Chapter 58
Here's the new chapter! I know most of you who read the previous Chapter are probably still a little sad about what happened, but hopefully you will forgive me for all the tears. This Chapter we will be meeting someone new to the story. Also, just in case some of you are wondering, yes we have alot of characters, but they are essential and will play parts in the story. I hope you all love the storylines that will be coming up soon. Please Read and Review and enjoy Chapter Fifty-Eight!
1 May 1560
Ribiera Palace, Lisbon, Portugal
Carlos de Aviz, King of Portugal, was meeting with his council in his study. Something had to be done in light of the situation, if only these old men would open their eyes to reality, then the matter could be solved quickly. Unfortunately, it was unlikely for that to happen. They were too set in their old-fashioned ideas.
The last few months had been tragic for his family. His only surviving son, Duarte, Prince of Portugal, had caught the influenza and died, along with his younger sister, Cristina, and his only child, Joanna. Some of the servants' families were also affected by the illness, making it even worse. Now, there was a succession crisis in Portugal, and King Carlos had to come up with a solution that would not see his family lose their place as monarchs. The only hope was to get the council to realize that women could effectively rule a nation.
The eldest surviving daughter of the King and Queen of Portugal was the Infanta Catarina, Duchess of Franco. She was twenty-two years old and had been married for nearly six years, with a healthy son and daughter to her credit. Her husband was a member of the Spanish royal family, being the son of the late Holy Roman Emperor, Charles V, and a man of good standing in Europe, despite his mistakes in the past when it came to his marriage to the Infanta. The Infante Juan, Duke of Franco, had proven himself a capable military leader during the Spanish war with France, and he had proven himself to his cousin, Queen Elizabeth of Navarre long before the crisis in Portugal. Carlos saw no reason why Catarina shouldn't be allowed to rule. He just had to change the minds of his council.
"Gentlemen," the King said once all of the members of the council were gathered and seated, "we need to address the matter concerning the potential succession crisis that we are now faced with in the aftermath of my only son's death."
"Agreed, your Majesty," one of his advisors said. "Despite the fact that our beloved Prince died so recently, it is better to get the issue settled so the people are not confused."
"What do you propose, your Majesty?" another man asked.
"As you know, Duarte was my only surviving son, and his only child was a girl," the King reiterated. "I have three daughters, one who is of age and married, with a son and daughter of her own. My parents' sons have also all been called to God, and my sisters' sons were excluded when Manuel became King." The council all nodded, knowing the history well. "The only option, unless we want to dig through the entire history of the Portuguese royal family, or unless we want to appoint an heir to the throne without royal blood, would be to allow a female to take the throne."
The councilmen all began talking at once. King Carlos raised his hands. "Gentlemen," he said. "Please, talking all at once will not accomplish the task at hand."
"Sire, females ruling Portugal would end in disaster."
"I don't agree, sir," said Lord John Braganza, Duke of Braganza. "Other nations have had female monarchs, granted with conditions, but still, none have fallen into ruin because of it."
"What conditions, Lord Braganza?"
"Scotland has a female monarch now," John pointed out. "Queen Mary has been ruling with a regent since she was an infant, and nothing has ruined the Scottish people."
"Yes, but she had a regent."
"Her regent was also a woman, who had learned to rule as a Princess of England, then through her husband, the late King James IV," John countered. "I don't think anyone here would speak against the late Margaret, Dowager Queen of Scots." No one said a word. No one would dare.
"But Queen Mary was also married to his royal Highness, Francis, now King Consort of Scotland, before her regency was dismissed," someone said. "She wasn't allowed to rule on her own as a female."
"That's not the point," Lord John said. "The point is that women CAN rule with the proper education, even if the woman in question is married."
Everyone was silent for several minutes before the King spoke. "Gentlemen, my eldest daughter, the Infanta Catarina, Duchess of Franco, has been educated to rule. Her mother and I saw to it that ALL of our children received the proper education for a potential monarch. She has been married to the Duke of France, a Spanish Infante, for six years, and his record as a military commander stands. She has a son of her own already, and Lord Sebastian is a healthy young boy. There is no reason to think he will not survive, but even if the worst happened, Catarina and Juan are young and will have more sons."
"I think the Infanta would make an excellent Queen, your Grace," Lord John said. "Plus, and forgive me your Majesty, but this needs to be said; she has many years to learn at your side, as does her husband, God willing." The council nodded at the last statement. "I propose that we adjourn for the afternoon and deliberate on the matter. We should meet again at the end of May to vote." Everyone agreed to that plan and the council was dismissed. Lord John Braganza remained behind to talk to the King.
"Hopefully, the old fools will see reason, your Majesty," Lord John said once they were alone. "The Infanta would be a wonderful Queen to the people, and she has always been loved."
King Carlos nodded. If they didn't, he wasn't sure what would happen in to Portugal, but a succession crisis was an open invitation to war, and the last thing he wanted was a civil war devastating his homeland all because some men couldn't see that women were just as capable of leading a nation into the future.
8 May 1560
Hampton Court, England
Queen Lillian of England's Bedchamber
Queen Lillian was trying to enjoy her breakfast. She was feeling slightly ill, but she knew she had to finish her food. She had purged her stomach last night and she knew that her husband, King Harry, would be upset at her if she did not try to eat something.
Her door opened and her two principal ladies-in-waiting, Lady Mary Tudor, Duchess of Suffolk and her older sister, Lady Charlotte Howard, walked in.
Lady Mary smiled and curtsied.
"Good morning, Your Majesty. Did you sleep well?" she asked.
Lillian shook her head.
"No, Lady Mary. I was tossing and turning most of the night." she said.
Lady Charlotte smirked.
"Did the King keep you up most of the night?" she asked.
Lady Mary looked at her sister, in slight outrage.
"Charlotte, how dare you?" she asked, as she elbowed her.
Lillian smiled. She actually liked and appreciated Charlotte's witty humor.
"It is fine, Lady Mary. No, I actually slept alone. I just do not feel well. I have been having trouble keeping food down." she said.
Lady Mary looked at Lillian.
"Do you need physician, Your Majesty?" she asked.
Lillian nodded.
"No. I believe I need midwife. I think I am with child again." she said.
The two sisters both smiled. They both knew how Queen Lillian loved being a mother to little Princess Mary and she secretly hoped that she and the King would have more children, despite the fact that King Harry had five surviving surviving children from his first marriage to the late Queen Anne.
Lady Charlotte curtsied.
"I shall fetch the midwife at once, Your Majesty." she said.
Lillian nodded, as Lady Charlotte left.
Queen Lillian was being examined by her midwife, hoping and praying that it would be the result she wanted. She was craving to have a second child. She was nearly twenty-seven years old and she did not want her little Mary to be her only child. She had asked for her husband.
The midwife smiled at the Queen.
"Your suspicions are correct, Your Majesty. You are definitely with child." she smiled.
Lillian looked up, in excitement.
"How far along am I?" she asked.
"You are just over a month with child. My guess is that you should be brought to childbed in January." she said.
Lillian smiled.
"Thank you for your services. You may see my comptroller to be compensated." she said.
The midwife nodded her head, curtsied and departed the room.
Lady Mary smiled at her Queen.
"Congratulations, Your Majesty. I will pray for the safe delivery of a healthy child." she said.
Lilian smiled.
"I am grateful for your prayers, Lady Mary." she said.
The door opened and King Harry walked, in wearing a big smile.
"Is it true? Are we actually expecting another child?" he asked.
Lillian smiled and nodded.
"Yes, Harry. I am with child. I will give birth in January." she said.
Harry laughed and hugged and kissed Lillian. He could not believe that Lillian was going to give him another child.
Lady Mary Brandon smiled. She bowed to the King and Queen and left the room. She felt that they needed to be alone.
15 May 1560
France
"I think it's time we went to breakfast," Mary Flemming announced after she finished pinning up the Queen's hair. "I'm starving."
Mary, Queen of Scots and Dauphine of France, didn't quite agree. Her stomach had been troubling her for days. "You go ahead," she told her ladies, "I think I'll read a bit before coming downstairs."
Her ladies curtsied and left the room. The Queen stood up, but immediately sat back down. She was lightheaded and nauseous again. It was the third time this week. Once she had regained her composure, she walked over to her desk and retrieved a book she had been reading on French history, then sat in her window seat and opened it. The sun felt good coming in the window, and she closed her eyes for a moment, only opening them when her chamber door was opened.
Mary Livingston, another of her ladies, had returned to fetch her shawl. "Are you alright your Majesty?" the girl asked.
Queen Mary just nodded, not wanting anyone to know she wasn't feeling well. "Why do you ask?"
"You've avoided breakfast for several days, and you seem to be out of sorts when you are asked too many questions at once," the girl responded.
"I've just been under the weather lately," the Queen of Scots replied.
The other Mary nodded and turned to leave, then stopped. "Could you be with child, your Grace?"
Queen Mary looked at her blankly. She hadn't even thought of the possibility until now, but it was possible. Her courses hadn't come for the past two months, and she was sick to her stomach a lot in the past few weeks. "Send for the court physician but ask discretely please. I do not want to get anyone's hopes up until I know for certain."
The girl curtsied and did as she was told, returning with the physician thirty minutes later. She went to her bed where the man could do his exam. Mary Livingston stayed with her during the process. He felt her stomach, then smiled.
"Your Majesty is indeed with child," the man said. "Given the size of your womb currently, I would guess that you will be brought to childbed in early January."
Mary sat up, ignoring the dizziness, and smiled. This was amazing news. She was carrying Francis' child and they had only been married for a little over a year. "Thank you," she said to the man, handing him some gold coins. He bowed and left the room. She looked at her lady.
"Fetch your King and bring him here immediately, Mary," she ordered. "Do not say a word of what you know. I want to tell him myself."
"Yes, your Grace," Mary said, curtsying and leaving the room once more.
Queen Mary walked over to the window and looked out. She couldn't believe it. She placed a hand protectively on her stomach and smiled as she looked down. No one, not even the Queen of Scotland herself could tell she was pregnant yet. Her stomach as still as flat as always. She started thinking about what their son would look like. She knew it was a boy. She didn't know how she knew that, but when she tried to make herself think of a daughter, she just couldn't.
