Chapter 60

Thank you all for your patience! The year 1561 go by in a quick breeze. We will not keep you waiting. Please Read and Review and enjoy Chapter Sixty!

4 January 1561

Caserta Palace, Naples, Italy
The Royal Library

Prince Giovanni was in his library, putting his books away. She was very mad and stressed, due to the fact that he did not know how he should organize his books. For several years, the Italian Prince's temper had been short and terrible. He had even murdered his pet dog for simply barking too early in the morning.

He was so deep in his thoughts, that he did not hear his wife, Princess Eleanor, walk in. They had been married for nearly two years and they had a beautiful daughter named Maria. They both adored the child, but their marriage was very unusual. Eleanor was a gentle young woman and Giovanni was rough and enjoyed things that bordered upon torture in their bedroom. Eleanor accepted his unusual obsession with violence and tried to be a good wife to him.

Eleanor walked over to her husband.

"How are you, Giovanni?" she asked.

Giovanni looked at her.

"I am very upset. I want to sort my books and I am very angry." he said.

Eleanor gently touched his shoulder.

"I can help you." she said.

Giovanni shook his head.

"I do not need your help. Go tend to our daughter." he said.

Eleanor took a look at what he was doing and smiled.

"You are sorting them by color. Why not sort them by subject? Theology can go here, the classics can here, and your family history can go here." she said, sorting the books.

Suddenly, Giovanni threw a book at a wall.

"I SAID I DO NOT NEED YOUR HELP, YOU DAMN WHORE!" he screamed.

Eleanor looked at him, in shock.

"You can not speak to me like that." she said, gently.

Giovanni glared at her.

"I can do what I damn well please. The only time I want your mouth open is in our Bedchamber!" he said, as he threw a few books in the nearby fireplace.

With a final glare, He left his wife alone.

Eleanor didn't move. She sank to her knees, as tears rolled down her face. She watched the books burn and she hoped that this anger in hey husband would one day die down.


11 January 1561
Spain

King Luis sat in his study with his wife, Queen Elizabeth, across from him. They had been discussing the new information that had come to light during the trial of Diane de Poitiers in France, and whether or not Princess Joan could actually be in Turkey as the mistress of the late King Henri had suggested. Both agreed that it would be worth the time and money to send an ambassador to Constantinople to find out, but what they couldn't agree on is who to send.

Elizabeth didn't want to trust the matter to anyone but Alexandre Dumane, Luis' most trusted advisor, a man who had proven himself to be a friend to them both. Luis, on the other hand, disagreed with his wife. He wanted to send a more experienced man, who spoke Turkish, just in case the Ottoman ruler tried to hide anything.

Technically, King Francis should have been the one sending someone to Turkey, that was true, but Luis wanted to show Francis that their friendship meant a lot of him, as did the fragile peace between their two nations. He had already dispatched riders to France to ask the King if it would be agreeable for Spain to extend this offer of friendship, but he had not named the man he was sending. If Francis agreed, then Luis wanted to make sure his man was ready to leave the following day. Princess Joan had been away from her family for far too long already, and the sooner they could discover if she was indeed in Turkey, the sooner negotiations for her return could begin.

"I just don't see why Alexandre can't handle it," Elizabeth argued. "Hasn't he proven himself loyal?"

Luis nodded. "Of course, he has, time and time again, darling, but Alexandre does not speak the language," Luis said once more. "Lord Vasquez is also an honorable man, but his years spent in Istanbul will prove valuable if the Sultan tries to hide anything. No one there will know that he speaks the language, and he has some training as a spy, as well as a diplomat."

Elizabeth thought for a moment. Perhaps it would be good to know what was really going on, but she did not know this Lord Vasquez personally. She didn't like putting her faith in a man that she didn't know. She would have preferred Alexandre be sent to Turkey instead, considering the importance of the mission.

"Alright," she finally agreed. "Send Lord Vasquez if you so desire. I don't know him, so I don't trust him, but if you do, then that's good enough for me."

Luis nodded and summoned his page to send for Lord Vasquez. There were some details that they needed to go over concerning the situation and the precautions he was to take once he arrived in Turkey.

Luis turned back to his wife. "While we wait for Lord Vasquez to arrive, would you like to play a game of chess?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "I think I will go check on the children. Juana wasn't feeling well this morning. I want to make sure she's okay."

Luis looked concerned. "Not feeling well?" he questioned.

"Nothing to worry about," she assured him. "She just had the sniffles and a low fever that typically accompanies this type of thing. She should be over it by morning."

Luis nodded. "Tell her that her Papa loves her very much and hopes she feels better soon."

"I will," Elizabeth promised as she stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Luis watched the door for a time before turning back to his desk and the tasks that lay before him. He couldn't help but think that Elizabeth was an angel, sent by God to him. She was the most wonderful woman he'd ever known, an excellent mother, and an amazing Queen. He chuckled to himself, thinking back to right before they were married and how worried she was that she wouldn't be a good Queen for his people when the time came. She was born to rule, and he was a lucky man to have her at his side.


19 January 1561
France

French court was alive with music and celebrations. Not only was the King still alive and well, but he was also turning seventeen. Although the day of the King's birth was always something to celebrate, this year was special. He had survived a terrible illness, the execution of his late father's mistress, Diane de Poitiers, and he was closer than ever to finding his youngest sister, Princess Joan, who had been kidnapped from court nearly three years prior. If that wasn't enough, there was also a rumor going around French court that the Queen was with child once more, but it had not been confirmed.

Francis was dressed in his finest clothing, as was his wife. They wore matching outfits of blue and gold, accented by silver trim. As he led her to the dance floor where they would start off the festivities, he had never seen her look more beautiful than she did that night, except for perhaps on their wedding day two years prior.

Mary was all smiles. Her husband was alive and well, though he did have moments where he had to stop and rest. Those, however, were getting fewer and farther between as the weeks passed since he woke from his sleep and his fever had broken. She held out her hand to him, and he kissed it, then bowed to her. They danced together as if no one else was in the room, and it was quite the scene. Never before had French court experienced a love like that shared between their King and Queen.

Most royal marriages of the time were political, and the couple shared a mutual understanding, and if they were lucky, a friendship more than anything. That was not the case between Francis and Mary, though, and everyone at court knew it. Their King was head-over-heels in love with his wife, and she with him.

On the sidelines, Catherine de Medici watched her eldest son and his wife as they danced. So much had happened since their marriage in 1559. Mary had once carried his child, his son if one believed her dreams after the fall but had lost the baby as a result of hearing of Henri's death. She had not shown any signs of being pregnant after that, but then again, she was recovering from the miscarriage when Henri was buried and then the situation with Diane grew grim, and Francis had fallen ill. Perhaps once he was fully recovered, Mary would once again conceive an heir for France and Scotland. Seeing the way her son looked at his wife, perhaps it would happen that very night. Catherine couldn't help but smile at the thought of being a grandmother.

Once the dance had concluded, the kitchen servants brought out the treats they had prepared for the evening, along with casks of wine that had been bottled on the day Francis was born. Catherine took it upon herself to get glasses for both Francis and Mary, but as she did so, she slipped a tonic into Mary's glass. It was one she had not used in years, but it was ideal for the situation. It was this tonic that helped her conceive Francis and Elisabeth, and she hoped that it would aid the young couple in their own quest for a child.

