Chapter 62
Well, here we are again with another Chapter and a new year in the story! I cannot believe it has been fifteen years in the story already! I want to thank you all for being devoted readers and followers. There should hopefully be no more hiatuses and you will receive regular updates as usual. Please Read and Review! The more Reviews, the faster the Chapters will come! Enjoy Chapter 62!
1 January 1562
Palace of El Infantado, Guadalajara, Spain
Lady Sancha, Viscountess of Narbonne's Bedchamber
Lady Sancha and her husband's stepmother, Princess Giovanna, Duchess of the Infantado, were spending a quiet afternoon together. Sancha was currently expecting her fifth child any day now and the twenty-five year old was restless in her confinement.
Princess Giovanna smiled at her stepdaughter-in-law.
"I am happy that Queen Elizabeth let us return here. For Christmastide and your confinement. I love it here." she said.
Sancha smiled.
"I agree. I missed the children so much. I love serving our Queen and she is my best friend, but being home is wonderful. I Know that I have Enrique and Eleanora at Court with me since they are companions for Infante Eduardo and Infanta Juana, but I miss Catalina and Diego. I hate leaving them here. Do you feel that way when you have to leave little Juana?" she asked.
Princess Giovanna nodded. She had been married to her second husband, Lord Diego de Mendoza, Duke of the Infantado, for eight years and despite their seventeen year age difference, they were very happy and had three children of their own. Their older children were companions of Infante Eduardo and Infanta Juana as well, but their youngest daughter, Juana, who is would be two years old soon, had to remain at their estate.
"I am glad to bring Alfonso and Maria to Court as well. How are you feeling? You should be due any day now." she asked.
Before Sancha could answer, she felt a twinge of pain that was very sharp.
She looked at her stepmother-in-law.
"Today is the day. I need a midwife." she said, trying to remain calm.
Princess Giovanna immediately left the room.
Fours hours later...
Sancha screamed, as she pushed through her contraction. This labor was going well and within a few hour, it was time for her to start pushing.
Princess Giovanna held Sancha by her hand, as her pains came closer and began to push
"You're doing well, Sancha. Think about holding your beautiful child." she said.
Sancha continued to push harder. She could feel this labor coming to an end. She wanted to hold her child more than anything.
After several more pushes, Sancha finally felt her child slide out of her body and she heard a loud healthy cry. She leaned back against her pillow and kept taking deep breaths.
Princess Giovanna stepped away, as Sancha was cleaned and the bedding was being changed. After several minutes, The infant had been bathed and swaddled and the midwife placed the infant in Sancha's arms.
"You have delivered a healthy daughter, Your Grace." she said.
Sancha smiled. This was her third daughter and her fifth healthy child. She was so happy to have another child.
Princess Giovanna be walked over.
"She is a beautiful child. I am so sorry that Carlos is at Court. Have you both discussed names?" she asked.
Sancha nodded.
"Yes. If the child was a girl, we agreed on Beatriz, after his sister." she said.
Princess Giovanna smiled.
"I will let you rest and I will have a letter sent to Court, informing Carlos of little Breatriz and her birth." She asked, as she left the room.
2 January 1562
Ribiera Palace, Lisbon, Portugal
Queen Mary of Portugal's Privy Chamber
Queen Mary sat bu the fire, as a ferocious storm raged outside the palace her family called home. In her nearly twenty years of being Queen, she had never felt powerless, even when plague claimed two of her children and her granddaughter just two years ago. For the last seven weeks, her beloved husband of twenty-seven years, King Carlos of Portugal, had been battling a horrible illness. He seemed to recover, until he had an attack of his heart and became even more feverish. The physician had said there was nothing more they could do and Mary had to face the horrible truth: her beloved husband was making his transition to the Lord.
Carlos had ordered people to stop praying for his recovery and pray for his soul instead. He had revised his will, making sure that the Throne would pass to their eldest surviving daughter, Catarina, upon his death, which seemed imminent.
Mary heard footsteps behind her.
"Your Majesty?" a voice said.
Mary slowly turned around and saw her husband's eldest surviving sister, Infanta Joanna, Dowager Duchess of Trancoso. The fifty-two year old woman had tears glistening in her blue eyes and Mary knew that her husband was in his final moments.
She rose from her chair and walked towards the door, with her sister-in-law a few paces behind her. Mary stood at the end of the long corridor that led to her husband's bedchamber. She took a deep breath and began the long walk. She could hear the prayers from the clergyman and some of the courtiers. She was doing her best to fight back tears.
Finally, she reached his Bedchamber and walked in. She moved slowly to the bed where her ailing husband lay and sat next to him. Even at fifty years old and sickly, she was reminded of the twenty-three year old Portuguese Prince that she married.
Carlos stirred and looked at his wife, taking deep breaths.
He weakly grabbed her hand.
" Mary, my sweet Mary. The Lord is deciding to separate us on this life." he said, in his raspy voice.
Mary shook her head and began to speak, but Carlos spoke up first.
"Please do not protest and try to deny the fact. It is not like you. I know it is not what we want3, but we must go according to the will of our Lord. I just wanted you to thank you for twenty-seven beautiful years. Many people like us do not get experience what we have in our lifetime. You are an angel that the Lord has placed in my life. I love you, sweetheart. We will be reunited one day." he said.
Mary had tears rolling down her face and held Carlos by the hand.
Several more relatives, including Carlos' sisters, Infanta Isabel, Duchess of Coimbra and Infanta Maria, Duchess of the Viseu, his only surviving brother, Infante Duarte, Duke of Beja and their families, came and prepared to say goodbye to King Carlos.
Finally, the three daughters of Carlos and Mary walked in. Six year old Isabel walked up to her father. Carlos kissed her and told the little girl to be a good girl and then her governess took her back to the Royal Nursery.
Infanta Joanna, Princess of Eboli, walked up to her Father, with her husband behind her.
"Father, please do not leave us. Fight this illness." she begged, as her husband held her by the shoulders, comforting her.
Carlos smiled at his eighteen year old daughter.
"Sweet Joanna, I am merely going home to the Lord. You need not worry about me anymore, darling." he said.
Joanna kissed her father's hand and continued to cry.
Carlos looked around.
"Catarina, are you here?" he asked.
Catarina walked closer.