Several minutes passed before her door opened again. Her husband, Francis, King of Scots and Dauphin of France, entered the room in a rush. "Mary?" he questioned. "Your lady said you needed me immediately. She said it was of the utmost importance."
Mary smiled and embraced him. "It is," she said. "Francis, you better sit down."
"Sit down?"
"Yes," she commanded, "sit."
He sat at her desk, wondering what this was all about.
"I've not been feeling well of late, and today, I saw the physician," Mary told him. Francis became anxious. He couldn't fathom the idea that something was wrong with his wife.
"What did he say was the problem?" Francis asked.
"Well, it's rather serious, I'm afraid," Mary told him, purposely delaying saying the words.
"Whatever it is darling, we will see it through together," Francis stood and took one of her hands. "What is it?"
Mary looked at her husband with a tear in her eye. "He told me that around November, you will have to learn to do things without me."
"What? Without you? Why?" Francis had a tone of nervousness in his voice. He couldn't believe it. Did this mean she was ill and was going to die?
"I'm afraid that I will be in confinement starting in November," Mary said. "I am with child, Francis, your child."
Francis looked at her, about to protest whatever she was going to tell him, but he stopped. The smile that appeared on his face was brighter than the sun, peering through the window. He stepped closer to her, placing a hand on her flat stomach. "A baby?"
"Yes," she replied.
"We're going to have a baby?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"Well, as sure as I can be. Of course, I guess the physician could be wrong, but he seemed rather sure of the outcome," she told him, laughing at his shock.
Francis fell to his knees in front of her. "Mary, you have made me the happiest man in the world," he exclaimed. "Not only have I found true love with my beautiful wife, not only am I the King of Scotland and the heir to the French throne, but to tell me that we are going to have a child together. . ." he paused, "I don't deserve this. God has blessed me in so many ways already, and now, a baby."
"I take it you are happy with the news then?" she teased.
"Of course, I am, my darling," he replied, kissing her stomach, then rising to kiss his wife softly. "How could I not be?"
Mary returned his kiss, then pulled away from him slightly. "When should we tell your parents?"
Francis thought for a moment. "Let's wait until the child has moved?" he asked, more than stated. "Not that I fear the worst, but I want to keep this moment to ourselves for just a little while."
Mary smiled at her husband. She nodded in agreement. Francis swooped her into his arms gently and placed her back on her bed, and the young couple spent the morning talking about their child and what he (or she) would be like, dreaming of a happier future than either of them could have imagined before that moment.
27 May 1560
Ribiera Palace, Lisbon, Portugal
The Gardens
Lord Manuel de Silva, the Prince of Eboli and Duke of Pastrana, was happy. He and Infanta Joanna were enjoying a picnic together. Although she was still wearing black in remembrance of the tragedies that had befallen her family, he had managed to make her smile and laugh.
Joanna looked at Manuel.
"You tell funny jokes, my Lord." she said.
Manuel rolled his eyes.
"I told you that you could use my Christian name." he said.
Joanna smiled.
"I apologize... Manuel." she said.
Manuel gently touched Joanna's hand.
"There is no need to apologize. I just want you to know that you do not have to be a Princess around me. It is one of the many reasons I am in love with you." he said.
Joanna looked at him, in surprise.
"You love me? It has not been long since we have known each other. I am sure you have paid court to other ladies. I have heard that you once had a mistress." she said.
Manuel sighed and nodded.
"I will not lie to you about my sinful past. As Duke of Eboli, I was curious about the land and traveled there. It was a quaint place. I decided to own a small castle. There was a woman of noble birth. Her name was Margherita and she was an illegitimate daughter of the head of the Colonna Family. She shared my bed and I believed that we were in love. However, I later discovered she was married and was the mother of two children. The pain
that I felt after that was horrible and I can not imagine how her poot husband felt with his wife making him a cuckold. I love you Joanna. You are beautiful, pure and the best company I could have ever asked for. I can not continue my life without you. I humbly ask you to allow me to ask the King for your hand in marriage." he said.
He turned away from her, expecting her to refuse. She was a beautiful Princess. He was not expecting her to ever have him. He knew she would probably marry some undeserving Prince from a faraway land.
Suddenly, Joanna touched his face and turned him towards her.
"I would be honored to be your wife, Manuel." she said.
Manuel smiled, which made Joanna smile at him. Her hazel eyes were captivating him. Before he knew what was happening, his lips were closing in on hers and they were both kissing each other. It was soft, but still was filled with love. His hands became lost in her long lustrous reddish-brown hair. They softly broke apart and kept their foreheads together and held hands. Joanna didn't know what her future would be like, but she prayed to God that this man would never change and she hoped to fall deeply in love.
31 May 1560
Ribiera Palace, Lisbon, Portugal
The Royal council of Portugal was gathered in the King's study to vote on the matter of succession. In the wake of the influenza epidemic, many families were facing loses of their heirs, but the loss of the Infante Duarte, Prince of Portugal, was devastating, as he was the only surviving son of King Carlos and Queen Mary. Now, they had to decide the fate of the nation, which was not an easy thing to do.
It had been brought to their attention that the eldest daughter of the King and Queen, the Infanta Catarina, was of age to rule, and she was married with children of her own to secure the line. It was on this matter that the council was focused, and whether or not Portugal would accept a ruling Queen, regardless of her status.
"Gentlemen," the King said, walking into his study, "I apologize for my tardiness. A matter kept me detained longer than it should have." The council all just nodded. Who wouldn't accept the apology of a King? "Please, let me hear what you have decided on the succession matter."
Lord John Braganza, as the wealthiest Lord at the table, stood. He bowed to the King. "Your Majesty, after much discussion and deliberation, the council of Portugal has decided to change the current succession laws to allow female rule under certain conditions."
"And these conditions are?" Carlos asked.
"First, and this is quite obvious, there must not be a male candidate that can clearly be identified in the current royal line," John said. "In the current situation, there is not. As your Majesty pointed out during our last meeting, your only surviving son died during the epidemic, and in the absence of any male children from any of your Majesty's brothers, and with the legal exclusion of your Majesty's sisters' sons, there is no clear heir who is male."
Carlos nodded. "Proceed."
"Second, in order for the female candidate to rule, she must be of at least eighteen years of age at the time of her succession to the throne," Lord John said, reading from the parchment in front of him. "No female candidate can have a regency that might unduly influence her rule." Carlos was okay with that condition; Catarina met it already.
"Third, any female heir presumptive must be married before she takes the throne," Lord John said. "This does not mean that a female cannot be declared heir presumptive before her ascension, but at the time of her coronation, she must be wed."
Carlos did not particularly like this requirement, but he could live with it. Catarina was already married, so it wouldn't affect her, but he didn't like the fact that it would potentially force other Princesses to rush into a marriage situation should they find themselves in a position to inherit the throne. "Can the coronation of an Infanta be delayed until a marriage can be arranged?"
"Yes, there are provisions that a betrothed Infanta of Portugal can delay her official coronation for up to one year provided that there are no objections by the groom's family," Lord John told him, reading from the parchment.
"Can the coronation also be delayed if the Infanta is not yet eighteen but will be within the year?" the King asked.
"Yes," Lord John replied. "There are provisions for extenuating circumstances, like the age matter, within the new laws."
"Forgive me your Majesty," another councilman said, "but the Infanta Catarina meets all of these requirements. Why are you asking about it as if she does not?"
"Gentlemen, a good ruler thinks to the future when deciding laws," Carlos informed the man, but also the entire council. "We may be deciding on whether or not the Infanta Catarina should become Princess of Portugal right now, but there may be a situation in the future, whether it be ten years from now or two hundred years from now, that might require these laws to be addressed once more. If we do our duty thoroughly, then the laws shouldn't have to be changed again. If we do not, then we may cause our descendants more grief, which would not reflect very well on our legacy." Many of the men seated around the table nodded, knowing that what the King said was true. "Now, are there any more conditions to a woman ruling our beloved nation?"
The men all shook their heads, knowing that the conditions set would suffice for the time being and well into the future, unless something changed drastically.
"Then shall we call for the vote?" the King suggested.
"All those in favor of the changes to the succession laws, aye," Lord John commanded. The vote was unanimous. "The ayes have it, Majesty."
King Carlos nodded. "All those in favor of the Infanta Catarina, Duchess of Franco, being declared heir apparent to Carlos, King of Portugal, aye," Lord John called out. Again, the vote was unanimous.
"From this day forward," Lord John announced, "let it be known that by a unanimous vote of those present here, the Infanta Catarina, Duchess of Franco, is hereby created and declared to be Princess of Portugal, heir apparent to his Majesty, King Carlos de Aviz."
1 June 1560
France
Mary, Queen of Scots, had a smile on her face that no one could ignore. The young Scottish queen had a secret. She looked radiant, and many people in French court wondered if their young queen-to-be could be with child, but no formal announcement had been made, so all they could do was guess.
Her husband, Francis, King Consort of Scotland and Dauphin of France, was talking with some nobles in his father's study, trying to prepare for the harvest in the fall and negotiating with them for food supplies that the castle would need for the winter. He was rather shocked when his wife walked in without knocking.
"Mary?" he questioned, asking the nobles to excuse him for a moment. "Is everything okay? Are you feeling alright?"
Mary was taken aback. "Of course," she replied. "Why would you think otherwise?"
"You don't typically enter a room with a closed door without knocking first or being announced?" he reminded her. Mary turned and looked at the door, then turned back to her husband, laughing.
"I'm sorry, Francis," she said, the smile still on her face. "I guess I just didn't think about it. I was just so excited."
This was not like Mary, to be so forgetful. "Are you sure that everything is ok?"
"Yes," she said, placing one hand over her nearly flat stomach. She drew closer to him and lowered her voice. "I just wanted to tell you that our child moved."
Francis looked down at his wife's stomach, then back into her lovely eyes, which were sparkling like diamonds. "Really?"
"Yes," she whispered.
Francis embraced her, picking her up and twirling her around. "That's wonderful!" he exclaimed, not caring who heard. They would be announcing it soon, after all. The nobles looked at the young couple, guessing what was going on, then turned back to their own conversation. Francis turned to the waiting men. "My apologies, my Lords, I need to step out of the room for a few moments." The men just nodded.
