A big 'Thank You' to everybody who reviewed, and I hope that everybody has a Happy New Year, and a great 2012.
To Hai Hai - You need to remember to take the changed circumstances into account in terms of Elizabeth's position. At the time of Anne's death, the issue of adultery hadn't been raised. Henry was pissed off about not having a son, and wanted to get rid of Anne so he could remarry but, once she was dead, he wasn't going to want to think of himself as somebody who wanted his wife gone and was relieved that she was dead. As for Elizabeth, if Anne died under these circumstances, there would be no reason to downgrade her child. A princess is better than no heir at all, and Henry has no motive to call his marriage to Anne invalid. Had Katherine dropped dead before the Great Matter began, Henry would never have declared Mary illegitimate. There'd be no reason to.
II
Part of him would have liked to see the King remain a widower for the rest of his life rather than try to find another woman to take her place, but he knew that this could not be.
The King mourned Anne for months before the subject of her replacement was broached but the subject was not one that could be avoided indefinitely, even if the King wished to. He was still without the male heir that he had set the Princess Dowager of Wales aside to father, and his Privy Council were not comfortable with the idea of Princess Elizabeth as the sole heir to the throne.
Elizabeth was still a little girl, after all, many years away from being old enough to marry and give the King grandsons, or to rule in her own right, and although she was a healthy child, that didn't mean that she would be safe from the many illnesses to which young children were prey.
No monarch could feel safe with only one small girl as his heir.
Better that the King should remarry in the hope of fathering other children, and risking that he would father a son who would supplant Elizabeth, than that they take the risk that he might decide to legitimise his elder daughter in order to have two heiresses instead of just one.
Between the two alternatives, he would rather see Elizabeth lose her place to a half-brother by her new stepmother, whoever she might be, than to see her lose out in favour of Mary, that stubborn girl whose refusal to accept Anne as the true Queen and Elizabeth as the true Princess had caused Anne such distress, as well as contributing to the strain in the royal marriage before Anne's death.
He knew well that, even if the King decreed that Lady Mary was to be second-in-line to the throne after Elizabeth and her heirs, even if he made it clear that Elizabeth was the legitimate Princess and rightful heiress while Mary was nothing more than a bastard who was included in the line of succession out of necessity rather than because she had any possible right to expect it, once her right to a place in the line of succession was conceded in principle, it was inevitable that the Emperor would not be content with that. He would push for her to be first in line, supplanting Elizabeth, and there were too many people in England who would consider that to be fair.
Despite everything, far too many of the English people still felt loyalty and affection for Katherine's girl, and would want to see her kindly treated.
They might feel sympathy for Elizabeth, whose mother was murdered when she was just a toddler, but that did not mean that they would not feel that it was just that the King's elder daughter should be his heiress ahead of her younger sister, and he knew better than to expect that there would be protests from the people if the King chose to reinstate Mary as a legitimate heiress, or that many of them would support an attempt to seize the throne from her on Elizabeth's behalf.
Even the King might come to believe that it was in the country's best interests if he named Mary, a woman grown, of an age to be a wife and mother, as his heir rather than Elizabeth, a mere child.
Had his other daughter not disgraced herself and her family by wedding William Stafford, he might have hoped that she would be able to capture the King's heart, becoming his mistress and wielding influence in that capacity if he would not make her his wife, but he knew that this could not be.
It would have been to their advantage if they could have a second Boleyn girl on the throne, as she could help protect little Elizabeth's interests, and he was sure that, if the King wished it so, Archbishop Cranmer could grant a dispensation that would allow him to marry his late wife's sister, despite the fact that he insisted that it was unlawful for him to marry his brother's widow, but Mary would never give up her husband and the life she had built with him, even with the Queen's crown as an inducement, and she would certainly never agree to become his mistress again.
He was so certain of the response she would give that he did not even bother to contact her to ask her if she might be willing to do this service for her family.
He knew that she would never consent to help him, so there was no point in him asking.
His eldest daughter had never respected her duty towards her family, as Anne had.
Once it became clear to him that there was no alternative but that the King would remarry, he focused his efforts on guiding his choice of a bride.
If the King had to remarry, he needed a bride who would not compromise Elizabeth's position.
Under no circumstances could he allow the King to contemplate an Imperial bride.
The Emperor was no fool and, if he knew that the King had set his heart on marrying one of his kinswomen, he would not hesitate to press his advantage.
