom with his mouth wide open in shock, Catherine looked at her husband for the last time and smiled, knowing she and her daughters were finally free of his tyranny.
August 12, 1553
North Rhine-Westphalia, Germany
Burg Castle
William I of Cleves, younger brother of Queen Anne of England, was sitting in his study, doing some thinking. He wanted to strengthen his ties with England again. He was happy that his sister was Queen and had borne her husband six healthy children, but with he wanted to secure an alliance for the next generation.
William was so preoccupied by his thoughts, that he didn't hear his wife, Christina of Denmark, walk in. As the granddaughter of Queen Juana, she was very valuable, despite her aging father spending his life in a monastery in Castile. William and Christina had a happy marriage and she was currently expecting their fifth child, that was due in the New Year. William also couldn't help but be attracted to his wife, with her dark auburn hair and clear blue eyes, she was the spitting image of her late mother, Isabella of Austria, Queen of Denmark.
Christina walked up and kissed William, before sitting in front of him, resting her hand on her four month pregnant stomach.
"Is something troubling you, Husband?" she asked.
William sighed.
"I want to strengthen our relationship with England. However, I am having a hard time wondering how. " he admitted.
Christina smiled at her husband.
"Has Anne wondered anything? I'm sure she could think of something." she said.
William shook her head.
"No and since her son was nearly killed, I really don't want to pester her with any ideas. I was thinking of having her daughter, Margaret, marry our eldest son, Gerhart. He's only six years older than her and I'm sure my brother in law would have no problem sending military help if we need it, once his child is here. Also the dowry I'm sure would be wonderful." he said.
Christina shook her head.
"Forgive me for speaking out of my station, William, but it isn't possible. Gerhart and Princess Margaret are first cousins and the Church forbids that close of marriage, unless the Pope gives a dispensation for it. Since your relationship with the Church isn't good right now, we would be denied a dispensation by His Holiness. If only we could stop people from practicing that heresy here, then maybe it would work." she said.
William glared at her.
"I will not tell people how to worship the Lord. I was raised a Lutheran, but I chose to return to the Church upon my father's death, which is the only way I was able to marry you two years later. My sister, Sybil, was also a proud Lutheran, until she married Prince Arthur, Duke of Albany. Anne and our younger sister, Amalia, are Catholics, just like our beloved mother was. There is no division in our family. I am a Duke and if people want to worship our Lord God on their own way, who am I to stop them?" he asked.
Christina closed her eyes. Since her father was deposed when she was only a toddler and her mother was dead by the time she was five years old, Christina had grown up in Spain, alongside her brother, John and sister, Dorothea. All three had grown up to be fervent, devout Catholics under their grandmother and uncle, The Holy Roman Emperor. However, Christina wanted her marriage to be happy, so she walked on careful ground.
"I am merely stating that getting permission will be difficult, my love. Maybe we can try a relative of the King, that isn't so important and maybe won't require a dispensation from the Pope." she suggested.
William smiled. Unlike most men, he loved that his wife was more diplomatically intelligent than himself.
"That's a wonderful idea. I will send a letter to my sister and see who she thinks will be important enough for our boy." he said, as he began writing a letter.
Christina smiled, stood up, kissed William and then departed from the room, not wishing to disturb him any further.
Palace of Lisbon
Lisbon, Portugal
Queen Maria of Portugal's Chambers
Mary was reading one of her favorite books, while being watched by Martim Guerra, her husband's nephew and one of the best guards in Portugal. In the few weeks, the young man had become fond of his charge and she had become fond of him.
Mary looked up.
"Have you read at all lately, Martim?" she asked.
Martim shook his head.
"I normally don't have time for pleasure reading, Your Majesty." he said.
Mary offered him a seat.
"Sit and read with me please." she said.
Martim looked appalled.
"Your Majesty, I can't sit. My job is to guard you." he said.
Mary gave Martim a stern look.
"I insist. If it makes you feel better, keep your sword by your side." she said, as she returned to her book.
Martim sat down and began reading a book. Since he was the son of an Infanta of Portugal, he and his siblings had a remarkable education, which included reading.
Mary smiled at him.
"I hear your sister, Sancha, will he getting married soon. Are you excited for her?" she asked.
Martim smiled and nodded.