Francis grabbed Mary's hand and dragged her into the hallway. He backed her up against the wall gently, then kissed her passionately. "I am so happy," he said.
"I know," Mary replied. "So am I, Francis."
Francis smiled at her, then took her hand in his. "Let's go tell my parents." Mary nodded and allowed herself to be led into the throne room, where the King and Queen of France were meeting with some foreign dignitaries in a closed session.
When Francis and Mary entered the room, Catherine de Medici eyed them with suspicion. She was used to seeing her son and his wife together, but to openly be affectionate was typically taboo in French court. Catherine tried to pay attention to what was going on between King Henri and the ambassadors from Poland, but she was distracted by her son, who was whispering in his wife's ear. Mary smiled, then placed her hand on her stomach. Catherine received the message loud and clear, without anyone knowing she had. She stood and walked over to her son and daughter-in-law.
"Is it true?" she asked in a whisper. Mary looked confused, but Francis knew his mother had figured it out. He just nodded. "When did you find out?"
"About a month ago, Mother," Francis told her, "but we wanted to make sure everything was okay with the child before telling anyone." Catherine nodded at her son, then embraced Mary into a hug.
Henri was not totally oblivious to what his wife and son were doing, but he couldn't believe anything would be so important as to interrupt the meeting taking place. "Excuse the interruption, my Lords," Henri said to the ambassadors. "There must be something of great importance going on for my son to be so rude."
Catherine turned to face her husband. "Yes, your Majesty," she said. Henri stopped his chastisement. If Catherine was already on Francis' side, it had to be important.
"Well?" the King of France asked, demanding an answer.
"Forgive us, my lords," Catherine said to the waiting gentlemen, "but our children, the King and Queen of Scotland, have just informed me that Henri and I are expecting our firstborn grandchild and a new generation of Valois rulers to arrive in the winter."
Henri's jaw dropped. It was not like him to openly show surprise in front of guests, but he did. "Francis, Mary," he said, after regaining his composure several minutes later, "congratulations! This is welcomed news! We will celebrate with a tournament to be held later this month!" He turned to the ambassadors from Poland. "Gentlemen, you must honor us with your attendance." The men nodded.
Mary beamed at her father-in-law. Catherine hugged Francis quickly, whispering that they would talk later in his ear. After the ambassadors had added their congratulations to the King's, Francis and Mary stepped out of the throne room and into the hallway connecting it to the King's study. He kissed his wife again. "You've made me the happiest man in the world, my darling," Francis told her. Mary smiled again, full of happiness and hope.
3 June 1560
Palazzo Pitti, Florence, Tuscany, Italy
Cosimo, Grand Duke of Tuscany Privy Chamber
Cosimo de Medici, the Grand Duke of Tuscany, was sitting at his desk. Earlier in the afternoon his wife, Rosaria, had gone into labor. The couple were madly in love and they had two daughters, eight year old Francesca and three year old Novella. They had another daughter, Anna, who died at the age of five months in 1553. This child that Rosaria was currently giving birth to had to be a son. He needed a son and heir to pass his title to.
There was a knock at the door and Cosimo looked up and saw it was his illegitimate daughter, Lady Bianca de Medici, affectionately called Bia by the family. She was currently nineteen years old.
"Father, I am sorry to disturb you, but my Lady Stepmother is doing well. The midwife says that the labor will be over soon." she said.
Cosimo sighed.
"Thank you, my darling daughter." he said.
Lady Bianca nodded and smiled.
"Is something wrong, Father?" she asked.
Cosimo shook his head.
"No, darling. I just want the child here." he said.
Lady Bianca walked forward, kissed her father on his cheek and left the room again to attend to her laboring stepmother
Cosimo poured himself a goblet of wine and continued to wait. He was anxious. He and Rosaria had been married now for eleven years and while he loved her, he needed an heir. His two legitimate daughters could not inherit his title.
Over an hour passed and there was still no word. Cosimo had consumed three goblets of wine. The forty-one year old was hoping that this would all be over soon.
Finally, his door opened and his daughter, Bianca, ran in and hugged him tightly. She was laughing in happiness.
"It is a boy! It's a boy, Father! He is completely healthy! We have a Grand Prince finally!" she said.
Cosimo yelled, in happiness.
"Thanks be to God! Thank you, Lord. Bia, instruct the kitchen to give free wine and meat to the entire household. Then we will hold a special Mass in the chapel to thank the Lord for your brother's birth." he said.
Bianca nodded and left, but stopped and turned.
"What will his name be, Father?" she asked.
Cosimo smiled.
"Pietro. His name will be Pietro de Medici, Grand Prince of Tuscany."
24 June 1560
France
It was a day of mixed emotions for Catherine de Medici, Queen of France. Her youngest children, her twins, Victoria and Joan were four years old. The court was holding festivities to celebrate, but the Queen was not in the mood for a party, which used to be one of her favorite activities among the couriers.
Her little Victoria was safe. The children of various nobles would attend the party and present the French princess with a multitude of gifts. Joan, however, was another matter. She was still missing after the kidnapping two years ago, and it weighed heavily on Queen Catherine.
In the royal nursery, Catherine watched as Victoria's nannies bathed and dressed the young girl in her finest party frock. Her hair was brushed, and her natural curls were stunning. Many of the nobles said she was the prettiest of the royal Princesses. She was one of Catherine's more gifted children as well. At age four, the young Princess could already read simple books. She excelled in most everything she tried to do, but her forte was music. Victoria could play the lyre already with clarity and rarely missed a note of what she was taught. Catherine smiled at her daughter as the young girl asked her mother how she looked.
There was a darkness surrounding the question though, and Catherine could not help but wonder about her missing child. Would Joan have the same curls as her sister? Would she be as talented in music, or would there be another area where the girl excelled, showing the differences between them, despite the fact that they were identical twins?
Victoria was escorted to the party by her older brother, Prince Hercule, who was five, and a number of guards, who had watched the little girl like a hawk since the day she was brought home by that mysterious man during Christmas. Princess Victoria felt quite grown up with her own escort, even if it was her brother.
Catherine watched as her children mingled with the children of the nobles. She was grateful that the King had ordered additional guards to surround the gardens during the event. She wouldn't want anything to happen to Victoria or any of the others ever again.
Francis, her eldest, was also on guard as he escorted his wife, Mary, Queen of Scots, to the party. With Mary carrying their first child, both the King and Queen were worried for her safety, in case anyone got the idea that they could kidnap the Queen of Scotland and wait for her to give birth. Catherine would be beside herself if that happened, not only for Mary's sake and the sake of the unborn child in her womb, but also for Francis' own health. Catherine couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something special between her son and his wife that couldn't be explained; something that was more than just respect and admiration, something more than love even, and the whole court felt it when they were together.
Princess Elisabeth and Princess Claude, Catherine's eldest two daughters, sat with their ladies, talking about the events of the day, while also keeping an eye on the younger children. The girls knew how badly their missing sister still affected their mother.
Prince Charles, Prince Alexandre, and Princess Margot were playing jacks near the entrance to the palace, where the paths were smooth, and they could easily scoop their winnings. Charles would glance up from time to time, looking for something not seen, but he also knew how important it was to keep the younger children safe, even at age ten.
As the afternoon passed, the cake was brought to the garden and served with drinks for the children and adults. The guests presented Princess Victoria with their gifts, to which she thanked them, curtsying to each as they wished her a Happy Birthday.
Finally, after the last guest had left, Catherine followed Victoria and her other children back up to the nursery, except for Francis, of course, and Princess Elisabeth and Princess Claude, who had their own suites. She sang Victoria a lullaby, and as the young Princess drifted off to sleep, the Queen of France lifted her head, catching the sight of the still-made bed next to her daughter. She couldn't help but wonder where her little Joan was right now, and what she might be doing, wherever she was. She hoped with all her heart that the day had been spectacular for the little girl and wished with everything in her that soon, she would be putting Joan to bed beside her twin sister, where she belonged.
26 June 1560
Royal Palace of Madrid, Madrid, Spain
Queen Elizabeth of Spain's Bedchamber
Queen Elizabeth took a deep breath and tried to relax. She was due to give birth any day now and she had an exhausting few days. Luis had decided to make the Royal Palace of Madrid the official residence and also Madrid was now the capital of all of Spain and its lands.
Lady Sancha walked in and smiled.
"Your Majesty, the Palace is so beautiful and it is so huge. The entire Court can be held here and not run out of rooms." she said.
Elizabeth nodded her head.
"It is big. I just wish that we did not have to move Court when I am so close to giving birth. I am so exhausted. However, enough with my complaints. How is your sister, the Grand Duchess of Tuscany? I know you told me she was also with child." she said.
Sancha smiled.
"Rosaria gave birth to a healthy baby boy. His name is Pietro. She finally gave the Grand Duke a son and heir." she said.
Elizabeth smiled.
"That is wonderful news. I am sure the Grand Duke will be searching for an alliance for the boy as soon as possible." she said.
Sancha smiled and nodded.
"Yes, he is. There are rumors in the Tuscan Court that the Grand Duke is looking to betroth the Grand Prince to Archduchess Elisabeth of Austria. My nephew is only three weeks old, Your Majesty." she said.
Elizabeth shook her head.
"It is ridiculous. However, little Elisabeth is the granddaughter of my cousin, the Holy Roman Emperor. That would add more prestige to the Medici bloodline." she said.
The door opened and King Luis walked in. Sancha bowed to him.
"Your Majesty." she said.
Luis smiled at her.
"Sancha, formalities aren't necessary behind closed doors. However, I would like to speak to Elizabeth alone, if you don't mind." he said.
Sancha bowed and left the room.
Elizabeth looked up at Luis and smiled, as he gave her a kiss on her lips.
"Is there something wrong, sweetheart?" she asked.
Luis shook his head.
"No, I was just looking at this policy you left on my desk. I was hoping to talk to you about it." he said.
"You mean the bastardy bonds?" Elizabeth asked.
Luis nodded.
Elizabeth stood up.