"Yes, Father. I am here." she said, trying to fight back tears.
Carlos looked at his eldest daughter.
"Soon, you will be Portugal's first Queen. It is up to you to continue my legacy. Lead our people with a firm but loving hand. Do not forget the people in Brazil. They are Portugal's people too. Look after your sisters in my place. I need that promise from you." he said.
Catarina nodded her head, as a few tears fell from her bright blue eyes.
"Of course, Father. I promise." she said.
Carlos began to take deep breaths. He looked at the beautiful faces of his wife and his two elder daughters and other relatives. He realized how blessed he was and how successful his legacy was. He knew he was leaving his Kingdom into the correct hands of his beloved daughter.
"Guide my spirit, Lord. Hold my hand. Embrace my soul."
King Carlos I of Portugal closed his eyes and breathed his last, leaving his troubled body behind.
Everyone in the room crossed themselves and Mary, now Dowager Queen, laid her head on husband's chest, that was no longer housing a beating heart.
Catarina stood up, letting her tears flow freeku6, silently praying that she could accept her new role as Queen of Portugal.
14 January 1562
Turkey
Suleiman I, the Sultan of the Ottoman empire stood on his balcony overlooking the gardens. It was warm for this time of year, and the ruler was enjoying the break from the cold winter. There were no flowers blooming in the gardens yet, and they expected several more months before that would happen, but it was a treat to be out of the palace in January. Suddenly, he heard a noise from the balcony below and looked down.
Two of his concubines had decided to step outside as well, and on this occasion, they had brought the young French princess, Joan, with them. Suleiman watched as the five-year-old girl played with the two women. Over the years that she had been in Turkey, Joan, who was called Esma, had learned to speak the language of her new home fluently, and had even begun to attend religion classes on Islam. It was obvious that the Princess was intelligent, and her acceptance level of their culture differences was astounding. Suleiman smiled as the young girl looked up and saw him. She waved, and he waved back to her.
He was determined to get her back to her family, despite the women of his harem loving the lively mannerisms that the girl brought to their lives. He went back inside and called for his scribe. Once the man had entered the Sultan's chambers, Suleiman dictated a letter to the French King, who he now knew to be the Princess' brother, King Francis II.
To His Majesty, King Francis II of France
From His Imperial Highness, Suleiman, Sultan of the Ottomans
Your Majesty,
Several years ago, a young girl was brought to my palace in Turkey. We did not know who she was, only that she wore expensive clothing and spoke in a language that we could not recognize. It has since come to our attention that the girl, who is now five, may be your missing sister, Joan, Princess of France. We have made several attempts to contact you on this matter to no avail.
Your sister has been a delight and has brought a new level of livelihood to our court. It has been a pleasure to host her here, but we feel she should be returned to your family, if this is indeed her. Send instructions at once regarding when and where we can meet to reunite your family. We ask nothing from you other than updates on her progress as she grows into a young woman. We have come to care for her as a daughter.
Regards,
Suleiman of Turkey
The scribe handed the parchment to the Sultan for his signature, then sealed the letter, leaving it on the desk. Suleiman sent for two of his guards that had training as both soldiers and diplomats. He instructed the men to set out for France at once, with the letter, and with instructions to deliver it with all speed to the French King. As the men departed, Suleiman looked at a portrait of his beloved Hurrem and smiled. He would keep his promise to return the girl to her family if at all possible, and if it was not possible, he would make her a princess of Turkey one way or another.
24 January 1562
Jeronimos Monastery, Lisbon, Portugal
The death of any reigning monarch was never taken lightly, but in Portugal, the political climate had changed since the death of their King, Carlos I. His daughter, the Infanta Catarina, was now Queen and it made many of the noblemen in the realm uneasy. Their thoughts were not entirely limited to the male population, either. Many of the noble women were also doubting the young Infanta's ability to keep their nation safe and secure from foreign threats, after all, no woman had personally led an army or understood the intricacies of military strategy since Queen Isabella of Castile, and she was the exception, not the rule. However, the new Queen was married and her husband, the Duke of Franco, had led companies during the Spanish campaigns against the French nearly a decade ago. She had also provided the realm with a male heir, the Infante Sebastian, who would rule when she had been called to God, and in this, the noblemen were grateful that their young Queen was fertile and healthy.
The morning of the late King's funeral was a mess. It was raining, as befitting the burial scene of a beloved monarch, but the Dowager Queen could not bring herself to leave her chambers, even at the urging of her ladies.
"Your Majesty," one of her ladies said, trying once more to persuade Queen Mary to finish her preparations, "your husband's funeral. . ."
Mary just shook her head. Her beloved Carlos was gone, and she was alone. She loved her children, but Carlos was her everything. She recalled one of their first moments together, after her father had signed her betrothal contacts. She and Carlos were walking through the gardens in England, and it was then that he had proclaimed his love for her. He even ran through an empty field nearby screaming of his love for her, which embarrassed the young girl, but also filled her with such joy. She couldn't help the tears that fell from her cheeks now that he was gone.
An hour before his funeral was to begin, Catarina entered her mother's rooms. "Mama," she said softly, "it is time that you made your way to the cathedral."
Mary shook her head.
"You have to," Catarina said, kneeling before her mother and taking the older woman's hands in hers. "As Queen I cannot represent the family, and Papa deserves to be surrounded by those who loved him as a man, not just as King." Mary stared at her daughter for several moments, then slowly nodded, placing her mourning veil on her head and gathering Carlos' Bible to take with her to the church.
Mary was escorted to her seat by her son-in-law, Prince Manuel of Eboli, then her daughters, Joanna and Isabel joined her as they waited for the other attendees to file into the church for the service. Mary looked at the casket that held her husband's remains. He would be laid to rest beside their son, the Infante Duarte, who had died during the influenza epidemic, and their stillborn son who had been waiting for them since the day he was born. The family crypt also held the remains of their daughter, Christina; Carlos' parents, and several of his siblings. One day, Mary would rest beside him, as well, but today was not that day.
The service was beautiful. The priest conducted it in Latin, as was customary, but read a poem in Portuguese before the final prayer, emphasizing that the King loved the nation of his birth and that he was loyal to her people until his last breath. The older man nodded to Manuel, who stood, offering his arm to the Dowager Queen. Mary rose and took it, allowing herself to be led to her husband's casket. She lifted her own veil, kissed his casket lid, then whispered "I will love you until my dying day." Then, she turned to those who had gathered to say goodbye with a single tear on her cheek.