"Absolutely. She is most excited about her marriage. I am happy that she will only be in Castile and I can still see her. My sister, Rosaria, is the Grand Duchess of Tuscany and I doubt I will see her again any time soon." he said, with a sad look on his face.
Mary gave her nephew a look of sympathy. It was well-known in the Court that the Guerra was very close, especially after their family was lost at sea three years ago. It was thinking that Mary had an idea.
"Martim, why don't I talk to the King and see if he will let you escort your sister to Castile? I'm sure Sancha will love you being there for her." she said.
Martim looked at his aunt, in shock.
"I would love that. Ate you sure the King would allow something like that? I mean I just started guarding you not long ago." he said.
Mary nodded her head.
"I am sure he won't mind. You won't be gone long. I'll talk to him tonight." she said.
Martim smiled.
"Thank you, Your Majesty." he said.
Mary nodded, before returning to her reading.
*If you do not want to read about the execution of Henry Grey, please skip to the next scene... the following scene contains graphic descriptions of a historical drawing and quartering*
August 18, 1553
London and Tyburn
Henry Grey stepped out from the Tower of London, where he had been housed for the past week, into the sunlight, the guilty verdict of the court still echoing in his mind. He could still see his wife emerge from the back room, revealing that she was the one who had testified against him. Sure, he had never been the kindest of husbands to her, and he could have respected her more, but he justified the years of harsh treatment with this singular act of betrayal.
The crowds had gathered in London outside of the gates to throw vegetables and fruit at him as he was tied and then dragged to his place of execution. Drawing and quartering was the harshest of deaths, but it befitted a criminal who had betrayed the crown, and his attempted murder of a Prince of England was definitely treason, despite the fact that Prince Edward had embarrassed his family publicly by rejecting his daughter as his wife. Knowing that the Prince had rejected the Lady Jane would have caused her to have difficulty finding another husband of means, but what did that matter to Henry Grey now? He was condemned to die, and die he would, before the day was done.
The guards led him outside of the walls of the Tower and to a cart, waiting for him in the street. He was pushed onto the cart with force enough to cause lacerations to his skin from the rough wood. There was not even a blanket provided to ease his final ride. Grey should have expected as much, after all, these Tudor Kings and Princes were nothing more than Welsh upstarts whose ancestor had the fortune of defeating a real King on the battlefield. He did not dare say these words, not yet. They would be reserved for his final statement, as was the custom when a noble was to die.
As he was tied to the cart, his hands and feet sprawled to the corners, the people who had gathered began to chant "Traitor" and one older man threw a chamber pot on him. Henry flinched when the foul-smelling liquid hit his face, but there was little he could do about that form of disrespect from a commoner. Once the guards were settled and he was secured, the last journey of his life began. It was seven in the morning.
The Chaplain of the Tower walked along-side the cart, speaking about sin and treason, and asking Henry to repent and to make himself right with both the King and God before he was lost to eternity. Henry didn't care if the King forgave him or not. The King had sentenced him to death for extracting justice for his jilted daughter, which should have been a crime itself, but Henry knew full well that even if it was a crime, the Prince would not have suffered for it. No, Henry knew that only Jane would suffer the humiliation of the Prince's rejection of her, especially now that he was going to die, thanks to her mother.
Along the path to his death, the cart stopped at Saint Sepulchre's Church where the bells were ringing for the prisoner, as they often did on hanging days. The priest stepped out of the magnificent building and made a simple statement to the crowds. "All good people," he began, "pray for this sinner who is going to his death, for it is he that our great bells toll for this day. He has committed the crime of treason and attempted to end the life of our fair Prince Edward, who, thanks be to God, has recovered soundly. This man is also guilty of the sins of pride and vanity in thinking that his child is worthy of the favor our beloved royal family has shown. Let us offer up our prayers for this poor, wretched man, with a moment of silence." Everyone around him bowed their heads. When the prayers were finished, the driver continued the journey to Tyburn, where he, like so many others, would die.
Because of his condemnation of High Treason, and the fact that the royal family could not chance his escape, he had been denied the traditional stops at the inn at St. Giles and then the Mason's Arms tavern. They arrived at Tyburn at 11:30 in the morning, instead of the usual noon. There, thousands had gathered to witness his death; a traitor's death. They would not leave disappointed.