"When an illegitimate child is born, most of the time they end up in the poor houses, because their mothers can not support them. It bothers me that a man can create a child and not take care if it. The bonds would state that a woman must present herself to the Courts in her village and name the father in open court and before the Archbishop. The man would then be forced to give a certain amount for the care of the child until maturity and if it is a daughter, he will provide her a dowry." she said.
Luis looked at his wife.
"Do you really think that would work, sweetheart?" he asked.
Elizabeth nodded.
"Yes. It is not the responsibility of the Crown to care for the multitude of bastard children that are filling the poor houses. We care for the sick, the destitute and helpless. These children are not orphans. If a man can lie with a woman, who is not his wife, then he will care for any resulting children by law." she said.
Before Luis could respond, Elizabeth winced in pain and grabbed her swollen stomach.
Luis grabbed his wife.
"Is the child coming?" he asked.
Elizabeth nodded and leaned against him.
Luis looked at the door.
"Sancha, fetch the midwife! The Queen is in labor!" he yelled.
Elizabeth screamed, as she pushed. Her labor had gone well and now it was time to push. She was anxious to greet her sixth child.
Sancha grabbed Elizabeth's hand.
"Push, Your Majesty. The child is nearly here." she urged.
Elizabeth looked at her dear friend and continued to push.
The midwife looked up at Elizabeth.
"You"re doing well, Your Majesty. I need you to push harder." she said.
Elizabeth pushed harder and screamed louder.
Finally, Elizabeth felt her sixth child slide from her body and let out a loud cry. Elizabeth laid her head back on her pillow..
Sancha took a cloth and wiped Elizabeth's sweaty forehead.
"You did well, Your Majesty. The child seems very healthy." she said.
The midwife brought the child over to Elizabeth, freshly bathed and wrapped in a blanket.
"It is a boy, Your Majesty. A healthy baby boy!" she exclaimed, excitedly.
Elizabeth smiled widely, as she took her crying newborn son and held him close to her. She was so proud that she had provided another healthy son.
"Oh, my sweet boy. Thank you Lord for this beautiful gift." she said.
Sancha smiled.
"He is beautiful, Your Majesty. A true credit to you and the King." she said.
Elizabeth kissed his little cheek.
"Send the King in." she asked, tiredly.
A few moments, Luis walked in, smiling.
"We have another son?" he asked.
Elizabeth nodded.
"Our third boy. Are you happy?" she asked.
Luis kissed her.
"I would have been equally happy if you had given me a fourth daughter. Now what should we call this pretty little boy?" he asked.
Elizabeth looked at him, in deep thought.
"What about Juan? It is ancestral name." she said.
Luis smiled and looked down at his son.
"Infante Juan it is, sweetheart." he said.
30 June 1560
France
The day was hot for June. The French countryside around the palace was ripe with anticipation for the tournaments to begin. The nobles had been planning for it and training for it for two weeks prior, and many had purchased new armor for the event. After all, it wasn't every day that the French crown offered two new mares and a purse of coins to the winner, but it wasn't every day that the French King and Queen were expecting their first grandchild.
King Henri II of France was also prepared for the event. He had decided the night before that he would also enter the tournament, despite being the host and the King of France, in honor of his coming grandchild. The prize, should he win, would go to the child's father, his eldest son, Francis, King Consort of Scotland and Dauphin of France. He had told his wife, Queen Catherine, of his intentions just that morning, and she had begged him not to enter. She claimed it was for his safety, but he took it to mean that she wanted to humiliate him due to the fact that he'd chosen to wear the colors of his life-long mistress, Diane de Poitiers, instead of her own.
As the King waited in his tent, he smiled. He was thankful for the life he had, for his children, and for the security that France now had. He was grateful that Francis' wife, Queen Mary, was with child and would soon deliver another Valois heir to rule France far into the future. He thought back to the early part of his marriage to Catherine de Medici, recalling her struggle to conceive, and was glad that Francis and Mary didn't seem to have those same problems visited upon them. He wished he could go back and do things differently with Catherine. Perhaps if he had treated her kindlier, their lives together would have turned out better, but there was no changing that now. Besides, he had Diane, who had remained the one constant in his life since his father introduced them, when she was a young woman, and he was a teenage boy. It was Diane who had taught him how to love someone without question, and it was she who taught him how to stand his ground, even with his wife.
Outside, the trumpets sounded, signaling his turn at the opponent. He wasn't shocked to see Gabriel Montgomery at the other end of the tiltyard. Montgomery had been one of the finest captains King Henri had even had, and it was because of his training that Montgomery was still fit to compete, and even more so to win the pot. Henri mounted his horse, put down his vizor, and took up his lance. The signal was given, and both horses lurched forward with their riders. As they passed, Montgomery's lance made contact with Henri's helm slightly, damaging the hinge just a little.
Once both men were ready, the flag dropped again and away they went. Montgomery aimed at the King's shoulder, while Henri aimed for Montgomery's chest. As contact came, Henri heard a pop from a lance. He felt a ding against his helmet, then a sharp stab at his eye. He fell from his horse, hitting his head on the railing between the men. He was stunned at first but felt no further pain. It wasn't until the knights were bent over him that he understood he was injured, but he didn't know how badly. Several men lifted the King of France onto their shoulders and carried him to the tent, placing him on the table where the doctors could examine him when they arrived. However, before they did, Henri passed out with one eye still open, leaving the men surrounding him to think their King was dead, despite the fact that he was still breathing.
Ambroise Pare had never seen anything like it before. He had been a physician for over twenty years, but he had no idea how the King of France was still alive considering the injuries he had sustained on the tournament field. When he was called to the King's tent, he assumed it was because the King had been cut or something minor. The nobles tended to panic when it came to the King's health, and most of the time, it was needless panic. However, this time it was not.
King Henri of France was laying on the table with one eye open and the other closed when Pare had arrived. The open eye had wood sticking out of it, which was why the King could not close both. There was no blood coming from the openings, which should have been the case with the damage. Pare couldn't understand why there wasn't, but he could tell that the King of France was still very much so alive.
He cleared the area, asking the men to step outside the tent, leaving only the King's wife, Queen Catherine de Medici, their son, Francis, King Consort of Scotland, and three of Henri's most trusted advisors present. Pare looked at the King closely. His pulse was weak, but rapid. He did not have a fever, which was a miracle to Pare. He asked for a candle and a piece of curved glass to be brought, which it was, and he examined the King's eye.
He could see five splinters of varying sizes protruding from the eye. Based on the size of the largest, he concluded that it was possible for the wood to have entered the King's brain, but he was not certain of it. Pare turned to the others waiting for his verdict.
"I'm afraid the King is gravely injured," Pare said in his most sympathetic voice. "The splinters from the lance may have pierced his brain."
"Is there nothing to be done?" Francis asked, looking at his father.
Pare shook his head. "If I take them out, he could bleed to death from his brain at worst, or he could be blinded permanently. He could lose his ability to think clearly, which would not serve him as King," the man said. "I am a surgeon and have been with His Majesty for more than ten years now, but this is beyond the healing skills of any surgeon. It is in God's hands, and His alone."
Catherine allowed a tear to fall from her eyes as she looked at the man who had been her husband for more than half of her life. "Can. . . can he be moved to his chambers in the palace safely?" she asked, wanting him to be comfortable if it was his last moments on earth.
Pare nodded. "If great care is taken and he's moved slowly," the physician said.
Catherine turned to one of Henri's advisors. "See to it, and make sure it's done with the utmost privacy. We do not want to cause a panic among the people," she ordered. The man nodded and left the tent to arrange for the King to be moved.
1 July 1560
The King of France's Bedchambers
Queen Catherine of France sat at her husband's bedside throughout the night. Henri had yet to wake from the sleep he'd fallen into the day before at the tournament, and it was well past breakfast. The servants had brought Catherine a tray from the kitchens, but she could not eat. She was worried.
It wasn't so much Henri's life that she was worried about, but his soul. During their marriage, he had broken his marriage vows, and should he die now, without confessing, he would be damned to spend eternity in hell, as lust was a deadly sin. She worried about the last rites, and when the priest would perform them. She worried about her place in French court, going from Queen of France to Queen Mother when Francis became King. However, she mostly worried about their children, especially the ones who were too young now to remember their father; Hercule, Victoria, and Joan.
Catherine knelt by Henri's bed and took his hand in hers. It was still warm. He was still breathing for now. She crossed herself with her other hand and prayed. She didn't know how long she had been praying for when she felt it. There was pressure on the hand that held Henri's. Catherine looked at her husband to find both of his eyes wide open, looking at her.
"What is it Catherine?" he asked. "You look troubled."
"Henri. . ." she replied, a tear falling down her cheek. "You're awake."
"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked. Then he moaned in pain as he tried to look at the ceiling of his room.
"You were injured at the tournament," she reminded him.
"Yes," he responded. "How bad is it?"
"Pare says its fatal, Henri," Catherine told him. "There are pieces of wood in your brain. They cannot be removed."
Henri looked at her as if she were joking with him at first. "Fatal?" he questioned. "No, Francis. . . he isn't ready. Where is that fool, Pare?"
"Henri, please, don't excite yourself," Catherine begged. "It will only make things worse."
"Get the damned physician in here Catherine, NOW!"
Catherine stood and left his side, guards entering the room as she exited. She wasn't sure what Pare could do to calm him, but she knew that Henri wouldn't last long if he continued to be excited like this. Hopefully the man had some type of medicine that would do the trick, and Henri would be with them at least a day or two longer.
Francis sat with his father through dinner instead of joining the family. Unlike his mother, he had no reason to worry about his father's soul. Francis knew about his father's sins, but he also realized that each man had a choice to make about the life he would live. Henri chose to live his for pleasure, whereas Francis chose purpose. Luckily for Francis, his wife was his purpose, as well as his pleasure, so there was no need for a separation of the two.
Henri opened his eyes and saw his eldest son sitting next to him. He smiled. Francis had taken a long time to be born, and he may have been sickly as a child, but he was a perfectly healthy young man now, happily married with a child, an heir, on the way. Francis looked up and saw his father awake.
"Your Majesty," Francis said, "Father, is there anything I can get you?"