It was certain that he would either demand that the Lady Mary should be declared the King's legitimate heir, second only to any sons of the new marriage or, if he favoured a subtler method, recognizing that the King would not allow himself to be commanded to legitimise the daughter he had declared a bastard and thus imply that he was wrong when he sought to extricate himself from his sinful union with the girl's mother, least of all by the monarch who worked to block his annulment, he would propose a double marriage, offering to agree that the King might marry the lady of his choice if he consented to the royal match proposed for the Lady Mary, a match that would require that the girl should be declared legitimate, to be worthy of her future husband.
He suffered months of anxiety after the King received a portrait of the young Duchess of Milan, the Emperor's niece and a celebrated beauty, just sixteen years of age.
He saw the way the King looked at the painted canvass and, in his eyes, he saw the same infatuation that was once directed at Anne in happier days, infatuation that had led him to turn his country upside down, courting the enmity of the Emperor, so that he could make her his wife when Anne made it clear to him that she would never be content to be his mistress.
If a painting could have such an effect on him, then the flesh and blood woman who inspired it would be able to effortlessly wrap him around her little finger, unless the painter had grossly exaggerated her beauty. The thought of the King being enraptured by the Emperor's niece was not one to be borne, for it was certain that her uncle would have prepared her, instructing her to ensure that, once she was Queen, she made every effort to see to it that the Lady Mary was restored to her father's favour, to her former royal status and to the line of succession.
The Emperor might not be prepared to wage war on the Lady Mary's behalf, but he could achieve a great deal for her if he employed a subtler weapon.
There would be little the King would not do if such a bride wished it of him, and any Queen who championed the Lady Mary would undermine the interests of the Princess Elizabeth. A new marriage could make the King sentimental and, if his new wife expressed a wish to see the Lady Mary, he could be pleased by the opportunity to reconcile with his eldest daughter. It could suit him very well to be able to tell himself that he was welcoming Mary back out of charity rather than because he had softened towards her, in order to oblige his bride, who wished for family unity, rather than because he had any desire to have his daughter back in his life.
It was ironic that it was the late Princess Dowager of Wales who prevented a marriage that would have given her daughter an ally and threatened the prospects of Anne's child.
As the niece of the Emperor, the Duchess of Milan was a great-niece of Katherine of Aragon, an affinity that forbade her marriage to the King.
The King would undoubtedly have been happy to accept a dispensation from Archbishop Cranmer, or even to grant himself a dispensation in his capacity as Supreme Head of the Church of England, but the Emperor could not accept that solution without offending the Bishop of Rome, who would take umbrage at the idea that the issuing of dispensations, which he regarded as his prerogative, should be usurped by others. For the Emperor, only a dispensation granted by the Bishop of Rome would suffice, but the King would never agree to humble himself by petitioning for that dispensation, no matter how beautiful and charming his prospective bride might be.
How could he, who set one wife aside on the grounds that the Bishop of Rome lacked the power to issue dispensation, go to him, cap in hand, to ask to take that lady's great-niece as his third wife?
The match was forgotten, much to his relief.
It would have suited him to see the King married to a French princess, and he did everything he could to encourage him to think that an alliance with France was desirable. Not only was it an opportunity to ally with France, providing England with protection from the Emperor, they could also press King Francis to formalize a betrothal between Elizabeth and his youngest son.
When the time came for her to succeed her father, she would do well to have the support of the French royal family.
When there was no suitable French princess willing to become England's new Queen, he backed Cromwell's suggestion that the King should marry a sister of the Duke of Cleves.
It might not be as exalted a match as some of the others the King had hoped for, as Cleves was a small state, though well-placed, but the Duke of Cleves could introduce England to the Protestant League, and neither he nor his sister would have any reason to try to encourage that Elizabeth, a child brought up in the reformed religion, should be set aside in favour of Catholic Mary.
Cromwell worked diligently to secure the match, sending Holbein to paint a flattering portrait of the lady and managing to persuade the Privy Council that the match was of such vital importance that they should excuse the dowry that the Duke of Cleves would be loath to part with. It took him some time but he was eventually able to convince the rest of the Council to support the match. Their ardent desire to see the King remarried, and to have hope that a Prince of Wales would be born, led them to make the necessary concessions to allow the match to proceed.
The King was pleased by the portrait and by the reports he was given of the lady's character, and he instructed the envoys to conclude the marriage negotiations with all speed.
If the idea of being married to a second Queen Anne unnerved him, he gave no sign of it.
Though it was plain to everybody who was present at their first meeting that the King was disappointed with his new bride, and had not found her to be the kind of wife he hoped for, he did a better job of covering his disappointment than most of his courtiers would have expected him to be capable of. He gave orders that his bride's formal reception was to go ahead as planned, and made it clear that he expected all of the nobility of the court to be present for the moment when their new Queen was conducted into the presence chamber, and that he expected them to show his bride the courtesy and deference that was due to their future Queen.