Francis looked at her when she handed him a glass. "Mother," Francis acknowledged, "thank you."

"My pleasure darling," she said, handing Mary the other glass. "You two looked quite happy out there on the floor."

Mary slipped her hand into Francis'. "We were and we are," she replied, looking lovingly at her husband.

"Hopefully on your next birthday, Francis, Mary won't be able to dance," Catherine remarked. Francis looked at his mother with surprise. Mary was a very good dancer. He couldn't understand why she would say that. "I meant that hopefully she will be carrying the next heir to France and Scotland at the time."

Francis rolled his eyes, but Mary just smiled. "That would be a wonderful reason to miss dancing with my husband," Mary agreed, and the two women smiled at each other.

"Speaking of," Francis said, looking slyly at Mary, "shall we excuse ourselves for the evening, darling?"

"Whatever for?" Mary asked, not catching on, though Catherine did. She looked at Francis and saw what he was thinking in his eyes, then blushed. "Lead the way."

Francis kissed his mother's hand, then took Mary's and led her from the room. They went back to his chambers and made love for the first time since he woke from his illness. As Mary drifted off to sleep in her husband's arms, she smiled, thinking that maybe she wouldn't have to miss the dancing next year after all.


2 February 1561
Turkey

Lord Vasquez, the Spanish ambassador, waited outside of what appeared to be the throne room of the palace in Turkey. He had been sent by King Luis of Spain to find out if the Sultan did indeed have the French princess, Joan at his court here. The child, who had been kidnapped from French court in 1558, was still missing, but recent events revealed that she might have been brought to Turkey, as a slave to the Sultan. If she was there, Lord Vasquez had been charged with bringing her back to Europe at all costs.

He had been waiting for the Sultan to recognize him for hours. Diplomacy was never easy, and there were times that it was outright boring, but he would do as is King commanded, to the best of his ability. Fortunately, Lord Vasquez spoke Turkish, so he could understand what was being said, though the people who passed by him did not realize that.

So far, most of the people here didn't surprise him much. He had spent time among the Ottoman's growing up, and he understood their ways better than most Europeans, even if he didn't agree with their religious beliefs. What did surprise him was the frequency with which the eunuchs came and went through the halls. He thought that they were confined to the Harem, as were the Sultan's concubines, but he had also heard that Suleiman was different from previous Sultans and had legally freed and married one such woman. Perhaps things were changing for the better.

Finally, a man appeared and motioned for him to enter the throne room. He stood and followed. In the room, there were seats around the walls and one in the center. He assumed the man sitting in this seat was the Sultan he had heard about. He waited patiently to be acknowledged after bowing to the man.

The Sultan looked at him, then to another man and nodded. The other man was to act as a translator, as he greeted Lord Vasquez in the name of the Sultan.

"Majesty," Lord Vaquez began, "I have been sent by the King of Spain, Luis I, to inquire about a young girl from Europe who was taken from her family several years ago. My master has reason to believe she might be here, among your harem, and if so, is prepared to offer you any price for her safe return."

The man translated, and the Sultan's eyes widened. "We may have a girl here that fits that description," Suleiman said. "We have been unable to communicate with her as we do not know what language she is speaking. My wife, Hurrem, has determined that it is not Polish or Russian, but beyond that we are at a loss. I do not keep ambassadors here that speak the tongues of Europe, so finding a way to communicate with the girl has been difficult, though my wife has been trying over the past several years to teach her our language." The Sultan paused. "Tell us what you know of this girl you are trying to find."

Lord Vasquez waited for the translation, then did as he was asked. "She is Princess Joan of France, if she is the girl I am seeking, Majesty. She is the daughter of the late King Henri II of France, and his wife, Queen Catherine de Medici, now Queen mother of France," he told the Sultan.

"A French princess, you say?" the Sultan questioned him.

"Yes, Majesty," Lord Vasquez replied.

"Continue."

"She was taken from the gardens of the French palace in 1558, while playing with her companions and her twin sister, Princess Victoria. Victoria was also taken but returned to the palace a month later by an unknown man who had come across the girls while they were being placed on a ship," Vasquez informed him. "Princess Joan was not recovered, and although efforts were made to find her, they were unsuccessful until an informant was found who told the new French King, Francis II, that she might be in Turkey."

The Sultan nodded. "It is quite possible the girl is this Princess Joan, though we call her Banu."

"Majesty, if I could possibly meet the girl, I might be able to determine if she is indeed Princess Joan," Vasquez suggested. "I speak French fluently, and if she is the Princess, I can converse with her in her native tongue."

Suleiman thought about the suggestion, then turned to his advisors, who questioned him in Turkish. They reminded him that typically men were not to speak to the concubines living in the Sultan's care, and that it would break with Islamic law were he allowed to speak with the girl alone. It would compromise the girl's reputation. The Sultan took their words under consideration, asking if the meeting could be allowed if some of his Eunuchs and his wife were present, never leaving the girl alone with the foreigner. This caused more debate, but eventually, his advisors agreed that such a meeting could take place, all the while, none of them realizing that Vasquez could understand them.

"I will arrange for you to meet with the girl in the company of my wife, Hurrem Sultana, and three of my most trusted Eunuchs," Suleiman told Vasquez. "You must understand, it is to protect the girl's reputation here in Turkey, should she not be the Princess you are seeking." Vasquez nodded. Having found no hidden issues relieved his conscience, and the Sultan appeared genuinely concerned for the girl's well-being. "You will be shown to our school room, where the meeting will take place. I will summon the girl and the other parties."

Vasquez bowed and followed the translator to the room he would meet the girl in. He sat on one of the chairs and waited. After an hour had passed, he began looking over some of the things on the walls of the room. They were typical for Turkish children, and many of the ideologies displayed reflected their beliefs. Thirty minutes later, a group of people walked in.

The woman, who was quite beautiful, held the hand of the little girl. She was nearly identical to the portrait Vasquez had seen of Princess Victoria. In his mind, there was no doubt that this was the missing French Princess, but he would question her for good measure. He bowed to the woman, who nodded at him. She sat the girl in one of the chairs, motioning for him to take another on the other side of the room. One of the Eunuchs stood beside him, and another stood beside the girl, while the third guarded the woman.

Vasquez turned his attention to the girl. "Hello little one," he said softly in Spanish. She just looked at him. Vasquez tried again, but this time in French. Her eyes lit up.

"Hello, sir," she responded in flawless French. Vasquez smiled.

"Do you know your name?" he asked.

"Joan, but they call me Banu here," she told him.

"Do you know how you came to be here?" he asked.

"On a ship. The lady brought me here with some men, who left quickly," Joan told him. "I do not remember her name. She died."

"I'm sorry your friend died," he told her. "Do you remember your parents?"

Joan thought for a moment. "I know my mother was pretty, and that people bowed to her, like they do Hurrem. I do not remember my father. I do remember other children where I was before here," Joan told him. "There was another girl who looked like me."

Vasquez nodded. It was to be expected. She had only been two when she was taken. "Thank you for answering my questions."

The little girl nodded and looked at Hurrem. She stood up and they left the room, followed by the Eunuchs. Vasquez turned to the translator.

"That is indeed Princess Joan," he told the man. "She is almost identical to her sister, Princess Victoria, and with what she said about how she came to be here, there is no doubt."

The translator nodded. He left the room to report to the Sultan. Vasquez had accomplished what he was sent to do. Now, he just had to figure out how to get Joan back to France safely, without angering the Sultan.