"No, Francis," Henri replied. "I was just thinking about you when you were little."
"Oh?" Francis questioned.
"You definitely took your time getting here for your mother and I," Henri recalled with a laugh. "We waited ten years for you."
"I know."
"My mother used to say that each child a person has teaches them something that they needed to learn," Henri told him. "You taught your mother and I to have patience in all things. I think that may be why you are so calm and patient yourself." Francis smiled. "You will be a great father Francis. Not because you had a great father, but because you are patient, and children require a lot of that, especially when they are young."
"I hope so, Father," Francis responded.
"You will be," Henri assured him. "You will also be a great King for France when I am gone."
"Don't talk like that," Francis said.
"I know death is coming for me, son. My physician has told me so," Henri said. "I do not fear death. I fear leaving you unprepared for the future, but I think you may be more ready to be King than I was at your age. I was stubborn and jealous and selfish. I hurt a lot of people in my time, none of which I am proud of, but it happened all the same. However, you have a lovely young wife at your side, and she will keep you from harming others unnecessarily, if you listen to her."
"I will, Father," Francis said softly.
Henri groaned in agony. Francis stood to help him, but Henri just waived him off. "I will rest now."
Francis nodded. "Is there anything you need?"
Henri thought for a moment. "Can you fetch me another blanket? It's rather cold in here."
Francis was about to argue that it was hot for July, but instead, he did as his father asked, staying until the King had drifted off to sleep before he left the room.
3 July 1560
France
The palace had been on edge since the King was injured in the tournament. The servants did their jobs but looked lost in the course of doing them. No one was certain what was going on. Many had heard that the King was fatally injured at the joust, but none had heard of the specifics of his condition, or if he was still alive or not. Confusion reigned among the French court, and the only one keeping it together it seemed was the King's mistress, Diane de Poitiers.
Francis and Mary were in the throne room, waiting for his father's surgeon, Ambroise Pare, to come tell them what was going on with the King. Henri had developed a fever the night before, and the physician had been awoken from his sleep to examine the King. Diane entered the room calmly, approaching the King and Queen of Scotland as if she owned the world.
"How's Henri?" she asked, looking at Francis.
"We're waiting for Monsieur Pare to finish his exam," Francis told her.
Diane scoffed at his remark. "I realize that many at court do not like me, but I have been with your father for most of his life. I have a right to know how he is doing, and I do not appreciate being kept in the dark," Diane replied bluntly.
"I don't think this is the time for you to interfere with anything here, Madame," Francis said. "My father is dying, though we don't know when it will happen. No one needs your dramatic interpretation of events at this time."
"Careful, your Majesty," Diane warned, "I am still in charge of your siblings, and soon of your own child. You wouldn't want to anger me, would you?"
Mary looked at her husband, then back at Diane. "I'm not certain who told you that you would be in charge of our child, Diane, but it was neither Francis nor I," Mary said. "We will choose our own governesses, without interference from you, the King, or the Queen."
Ambroise Pare entered the room before Diane could respond and came to where the party stood. He bowed to the King and Queen of Scotland, then looked at Diane. "Madame de Poitiers, if you could excuse us please, I need to speak with their Majesties alone."
"Anything you have to say concerning the King's condition can be said in front of me," she replied.
"I'm afraid it cannot," he told her. "The Queen of France has ordered that no one but immediate family is to know anything concerning the King's condition without her approval."
"We'll see about that," Diane said, then left to find Catherine. She had no intention of being ignored, not when the love of her life was dying.
Once she was gone, the physician looked at the young couple. "I do not bring good news, your Graces," he said. "The King has developed a very high fever. My apprentice is currently trying to bring the fever down, but so far, nothing is working. I have sent for another physician from Brussels to come here and offer his advice. Andreas Vesalius is one of the best in Europe, and if anyone could possibly save the King, it would be he."
Francis nodded. "Anyone you wish, Monsieur. Send for anyone you need."
The man bowed and left the room, leaving Mary to comfort her husband as best she could.
5 July 1560
The King of France's Bedchambers
Andreas Vesalius had never seen a wound so grave in his life. When he'd read the message from Monsieur Pare, he had packed a few of his things and his bag, saddled a horse and rode straight to France. The French King was horribly injured and needed his help. He'd made the journey in only forty-eight hours, stopping only to eat and trade his tired horse for a fresh one.
Upon his arrival at French court, he'd been introduced to the King and Queen of Scotland, who showed him to the King's chambers, where his wife, the Queen of France was sitting with her husband. Vesalius examined the man and was amazed that the King was still alive.
He took a white cloth from his bag and asked Henri to bite down on the cloth. He pulled it out with force, and the King brought his hand to his head, crying out in pain. Vesalius believed that this was a sign that the King would not recover on his own, and he began to consider other options for treatment.
Pare suggested trepanation, and while the thought was good, Vesalius told him that it would not do any good. They had already drained a lot of pus from the wound in the King's eye, so he didn't think another hole, especially one in the King's head, would help relieve the pressure or save his life. The fever was obviously being caused from an infection of some type that had set in due to the material inside of the King, but neither man knew how to safely remove it without causing further damage.
Later that evening, when Francis went to check on his father, he summoned both men, who were discussing the case over their meal. They arrived to find the King unable to move his right arm and leg. Paralysis had set in within a matter of hours, and the King's fever, which had lifted earlier that day, was once again dangerously high. Pare ordered his apprentice to resume the cool compressions to try and reduce the fever.
By midnight, it was clear that the fever would not break easily, if it ever did. The infection was too great and there was little that either physician could do to relieve Henri's suffering. The Queen and Francis were both with the King, when Pare and Vesalius decided it was time to prepare the family for the worst.
"Your Majesties," Pare began, standing in front of them, "Vesalius and I have been discussing the King's condition. We have considered multiple steps to try and save him, but each option brings us one step closer to the truth. It is very likely, and forgive me for having to say this, that our belove King will not survive this injury. His fever spikes, then fades, then spikes again, leaving us to believe that he has an infection in his brain, and although he is not bleeding externally, we both are of the mindset that he does have internal injuries that we cannot see without an operation, which, in his weakened state, would end his life."
Catherine looked at her son, then back at the doctor. She had held out hope since the accident occurred that Henri would recover, even when they told her that he wouldn't. Now, it seemed definite that Henri's death was just hours, or perhaps days, away. It was final. Her husband would die, she would become a widow, and her son, Francis, would be King.
Francis looked at his mother. He didn't know what to say or do. He stood up and went to the window nearest his father's bed, looking out over the gardens.
"Thank you for your candor, Monsieur Pare," Catherine said, dismissing the man. All they could do now was wait.
9 July 1560
France
It was just before midnight. Queen Catherine was in her husband's bedchambers, watching his breathing. He was dying. She knew it, their son knew it, his physicians knew it, and Henri himself knew it. She didn't know what else to do but sit there and watch as he struggled to breathe.
Henri opened his eyes and saw her. He reached out his hand to her, and she took it, more out of sympathy than love. "Catherine," he said, his voice raspy, "it won't be long before I leave you here, a widow, with nothing more than our children for comfort. I know you delight in them, and you have been a wonderful mother to them, as well as a good Queen for France." Catherine looked at him, unable to believe what he was saying. Why would he compliment her now? Was this his attempt to make peace with her, and perhaps with God, before he couldn't do it anymore? "Don't give up on our little Joan, Catherine. She is alive, out there somewhere. You must find her. You must tell her, and all of our children, that their father loved them all very much."
Catherine nodded at his wishes. Of course, she would tell them that, even if she didn't entirely believe it herself.
"When I am gone, you must be kind to Mary," he instructed her. "I know you do not like the girl, but she is Francis' wife and the mother of the future King of France. Get along with her, for the sake of our grandchildren, even if you do not agree with her politics."
Catherine nodded again. She would try for their grandchildren's sake, but also because it was Henri's dying wish.
"Catherine," he continued, "you must also be kind to Diane." Catherine looked at him with wide eyes. She couldn't have heard him right. "She will be all alone once I am gone, and she will have nothing without me here. Do not hurt her, Catherine. She's been such a part of our lives for so long."
Catherine couldn't respond. She stood up, kissed his hand, and left the room, nodding for Francis to enter and be with his father now. Even in his last moments, he thought of her, of the pariah that had tormented her existence for so long. He wanted her to be kind to Diane. . . she couldn't even consider the possibility. Kindness was not something she could ever bring herself to feel for that woman, no matter who wanted her to, even if it was his dying wish.
10 July 1560
France
The castle held an eerie silence in its halls. King Henri II of France was dying. Everyone knew it, but no one said it, for it was treason to imagine the death of a King. Queen Catherine and their eldest son, Francis, had been at his side for the duration of his suffering, and everyone knew the King was suffering. How could he not be? There had to be pain associated with having part of a jousting lance sticking out of one's eye. Mary, Queen of Scotland and the Dauphine of France, and her ladies were in the corridor just outside of the King's chamber when Catherine emerged.
Her face was pale, and Mary looked to her mother-in-law with held back tears that she wouldn't allow to fall. Catherine and Mary had little fondness for each other, but both women shared a mutual respect, if not love, for the King, despite the differences in their opinions. Catherine met her eye and shook her head. The King was still alive for now, Mary knew, and she looked towards the King's chamber doors.
"He asked to speak to Francis alone," Catherine informed her.
Mary just nodded. She had never experienced the death of a parent. Her mother, Marie de Guise, Dowager Queen of Scotland, was still living, and her father, the late King James V, had died when she was a baby. Mary put her hand on her stomach, which held the future heir to the throne of Scotland, if not France as well, depending on the gender of the baby.
Catherine sat on a bench in the corridor, near the stairs that led to the throne room. She looked into the open area below, gazing at their shared thrones. They had been through so much during Henri's reign as King, including the ten years of fights and infertility before Francis had been born. She recalled telling him that she was expecting their first child while he sat on his throne with his lifelong mistress, Diane de Portiers, in his lap. He had jumped up so fast to come to her side that she thought it would be Diane's end, but it wasn't. She remembered the look on his face when their daughter, Victoria, was returned to them after the twins were kidnapped. She still wondered where her youngest daughter, Princess Joan, was and whether the child was alive or dead. This brought her to think about their son, Louis, who had died so young. Henri would be with their deceased prince soon. Catherine was brought back to reality by the sound of her husband's doors opening and their son, Francis, emerged with a look of shock and horror on his face. Catherine knew, in that moment, that she was a widow and now the Dowager Queen of France, as well as being Queen Mother. She looked from Francis to Mary and back again.