It was then that she noticed her former daughter-in-law, the Dowager Princess of Portugal, Maria, in the pew behind her family. She looked at the younger woman for a moment with a blank expression. Then gasped as Maria mumbled "Good riddance," under her breath.
Joanna turned to Maria and softly said, "This is not the time or place for grievances.
Maria looked at Joanna with a fierceness that Mary hadn't seen since her sister, Isabella, had went into a tirade over Maria' legitimacy. "It's never the time or place to let the people of this nation know that their late King and Dowager Queen are heartless and cruel people," Maria said loudly enough that everyone could hear her. "This family does not deserve the respect of the Portuguese people, and that man in the casket up there, well, the world is a better place now that he's dead."
Mary was beside herself. She went to silence her former daughter-in-law but had taken no more than three steps from where Carlos was resting before she stumbled, and Manuel had to steady her. Joanna gasped and put her hand to her lips, as little Isabel cried out, "Mama." Mary looked at her daughters, gave them a smile of reassurance, which was all she could muster, but it was too much for her in her grief. The Dowager Queen of Portugal fainted in the aisle of the church, causing cries of outrage at Maria from those in attendance.
By the time Manuel had carried his mother-in-law to the waiting carriage, Mary had regained consciousness. "Majesty?" he questioned.
Mary patted his hand. "I'm okay Manuel," she told him, smiling at her daughters once more. "She will be dealt with." They rode back to the palace in silence.
Queen Catarina was waiting for them at the entrance to their home, having already heard what happened at the church. She followed her mother inside, then sat next to her in the receiving room. "She won't get away with it, Mother," Catarina said. "That much, I promise you."
Mary nodded. She did not want Maria harmed, but the girl did have to learn her place as Dowager Princess if her life within the palace was to continue. Catarina, however, had other plans. "I have an offer of marriage for her from the governor of Brazil. He has a son about Maria's age and would like to see them wed to show that the people of Brazil have not been abandoned by the crown. I am strongly considering the proposal."
Mary looked at her daughter. "What is the young man like?" she asked. "Did his father provide this information?"
Catarina nodded. "He says that his son is intelligent and caring, but stern when it comes to money," she told her mother. "He also sent along a portrait of the young man. He is quite handsome and looks healthy."
Mary nodded. "Perhaps it would be best if Maria were to marry again," Mary said. "It would give her a life away from the grief she has experienced here, and something new to think about."
"I don't care how she feels about it, Mother," Catarina explained. "She is the Dowager Princess of Portugal, and like any princess of this realm, she will fulfill her duty to this family. . . just as I have, despite Juan's indiscretions, just as Joanna has, despite being prepared to become the Queen of France, which never happened. Love either comes later in a marriage, or it doesn't. We who are so privileged in other ways can't shirk our less agreeable duties because we want to act in our own interests. It's time Maria learned that lesson, even if it has to be the hard way."
Mary sighed. Perhaps Catarina was right. Perhaps the priests were, too. Maria's mother, Princess Isabella, had committed a mortal sin years before Maria was born, but the church always taught that the sins of the father would be visited on the children. Perhaps Maria was paying for the sin her mother had committed when she murdered her first husband. It wasn't fair, but if that's how God deemed it to be, then who on this earth could argue?
Mary stood, curtsying to her eldest daughter, then returned to her chambers where she fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of her late husband and the love they shared throughout the years they were together. In her sleep, at least, Mary smiled.
30 January 1562
France
They had arrived early that morning and so far, were impressed by the customs of the French court. King Francis and Queen Mary were unlike any royal couple they had seen, except for their own Sultan and his wife, the late Hurrem. Typically, royal marriages were for political gain, but the French King and Queen seemed genuinely in love. When they were granted an audience with their Majesties, they quickly discovered that the little girl who had been brought to Turkey years ago was indeed the Princess Joan of France.
"You asked for an audience with us?" King Francis II of France questioned.
"Yes, your Majesty," the older of the Sultan's ambassadors replied. "We come to you from Turkey and are unfamiliar with the customs of your court. We would like to be enlightened so we can better navigate our duties while in France."
"Of course," the King said, motioning to one of his pages. The young man quickly stood and approached the dais. "Bernard, please take these gentlemen to the library wing and show them the books we have on France's customs and history."
"Yes, King Francis," the young man said, bowing to his King. Queen Mary watched as they bowed, then turned to exit the room.
As the doors were opened for their departure, a young girl ran in, carrying a doll. She was dressed in fine silk cloth, and an older woman followed her. The girl caught their attention. "Pardon me, King Francis," the younger ambassador said, "but who is the young lady who just ran past?"
"My sister," he replied, "the Princess Victoria of France."
"Obliged," the Turkish man responded, then followed his companion out of the room.
Once they had reached the library and were shown to the books they needed, the younger man turned to his older companion. "Did you see the Princess?' he asked.
The older man nodded. "She is the spitting image of our little Esma," he said. "There is no doubt that they are at least sisters, if not the French twins that went missing."
The younger one agreed, and they sat down to learn about the customs of France. After several hours, the answer came to them, and they left the library, requesting a tour of the palace, which was granted by the castle steward.
As they were shown the various rooms, one caught their attention, the King's study. The older man pretended to have a cramp in his leg, bending down to rub it near King Francis' desk. When the guard turned to answer a question asked by his companion, the older man slipped the Sultan's message onto the desk, then stood up quickly, ready to continue the tour. Then, the three left the room.
Sometime later, King Francis entered his study, but was interrupted by his mother's appearance at the door. He brushed against the letter left by their visitors, knocking it onto the floor, but not noticing that it had fallen. As he left the room, he unknowingly pushed it under a nearby rug with the heel of his shoe. Somehow, fate had determined that it was not yet time for Princess Joan to return home to her native France to be reunited with her family.
1 February 1562
Ribiera Palace, Lisbon, Portugal
Queen Catarina's of Portugal's Privy Chamber
Catarina was going over documents that her late father was unable to attend to, due to his final illness. It had been nearly a month since his death and she could not believe that she was Queen. Her coronation would be taking place within five months, but she was the first undisputed Queen of Portugal.