Grey was removed from the cart shortly after their arrival, and he stood before the legendary gallows that Henry VIII had built in 1537 to hang Sir Nicholas Tempest, his own bow bearer for heresy. He felt the noose being placed around his neck and his hands retied behind his back. His feet were released from their holds on the cart and were also bound to each other to prevent his escape should the rope break. Henry looked up as someone approached him and was met with the face of his brother-in-law, Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk. "Charles?" Henry questioned.
"You, sir, are a plague upon the earth and on this family. How dare you treat my sister and her daughters with the disrespect you have shown them? How dare you force Jane to watch you stab a young boy who made a mistake in haste," Charles spat at him. "You deserve this, and you deserve to know that my sister will be free of your tyrannical rule once you are dead." With that, Charles turned and walked away, never once looking back on the man who had been his brother-in-law for almost as long as he could remember. Henry laid there, still on his cart, in shock.
"Henry Grey," the master of ceremonies began," you have been brought here to die for the crime of High Treason against your King and your Prince. Have you any last words before your sentence is carried out?"
Henry thought for a moment about the other executions he had witnessed, and how the condemned had always confessed right before the moment of their death. He would not go down that way. "People of England," he started, "I have come here to die, by order of the law and the King. But my death is not just. I did not commit treason against the Prince, but sought to teach him the lesson that his father failed to; one of humility and respect. Being royal does not make you above the law of God, but our young Prince Edward seems to believe that he is, as he rejected my daughter in public, regardless of his intentions. It wasn't so long ago that our royal family, who has condemned me to die, was nothing more than a family from Wales who happened to have a man in their midst that was a better soldier than our late King, Richard III. It was skill, not right, that brought these Tudor Kings to our throne, and by that right, they will lose their claim, leaving our England to the hands of God once more. So as my final words as a condemned man, I say this to you, the people of England . . . Damn the Tudors and their offspring, and may the pride and arrogance that courses through their veins be their undoing."
The people in the crowd were silent. None had ever heard a prisoner speak in such a manner. Finally, after a few moments, the master of ceremonies had gathered his composure and read the following statement, "Henry Grey, you have been found guilty of the crime of High Treason, and have been condemned here to die by being drawn and quartered. The King, His Majesty Henry IX, King of England, Ireland, and France, has not commuted this sentence, therefore you will be drawn and quartered here, this day. Furthermore, you are hereby stripped of all titles and nobility granted you by the crown. You will die here, as the commoner, Henry Grey."
The signal was given and the cart moved forward, lifting Henry from the place he lay into the air by his neck, until his body was entirely off the ground and his feet were dangling in the air. He was lowered to the ground after about ten minutes and then raised again after a break lasting sixty seconds.
This went on for about an hour. Once the hanging portion of the sentence was thought to have been thoroughly executed to satisfy the King, the master of ceremonies motioned for the guards to release him from the noose and bring him to the table that had been placed near a fire.
The executioner, who had done these things before, proceeded to remove a poker from the fire and plunged the heated iron into Grey's lower stomach, creating an opening in his flesh while cauterizing the wound so that the prisoner would not bleed to death while the remaining tasks were performed. Grey screamed at the insertion, like a woman who was experiencing childbirth for the first time. His bowels were removed from his body through this opening and were present to Grey, whose eyes displayed fear and shock that this was really happening, despite his continued claims of innocence. Once his bowels were tossed into the fire, Grey felt the seams of his trousers being sliced, along with several nicks in his skin from the blade. With a blade that had been pulled from the fire, his testicles were removed with one swift stroke and then the remainder of his manhood was sliced from his body, both held high for the crowds to see. At this point, Grey was weak physically, and emotionally from the realization that his death was coming.
Without bothering to replace his pants, the guards dragged him from the table and to the block where his head was forced down. He looked into the crowd and found the eyes of his brother-in-law, who showed no sorrow for what he was witnessing. Grey closed his eyes and then felt a sharp pain in his neck, before feeling nothing more.
Though Grey was dead, the task was not over. His body was then placed back on the table and his arms and legs were separated from his torso. His head had been taken in a basket to be placed on London Bridge, as was the custom, to warn others not to cross the King's will. His torso was placed in the roaring fire and his limbs were on their way to various parts of the kingdom. It was a gruesome exhibition.
Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, looked at the mess that was his brother-in-law's execution scene. As he turned to fetch his horse, he smiled, knowing the joy that his sister would experience when he told her that she was a widow and finally free from her tyrannical husband after so many years of being nothing more than a man's property.