"The King is dead! Long live the King!" Henri's page announced loudly. The cry echoed through the stone halls and Mary's ladies dropped into a deep curtsey to their new King.
Mary looked at Francis, who approached his wife, not his mother, for comfort.
"My father. . ." Francis started, his voice trembling.
"I know," Mary responded, kissing his cheek.
"We are now King and Queen of France and Scotland," he said, still in shock.
Mary looked into her husband's eyes. She had never really heard those words before, not as clearly as she did in that moment. She had always been a Queen. She was Mary, Queen of Scots. She had been crowned when she was only an infant. To hear someone say she was Queen of two nations overwhelmed her.
"Francis," she began with sorrow in her voice, finally allowing her tears to fall with his. Suddenly, Mary began to sway as she was starting to lose consciousness.
Before Francis or her ladies could catch her, the new Queen of France fainted and fell to the ground. Somewhere in the commotion, Mary tried to catch herself on the railing of the stone steps leading to the throne room, but it was in vain. Francis, Catherine, and her ladies all watched in horror as she rolled down the stairs and landed on the cold floor of the room below.
The guards in the throne room were the first to reach her, followed closely by Francis and Mary's ladies. Catherine watched the scene from the landing above, and for the first time in her life, she was unsure what to do.
"Mary! Mary!" Francis said, holding his wife in his arms. He couldn't lose her too, not today, not ever. She was his life. He looked at the guards and said, "Fetch the physician, NOW! And send him to our chambers."
He lifted his pregnant wife and nearly ran with her to their rooms, laying her gently on their bed, with her ladies following closely behind. "Mary, you can't leave me. Not now. Please,' he begged. "I can't lose you too."
Mary opened her eyes briefly and looked at her husband hovering above her. "Shhh," she said. "It will all be as God has planned." She drifted back into sleep as the physician arrived to examine her.
A few moments later, the court physician turned to Francis, who refused to leave his wife's side. "Your Majesty, the Queen has suffered a horrible fall of course."
"Tell me something I don't know," Francis replied. "I saw that happen."
"She will recover, I believe, with time and rest. However, the babe . . ." the man trailed off.
Francis already knew what he was going to say. "Yes?"
"I am afraid, your Grace, that the babe is lost. The Queen has begun to bleed and this early on, there is little chance of stopping it."
Francis felt the tears flowing from his eyes. Their child was gone.
"Do not tell the Queen yet. She has been through enough. I will tell her once she is fully awake and able to receive such news," he commanded.
"Yes, Your Majesty," the physician replied, and with that he left the room.
Mary's ladies were gathered in the corner, awaiting news of their mistress, and Catherine had come in only moments before, hearing the physician's words. She went to her son and hugged him close to her, as any mother would.
"Francis," Catherine began, holding her eldest son as he cried for both of his losses today. "Mary will be fine. You heard what the physician said. There will be other children. I know it does not take away the pain of the loss you have suffered, but . . ."
Catherine's words were interrupted by a noise from the bed. Mary had come to and was unaware of where she was. Francis rushed to her side, quickly drying his tears.
"Francis," Mary began, her eyes looking like she was dazed. "Your father . . ."
"Yes, love." Francis responded. "He's dead. We are now King and Queen of France, as well as Scotland."
"No, it's not that," she said.
"What then?"
"He came to me. He had our baby, our son, with him," the young queen said, tears forming in her eyes.
"Our son?"
"I've lost the baby. I am so sorry Francis," Mary said through her tears. "I've lost our little boy, our heir."
"Shh, sweetheart," Francis replied. "Yes, our child is gone, but we can have others. You are still with me. The physician said you would fully recover with time and rest. I don't know what I would have done had I lost you too."
Mary looked at her husband, still dazed. "Don't you know Mary?" Francis questioned. "I could lose this castle, the kingdom, and everything God has saw fit to give me and I would survive. But if I lost you, I would not. You are my heart. My everything. I love you more than my own life." He took his wife in his arms and laid down beside her on their bed. Mary put her head on her husband's chest and sighed through the still flowing tears.
Catherine, in an unusual display of compassion, nodded to Mary's ladies as a signal for them to leave, and she closed the door behind her, leaving the young couple to heal as best they could from the double blow that the day had given them.
19 July 1560
Palace of Fontainebleau, Paris, France
Princess Elisabeth of France's Bedchamber
Fifteen year old Princess Elisabeth was wearing a black dress and crying, privately. She still found it hard to believe that her father was gone. She couldn't get the images of his accident out of her mind. It was so disturbing and she didn't know if she could ever forget it. Her grief was more impacted by the fact her youngest sister, Princess Joan, was still missing and her sister, Queen Mary of Scotland and now Queen Consort of France, miscarried her and Francis' unborn son the very same day that King Henri had died.
She stood and walked to the window, moving her long dark brown hair behind her ear. Her beautiful brown eyes still shining bright with unshed tears.
"Lord, I do not know your plan and I will never ask it. I ask that you heal my heart and the heart of my family. I beseech you to grant us the strength to accept Your will. I humbly ask you to heal my sister in marriage, Queen Mary's, womb. Allow her to have another child for France and Scotland." she said, as she prayed aloud.
Suddenly, there was a knock at her door.
Elisabeth turned around.
"You may enter." she said.
The door opened and her sixteen year old elder brother, Francis, now the King of France, walked in.
Elisabeth bowed deeply to him, but Francis grabbed her and hugged her.
"Don't how to me, sweet Elisabeth. I am your brother." he said.
Elisabeth nodded her head and looked at him.
"How is Mary doing?" she asked.
Francis shook his head.
"She is still healing. She feels like a failure to me. The physician said that there will be more children, but she is consumed with guilt. It breaks my heart." he said, as he began to sob.
Elisabeth, not caring about Royal protocol, grabbed her older brother and allowed him to cry. He may now be King, but she knew Francis had a sensitive heart and character and she never wanted it to change.
After several moments, the young King wiped his eyes and took a deep breath.
"I am so sorry. I do not know what came over me." he said.
Elisabeth smiled.
"There is no need to apologize to me. I think you should go comfort poor Mary." she said.
Francis nodded and turned to leave, but suddenly stopped and turned back around.
"I almost forgot. You have a letter from Prince Edward." she said, as he handed her a letter.
Elisabeth smiled and took the letter, excitedly. Francis smiled and left his sister alone.
Elisabeth opened the letter and began to read:
My dearest Lissy,
My heart has been saddened to hear about the horrible and tragic death of your beloved father and the loss of your brother's unborn son. The double tragedy has hurt you deeply and I want you to know that I am here for you.
I love your letters. Please send more, as I want to know how you are doing. I care deeply for you, my sweet Lissy. It troubles me that sometimes I don't know some of your problems. Do not spare me any of your joys or sorrows.
Everything is wonderful here. My Father and Lady Stepmother are expecting a second child together. I am excited to have another sibling. I do miss my siblings who have left England. Margaret is growing into a lovely young lady and little Mary is a precious little imp. It makes me yearn more for when we have our own family.
I am counting the days for when you arrive in England. One year shall pass by quickly before we know it. Ludlow Castle is nearly done. I hope you will love our home. My life is nothing, unless I know you are happy. I shall end this letter with letting you know that I have deep care and affection for you.
Love,
Edward, Prince of Wales
Elisabeth had tears in her eyes. She really hoped that Edward would fall in love with her, just like the way she loved him. He was so kind and attentive and she knew that was not typical with Royal husbands. She hoped that she would turn sixteen faster, so she can finally leave for England.
25 July 1560
Tre Kronor Castle, Stockholm, Sweden
Princess Matilda of Sweden's Bedchamber
"Johan, your writing has greatly improved. I am so proud of you, my sweet boy." Matilda said to her eight year old son.
Johan smiled.
"Thank you, Mother. I have been practicing." he said.
His twin sister, Princess Astrid, looked up.
"Mama, my tutor says that my Russian is perfect. I never make mistakes. My Latin is even better than that." she said, with pride.
Matilda smiled.
"I am proud of you too, darling. However, you don't need to try and compete with your brother and sisters. You all have my attention and will always receive my praise." she said, touching her oldest daughter's dark red curly hair.
Astrid smiled at her mother and her brother. Despite their competitive nature, the twins were very close and nearly inseperable.
Matilda looked at her five year old daughter, Princess Katarina. She was a true beauty with her golden-red hair, blue eyes and fair skin. She was a more quiet child, who preferred to learn her embroidery than you argue like her spitfire older brother and ambitious older sister.
Matilda caressed her daughter's face.
"What are you working on, my angel?" she asked.
Katarina smiled.
"Something for you, Mama. I won't tell you what it is." she said.
Matilda chuckled.
"That is fine, darling. I will be patient." she said.
Katarina developed a satisfied look on her face. Matilda then turned her attention to her youngest child, Princess Anna. The infant girl was now seventeen months old and had learned how to walk. Matilda was still firmly in charge of her care and she enjoyed it.
Little Anna toddled up to her mother.
"Ma" she said, holding up her arms.
Matilda picked her youngest child up and kissed her cheek.
"Hello, my darling." she said.
Anna smiled at her father.
Matilda smiled back at her. This was her source of happiness. Her marriage may not be the happiest, but these little blessings of hers made it worthwhile. After nine years of marriage, her and Eric weren't in love, although she still had love for him. Even if it never improved, she had the respect of the people and the love of her children.
28 July 1560
France
The funeral mass for the late King took several hours to complete. Every noble in France was in attendance, not only to say their goodbyes to their former monarch, but also to grain favor with the new King, Francis II, despite the fact that they all knew he would not be at the funeral itself. However, there was little doubt in any of their minds that he would hear about who attended and who did not.