Her door open and her younger sister, Infanta Joanna, Princess of Eboli, walked in.
Catarina smiled.
"What can I do for you, sweet sister?" she asked
Joanna sighed.
"It is Mother. She is still in seclusion. Poor little Isabel has lost Father and now she does not see Mother. I am keeping her in my household until Mother recovers." she said.
Catarina nodded her head.
"You are a God send. I am sure everything will be fine." she said.
Joanna glared.
"Not with that she-wolf lurking about Court." she said.
"You aren't talking about me, are you?"
The two sisters turned towards the door ,where Infanta Maria stood.
Catarina stood up, angrily.
"How dare you enter my Chambers without asking permission?!" she asked.
Maria smirked.
"You have not been coronated. Why are you two speaking to me this way?" she asked.
Joanna glared at her.
"The reason I am talking to the Queen is because of how distasteful you have been, especially to the Queen Mother." she said.
Maria glared at Joanna.
"I care not about how that woman feels. I lost my husband as well." she said.
Catarina nodded..
'"He was our brother and everyone tried to comfort you. Do not dare try and say otherwise." she said.
Maria scoffed.
"Your evil Father wanted to marry me off and I do not care how your Mother feels." she said, defiantly.
Catarina banged on her desk.
"SILENCE! You will not speak ill of the late King or keep tormenting the Queen Mother. If you keep those behavior up, not only would I marry you and you'll be sent to one of our colonies, but I will declare you illegitimate once more and send you back to your Mother's household in disgrace." she said, angrily.
Maria looked at the young Queen, in shock.
"You would not dare." she said.
Catarina walked closer to her.
"If you doubt my word, you may continue, but I promise you that you will not love the outcome. Leave my sight. Now." she said firmly.
Maria backed away and then with a final glare, turned and left the room.
Joanna walked up to her sister.
"Do you think she will stop?" she asked.
Catarina shook her head.
"If she is anything like her mother, she will only get worse." she said.
7 February 1562
Italy
The two Turkish ambassadors had stopped for the night. They had been travelling all day and were road weary. There was no town or village nearby, so they made camp in a clearing near the road. It would be easier to start their journey in the morning this way. After nearly a month away from their homeland, it would be wonderful to finally see their families once more.
The men hunted and cooked the rabbits they were easily able to find, then cleaned up and laid down to sleep. Around two in the morning, the older man was startled awake by a noise on the other side of the trees. He reached for his dagger but did not move. He could not see anything from where he was laying and hoped it was nothing more than a wild animal that had wandered too close.
The noise came again, waking the younger of the two, who also did not stir. He opened an eye and saw his companion through the darkness clutching his dagger. As he reached for his own, a voice came through the darkness. "Well, well, what have we here?" a gruff male voice said in Italian.
Both men turned their heads and saw a rough looking man standing above them, surrounded by four others who were all holding swords.
"We are on our way home," the older ambassador said, also speaking Italian. "We mean you no harm and apologize if we are disturbing your land. We were tired and could not find a village."
"The nearest village is over one hundred miles from here," the leader of the group answered. He looked at the other men. "I would suggest that you give us whatever coin you have."
The older man looked at his companion and nodded. They both handed over the sacks of money they were carrying, as two of the group went to search the saddles on their horses, pulling out anything of value.
"Stand," the leader commanded, and they did so. They did not want to anger him by arguing. He was about to say something else when one of the men at the horses turned around.
"Gio," the other man said, "look." He tossed a book to the leader, who glanced at the writing for a moment.
"Muslim heathens," the leader announced to his group, holding up the book. "These are men from Turkey and probably serve that savage who leads the Ottoman Empire."
"Our Sultan is no savage sir," the older man said. "He is trying to unite the people of the earth under the one true God."
"The one true God is God," the leader told him, raising his voice. "You barbarians have ravaged, murdered and raped your way across Europe in the name of your false god, and your arrogance is fueled by none other than the devil himself. We have no use for your kind here." He pointed his sword at the older man and ran him through the heart, killing him instantly. The leader then turned on the younger man, who was trembling in fear.
"Your sins will be punished," the younger man said, despite the fact that he knew he would also die.
"Punished by who?" the leader of the group asked. "Your false god?" he laughed. "I'll make you a deal. You pray to your god for mercy, and I'll stop stabbing you the moment he shows up." He stabbed the younger man in his arm, then in his leg. Then he looked to the heavens for a sign that this god was coming. There was nothing but stars on a blanket of darkness. "See, your god could care less if you live or die, or maybe, he just doesn't exist at all." Then, the leader of the group slit the throat of the younger ambassador and watched as he bled out all over the ground.
"That's for my Lorraine," he said. Then he spit on the ground, took the valuables they carried, and rode away into the darkness, leaving the bodies on the ground where they died.
17 February 1562
Westminster Abbey, London, England
The Royal Tomb
Edward, Prince of Wales was walking among the tombs oh his ancestors. He passed the graves of his great-grandparents, King Henry VII and Queen Elizabeth of York. He stopped and looked at their joint tomb in amazement. Both had died decades before his very own birth, but he still felt a connection to them. He loved their love story and their sense of family. He and his beloved Elisabeth did not talk about children much, but they both knew that their duty was to produce heirs and lengthen their dynasty.
After several moments, Edward finally reached the tomb he was looking for. He looked down at the marble slab that covered the final resting place of his late elder brother, William, Prince of Wales. Edward did his best to hold his tears back. He could not believe that it had been four years since the untimely death of William at the age of just twenty-six years old.
He knelt down and placed a hand on the cold marble.
"Hello, William. I am sorry I have not been to visit. There has been so much change that has happened since you went home to be with the Lord. I am married to Princess Elisabeth of Valois now. She is a wonderful wife. Owen and Eleanor are both in Naples. Eleanor is even a mother now. Can you imagine our younger sister as a mother? Matilda is now Queen of Sweden. I still cannot believe it. We have another sister. Little Mary is a precious child. She's four years old and our Lady Stepmother is expecting another child. In a few years, Margaret will he leaving for Vienna." he stopped, smiling as he talked about his family.
As he was talking, be did not hear his father, King Henry IX of England walk up. The older man decided to hide and listen to his son, instead of interrupting his personal visit.