Windsor Palace
King Henry XI's Privy Chamber
Several hours after Harry heard the cannon fire, that signaled that Henry Grey was finally, dead, he sent for his son, Prince Edward. Harry was finally at peace, now that the man who nearly took his son from the world, had finally paid for his crime. Harry also hopped that no other person would commit such a terrible crime again in his reign.
Suddenly, his privy doors opened and Prince Edward walked in. The sixteen year old Prince was now fully recovered, but he now had a scar on his abdomen that would forever be permanent. He had also been experiencing nightmares, but was healthy nonetheless.
Harry smiled at his son and stood up to hug him.
"How are you, son?" he asked.
Edward smiled.
"I'm alive, Father. However, I am saddened by Lord Grey's death. Did he deserve such a brutal death?" he asked.
Harry sighed.
"Edward, the laws of this land were made to protect the Royal Family and England's people. If I don't follow the law, I can't expect other people to. I am not a brutal man, but I will not have tyranny and plots in these lands." he said.
Edward nodded.
"I know, Father. I just wished I could have asked for mercy. I just hope that he repented and God had mercy on his soul." he said, as he made the sign of the Cross.
Harry smiled at his son's forgiving nature, but he also knew that too much forgiveness could be someone's downfall. He, as King of England, couldn't have let what Henry Grey did go unpunished. It would have sent a message to other rebels that he forgave Treason and that wasn't the case. When it came to the safety and well-being of his family, he would be unyielding and unforgiving to acts of violence or betrayal.
Suddenly, a guard called out:
"THE LADIES CATHERINE AND JANE GREY!"
Catherine and Jane Grey walked in, side by side. Both women were wearing black gowns and very little jewelry. Jane turned a light shade of red when she realized Edward was in the room.
Both women bowed. Catherine spoke first.
"Your Majesty, I thank you for your love, mercy and protection during this difficult time. I trust the execution went smoothly?" she asked.
Harry nodded.
"Yes, it did. Your husband died some hours ago. I summoned you from the Tower to let you know, that you are free, without any pending charges. Your late husband, however, was nothing when he died. His titles and everything he owned now belongs to the Crown." he said.
Catherine, afraid of this answer nodded her head. She was now worried about the inheritance if her three daughters. Her dead husband was still causing problems with their family, even after death.
Edward smiled at Jane.
"Lady Jane, how are you doing?" he asked.
Jane held her head down.
"I'm fine, Your Highness. I am pleased to see you in such good health." she said.
Edward smiled and made the sign of the Cross.
"The Lord blesses me everyday." he said.
Suddenly, Jane burst into tears and threw herself at Edward's feet, to everyone's surprise.
She looked up at him.
"Your Highness, please forgive me for my father's actions. I take God as my witness that I never intended to harm you. I only participated, out if fear for my mother and my poor, defenseless sisters. I had no other choice. I will forever feel the guilt of what he did. I'm thankful that your father, The King, had him executed. I can't bear the guilt anymore. I know the same fires from Hell, where my father currently burns for eternity, will one day consume me." she said, as she began to cry more.
Edward kneeled gently and took a hold of Jane and stood to her feet. He gave her a kind and genuine smile.
"Sweet Lady Jane, I have forgiven you and so has God. You will never feel the fires of Hell. You are a kind, loving lady. You risked your life, for the safety of your family. You are courageous and full of love. However, even though I was attacked, I must apologize if I humiliated you. I stand by my decision of remaining unmarried, but I regret on how I announced it. I hope you can forgive me." he said.
Jane smiled.
"There's nothing to forgive, Your Highness." she said.
Before Edward could say anything else, Harry cleared his throat.
"I'm glad you two have made your amends, but I must talk to Lady Catherine about something very important. Lady Have, I hope you pay attention." he says sternly.
The two sixteen year olds grew silent, while King Harry addressed Lady Catherine.