After Henri's death and Mary's miscarriage, the new King had been more or less unavailable for several days before he took up the burdens left by his father. He had met with his council, the one that his father had listened to, when he listened to anyone. He told them that there would be some changes to the council in the coming days, but he had not said what those changes would be. Many nobles had heard rumors that Francis planned to include Mary in his rule of their nation, but until a formal declaration was made, none could act or speak of it.
In France, during the interim period between the death of a King and the coronation of the next, there was always a lull where no one really knew what was going on. In this case, the new Queen starting her reign with a miscarriage caused even more confusion, and no one was answering any questions. Catherine de Medici, now the Dowager Queen of France and Queen Mother, was as tight lipped as her son was concerning his changes, which was also unusual. It meant that either she did not have the confidence of the new King, or she was under orders not to speak of the matter to anyone.
After the service was over, the nobles and other attendees paid their final respects to the late King Henri, then kissed the hand of the Queen Mother accordingly. They also spoke with Diane de Poitiers, the late King's lifelong mistress, out of respect and politeness and perhaps a fear of what would happen next. King Francis, who was watching the whole thing unfold from the privacy of a balcony room, wondered what they were all playing at when it came to Diane. He was allowing his mother to take lead where Diane was concerned, wanting no part of the drama that would unfold.
Once the last guest had left the cathedral, Catherine led her other children to their father's casket and watched as they said their goodbyes. Princess Elisabeth led her siblings in what to do. Francis smiled at his younger sister. Despite having loved their father very much, she was holding herself together with a maturity that spanned beyond her years, and her composure made him proud. The others followed Elisabeth's lead, though several of them were crying silent tears before their father's casket. After Princess Victoria kissed her father's casket and crossed herself, as she saw Lissy do, Catherine started to usher her children out of the church but was stopped by Diane.
"Catherine," Diane said, "we need to talk."
Catherine spun around on her heels. "Not now, Diane, and you will address me appropriately in public or you will not address me at all," Catherine told her.
"I have never bowed in reverence to you before," Diane replied, sharply. "I will not start now. We both know that I should have been Henri's legal wife, but his father wanted him to marry into money. Your family had more than mine did. That is the only reason you won his hand, and you know it."
Catherine looked at her children, who were watching her for her response. Catherine turned to Elisabeth. "Elisabeth, darling, please take your siblings to the carriages for me," Catherine instructed. "Keep a close eye on them and make sure the guards surround you once you are inside."
Elisabeth curtsied. "Yes, Lady Mother," the teenager replied, taking Victoria in her arms and leading the others outside.
Catherine turned her attention to her late husband's mistress after making sure they were alone; save for the few guards that she knew she could trust to keep their tongues to themselves. "MY husband, regardless of how he came to be my husband, has died, Diane. The father of my children is gone. I am a widow and alone, except for my children" Catherine began, with a composed anger that she had held in for more than two decades. "Today we bury him. If you cannot show the proper respect for his legitimate family, then I would strongly suggest you leave."
"I loved him," Diane spat at the Queen Mother, "more than you ever could, and Henri loved me, not you. You were just a means to an end for him."
"Listen here," Catherine said, getting closer to the woman whose presence had plagued her for all of her adult life, "you are no longer wanted or welcome among our family. We tolerated you because Henri demanded it. We will NOT tolerate you any longer." Catherine paused to catch her breath. "When we return to the palace you will have two hours, and not ONE MOMENT longer, to gather your things, return everything belonging to the crown to Francis, including the crown jewels, as there is a new Queen of France now, and the estates that Henri permitted you to occupy, and you will GET OUT OF MY HOME! Do I make myself clear?"
"We will see about that," Diane said. She opened her mouth to continue, but Catherine interrupted her.
"No, we will NOT see about it," Catherine yelled. "I have endured all I care to from you. You have my instructions, and if that's not enough for you. . ."
"YOU are nothing," Diane replied, also shouting. "Francis will not allow this. I practically raised him and his siblings. They care for me and will not let me be treated this way."
The heads of both women turned as the door to the side chapel opened, and King Francis revealed himself. Both women curtsied to their King, then Diane began to speak, but Francis simply held up his hand to stop her.
"Diane, for years, you educated us and cared for us, all the while causing my Lady Mother to suffer in silence," Francis said. "My father loved you, yes, but the rest of us saw what you did to our true mother every day of her life. We saw you overrule her, despite her being Queen of France at the time. We saw you humiliate her every chance you got. We saw our father allow this to happen. Yes, you may have loved our father, but you despised our mother, and that did nothing to endear us to you or your cause. My mother is not perfect, nor has she ever claimed to be, and some of her methods may be sketchy when it comes to revenge, but one thing she has NEVER been is an unwed, sinful harlot who sold her body to a man that had no right to claim it." Francis paused. "You will leave the palace with your belongings and return to the estate my father gave you in Paris, which I will allow you to keep for the remainder of your life. The crown jewels now belong to my wife, who is the undisputed Queen of France, and they will be returned to her by day's end. Do I make myself clear?"
Diane was furious. "Your father gave me those estates and the jewels with no instructions to return them!" She said, "I will not give them to anyone as they were meant as gifts; tokens of his undying love for me!"
"If you try and leave the palace with the jewels, I will have you arrested for stealing from the crown of France," Francis threatened.
Diane looked from Francis to Catherine. "Then I will have no choice but to seek legal counsel. They were gifts from the man I loved." She started to walk away but stopped and turned around to face them again. "I honestly felt sorry for you both, losing little Joan, then Henri and then the Queen's unfortunate fall with the baby, but now I see my sympathy was wasted on greedy, heartless fools. At least Joan will not have to suffer through being raised by the likes of you. Perhaps her life in Turkey will be better for it and it was a blessing that the kidnappers got away." She gave them both a smug look before turning to leave once more.
Francis looked at his mother, then back at Diane. No one knew where Joan was. Not even his father had known where their missing Princess had been taken. It took Francis only a second to put it together; Diane had some part of the disappearance of his little sister, and she had unknowingly just admitted it to him, the King of France, in front of his mother and several guards!
"Guards! Seize her!" Francis ordered. The men sprang into action, taking Diane into custody. This was not how Francis had wanted his father's funeral to go, but if it meant finding his sister, he would do whatever it took, including arresting the woman his father had loved more than anything.
3 August 1560
Scotland
The Scottish council was meeting to discuss recent events in France, and therefore, the future of Queen Mary's reign in Scotland. Her recent elevation to Queen of France complicated the situation, as the council had looked forward to their Queen returning home until her husband became King of France, but there was no chance of that happening in the aftermath of King Henri's death. The council had to agree on a new course of action to present to Queen Mary, and they had to present their proposal soon, as there was an issue regarding religious tolerance brewing in the highlands.
Marie de Guise, who was acting as regent for Queen Mary at the moment, being the Queen's mother, sat at the head of the table in the council's chambers. On her left was Prince Joseph, Duke of Ross, and on her right was the son of the late Prince Arthur, Lord James, now Duke of Albany in place of his father. The young man had been trained to lead the council of Scotland from a young age, but his fury at his father's death was still fresh in his mind and in his heart.
"This meeting will come to order," Marie said, firmly. "With the passing of King Henri II of France, our situation has changed gentlemen. Queen Mary will not be able to return to Scotland as quickly as we had hoped now that her husband is King of France. It therefore falls to us to decide how to handle the continued absence of our beloved Queen."
"Nothing need change," Lord Livingston argued. "We continue as we have until our Queen can return."
Lord James muttered something under his breath.
"What was that my Lord?" Marie asked. She had not heard him.
James looked at her furiously. "I said, your Grace, that things do need to change. Specifically, the leadership of this body, who acts in Queen Mary's name," he replied. "We do not need to be represented by a murderess."
"Excuse me?" Marie questioned. Did he just accuse her of killing someone? "What do you mean, sir? I have never killed anyone in my life."
"Madam, you are not only a murdered but a liar," James accused. "You killed my father, the late Prince Arthur, when he confronted you concerning the Queen's marriage in France, and now, you are attempting to convince us that you did no such thing? How dare you!"
Marie looked around the room. Several of the men there were shocked, and several more had no idea that Lord James felt that way. Marie had explained in detail what happened when Prince Arthur died. She believed that most of the Scottish Lords accepted her explanation. She had admitted openly to arguing with the Prince, but she did not push him, as she had been accused of doing.
"Lord James," Marie began, trying to remain calm, "I did NOT harm your father. I am sorry that you still feel the pain of his absence, and I am sure that same pain is felt by many here who knew and loved him. However, other than the argument we had, I didn't DO anything that caused his death, and an argument is not enough to cause someone to die."
Prince Joseph spoke next. "Jamie, sit down son," he told his nephew. "Her Majesty is right. An argument is not enough to cause a strong man like your father was to die. He fell down those stairs. Even the physicians confirmed he had a broken neck that was caused by falling several times, as one would when they hit multiple steps."
"I do not care what the physicians said, Uncle," Lord James retorted. "She pushed him, or he wouldn't have fallen."
"Enough!" Marie shouted. She stood and loomed over Jamie. "I will excuse your words and accusations for the sake of your father's memory and this family, but I will not defend myself to you ever again. I am the Dowager Queen of Scotland and Queen Mother. You do not have to accept me here, or like me, but you MUST follow your Queen's commands as a noble lord of this realm. Queen Mary has ordered that I am regent for the time being, until her return. That is how it will stay until SHE says otherwise whether you agree with it or not." She paused and took a deep breath to calm herself. "Now, you have two options, young man. You may stay and work with this council for the betterment of Scotland, or you may leave, and we will decide what we feel is best. What say you?"
James looked at both of his Uncles with duress. They both nodded at him. He took a breath and said he would stay. He could not allow Scotland to be ruled by this woman, no matter who she was or what position she held, and for the time being, everything was decided based on a majority vote, unless the matter was of international importance and required Queen Mary's attention personally. Yes, he would stay, and he would work to undo every decision Marie de Guise made until their Queen returned. It was the least he could do for his father; it was the least he could do for Scotland.
11 August 1560
Caserta Palace, Naples, Italy
Outside of Princess Eleanora, Duchess of Calabria's Bedchamber
Loud screams could be heard through the halls of Caserta Palace. In the late afternoon hours, Princess Eleanor had gone into labor and it wasn't an easy labor. The seventeen year old Princess's ladies had been seen brings water and linens out of the room, which were stained with blood.