Edward sighed
"William, I wish you had not died. I pray that Father outlives me. I am not ready for the responsibility of being King. I do not have the knowledge you had. I am not good at controlling the military or how to deal with rebellious nobles or even how the taxes should be controlled in the villages. I would prefer life I'm the country with my Lissy. I pray that I do not fail England." he said.
Edward sighed, made the sign of the Cross and he began to walk away from his brother's tomb.
After Edward left, Harry stepped out of the shadows, chastising himself on not knowing about Edward's feelings on him being the heir to the Throne. He made a mental note to have him tutored more so that his feelings on his future as King would be more secure.
21 February 1562
Turkey
Princess Joan of France, now known as Esma to everyone in the palace of the Sultan, was in the gardens of her new home, walking with some of the ladies who lived in the Sultan's haram. The day was beautiful and slightly warm for February, and she was glad to be outside in the sun. Normally, she spent her days in the company of the Sultan's daughter, Mihrimah Sultana, learning things that ladies of the age were taught, but today was different. Mihrimah was attending to her daughter, Ayse, who had just married and was having some difficulty adjusting to her new family and her duties as a wife.
Although the deviation from her normal routine was appreciated by the youngster, she was curious about why Ayse would have such troubles. "Nadira," she said, speaking to one of the ladies that was with her, "why is Ayse having trouble with her husband?"
Nadira kneeled down to Joan's level. "What brought this question on, little one?" she asked.
"I worry for Mihrimah Sultana," Joan replied. "If her daughter is troubled, then she will also be troubled as a good mother, won't she?"
"Yes, she will," Nadria answered. The older woman thought for a moment. How could she explain the situation to a five-year-old girl? "Ayse is young and has never been a wife before," she explained. "Sometimes, when a woman marries, she is not always prepared for the life that she has to adapt to, and even though Mihrimah Sultana raised her to be a wife and mother, different families have different traditions. A wife has to learn the traditions of her husband's family, and that can take time. Some husbands are not as patient as others. Does that make sense?"
Joan thought about what Nadira told her and nodded. "Can her husband not be told that she needs more time to change?"
Nadira smiled at the girl. "He could be, yes, but it would be considered disrespectful if Ayse was to say it."
"Why? Shouldn't husbands and wives be able to trust each other and talk about anything?" Joan asked.
"Yes, I suppose they should, but sometimes, talking is harder than it seems," Nadira answered.
"It doesn't seem that hard to me."
"You'll understand more when you are older," Nadira said, smiling.
"Nadira, are you married?"
"No Princess, I am not."
"Why not?"
"I live my life in service to our Sultan," Nadira answered.
"Why?"
"He is a good man who takes care of us all, much like a father."
"But don't children grow up and leave their parents to have families of their own?" Joan questioned.
"Many do," Nadira replied.
"Then couldn't the Sultan find you a husband?" Joan asked. "You would be a wonderful mother."
"Thank you, Princess, but that's not possible."
"Why not? Don't you want to get married?"
Nadira didn't know how to explain this to the young girl either. The life of a slave was different from that of a regular citizen of Turkey, but the details were complicated, and she did not want to make the girl think that the Sultan was a bad man.
"I like my life here at the palace," she explained. "The Sultan takes good care of me, and I have everything I want here, within reason."
"So, the Sultan is like your husband?" Joan asked.
"In a way, I suppose you could see it like that."
Joan was silent for a moment. The older woman could tell she was thinking about their conversation. "Nadira," Joan said, finally speaking again, "I think adults are confusing with this marriage business."
Nadira smiled and laughed. "You know what, Princess? I think you are right." The older woman held out her hand, and when Joan took it, they went back into the palace to work on embroidery. After a while, Nadira had forgotten about their conversation, but Joan had not. She didn't know if she ever wanted to marry with all of the rules and changes that had to be made, and she wondered if she would have to marry when she was older or if she could stay with the Sultan forever, like Nadira.
5 March 1562
Palace of Madrid, Madrid, Spain
Queen Elizabeth of Spain's Bedchamber
The sun was shining brightly in Queen Elizabeth's bedchamber. She was peacefully sleeping. Her ladies-in-waiting did not want to wake her, as their Queen rarely had the privilege of sleeping in.
Finally, Lady Sancha de Mendoza walked over to her best friend.
"Your Majesty, I hate to wake you, but it is well into the morning." she said.
Elizabeth opened her eyes and sleepily nodded.
"You're right, Sancha. I have to get up." she said.
Queen Elizabeth sat up in her bed, but was suddenly hit with a dizzy spell. Her head was spinning and Elizabeth laid back down for relief.
Sancha looked at her friend, in concern.
"Are you well, Your Majesty?" she asked.
Elizabeth nodded her head.
"I an well. However, I need you to postpone my morning duties and summon the physician quietly and alert the King." she said.
Lady Sancha nodded her head and left the room.
Lady Elizabeth Brandon, one of the Queen's cousins, walked over.
"Your Majesty, are you seriously ill?" the twenty-two year old asked her cousin, showing visible concern.
Queen Elizabeth nodded her head.
"I will be fine, sweet Elizabeth. Now enough about me. How is your family?" she asked.
Lady Elizabeth smiled. She had married Lord Manuel Oldenburg, the eldest son of Infanta Maria, Duchess of Viseu in January 1560. Their marriage was loving and eleven months after their wedding, the couple welcomed a beautiful daughter named Prudentia.
"Everyone is well. Of course my mother-in-law is still mourning the death of her brother, the late King of Portugal." she said.
Queen Elizabeth sighed, remembering her poor sister, the Dowager Queen of Portugal and the pain she was currently going through. Her heart had not even healed from the loss of her children and grandchild and now she lost her husband.
Finally, Lady Sancha returned with one of the Court's physicians.
The physician bowed to his Queen.
"How can I be of service, Your Majesty?" he asked.
Queen Elizabeth sighed.
"I cannot be certain, but I am very certain that I am with child once more. I am feeling the same signs that I felt with all of my children. I just need you to confirm if I am or not." she said.
The physician nodded his head and began his examination of his Queen. Elizabeth took a deep breath as she answered the questions and felt the prodding of her belly.
Finally, the examination was complete and the physician smiled.