"My dear cousin, Catherine. You've done what most wives would never do: You revealed his wrong doing and did the right thing by my family. I will be eternally grateful for you for doing that. You protected your family, like a true soldier. However, you also knew that with your late husband dying as a traitor, that your family would basically lose everything, as is the law of the land. Thankfully, you come from a rich family yourself. However, I don't think you deserve to have your brother support you and your children for the rest of your days. Therefore, as King of England, Ireland and France, I hereby bestow upon you, in your own legitimate right, the title of Marquess of Pembroke. With this title, you will have Pembroke Castle. It is a large castle, but I'm sure you can manage. Your income will be 50,000 pounds a year and as a good gesture for your good selfless deed, I will pay for any repairs that need to be done to your new home. Since you have no male heirs, I will make sure that women can inherit your title upon your death. If there is no male heir present, your title will pass down to your eldest daughter, who in this case, is our beautiful Lady Jane." he said with a smile.
Catherine and Jane were both in tears. Catherine sank into a deep bow.
"Oh, Your Majesty, I thank you so much. You are forever a kind, gentle and sovereign lord." she said.
Harry took Catherine's hand.
"You proved your undying devotion to my family. This is just a token of our thank you to what you've done for is, dear cousin." he said.
It was at that moment, that after twenty years of uncertainty and unhappiness, Lady Catherine Grey smiled a true smile. She finally felt free once more.
August 30, 1553
Holyrood Palace, Scotland
The Ballroom
"No, no, no, no, no, Your Majesty," the dancing master, Sir Liam McDougal, said, stopping the musician once again. "You must get it right. The Galliard will be one of the first dances you perform with your husband, the Prince of Wales, once you are married and the steps must be exact. Didn't they tell you that His Highness was an accomplished dancer?"
"Yes, Sir Liam, they did," the young Scottish Queen replied, "but this dance is horribly complicated. Can't we do something else at our reception?"
"It is tradition in the English court, your Grace. You MUST learn it, and you MUST perform it well, or you will be mocked relentlessly by the court."
Ten-year-old Mary, Queen of Scotland, sighed at the words as he spoke them. Why the English found it necessary to dance these complicated steps she would never understand. The pace of the dance wasn't the problem, but she felt as though her feet would never master the movements. They were nothing like her beloved Scottish jigs that the court at Holyrood Palace enjoyed at their festive occasions.
"Come here, my darling," a voice from the darkness called.
Mary turned around to see her grandmother, Dowager Queen Margaret, step from the shadows where she had been watching the lesson. Mary ran to the older woman and hugged her, breaking protocol, before her grandmother could bow to her.
"The steps are not that difficult if you think of them as parts of a whole instead of the whole itself," the older woman said. "When I first came to Scotland as a bride, I thought I would never master the jigs that you so enjoy, but the Galliard, that I could do. Luckily, the dancing master then was patient and kind and broke the jigs down for me so I could learn the individual steps." Margaret scowled at Sir Liam for not thinking to do it that way. "Watch."
Margaret took to the dance floor, motioning to Liam to join her. He called for the Musician to start the music again, and Margaret, though typically ladylike in all things, hiked up the bottom of her dress so Mary would be able to see her feet, and tied it in a knot. This caused the young Queen to giggle, which earned her a scornful glance from her grandmother.
The Dowager Queen and Sir Liam danced through the sequence once and then stopped. Mary was watching her grandmother closely, trying to follow what the older woman was doing. Margaret then turned to her granddaughter and broke down the steps into fours, which Mary copied, having little trouble with the slower instructions.
"Beautifully done," Margaret stated. "Now, put them together."
Sir Liam started the music again, and together Mary and her grandmother repeated the steps that Margaret had just taught her. Sir Liam was impressed with Mary's progress and noted to continue the lessons in slower steps. He was about to start the musician again when he heard a wheezing noise from behind him and a thud. Quickly turning around, he saw the Dowager Queen on her knees behind him, clutching her chest and the young Queen about to panic over her grandmother's state. He motioned for the guard to bring him a chair and helped the older woman into it, as Mary ran out the door yelling to the remaining guards to bring the physicians and her mother.
Margaret smiled at Sir Liam as she sat in the chair, thought it was difficult to breathe. Silently, she prayed that God would graciously spare her life until her beloved Mary was married to Prince William and she could go to her eternal rest knowing that the two nations she loved were united at last.
September 4, 1553
Border of Aragon and Navarre
Queen Juana of Castile and Aragon's Tent
Juana, Queen of Castile and Aragon, stared at the map before her on the table, studying it, as though it would somehow give her the answers she needed. The tree lines were the biggest problem in her plan, but how could they work around them? As a woman and a mother, she hated to see these soldiers go off to fight a battle that wasn't thought out, knowing that it was likely they would die. As a Queen, she understood the sacrifice was necessary for the security of both of her realms. The Navarre border was quicksand and if they did not capture it, any chance of winning this war would be lost.