The Royal Family were waiting in the outer chambers of Eleanor's room. Prince Giovanni was drinking his fourth goblet of wine. He didn't seem to fazed that his wife of only one year was experiencing a difficult labor
Prince Owen, who was pacing, was growing impatient.
"Are they butchering her? What is taking so long?" he asked, showing concern over his younger sister.
King Alfonso sighed.
"It can take awhile. Try to remain calm, son." he said, trying to ease his son-in-law's anxiety.
Princess Lucrezia, Owen's wife, walked over to her husband and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Do not worry, my love. She is strong." she said.
Suddenly, everyone heard Eleanor let out a loud scream and that was followed by the loud cry from an infant. Prince Giovanni stood to his feet.
"My son is here." he said.
After several moments, Queen Adriana stepped out of the room.
Prince Owen stepped forward.
"How is my sister?" he asked.
Queen Adriana smiled and nodded at her son-in-law.
"Yes. She lost a little blood, but her life is not in danger." she said.
Prince Giovanni stepped to his mother.
"How is my son? Is he healthy?" he asked.
Queen Adriana nodded.
"Your daughter is healthy and beautiful." she said.
Prince Giovanni backed away, as if he had been punched in the stomach.
"It is a girl?" he asked.
Queen Adriana nodded.
Suddenly, Prince Giovanni threw his cup at the wall.
"What good is a daughter to me? She can not inherit the Throne after me!" he said.
Lucrezia looked at her brother.
"Eleanor is only seventeen years old. She has plenty of time to have a son. You should thank God that the child is healthy and Eleanor is alive." she said.
Giovanni smirked.
"That is true. A healthy daughter is better than a miscarried one isn't it, sister?" he said callously.
Before anyone could react to Giovanni's insensitivity, Lucrezia slapped him hard across his face and stormed out, with tears falling down her face. Owen glared at his brother-in-law, who was currently bleeding from his nose, as Lucrezia's ring had cut him, and followed his wife.
Giovanni faced his parents, who look horrified by their son. They knew he had a horrible temper, but had never seen him be so wicked with anyone in their family, especially Lucrezia, who he had a close and affectionate relationship with.
"Call the child Maria. Give my regards to my wife and and I will see her soon." he said, as he walked out of the room to tend to his bleeding nose.
17 August 1560
Jerominos Monastery, Lisbon, Portugal
The Royal Tombs
It was still and quiet. The earthly remains of the late members of the Aviz Family were resting in peace. The parents of King Carlos were interred here, as was his grandmother. One day, he too would rest here with his dearly departed ancestors and loved ones.
As she walked among the tombs, Queen Mary of Portugal was walking very slowly. She had never been here in her seventeen years as being Queen. Despite the heat from the Portuguese summer and wearing all black, she was still cold. She was shocked that she was even here to begin with.
It had been over four months since the deaths of her son, daughter and granddaughter from the Influenza. Mary was still heartbroken. Although she was happy that her eldest daughter, Infanta Catarina, was now the Princess of Portugal and would be Queen one day, that did not take her grief away. Everyone was worried about who would the heir be, while she had to suffer the losses that the merciless plague had put upon her.
Mary stopped at a newly placed memorial slab. Her ten year old daughter, the late Infanta Cristina, now rested here. Queen Mary knelt by her daughter's grave.
"Oh, my girl. My little girl." she said, as she cried.
Mary had to stay strong during the Succession Crisis. She wore black, but remained stoic. She did her best to talk to Catarina about being Queen and thankfully her daughter was bright and was impressing the Court. Now, she just wanted to be a natural grieving mother and grandmother.
Next to young Cristina's tomb, was a larger memorial slab. This was were Mary's late son, Duarte, Prince of Portugal, lay in eternal with his little Joanna. Mary and Carlos felt that they should rest together, as they had died just two days apart.
Mary cried, as she rested her hands on your memorial slabs, holding her precocious children and her granddaughter. She had seven pregnancies and had lost four of those children now. She was thankful for her three remaining daughters, especially her little Isabel, who was barely five.
After an hour or so, Mary rose to her feet and just looked at the memorial slabs.
"I love you all so much. I will never forget you. I will never stop missing you. I will always hold your memories in my heart. We will be reunited one day." she said.
Mary took a deep breath and turned to walk away. She caught sight of the small tombs of her two stillborn children, but could not bear to visit them at this moment. She made a decision that she would use her personal finances to erect beautiful monuments on the graves of her lost children and her beloved granddaughter.
20 August 1560
Crete
King Giacomo I of Crete sat at the head of the table, surrounded by his advisors. Once again, the subject of reclaiming the Greek lands had come up, and once again, they were discussing options to allow for the recapture of these lands from the Ottoman Empire.
The subject was a tough one. The Ottoman ruler, Suleiman, was a fierce military strategist and rarely lost a fight. His troops were trained with rigor, from what Giacomo had been told by his spies, and the men that led his units were harsh with the troops that served under them if they lost. The armies of Crete were no match for those of the Ottoman Empire, but if Crete could somehow get other nations involved, then there might be a possibility of reclaiming the lands, but then that would cause issues with who controlled the land that was reclaimed. That was something that the King of Crete did not want to share.
Crete experienced a wealth of trade from various merchant ships across the world. Each port was filled with markets, where sailing vessels would dock and exchange their goods, allowing the merchants of Crete to become very wealthy. The noble class benefitted from this, as the merchants paid rent and taxes to the nobles for their stalls and for their incomes. For Crete, unlike other nations in Europe, money was never a problem, but land was.
Crete was an island nation, surrounded on all sides by water. There was no conquest of a neighboring nation that could eliminate that problem, unless the nation was part of mainland Europe. The deserts of Africa provided no sustainable resources, and the trip to any other island nation was tedious, despite the cost not being an issue. Storms plagued the sea. Sailors were often lost. King Giacomo was no fool when it came to the problems his nation faced. As more and more sons were born to the people, there was an ever-growing need for more land that could be used to support the growing families. It was the main reason he was considering this proposal to reclaim the lands that was once home to the Greek Empire.
"What about purchasing the land from the Ottomans?" his treasurer asked, after the discussing clearly stalled when it came to military strategy.
King Giacomo shook his head. "With any other nation, that might be an option, but the Ottoman Empire holds as much, if not more wealth than we do," he told his advisors. "They have no need for additional sums of gold."
"They don't use the land. They don't need money. What else can we offer them?" his military strategist asked.
"I honestly don't know gentlemen," the King replied. "The land is a safeguard between mainland Europe and Turkey. That's all they seem to see it as. Most of it is abandoned; unused. They have not allowed their people to branch that far from Constantinople."
"When the Ottomans took that land, they didn't just take it from us, but from several other nations in Europe, like Imereti," the royal historian reminded them. "Would any of these other nations join us in our attacks were we to declare war against the Empire?"
The King thought for a moment. It was possible that they would, but he would have to send ambassadors to each nation to find out for certain and obtain their oaths to support the campaigns that followed. "I can send men to Imereti and Moldavia to gauge their stance on the matter, and perhaps to Austria and Hungary. We're talking about a massive military effort to reclaim the land, if it succeeds, and massive losses of our men if we don't."
The men sitting around the table nodded. "Let's send the ambassadors then and see where we stand," his strategist said. Everyone agreed that it was a good first step.
King Giacomo looked around the table at his advisors. He didn't like the idea of sacrificing his citizens in what was sure to be a brutal loss, but if they did go to war, it would eliminate some of the hardships that were currently facing his nation with the lack of land. With war came death, and with death came fewer children being born for the next generation or two. Either way, it was a risk, and either way, the problem would be solved for the immediate future.
29 August 1560
Hampton Court, England
Queen Lillian of England's Bedchamber
Queen Lillian was reading her favorite book and resting her hand on her slightly swollen belly. She was nearly five months pregnant with her second child and she couldn't wait to meet her new child.
The door opened and Lady Mary Brandon, Duchess of Suffolk, walked in.
"Your Majesty, I just wanted to check on you to make sure you were well." she said.
Lillian smiled.
"I am, Lady Mary. However, I am tired and slightly in pain." she said.
Lady Mary took a step forward.
"Pain? Should I summon the physician?" she asked.
Before Lillian could answer, she felt a sharp pain in her stomach and Lady Mary was horrified to see crimson blood begin to pool at her Queen's feet.
Lillian was silently crying, as her bedding was changed. The ladies did not know what to say to their grieving Queen. She had just survived a terrible ordeal and their main job was to make sure her well-being was their priority. This particular loss was something none of them could do anything about.
Lady Mary sat by Lillian's side.
"Your Majesty?" she said.
Lillian looked at her friend.
"What was it? Tell me." she said.
Lady Mary took a deep breath.
"A girl, Your Majesty." she said.
Lillian cried a little harder. Her second little girl. She would never feel a mother's kiss or a hug or feel the beautiful sun.
"Was she beautiful?" she asked.
Lady Mary nodded.
"Yes, Your Majesty. She came before her time, however she would have been a true credit to Your Majesties had she been brought to term." she said.
Before Lillian could respond, King Harry walked in, tears filling his eyes.
Lillian grabbed him, as he sat next to her.
"I am so sorry, Henry. I am sorry I failed you. I am sorry that you have to feel the pain of losing another child due to me." she said.
Harry shushed her.
"Do not ever think you fail me, my sweet Lily. It was not meant to be this time and that is no fault in anyone, especially you. Our baby girl is in the hands of the Lord." he said.
Lillian continued to cry. Harry had been here before. He and Anne had endured a miscarriage together before and it hurt, but he knew that they happened. The loss also hurt him, however he just wanted to comfort Lillian, since this loss was new to her and he prayed to God that she would never go through this pain again.
A/N I know you all are probably in shock about what has occurred in this Chapter, but I hope you all loved it. The new Chapter will be up soon and will have more good events. The storylines will definitely become more complexed and maybe eve shocking. I hope you all are enjoying the story. Please Read and Review and Chapter Fifty-Nine will be up soon!