"Congratulations, Your Majesty. You are indeed with child and nearly two months along. You should be brought to childbed in October" he said.
Queen Elizabeth smiled and instructed the physician how he would be compensated. The ladies-in-waiting began to congratulate their Queen on the impending birth of another heir to the Throne.
King Luis walked in, wearing a smile and walked over to kiss his wife of twelve years.
"Another child?" he asked.
Queen Elizabeth nodded.
"Yes. I know it is not an ideal time, since we wanted to do a progress over all of Spain..."
Luis put his finger to her mouth.
"This is a blessing. We can do our progress, but you will be careful. When are you expected to give birth?" he asked.
"October" Queen Elizabeth answered.
Luis began to think.
"We would be in Barcelona by then. I will arrange for your confinement there. I love you, sweetheart." he said with a bright smile.
Queen Elizabeth smiled and caressed his cheek.
"I love you more, darling." she said.
16 March 1562
Essex House, London, England
The clouds were gathering in the sky, touching the horizon for as far as the eye could see. Lord Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, had been out riding on his estate when the sky darkened quickly. He stopped under a layer of trees and took note of the situation, realizing that a massive storm was coming. His wife, Katherine, and their infant son, Robert, were home alone, and he wanted to make sure they were safe if the weather turned for the worst.
He jumped back on his horse and headed towards their manor house. The house wasn't as grand as some, but it was large enough for their little family, with sufficient space to grow. More importantly, Katherine loved it in the countryside, and he was grateful that his children would grow up in an area where there was space enough to run about. The only complaint he had about his life really was the monthly appearances in court, and they were only mild annoyances. Overall, the Earl of Leicester considered himself to be a very lucky man.
Robert wasn't the only one watching the sky outside. In the manor house, Lady Katherine Dudley was also keeping a close eye on it, wondering if her husband would make it home before the sky opened up on him. She had prepared a fire in the drawing room just in case he was soaked. The last thing she needed was for him to catch a chill. Their son, also called Robert, was playing happily next to his father's chair, so Lady Katherine went to see about supper, asking the kitchen staff to also prepare a warm broth just in case. Then, she sat in a chair next to where little Robert was playing and picked up her sewing to continue the new pattern she was working on. She must have dozed off, as she found herself being woken by their head housekeeper sometime later, telling her that dinner was served.
She gathered her son and told the older woman to fetch her husband from wherever he was. It was then she was informed that Lord Robert had not yet returned from his ride. Lady Katherine went to the window and looked out. The sky was still overcast, but there was no sign it had rained. She wondered where he could be.
"Momma," little Robert said, "can we eat? I'm hungry."
Katherine shook herself out of her worries and turned to her son. "Of course," she told him, then led him to the dining room. After their meal was finished, she asked her nanny to put Robert to bed, then kissed him on his forehead and wished him sweet dreams. Her husband was still nowhere to be seen, and now, she was fearful that something may have happened to him.
Going into the kitchen, she found several of their servants cleaning, but they stopped when she walked into the room. "Gentlemen, I am sorry to ask this of you, but Lord Robert has not returned home from his ride today," she informed them. "Could some of you please go out to the stables and see if he's there?"
"Of course, m'lady," a young man named Simon replied. He gathered his coat and a lantern, opening the back door and walked outside. He returned fifteen minutes later and shook his head. "There's no sign of Master Robert in the barn, ma'am."
"Thank you for checking," she said and left the room. It was too dark to search their lands for him. It would have to wait until morning, or until he returned home. She went upstairs to make ready for bed, then fell into a troubled sleep, dreaming off and on throughout the night. Right before she woke for the final time, she dreamed of the little girl she had given birth to the previous year. She could see her daughter's face so clearly, but then, the little girl was joined by a man, who took her hand and led her away from where Katherine stood. As they turned to look back at Katherine once more, Katherine saw her husband's face clearly in the light. She woke up and screamed "Robert!"
It took her a moment to regain her composure, then she rose from her bed and dressed for the day. Katherine made her way downstairs and was greeted by one of their neighbors who was standing in her foyer. The man looked at her with a sympathetic face. "Lady Katherine" he said, "I am so sorry."
She glanced at him, confused. What would he have to be sorry about? Then, she followed his eyes into her drawing room. On a makeshift table, laid out in his riding clothes, lay her husband, Lord Robert. She walked into the room in a daze, unable to comprehend what she was seeing at first. This couldn't be real. He couldn't be dead.
The man walked up behind her. "I found him this morning about a mile from here," he told her. "It looks like he fell from his horse and hit his head."
Lady Katherine took in the words that he spoke, looked at her husband's body once again, and involuntarily fell as her knees gave out from under her. She had buried their daughter last year, and now, she would have to bury her husband, the man who loved her more than anyone else in her life ever had. Several of the servants had gathered in the room, unable to believe what they had been told about their master, but even as the drawing room filled with people, Katherine realized that for the first time since they married, she was truly and utterly alone.
17 March 1562
Hampton Court, London, England
The Royal Gardens
Queen Lillian and Elisabeth, Princess of Wales were enjoying a walk in the gardens. Their ladies-in-waiting followed closely both of them, especially keeping an eye on Queen Lillian, who was currently with child and ass due to give birth within three months time.
Princess Elisabeth looked at her stepmother-in-law's swollen stomach.
"Does it hurt, Your Majesty?" she asked.
Lillian smiled.
"I will not lie, sweet Lissy. There will be moments of discomfort and even pain. However, when you hold your child and you see that the Lord is merciful to bless you with the ability to bring forth children. I thank God everyday for my precious Mary and for him to protect the spirit of the daughter I lost." she said.
Elisabeth nodded, remembering the miscarriage Queen Lillian suffered nearly two years ago.
Queen Lillian stopped Elisabeth.
"Lissy, come sit with me." she said.
Elisabeth nodded and the two women sat together.
Lillian looked at Elisabeth.
"Tell me, Lissy. Are you and Edward happy?" she asked.
Elisabeth smiled.
"Yes, Your Majesty. We are very happy." she said.
Lillian nodded her head.
"Are you also happy in the Bedchamber as well?" she asked.
Elisabeth blushed.
"Your Majesty." she said, shyly.
Queen Lillian gave her a smile.
"I apologize. The reason I am asking is because you have not conceived yet." she said.