21 February 1561
France

Queen Mary of France and Scotland was in the chapel of the palace when she was interrupted by one of her guards. She had been praying, thanking God once more for Francis' recovery from his illness, and asking that if it was in His will, that she and her husband be blessed with a child. Mary crossed herself when the guard came in, quickly standing.

"What is it?" she asked.

The guard bowed. "Your Majesty, a messenger has arrived from Scotland with an urgent letter from Lord Flemming," he said.

Mary nodded and stepped into the hallway. The young man handed her the parchment that was sealed with the Flemming seal, then stood back to see if she had a reply for him to carry.

Queen Mary opened the letter, breaking the red wax that was holding it closed. It wasn't like one of her nobles to send her a message without prompting, but as this was the father of one of her ladies, she didn't think much of it until she read what he wrote.

'To her most noble Majesty, Mary I, Queen of Scotland
From Lord Archibald Flemming, Duke of Flemming

Your Majesty,

I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing to you to request the immediate return of my daughter, Lady Mary, to Scotland. I have arranged a marriage for her to Lord Colin MacGrath, the eldest son of the Duke of Dunkeld. They will, with your permission, be married in August, and I would like her to have a chance to get to know her husband-to-be before the date.

Sincerely,
Lord Flemming'

Queen Mary smiled and refolded the parchment. Lady Mary would be thrilled. Although her father wasn't aware, she already knew young Colin and liked him very much, though it would have never been proper for her to admit it. The Queen of Scotland and France walked back to her chambers, sending her page to bring Mary to her with all haste. The girl arrived moments later, somewhat out of breath.

"Did you run all the way?" the Queen asked.

Mary just nodded after curtsying to her Queen, trying to catch her breath. "Your page said it was urgent and that you had a letter from Scotland," she told the Queen.

"Well, he wasn't wrong on either count," Queen Mary said. "You will pack your belongings to return to Scotland immediately."

Mary Flemming looked at Queen Mary with confusion. "Have. . . have I done something wrong, your Majesty?"

Queen Mary shook her head. "Your father has arranged a marriage for you."

The look on Mary Flemming's face said it all; she was disappointed.

"Now, don't look like that," Queen Mary ordered. "When you find out who your husband-to-be is, you will be pleasantly surprised I think" she teased. "A certain young heir to the Duke of Dunkeld is most definitely in your future."

Mary Flemming squealed with delight. "Colin?" she asked. "My father actually chose someone for me who wasn't ancient?"

Queen Mary nodded. "He even chose someone you like already," the Queen said. "The wedding is in August, and he wants you back in Scotland to become acquainted with the young Lord MacGrath." The girl just stared at her Queen. She didn't know what to do. "Don't you have something to ask me?"

After shaking herself out of her daze, Mary Flemming nodded and curtsied to her Queen. "By your leave, your Majesty, I humbly request to be released from your charge in order to marry the man my father has chosen as my future husband."

"You have it," Queen Mary replied, "and my best wishes for your wedding."

Mary Flemming curtsied again, then left the room, smiling. The Queen watched after her lifelong friend and lady, then turned and shed a few tears for the fact that they would probably never see each other again. She knew they would write, but it wasn't the same as being with the girls you'd grown up with. However, if anyone knew it, the Queen of Scots knew that fate had a funny way of replacing the people who left your life with those you needed in it, right when you needed them most.


1 March 1561
England

King Henry IX of England sat staring at the parchment in front of him. It was an application by a Master William Kingston to formally be granted a charter for the school he oversaw, which had been in operation since the 1200s. It was rare for a school to apply for such acknowledgement, but Master Kingston had received a sizeable donation from a wealthy merchant who wanted his son to attend the school. Master Kingston believed that it would be more beneficial to the lad if the school was formally recognized by the crown, which was the reasoning for his application.

Harry had spoken to his wife, Queen Lillian, who was supportive of the idea. His advisors, especially the Secretary of the Treasury, were more apprehensive, as it meant that the crown would be responsible for keeping the school in operation in the future. However, Master Kingston had assured him that within five years of the charter being granted, he would devise a plan to charge a modest tuition for the education his school would provide, which would cover the salaries of the teachers he would employ to educate the boys.

Kingston's plan was thorough. It made logical sense, and as long as he could attract the sons of nobles and wealthy merchants, he would be able to support the school through the tuition he was proposing to charge. His only hang up on the idea was how to make sure the sons of nobles would indeed attend the school, breaking from the tradition of being tutored by private instructors.

He looked out the window and watched the children in the garden. They were playing well together, though it was still bitterly cold in England. He watched the boys who were playing with marbles in the corner, while the girls were dressing their dolls. One of the boys seemed to want a marble that another child had, offering the other child two of his marbles for the one that was desired. That sparked an idea for Harry. He would offer the nobles two years of their sons' tuition paid by the crown if they would allow their sons to attend the school once the charter had been granted, and to ensure the boys stayed there for the duration of their education, which would last seven years, the crown would pay the first and last years of the tuition provided the boys stayed enrolled throughout the other five years. This would allow the school to prosper, while providing the boys with a solid education.

Harry returned to his desk, looked over the parchment once more, then signed it. He called for his private secretary to draft a letter to the noblemen of England, outlining the proposal for their sons' education. He also had the man draft a letter to Kingston defining what the crown was prepared to do to ensure the future success of the school. A few hours later, Harry signed both letters, then sent the letter to his nobles to the royal calligraphers to be copied. The letter to Master Kingston was sent via messenger to the man, while the parchment for the charter was taken to his council chambers for the morning meeting.

King Henry sat back in his chair, considering what he had just accomplished. He was proud of the fact that he had opened education to the upper merchant class, as well as the sons of his nobles on a broader level. He hoped that this education would stabilize the future of England for years to come.


5 March 1561
Candia Castle, Crete, Kingdom of Candia
Queen Marina Kantanoleos of Candia's Privy Chamber

"Matthias, would you stop pestering me? I am trying to read." Prince Nicolai said to his seven year old younger brother.

Matthias groaned.

"I want to play, Nicolai." he complained.

The ten year old rolled his eyes.

"Why not play with Helena or Maria?" he asked.

Five year old Helena walked up to her older brothers.

"I can play with you, Matthias." she said.

From her seat by the window, Queen Marina watched her four children, with her hand resting on her swollen midsection. She was waiting for the imminent birth of her fifth child. She enjoyed being a mother.

The governess in charge of the children, Lady Baros, walked up and bowed to Marina.

"Your Majesty, would you like me to take the children? You do need your rest." she said.

Before Marina could answer, she felt a twinge of pain and knew that Her time to deliver her child had arrived.

"Yes, take the children and also fetch my midwife. My time has come. Do not alarm the children." she said, quietly.

Lady Baros nodded her head and ushered the children out of the rooms, before they could see their mother's pain.


Queen Marina smiled down at her newborn baby. The child had her dark auburn hair, but his father's olive complexion. The birth had been very simple and complication-free.

Suddenly, her husband, King Giacomo, walked over to her and smiled.

"He is beautiful, darling." he said, as he sat next to his wife.

Queen Marina smiled.

"I am so happy that we have a third son. Are you proud of me?" she asked.

Giacomo nodded.

"I am always proud of you. We have been married for twelve years and you have never disappointed me and never will." he said.