Carlos opened the flaps to their command center and came rushing in. Juana turned her attention from the maps to whatever it was that her son and co-ruler had to say, knowing he wouldn't barge in like that unless it was urgent.
"Mother . . ." he breathlessly began, breaking all formal protocol in these matters.
"My dear son, please, slow down. Nothing will happen in the few moments you need to catch your breath," the aging Queen replied with concern in her voice. Carlos was her son, but he was a great-grandfather and his age was catching up to him.
Carlos smiled at his mother's concern and did as she asked so he didn't alarm her any further with his health. "One of our companies has fallen in the tree line here," he pointed to her map. "The word is that there are no survivors."
"What a shame," Juana said with tears swelling in her voice. "Which company was it?" She noticed the reluctance of her son to answer her, as he looked at the ground. "Carlos?"
"It was Juan's company, mother. It was my son's."
The aged Queen crossed herself and the dropped to her knees to pray for the life of her grandson. Carlos joined his mother in prayer. 'Juan couldn't be dead; he just couldn't be,' Carlos thought as he finished his prayers. His son had his whole life in front of him. He was about to be married. Surely God did not have this in mind for the young Infante, no matter what his past transgressions were.
"Fetch the physicians!" came a shout from outside the command tent. "Hurry!"
Juana and Carlos both rose and exited the tent to see what was going on. Upon their appearance at the doors, the guard approached mother and son, and bowed. "Majesties," he said, "they are bringing in the causalities from this morning's battle. Those who have been killed are being laid out on the field. The wounded are being brought to the main tent where the physicians will see to them immediately."
Juana nodded at the guard, unable to speak. Carlos, however, looked at the guard and asked, "My son, the Infante Juan, have they found him yet?"
"Si, your majesty. The Infante is wounded, but not severely. His arm is being stitched and bandaged as we speak and his other scrapes are being attended to by the doctors," the guard informed them.
Tears streamed down the older woman's face. Her grandson was not badly injured. Stitches and scrapes were nothing serious. She crossed herself again, as did Carlos, and silently thanked God for Juan's safety and for sparing his life. "And the other members of our family in the unit?"
"Most are fine, your Majesty," the guard began, then he hesitated, looking from Juana to Carlos, "but . . ."
"But?" Carlos questioned, wondering what the grave news was that the young man was afraid to speak.
"His Lordship, the Marquess of Moya, was lost to us. He apparently stood his ground in the midst of the battle, allowing the others to escape. As he was turning to leave himself, one of the other soldiers saw the Marquess take two arrows to the shoulder, causing him to flinch in pain from the penetration and he turned his back to the other shots that were incoming. They hit him in the back and the head. The soldier saw the Marquess fall and tried to help him, but there were more arrows flying towards the area where his Lordship had fallen to his knees. The soldier then saw an arrow go through the Marquess' neck and saw him fall to the ground with his eyes wide open. He said he knew the Marquess was gone at that point."
"Dios mio!" Juana exclaimed. "My poor Isabella. She has lost four husbands now, and she is still so young."
Carlos crossed himself and then looked at his mother. "Madre, I want to check on Juan and then, with your permission, I would like to ride to Castile to inform Isabella myself. She shouldn't hear this from anyone but family."
"I agree, go, but return safely my son."
Carlos bowed to his mother and then headed to the tent where his son was being cared for by the camp physicians.
Juana stood firm, with tears rolling down her cheeks, and wondered how many more they would lose before the French gave up their incessant struggle for more land and more power. King Henri was fierce, but he was not the child of Ferdinand and Isabella, the Catholic monarchs. He had no right to this land and Juana was determined that her next move would be one that would capture the attention of this French King and make him firmly understand that she was the rightful ruler of Navarre. Her father had seen to that decades ago, and it was about time that the French honored that victory.
A/N I know, I know that I said 1553 will end in this chapter, but the next chapter will most definitely be the end of the current year lol. Just for the record, there will be explicit scenes in chapters to come. This is historical ffiction, so certain issues may come up, so I hope you are all comfortable with that. I hope you all liked the great scenes in the chapters, since I have a wonderful assistant helping me and that's why the story is great again. Please Read and Review and Chapter 32 will be out soon!