Elisabeth looked up at her husband's stepmother.
Lillian made eye contact with her.
"Lissy...are you with child?" she asked.
Elisabeth smiled and nodded.
Lillian smiled and hugged the younger woman.
"Why have you not announced it?" she asked
Elisabeth smiled harder.
"Edward and I just found out this morning. We were going to tell you and the King at dinner tonight." she said.
Lillian hugged her again.
"Lissy, this is wonderful. Harry will finally have his first English grandchild and Edward will have an heir." she said.
Elisabeth nodded.
"With God's help, our son will arrive healthy in October." she said proudly.
30 March 1562
France
Lord Alexandre Dumane and his wife, Lady Jeanne, had never expected to be invited to a celebration at French court, but nonetheless, here they were. Three months ago, Lord and Lady Dumane had received a reply from the King of France concerning a betrothal for their son, Lord Albert. Alexandre had thought the matter closed due to the lengthy delay in a response, but when he read the message from King Francis, he was overjoyed.
His son, Lord Albert, was, as of that moment, officially betrothed to the Princess Victoria, and they were to be married when the couple was sixteen. The details of their marriage, as well as a tentative betrothal contract, was included in the packet sent by a French messenger. After a few minor changes, all was agreed, and the contract signed by himself and King Francis. Six weeks later, an invitation arrived for his family to attend the betrothal celebration, where it would be announced that the Princess would become the Duchess of Lautrec and Huescar upon her marriage. However, the five-year-old Princess and her future husband were currently involved in a game of marbles at the base of the throne of France. Alexandre was waiting for King Francis and his mother, Catherine de Medici, to appear to discuss some details about the celebrations that night.
Alexandre glanced around the throne room as they waited. It hadn't changed much since he was last in the palace. He remember coming here as a boy and being in awe of everything. Of course, a six-foot throne would look enormous to a small child. He was drawn out of his memories when the doors opened, and the King and Queen Mother were announced.
Alexandre bowed to the French King, and Francis bid him rise, showing both he and Jeanne into the study. Once inside, the guards shut the doors and they all sat down.
"I am pleased that you and your wife were able to accept our invitation," Francis began. "There is much to discuss."
Alexandre nodded. "We thank you for hosting this event for our son and his bride-to-be, your Majesty."
Francis smiled. "It is the least we can do," he said. "She is my sister, after all. Now, as for the matter I spoke of earlier, my mother, as you know, is not only Queen Mother of France, but also the Duchess of Urbino, in her own right. It is a title left to her to bestow, and it is one separate from the French crown."
"I am aware of your Italian title, Queen Mother," Alexandre said, addressing Catherine. "What does this have to do with my son and the Princess?"
"I was intending on giving the title to my daughter's husband," she told him, "However, since Lord Albert will inherit your titles, I would like to bestow it on their first-born daughter."
"Daughter?" he questioned.
"Yes. As you know, France is still in the Middle Ages when it comes to recognizing what women can accomplish," she responded. "Women here cannot hold titles on their own behalf, but since my grandchildren from Victoria will undoubtedly be raised in Navarre or Spain, my granddaughter will be able to inherit this title without issue."
"I see," Alexandre commented. "What does that have to do with me?"
"Nothing, really," Catherine admitted, "unless you try to stand in the way of her inheriting this title from me."
Alexandre just shook his head. "I see nothing wrong with a woman being titled in her own right. Our beloved Queen, Elizabeth, rules in Navarre without a problem."
Catherine smiled. "I was hoping you would see it this way."
The four looked at each other in turn. "If that's all, shall we go enjoy the celebrations?" Francis asked.
Alexandre nodded. They each stood and went back into the throne room to mingle among the courtiers who had started to gather for the party in honor of the French Princess and her betrothed. Although no one could predict the future, Alexandre had a feeling that Albert and Victoria's first daughter would be a handful, much like her Italian-born grandmother had been to the late King of France.
8 April 1562
Balnagown Castle , Kildary, Scotland
Lady Jane Grey-Stewart's Bedchamber
Lady Jane screamed, as a contraction tore through her and she began to push again. She was currently in labor with her third child this labor was by far her longest, as she had been in childbed for fifteen hours.
The midwife looked at Jane.
"Push, my Lady. I can see the head." she said
Jane pushed harder.
"I feel like I am dying." she cried.
The midwife shook her head.
"You will live, My Lady." she said.
Another hour passed and Jane still had not given birth. She could feel herself bleeding more then usual.
The midwife looked at Jane.
"You are nearly there. Push more, dear Lady." she urged.
Jane gave one hard push and finally she heard a loud cry and laid back against her pillow, as the midwife took her crying child away to be cleaned.
Lady Jane's ladies-in-waiting began to bathe their young mistress after she delivered the afterbirth. After she was clean, they changed the sheets and put her in a fresh dressing gown.
Finally, the midwife brought the now calm infant over to Jane.
"Tis a girl, My Lady. She is healthy. Next time it shall be a bonny boy." she said.
Jane smiled and took her newborn daughter from the midwife.
"She is loved and wanted just as much as an army of sons. Show my husband in, please." she said.
Moments later, Lord Duncan walked in and smiled at his wife and their third child.
"I see our little Arabella has a playmate. I wonder how Artie will handle having another sister." he said, as glanced down at his newborn daughter, who had fallen asleep.
Jane smiled and laughed gently.
"He is nearly seven years old. He will be just fine. He adores Arabella already." she said.
Duncan nodded and looked at the baby.
"She looks like a Kathleen to me. What do you think, sweetheart?" he asked.
Jane looked at her baby girl and nodded yes.
"She is definitely a Kathleen. Our little Katie." she said.
15 April 1562
Schwanenburg Castle, Cleves, Germany
The Banquet Hall
William, Duke of Cleves and his wife, Christina of Denmark, were seated at their table and enjoying a goblet of wine. Their eldest son, eighteen year old Lord Gerhart, had just married seventeen year old Princess Olga of Poland and the wedding was very large.
William turned to his wife.
"This wedding was very costly. I pray that the girl gives us a grandson this time next year." he said.
Christina sighed.
"He is our eldest son. He deserves this large wedding." she said.
William looked at the dance floor, where the two newlyweds, as they danced with the other wedding guests.