Marina smiled.

"I love you, Giacomo." she said.

Giacomo smiled and kissed her passionately.

"His name will be Jacopo, after your late brother, who brought you here to me." he said.

Marina smiled.

"Thank you, darling." she said.


13 March 1561
Turkey

Suleiman I, Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, was talking to his wife, Hurrem, in his chambers. The recent visit of Lord Vasquez from Spain had undoubtedly identified the girl who was in his charge as Princess Joan of France, and he had to decide what to do about it now that they knew her identity. Hurrem wanted to keep the girl in Turkey until her parents found her; she had grown quite attached to the five-year-old Princess while the girl was in her care.

Suleiman understood his wife's affections for the child, but he knew she needed to be with her real family, as this was not the life for which she was destined. He also knew that Hurrem was torn. As a mother, Hurrem knew the girl should be with her family, but also as a mother, she did not know the type of love or attention the girl would receive in Europe with her family. The uncertainty weighed on the Sultana.

"I just don't see how we can justify not informing her family of where she is, darling," Suleiman said. "If it was one of our children, wouldn't you want to know?"

Hurrem nodded. "Of course, my Sultan, but we do not know what kind of life we are sending her back to in France. What if her parents did not care because she is female? You know that many monarchs of Europe value sons over daughters," Hurrem reminded him.

"While that is true, we do not have the right to keep a child who isn't ours, even if she was brought to us," he said.

"We were told she has siblings of both genders when she arrived," Hurrem said, recalling the conversation about Joan when she first arrived. "She could be neglected or overlooked."

"That is something for Allah to decide, my love," he told her. "It is unfortunate if that is the case, but as the daughter of a King, she must be returned to her family now that we know who she is and where she is from. It is the right thing to do."

Hurrem sighed and nodded. She knew her husband was right, and she knew that if Joan was her daughter, she would want her back.

"I will dispatch ambassadors to France immediately," he decided. "It will take nearly a month for them to reach French court, and then they will have to arrange a meeting with the King." Hurrem nodded again, looking distressed. "Do not worry. I am sure her life there will be wonderful, and they will be thrilled to see their daughter again."

Hurrem stood up and curtsied to her husband. "I will inform the girl the best I can though our communication is still limited."

Suleiman kissed her hand before she left his chambers. He sat down at his desk to compose the letter for the ambassadors to deliver. He did not know the French language, so he could only hope that the translation would suffice.

Once he was finished, he sent the letter to his scribe, marked urgent. Within a matter of hours, the message would be translated into French and his ambassadors would be on their way to France, hopefully with the news the French royal family had been waiting for these many years; their daughter was indeed in Turkey and would be returned to them without delay upon receipt of their reply.


2 April 1561
Jerominos Monastery, Lisbon, Portugal
The Royal Crypt

Queen Mary of Portugal was sitting by the graves of her late daughter, son and granddaughter. Today marked the one year anniversary of the death of her little Joanna and Mary thought it best that she pay her respects. The deaths of her children and granddaughter were still a raw wound for her. Her only comfort was that she knew they were in the presence of the Lord.

She placed her hand on her son and granddaughter's shared tomb.

"Oh, my darlings. I miss you so much." she said, as her tears began to fall from her eyes.

She sat there, openly mourning them. She had to put on a brave face all year and now she was finally able to let go.

Suddenly, she felt a hand touch her shoulder. She turned and was surprised to see her eldest surviving daughter, Catarina, Princess of Portugal.

Mary stood up and hugged her.

"Darling, you should not be away from the palace, especially in your condition." she said.

Catarina rested her hand on her swollen stomach. She was expecting to give birth to her third child any day now, but had not get gone into her confinement.

"Mamae, I lost them as well. We all have suffered. I wanted to accompany you here." she said.

Mary smiled.

"Well, thank you so much." she said.

Catarina nodded her head.

"Has Father decided what to do with that... girl?" she asked.

Mary sighed.

"Not yet, but don't be so hard on Maria. She lost two very important people to her. Her anger is natural." she said.

Catarina scoffed.

"How she treats us is not not going to bring them back. You and Father have been very good to her. Forgive me, but I refuse to show kindness to someone who persists in being cruel to people I love. As far as I am concerned, she is my enemy." she said.

Mary sighed, in sadness

"She is your brother's widow. She is family. Your Father has mentioned that soon he would find her another husband. He knows that she still needs time to mourn." she said.

"You actually think that I am going to let you all control my life anymore?" a voice asked.

Mary and Catarina turned around and were face to face with Infanta Maria, Dowager Princess of Portugal.

Catarina glared at her.

"You have the audacity to speak to your Queen in this manner. You truly are your mother's daughter." she said, bitterly.

Maria frowned.

"The Queen did not let me be with my daughter, as she died. She and the King have shown that they do not care about me and since they do not care, I will not let them have a say in my life any longer." she said, with anger.

Mary stepped forward.

"If I had told you about little Joanna's passing, you most likely would have died. We did not want to lose you as well. We love you, as if you were our own daughter." she said.

Maria laughed.

"Well, I am not your daughter and I am thankful to the Lord that he at least spared me from coming from your cursed womb." she said.

Suddenly, Catarina slapped Maria across her face that the twenty-one year old nearly lost her footing.

"How dare you speak to my Mother, an anointed Queen, in this manner. You will wait outside, until we are done visiting." she said.

Mary grabbed her daughter.

"Catarina, calm down. You must think of the child. Let us return to the Palace. Maria needs to visit her husband and daughter." she said.

Catarina took another glaring look at her sister-in-law, who was still holding her cheek and glaring at the both of them. Catarina took her mother's arm and they both departed the Royal Crypt, leaving the embittered Dowager Princess alone.


9 April 1561
Turkey

Suleiman I of the Ottoman Empire rushed to his throne room. He had been told there was a matter of urgency awaiting him. It was unusual for the Sultan to be called in such a fashion, but he took the situation seriously when he it happened. He knew his advisors would not have done so lightly.

When he arrived, he saw what was so urgent before him. The bodies of his ambassadors to France were lying on the floor before his throne.

"What happened?" he demanded to know.

"They were killed, Majesty," one of his advisors said. "We do not know by whom, but it happened somewhere between Rome and France."

Suleiman looked at the bodies of the men he had sent once more, shaking his head. What kind of men would kill two ambassadors delivering a message to France? They carried only the basic armaments, designed for self-defense, not offense. They were no threat to anyone. He could not understand what had happened.

Moments later, he turned as his wife, Hurrem, entered the room. "I heard there was trouble," she told him. It was not protocol for any of the women of his harem to appear before his advisors like this, but he allowed it, as Hurrem had taken precautions to dress appropriately for the situation, covering her face. Some of his older advisors were caught off guard, but they quickly recovered. They were used to the Sultan making exceptions for this woman, including legally marrying her.

"They were killed Hurrem," the Sultan told her. "Our ambassadors were murdered by the infidels on their way to France."

Hurrem was shocked. She knew there was no reason for this, but it had happened all the same. "It's a sign from Allah," she said. "The girl shouldn't be returned to France."

Suleiman looked at her solemnly. It wasn't often that Hurrem spoke her mind in public. She knew better. "Return to your rooms Hurrem. We will discuss this later," he ordered, disappointed in her outburst.