"She is very plain-looking, isn't she?" he said to his wife.
Christina slapped her husband's hand.
"She may not be the most beautiful girl, but Gerhart seems pleased with her. Also, her dowry was not bad either." she said.
William nodded his head. Princess Olga was not an ugly girl. She had mousy brown hair, blue eyes and was very pale in contrast to their tall, muscular tan son.
"You are still the most beautiful woman at Court." he said, kissing her hand.
Christina blushed.
"You better calm yourself. If you don't, I could become with child again." she said.
William smirked.
"It has been only five years since little Isabella was born. I'm not opposed to a seventh child." he said
Before Christina answered, their son and his new bride walked up to both of them.
"Father, Mother. I wanted to wish you both a good night. Olga will be retiring to our bedchamber for the night with the priest. Thank you for everything." he said.
Christina looked at Princess Olga.
"Will you need any assistance, dear?" she asked.
Princess Olga shook her head.
"No, Your Grace. My mother prepared me for my duties for tonight. I am ready." she said.
Christina and William both nodded and wished the young couple a good night and Gerhart and Princess Olga left for their wedding night.
24 April 1562
Louvre Palace, Paris,France
The ballroom was lit with candles and paper lanterns. Food of every type imaginable filled the tables, and wine flowed from several casks into large silver bowls. The musicians were playing music from every corner of the world as the guests danced lively around the room. On the dais, watching the activities, sat the King and Queen of France, holding hands, as they often did, despite royal custom to keep such things hidden from their subjects. Today was different. Today was special.
King Francis II of France looked at his wife closely. He knew that she was not unhappy with him, per say, but she was not as merry as she should have been given that it was their third wedding anniversary, especially since her closest lady, Mary Flemming, now Lady Mary MacGrath, Duchess of Dunkeld, since her marriage last August, had returned to France to continue in the young Queen's service. Francis wondered if a distraction would help ease whatever was on his wife's mind.
He stood, and the music stopped. He nodded at the musicians, then turned to his queen. "May I have this dance?" he held his hand out to his wife. She stared at him for a moment, then nodded and placed her hand in his. He led them both to the dance floor, and the musicians played a waltz. Francis took her in his arms, leading her around the room in time to the music, as their guests watched the young King and Queen together.
Several moments passed, then Francis looked into Mary's eyes and what he saw both shocked and worried him. Mary's normally sparkling eyes were teared over. "Darling," he said softly, "what's wrong? Why are you so sad?"
Mary smiled at her husband, putting on a brave front, as she always did. "It's nothing. I'm being silly."
"You can always tell me anything," Francis assured her. "I am here for you, no matter what the problem might be."
Mary smiled at him again, touching his cheek lightly with her hand before returning it to his shoulder. "I know," she replied. "I just. . . "her voice trailed off. He waited patiently for her to continue. "I'm just worried. I have not fallen pregnant since. . . and I worry that. . ."
Francis smiled softly again at her with his most reassuring smile. "Sweetheart, we will have a child together, in time, God willing," he said. "We have only been married three years today, and we have all the time in the world to be parents."
Mary nodded. "I told you I was being silly."
"What brought this on?"
"Nothing really," Mary said. "I just heard some of the servants talking today about how we still have not produced an heir. One of them commented that perhaps I was barren after the miscarriage, that there was damage done that would keep me from ever having a child. I've been dwelling on it too much."
Francis nodded. "A miscarriage is no laughing matter, darling," he said, trying to comfort her. "It takes time to heal physically, but also emotionally. I know. I didn't carry our child inside of me, but I felt the loss of that baby too, and not just because that baby meant an heir for the realm. That baby was part of you; part of the woman I love with every fiber of my being."
"I didn't realize you felt that way," Mary replied.
"I did," he assured her. "I guess men just don't say those things when this happens. Part of me felt I had to be strong for you, so I couldn't show you how it affected me, in case you weren't able to handle it."
Mary thought for a moment. "We could have been grieving for our child together, all this time," she realized out loud. Francis looked at her. What she said made sense.
"I've been blind not to see that before now," he said. "I'm so sorry Mary."
"There's nothing to be sorry for, my love," she told him. "We learn as we grow, and this realization is part of learning about being married. We don't have to deal with the sadness life hands us alone. We have each other."
Suddenly, Francis had an idea. As the music ended, he kissed her hand and bowed as she curtsied. He offered her his arm, which she took, and he led her across the room to where his mother was standing. His mother curtsied to the royal couple, then looked at her son questioningly.
"Mother, Mary is not feeling well," he lied. "I am going to take her to our room for the night."
His mother smiled and nodded. "I'll make your excuses," she promised, kissing her son on his cheek, then kissing Mary on hers. "Rest well, daughter," Catherine, Dowager Queen of France said. Mary nodded and allowed Francis to lead her to their chambers.
Neither of them said a word as they walked to their rooms. Once inside, Francis shut the door behind him, then turned to where his wife was standing. She gazed at him with curiosity at first, then she noticed the gleam he had in his eye.
Francis walked over to her and kissed her passionately. He spun her around, his fingers finding her dress lacing as he did, then he pulled her hair aside, leaning down to kiss her neck. "If a child is what you are worried about," he began, "then let's see if we cannot alleviate those worries."
"Francis!" Mary exclaimed, pretending to be shocked by her husband's actions. He had her dress and corset removed within minutes, then walked around her, his fingertips lightly brushing her skin the entire time. He kissed her again, then scooped her up in his arms, laying her gently on their bed. He removed his own clothing, watching Mary the entire time.
He moved onto the foot of the bed, kissing her toes, which made her giggle. Then he kissed her legs, slowly, up to her knees, making her anticipate his next move. He took his time, but eventually reached her lips, where he teased her by licking them before kissing her in a way that made every nerve in her body tingle. The King of France then made love to his wife, as he had on their wedding night, letting her know with every breath that he adored her, and they fell asleep in each other's arms, each filled with the ideas that their future would be brighter, knowing that they could share both the good times and the bad with each other openly.
A/N Thank you all for your patience on the new Chapter. I told you that I will do my best to get them out more quickly. I hope you all enjoyed this Chapter and are aching for more. The more Reviews we get, the faster the Chapters will come out. Thank you for Reading! Chapter 63 currently in the works!