She remembered herself and curtsied to the Sultan before returning to the harem. Although she was given the utmost respect and freedom to speak in private, she had overstepped her boundaries here in front of other men. She knew Suleiman wouldn't harm her or punish her, but she could expect a slight chastisement for her actions in a public venue.

Suleiman turned his attention back to the men who lay before him. "See that they are buried appropriately, and that their families are compensated for their deaths," Suleiman ordered. "I cannot punish those responsible, as we do not know their identities, but I can make sure the wives and children of these men do not suffer."

One of his advisors nodded, bowing, then leaving the room to do as asked.

"Will you send more diplomats to France, Majesty?" another advisor questioned.

Suleiman thought for a moment. "I must," he replied. "The Princess Joan deserves to be reunited with her family, and Allah would not permit me to keep her from them." He paused, then added, "They had nothing to do with this crime. They didn't even know these men were coming. Therefore, they can not be held accountable for the actions of others."

His advisors looked at their ruler with mixed feelings. As always, Suleiman was just in his decision not to punish the innocent for the crimes of the guilty, but as Turks, the men wanted to avenge their fellow countrymen. Suleiman dismissed his advisors once the bodies had been removed for burial, then he sat on his throne and looked around the room.

There were numerous records that held the accounts of the past surrounding him. He knew his subjects did not see him as weak, but instead as just. However, there was nothing about what had occurred that day that cried justice had been served. There never would be. The men who died would never be avenged, as no one knew who had murdered them. Despite the intentions Suleiman had towards the Princess in is care, the losses suffered were great. All around, it was a sad day, and one that would take time to recover from, because even though he was Suleiman the Lawgiver to his people, he was also a man. Today, he was a man who desperately wanted revenge that would never come.


15 April 1561
Turkey

"Hurrem?" Suleiman questioned softly as he entered his wife's bedchambers.

She opened her eyes and looked at her husband. His face echoed the concerns that her physicians had shown that morning. She knew her condition was serious, but she hadn't been told what was going on concerning her health.

That morning, Hurrem had woken with a dizziness in her head. She also had a headache, which was unusual for her. Since coming to Turkey as a young girl more than thirty years ago, she had not suffered from illness, and she had rarely had a moment that she was incapacitated as she was now, except when she was having the Sultan's children. Now, it seemed as if the world was crashing down around her.

She was confined to her bed, and the physicians had ordered her children who were still living to be summoned as well as the Sultan himself. They were afraid she would die.

Her son, Selim, now heir to the throne, had been the first to arrive, just after the physicians had summoned him. He lived in the palace, so he was close by his parents at all times. Mihrimah, her only daughter, had arrived moments before her father, distraught at her mother's weakened state. She was married and had a family of her own to look after but was still close. Hurrem's only other living son, Bayezid, was governor in another province and it would take time for him to travel to Istanbul. Her husband, Suleiman, was in an important meeting, trying to figure out how to get word to France about the girl that was in their charge, now believed to be Princess Joan. He came as soon as the meeting was over, knowing that if Hurrem took a turn for the worse, he would be informed immediately.

Now, Hurrem looked at her husband, surprised to see him in her chambers. She didn't feel well, but she wasn't that sick, was she? The physicians didn't know and neither did the patient.

"Suleiman," she said, her voice weakened, but steady. "Do they think this so serious?"

He just looked at her. In all his life, he had never met a woman who displayed such strength. His wife was possibly on her deathbed, and here she was, joking about her condition. She was the gentlest creature he'd ever known, but she had a fierceness about her that made him love her. He'd never imagined his life could be like it was since he met her. Prior to seeing her for the first time, he'd believed his life would be filled with one woman after another, who would provide him with sons and daughters, but never really capturing his heart. Hurrem had changed all of that. He'd fallen in love with her the moment he saw her.

He sat down on the edge of her bed, taking her hand in his, and kissing it gently. "They aren't sure, my heart," he told her. "They cannot explain your symptoms."

Hurrem just smiled. "Then don't look at me as if I am dying," she replied. "I am not ready to leave you alone in this world."

"Allah has His own plans," Suleiman said, allowing a single tear to escape his eyes. "We do not control His will."

"Then Allah should probably decide that you still need me," she whispered so no one else could hear as she wiped the tear from his cheek.

Suleiman laughed. Only his Hurrem would be so bold as to tell Allah what to do. Only Hurrem would know that he did, in fact, still need her, and that his heart would break without her in his life.

"Father?" Selim questioned.

Suleiman just held up his hand to silence his son. Nothing needed to be said right then that couldn't wait, but Selim insisted, repeating himself. Suleiman turned towards his son to see the younger man looking at the doorway. He followed his son's gaze.

In the doorway stood the little girl who had become a daughter to Hurrem in the past few years. Princess Joan looked at the scene with confusion. Suleiman motioned for the girl to enter, and she came over to the bed where her caregiver lay.

"Hurrem Sultana," the little girl said, "we will play and study more?" When the words came out of her mouth, her Turkish was perfect. Suleiman was surprised, pleasantly, not realizing how much of language the girl had learned.

"Not today, my pet," Hurrem said. "I must rest."

Joan looked from her pseudo mother to the Sultan, then back again. "I have lost my father and mother," she said. "Death cannot take you from me too."

The Sultan looked at their charge with compassion. "Allah determines when we all leave this world little one," he said. "It is not for us to decide."

Joan looked at the man, understanding his words but in her nearly five years of life, she knew more than most children her age would have. She didn't want to accept the loss of another parent, and she began to cry.

Mihrimah watched the scene unfold, and her heart went out to the little girl. Hurrem was her mother, and even at her age, being a mother herself, she was not ready to lose Hurrem. "Father, I will care for Banu today, if it is agreeable to you?" she asked.

"Of course," the Sultan replied to his daughter. "Thank you."

"Come Banu," Mihrimah said, offering her hand to the child. "I will play with you and teach you things."

Joan looked at the woman, then to Hurrem, who nodded. Joan took Mihrimah's hand and went to a corner of the room, where they began talking. Selim joined them a few moments later, though he remained silent for the most part. If his mother died, Joan would be left in the care of the other women in the harem, some of whom were not as understanding as his mother.

Hurrem watched the scene from her bed, still holding her husband's hand. "I am thirsty," she said. Suleiman got up and fetched her a glass of wine from the table by her door, then returned to her bedside.

When he went to hand her the goblet, Hurrem's eyes were closed, and she was smiling slightly. He could not wake her. In his brief absence, Hurrem had found the strength to let go of her pain, and she had quietly gone with death, leaving her family, and her husband, to mourn her loss. Their beloved Sultana was gone.


25 April 1561
Belem Palace, Lisbon, Portugal
Catarina, Princess of Portugal's Bedchamber

Catarina cried out, as her contractions became closer together. Earlier in the morning, she had gone into labor with her third child. The labor had been going well so far, but she wanted the pain to be over.

Her mother, Queen Mary, was by her side.

"You are doing well, darling. The child is nearly here. Just breath" she said

Catarina looked at her mother.

"Mamae, if I do not survive... "

Mary shook her head.

"No. I will not lose another child. You will survive. You will bring this baby into this world and you will be a wonderful mother to it, just like you are yo Sebastian and Maria. Do not give up on them." she said firmly.

Catarina nodded and began to push more. She wanted her child more than anything in the world. She pushed more and could feel her child moving towards her source of life.

She laid back on her pillow and took several breaths. She held her mother's hand tightly, as she felt another contraction overcome her.

"Ahhhh! " she screamed out.

Finally, after several more pushes, Catarina gave one more big push and she felt her child slide from her body and heard a loud cry from a strong set of healthy lungs.

Mary took a cloth and wiped her daughter's sweaty forehead.

"You did it, darling. You have another child." she said, happily.

Catarina smiled. After a few moments, the midwife brought a whimpering bundle over to Catarina and placed it into Catarina's arms.

"It is a girl, Your Highness. She is a beauty." she said.

Catarina smiled and kissed her newborn daughter's head. She was hoping for the birth of another son, so she could name him after her late brother, who she dearly missed.

Mary smiled.

"She is so beautiful." she said, admiring her new granddaughter.

Catarina smiled.

"She is wonderful. A true gift to Juan and I. She is so beautiful, Mamae." she said.

Mary smiled.

"You spent the entire time saying she was a boy. Did you and Juan even discuss names for a daughter?" she asked.

Catarina nodded her head.

"Juan said he wanted to name our next daughter Isabella, after his older sister." she said.

Mary smiled and took her granddaughter in her arms.

"Well, our Isabella is most loved." she said.


10 May 1561
Hungary

Queen Barbara of Hungary was in her birthing chambers. Her contractions had started that morning, and she sent her lady to fetch the midwife immediately. Her older two children, Princess Anne, who was nearly four, and Prince John, who was almost two, had come quickly, so she had little doubt that the baby she was carrying would be here soon. The question was how soon.

Like her mother, the Archduchess Anne of Austria, childbirth seemed to come naturally to her. She felt little pain, or at least, that she could remember, and her children were strong and healthy.

Barbara was already in bed by the time the midwife arrived, and after only moments, the older woman told her to start pushing. She did as she was told. Thirty minutes had passed when there was a knock at the door. One of her ladies opened it slightly, then curtsied. Barbara's husband, King John, had arrived and wanted an update on his wife and child.

"It shouldn't be long, Majesty," her lady said.

"Very well," the King replied. "Keep me informed."

"Yes, Majesty," the lady responded, then curtsied again, closing the door behind her.

"Men," the midwife scoffed. "They are never patient when it comes to this."

Barbara laughed, then pushed again. She remembered how nervous her father always got when her mother was in the middle of giving birth. Her husband was no different.

Another thirty minutes passed, and finally, the Queen of Hungary was rewarded for her efforts as she heard her third child cry for the first time. She saw one of her ladies take the baby over to the table and clean it, then once the child was washed, they wrapped it in a blanket and brought it over to its mother.

"She's the most beautiful child I ever saw," the midwife commented.

"It's a girl then?" Barbara questioned.

"Yes, Majesty," the older woman replied.

Once the room had been tidied and the bed linens changed, King John was allowed to come in. He made his way over to the bed, sitting on the edge. "Well?" he asked.

"We have another daughter," Barbara told him.

John looked at the infant in her arms and smiled. "God willing she is in perfect health."

"Amen to that," Barbara said.

"What shall we call her?" he asked his wife.

Barbara thought for a few moments, then smiled at her daughter. "Margaret," she told him. "I'd like to call her Margaret."

"Princess Margaret she is then." He kissed his wife and daughter on their foreheads, then left the room to make the announcement of her birth to his council.

Barbara watched as he left. She knew that he loved their children, and it was just his way, but she wished sometimes he would be more affectionate with her. Respect and caring was a good foundation for a marriage, and she knew her husband respected her and cared about her, but as much as she tried, the longing for a loving marriage was ever present. She longed to be loved by her husband, as her father had loved her mother, and at this moment, she would have rather been a peasant and been loved than to be the Queen she was.


18 May 1561
France

King Francis II was meeting with his advisors about a matter involving French explorations and colonies in the New World. France began its explorations in 1534, under the reign of his grandfather, Francis I, led by Jacques Cartier. Several years passed before an attempt at colonization was made, which failed, but in 1543, the year he was born, a new attempt was made, and it had worked, to some extent. Out of the four hundred settlers that were sent to what was now known as New France, seventy-five of them had survived the first winter. Now, eighteen years later, a real colony had developed, and the people there were asking for religious services to be more frequent.

Francis had received a petition from the governor of the colony to fund a proper cathedral in the village proper, which now was home to over two hundred French Catholics. Their bishop was a steadfast and honest man who regularly reported on the state of his congregation, and the rate at which it was growing. The problem was that their tithes had been used this past winter to establish a properly consecrated burial ground on the land that had been given for church use by the crown, so there was no funding for the building itself, which was in desperate need of expansion.

"I just don't see how we can fund the building of a cathedral there, Majesty," his secretary of the treasury reported. "We'd have to raise taxes again, and the people are already being taxed severely after the war with Spain."

Francis looked over the documents in front of him and sighed. He wanted to leave his mark on the world, and a peaceful way to do that was to build this church for his people, but France was not as rich as some would think, and he had his sister, Elisabeth's, dowry to come up with when she left for England to marry the Prince of Wales.

All eyes turned when the door opened and his mother, Catherine de Medici, walked into the room. It was highly unusual for the Queen mother to attend such meetings, as Francis was of age to rule on his own, but she did so regardless.

"Pardon me, gentlemen, but I have a solution for the Cathedral," she said.

Everyone at the table sat up to hear her. It was known that the Medici family had money, and this was the one thing they needed at the moment to make this church a reality.

"What is it, Mother," Francis replied.

"I would like to purchase a piece of property held by the crown," she told them, "to be my personal estate."

The men looked at one another, then to their King. Women in France were not allowed to own property in their own right, and they all knew it. The question was if the King would allow it, considering what was at stake.

"Which property would you like to buy from France?" King Francis asked.

"Chenonceau," Catherine replied.

"Diane's former estate?" Francis questioned.

"One and the same," the Queen Mother confirmed.

Francis thought for a moment, looking around at his advisors. None openly seemed to object to the idea, but this was not normal. "You realize that the property would actually have to be held by a guardian?"

"Of course," she replied. "You are the King of France and my son. I see no reason why you could not hold the property in guardianship for me, but the estate would be mine to do with as I see fit. I intend to use it as a summer home for myself and your younger siblings. All expenses related to the chateau would be paid for by me, as well as the staff I employ there, and it would no longer be a burden on the crown."

The men looked at each other, bewildered. This was sounding too good to be true.

"What's the catch, my Lady Mother?" Francis asked. "What's in it for you?"

"I ask only one thing," she said. "I ask that the new cathedral be christened Saint Catherine's, after the patron saint of unmarried girls, so those who are sent to the colony as brides for the settlers have a place they can feel protected."

Francis looked at his mother carefully, gauging her seriousness, then called for the men to vote on the matter. It was affirmed unanimously by all in the room.

"I'll have the deed and contract drawn up for our signatures by morning," he announced, after hearing the vote. "Thank you, Mother. This generous gift will allow the settlers of New France to understand that their country still cares about their well-being, while providing a needed place of worship."

"It is my pleasure to help the crown in any way," Catherine replied, then curtsied to her son and left the room, smiling. Chenonceau would be hers, and Diane's memory could finally fade away from the region as her body rotted in the ground, and all it took was some well-timed money from the Medici family fortunes left to her by her father.


25 May 1561
Belem Palace, Lisbon, Portugal
The Gardens

Queen Mary was enjoying a walk in the gardens with her two younger surviving daughters, Joanna, Princess of Eboli and little Infanta Isabel, who was only five. The day was warm and comfortable.

Mary smiled at her eighteen year old daughter.

"It's beautiful today, is it not?" she asked.

Joanna nodded her head.

"It is. Isabel is surely having fun." she said.

Mary smiled, as she watched her youngest daughter run in the gardens, enjoying herself and the warm weather.

"Sometimes I am saddened that she will be the last child of your Father and I. However, it is the moments like this we cherish. Also, we will get to have grandchildren to enjoy these moments with." she said.

Joanna sighed.

"I am sure that Catarina and Isabel will have many children and you will enjoy your grandchildren, Mamae." she said.

Mary looked at Joanna.

"You will have children as well, darling. You are only eighteen years old. You have time for children." she said.

Joanna looked at her mother, with tears in her eyes.

"You need to bleed to have children." she said.

Mary nodded her head.

"I know, darling. Your bleedings started a few years ago." she said.

Joanna shook her head.

"I haven't bled since December, Mamae. I fear something is wrong with me. I was ill for weeks and now I no longer bleed. I am no use to Manuel. He deserves a fertile wife and that is not me. I even feel weird movements in my belly." she said.

Mary looked at her daughter, in confusion.

"Movements in your belly?" she asked.

Joanna nodded her.

"It started about three days ago." she said.

Mary made a face, thinking hard about what she was hearing.

"When did you last bleed?" she asked.

Joanna looked at her mother.

"December. I just said that." she said.

Mary took a look at her daughter. She had noticed that Joanna looked slightly different. She seemed to glow and she did notice that her dress seemed a little tight on her.

Mary put her hand on her daughter's belly, wondering if her suspicions was correct.

"Mamae, what are you doing?" she asked.

Mary put her finger up, silencing her middle daughter.

Suddenly, she felt it. A light fluttering under her fingers. Her eyes lit up, in shock.

She looked up at her daughter and smiled.

"Joanna, there is nothing wrong with you. You are with child, darling. You are going to be a mother." she said, smiling.

Joanna looked at her mother, in shock.

"How can you be sure?" she asked.

Mary smiled.

"The movement you are feeling is the child quickening. Oh, Joanna, another grandchild." she said, hugging Joanna.

Joanna hugged her mother, with tears in her eyes. She found it hard to believe that she was going to be a mother. She had prepared to be barren, but now for the first time since her marriage, she finally felt useful and could not wait to tell Manuel the exciting news.


16 June 1561
Navarre

Lady Souveraine Davilla climbed the stairs to the upper floor of her home. She had spent the morning at the shops, trying to find the pastries that her husband loved so much, but the baker they normally patronized was on holiday with his family. When she returned home, she was told that her husband, Lord Arturo, had not risen from his slumber, so she went to check on him to make sure that he was not engrossed in some matter of state. In the thirty-one years of their marriage, it was a frequent occurrence that he would be occupied and would have forgotten to come down, even to eat, but it happened more often now that the majority of their children were grown, with lives of their own to manage. Only their youngest daughter, Margaret, was still at home.

Lady Davilla entered his chambers, finding her husband still in bed. He was turned away from the door, and he did not acknowledge her presence, so she began talking to him as if he were awake, telling him a grand story of how she had cleaned out the shops and they were now destitute. As she did so, she went to draw back the heavy curtains that kept the sun out in the morning. Then, she turned to her husband.

"Arturo," she said, "you cannot lounge around all day in bed, no matter how much you want to. There is work to be done." She walked over to the bed, but the sight she saw was not what she expected.

Her husband was lying on his side, his eyes wide open, but he was not moving. "Arturo?" she questioned, going over to him. It was then that she realized that he was not breathing. Lady Davilla screamed, bringing servants from all over the house into the chamber, including their steward, who had been with Arturo since they were boys.

He walked over to the bed, felt under Arturo's nose for breath. He looked at his mistress, then shook his head, confirming her fears. "He's gone, m'lady," the man told her. He reached out and closed Arturo's eyelids, so the haunting sight was not such a shock to the woman's sensitivities.

She stood there in complete shock. Arturo had not complained of feeling badly in the weeks prior, nor had he been acting as if something was wrong. The man looked at one of their pages, giving the lad instructions to fetch the physician and the priest. He sent the other household page to the home of their eldest son, Lord Francis, telling him to come at once. Then he stood and led Lady Davilla to a chair, where she sat, still horrified at the loss of her husband.

Twenty minutes passed. The priest was the first to arrive. He was shown to the Lord's bedchambers, but upon his arrival, he was not allowed to perform any rites of the church. The household steward informed him that Lord Arturo was found this way around noon, and that the physician must examine him before anyone else should touch his remains to determine, if possible, the cause of death.

Lord Francis came next, running up the stairs to his father's rooms. He was also shocked by what he saw, but he regained his composure quickly and went to his mother, trying to break her from her silence.

The physician, who came nearly an hour after he had been sent for, arrived. Upon being told of how the Lord of the Manor was found, he examined the body carefully, with only the steward and Lord Francis present in the room. He came out forty-five minutes later and announced his findings.

"It looks like his lordship had a heart attack and died in his sleep," the man said. "There was nothing anyone could have done to prevent this."

"Thank you, sir," the steward said, and he paid the man for his services.

The priest went back into the room and said a number of prayers for Lord Arturo, as he could not perform last rites on someone who had died without warning. Lord Francis and his mother were both present while the priest prayed, then Lady Davilla kissed her husband on his forehead, saying goodbye to him for the last time.


22 June 1561
Westminster Abbey, London, England
The Sanctuary

Edward, Prince of Wales, was standing at the altar. The twenty-three Prince was finally getting married. The people of England were finally earning a Princess of Wales. His bride, Elisabeth of Valois, was a French Princess and would be the first Anglo-French marriage to take place in one hundred and sixteen years, which was the marriage of King Henry VI and Margaret of Anjou in 1445.

Princess Elisabeth had finally arrived in London a week prior and she and Edward were inseperable. The sixteen year old French Princess had captivated the heir to England and even the Court was looking forward to the wedding.

Edward was excited to finally have his Lissy. He had never wanted to get marry, but this felt like it was the right thing to do. Edward now knew why he fell in love. The Lord had put the desire to marry in his heart, because he was meant to be the King of England one day. His elder brother, William, the late of Wales, had now been dead for three years and now Edward was heir and he would do something that his elder brother failed to do: Marry his true love.

The wedding was starting. Edward listened to the choir, singing. Edward was very devout and he enjoyed the Mass. He saw many nobles and relatives, who were present for his and Elisabeth's day. He saw his father, King Henry IX of England and his stepmother, Queen Lillian, sitting in the Royal Pew. Queen Lillian gave her eldest surviving stepson a small, but comforting smile. Edward saw his eleven year old sister, Princess Margaret. He saw several cousins and his aunt, the Baroness of Windsor.

Edward took a deep breath and silently prayed. He was wearing a white doublet with a crimson cloak. He looked very regal. He was the center of attention. The church was filled with people, wanting to see their future King become a married man.

Finally, he saw her. His beloved Elisabeth walking down the aisle to him, being escorted by the Duke of Suffolk, a close friend and first cousin of the King. Elisabeth looked so beautiful with her silver gown with pearls and precious stones adorning it. She also wore a diamond necklace. Her dark brown hair cascaded down her back, signing her virginity. Edward thought she looked like an angel.

Finally, she reached the altar and she and Edward gazed into each other's eyes. Her brown eyes came into contact with his dark blue. The love they felt for each other burned feel inside them, as the Bishop of London conducted the ceremony. They both gave each other small smiles, only responding to the Bishop. Finally, they were pronounced man and wife and walked hand in hand from Westminster to their waiting carriage outside to go back to Hampton Court.


Princess Elisabeth of Wales' Bedchamber

Princess Elisabeth was being prepared for her wedding night with Edward. Unlike other Royal Brides, she was actually excited. She cared deeply for Edward and wanted nothing, but to please him.

Elisabeth looked at her new lady-in-waiting, Lady Margaret Fitzroy, known as Maggie.

"Maggie, I am happy, but will it hurt?" she asked.

Maggie smiled.

"It may. I have not married yet, but my older sister, the Duchess of Clarence, said that the pain is replaced by pleasure. You must just relax and the pain will go away." she said.

Elisabeth nodded her head and smiled.

Suddenly, Prince Edward and the Bishop of London walked in and walked over to their bed. Elisabeth stood from her chair and mirror and made her way to the bed. The Bishop of London blessed the marriage bed, praying that it would soon best fruit from Elisabeth's womb. After this, everyone departed the room, leaving the newlyweds alone.

Edward smiled at Elisabeth.

"We are finally alone, sweet Lissy." he said.

Elisabeth smiled shyly.

"We are. How do you feel being my husband?" she asked.

Edward walked over to her and gently caressed her cheek.

"It is an honor, as you are a gift from the Lord himself." he said.

Suddenly, Elisabeth kissed him. Edward had never experienced a kiss before I'm his young life. He had to remind himself that she was now his wife and they were not committing a sin. Both of them disrobed, without breaking the kiss and landed upon their bed, solidifying their marriage forever.


29 June 1561
Sweden

The coronation of a new Swedish King was no small event, but the coronation planned for Eric as Crown Prince of Sweden was even more elaborate than any of his predecessors. Eric was not a humble prince, and he believed that he would be a better King than his father had been because he would bring Sweden back to the glory it once held, even if that meant conquering the world to make them all see how amazing he was as a King and as a man.

Preparations for his coronation had been in the works since the day after his father's death, though they were in secret until the three-month mourning period had ended. He had commissioned a new crown for himself. He believed that the old Swedish crown was meant for lesser rulers. The new crown was fashioned after the coronation crown of the English monarchs, set in elaborate amounts of gold and jewels, and lined with a burgundy-colored velvet, making it extremely ostentatious. However, to Eric's way of thinking, it signified the glory that would be his once the other nations of Europe accepted that he was meant to rule them all. They would simply have to accept that the Swedish way of doing things was best.

His wife, Princess Matilda, who was the eldest daughter of the King of England, would also be crowned as Queen Consort of Sweden, but Eric was not overjoyed at the idea of sharing his day with her. She was amiable as a wife, and she had provided him with an heir to the throne, but she was, according to Eric, ill-tempered concerning his needs as a man. She should have accepted that as her husband, he had the right to do as he pleased with anyone he pleased, including his mistress. Her outright rejection of his bastard daughter was embarrassing, leaving her as less than the idea consort in his opinion, and the fact that she clung to the Catholic faith she was raised with was primitive.

The coronation would take place under Protestant rites, not Catholic ones. Eric made sure of that. He hoped that Matilda would refuse to be crowned in the Protestant faith, but she accepted this as Protestantism was the official religion of Sweden, and publicly, she was required to adhere to the faith as if it was her own. Eric had new robes commissioned for the event, and both he and Matilda would wear clothing made from gold, accented with burgundy velvet, despite the fact that it was summer in Sweden.

His children with Matilda would not attend the ceremony with the sole exception of their only son and heir, Prince Johan, who was now the Crown Prince of Sweden. Their daughters, the Princesses Astrid, Katarina, and Anna, were at home with their governesses. Eric would not allow them to attend because Matilda would not allow his daughter, Virginia, to attend because she was a bastard. He would eventually teach his wife to adhere to his will as her husband and her King, even if he had to take drastic measures to do so. He'd even considered calling off the engagement of their daughter, Princess Astrid, to the Russian heir, and forcing his daughters to remain single until their mother showed some respect for the crown, but his advisors had warned against that, citing that Russia might take it as an insult and cause an international conflict.

The procession began with a parade through the streets to the church where the coronation was being held. The royal guards marched in ranks, closely supervised by their commanders. They were followed by the Queen's ladies, then the Queen herself. Eric's personal guards marched behind the Queen, dressed in splendid and costly new uniforms. Eric, carried on a gilded liter, followed his guards. The procession reached the church on time, and Eric was met by the Archbishop of Uppsala.

"Blessed be he who cometh in the name of the Lord," the Archbishop said, then a prayer was said for the King, asking that he be endowed with the grace to govern his people well. Then, the procession entered the church, and Eric was escorted to his seat, with the Royal Standard on his right, and the banner of the Order of the Seraphim on his left. Matilda followed her husband but was seated on the left side of the church, and they knelt to pray, Matilda making a small sign of the cross where no one could see as she did so.

The music of the Swedish church followed, once the prayers were concluded, and Eric rose to take his place upon the throne, with his standard bearers placing the banners on each side. The Archbishop removed his robe and the crown of the Prince. One of the ministers of state placed the Royal Mantle around his shoulders, and Eric swore the oath of the Swedish Kings that had come before him.

The Archbishop then anointed him with holy oil. "The Almighty everlasting God our out His Holy Spirit into your soul and mind, plans and undertakings, by whose gift may you rule land and kingdom as to redound to the honor and glory of God, maintain justice and equity and be for the good of the land and people."

Eric then rose and sat on his throne. The Minister of Justice crowned him with the Archbishop, symbolizing the joint effort of God and the law in the rule of the people. Eric was handed the scepter by the Archbishop, and the Orb of Office was given to him by one of his nobles. The Archbishop prayed for the King once more, and Eric was handed a key by the Major-General of Nordin.

Following the presentation of the key, the coronation sword, unsheathed, was placed in the King's hand. The Archbishop turned to the people who were in attendance, and said, "Now has Eric been crowned King over the lands of the Swedes, Goths, and Wends. He and no other." The man then prayed once more and gave the King his blessing.

The Archbishop then turned to Matilda, nodding slightly. She rose from her seat and took her place on the dais, in the throne meant for the Queen. The ceremony was repeated, with the wording and ideology altered for the Queen as deemed appropriate. She was crowned and anointed, then blessed as Queen of Sweden by the Archbishop.

From the congregation, Crown Prince Johan cried, "Long live the King!" as he had been instructed by his father. The multitudes echoed his words, and the ceremony was concluded with Eric leading the procession out of the church, while Matilda followed behind him, instead of beside him. Sweden had a new King and Queen, but in Eric's mind, he was the only one of the two that really mattered, and it was time his people realized that too.

A/N Thank you so much for your comments and Reviews! Leave more Reviews! I love reading all the comments and seeing all of you, who have been following me since my very first story. It really does mean alot to me. We are nearing the middle of this story. I also have two stories that will pick back up very soon. Please Read and Review and Chapter Sixty-One will be out very soon!