As the King's former father-in-law, as grandfather to the King's only legitimate child and as one of the highest ranking noblemen in the country, he was standing closer to the dais than any other person, save Cromwell – a privilege that he was sure many resented, hating to see him so favoured, even after Anne's death – and from his place, he could watch his little granddaughter.
Although the King brought little Elizabeth out among the people from time to time, allowing them to see their Princess and giving her the opportunity to win them over with her beauty and her charm, it was rare that she was permitted to attend formal receptions, at her age.
It was plain that she was excited to be here today, although she was outwardly composed, befitting her rank, showing that her governess had been diligent in teaching her how a princess ought to behave. She was growing tall for her age, and was so poised that it was difficult to believe that she was just six years old. He could remember one courtier remarking that, when he visited Hatfield and paid his respects to Elizabeth, the child had greeted him with as great a gravity as if she had been a woman of forty, and it was not difficult to believe.
He remembered Anne at that age, and how clever she was.
Nobody was proof against the charm of the little girl Anne once was, and the same was true of Elizabeth.
Anne would be so proud of her daughter, if she could see her now, and it could not fail to please her to see how much the King favoured their spirited, red-haired little girl.
Before her death, she had had cause to fear that a day might come when her beloved child would be rejected by the King because her mother displeased him but now that day would never come.
The King loved the child dearly, cherishing her for her mother's sake as well as her own.
Elizabeth's dainty ivory gown was perfect, the gold embroidery on the bodice complimenting her beautiful red hair, and the matching coronet signifying her royal rank to all present. The pearls she wore around her slender neck were a gift from Anne on the last Christmas of her life, and he knew that Elizabeth liked to wear them in her memory, though she owned finer jewels, including some that were once gifts from her father to her mother, jewels that the King gifted to his daughter, not wanting them to be worn by another, even his future bride.
Elizabeth cherished every keepsake of the mother she had lost too soon.
The flowers were Elizabeth's idea, one that he was pleased to encourage, even though Lady Bryan voiced doubts about whether or not it would be fitting, given the solemnity and formality of the occasion. His meeting with his daughter's successor may have been a brief one but he was certain that the Lady Anne was not a woman who would take offence at such a simple gift; if anything, she was far more likely to be charmed by it, as would many of the courtiers who witnessed the welcoming of England's new Queen and the presentation of her young stepdaughter. The King smiled his approval when Elizabeth took her place by his side, carefully cradling her bouquet, complimenting her for her idea and telling her that her stepmother would be pleased.
Hearing the King's words, he could imagine that, if the Lady Anne did not express pleasure at Elizabeth's presentation, she was certain to irritate the King.
A fanfare of trumpets heralded the arrival of the young woman brought from Cleves to be the King's third wife, and the courtiers watched her with avid eyes as she entered.
Her gown was ornate but old-fashioned and her headdress was a bulky one, concealing all of her hair from view and surrounding her head like a wide, raised halo. She was not an unattractive woman but her garb detracted from her natural prettiness rather than enhancing it and it was obvious from her demeanour that she was nervous and overawed by her new court.
He had heard that the Duke of Cleves presided over a strict, poor court but surely the man could have seen to it that his sister could bring fashionable gowns befitting her new station to England. The King had not demanded that his new bride bring a dowry to England, so the Duke of Cleves could not plead penury as an excuse not to ensure that his sister was properly provided for.
As he watched the new Queen Anne approach, memories of the previous Queen Anne sprang unbidden to his mind, and he suspected that he was not the only one to think such thoughts, though he knew better than to think that the majority of the courtiers present would be mourning Anne's loss while they watched her successor enter the court.
Everybody who had known Anne, from the King to his courtiers and perhaps even little Elizabeth, if her memories of her mother were clear enough, could imagine the kind of gowns that she would have favoured if she was still alive to grace the court, knowing that she would never have appeared before them in a frumpy German gown.
Anne would be wearing the latest French fashions, and wearing them with such grace that no other woman could ever hope to outshine her, not even the prettiest of the court ladies.
Anne would enter with her head held high, moving as confidently as if she owned the palace, and she would be able to carry off that air of confidence so successfully that even those who were unwilling to welcome her would recognise that she was not a lady to be trifled with, and that they should think carefully before courting her enmity, as she would remember which of them were her friends and which of them chose to become her enemies.
While Anne's successor did her best to hide her apprehension as she came face to face with the court over which she was now expected to preside as Queen and whose members were staring at her with avid eyes, she could not hide it entirely, a potentially dangerous mistake on her partThis was a court that could smell fear, and that was ruthless in exploiting weakness.
The new Queen would need to have her wits about her if she hoped to survive it.
The King stepped forward to welcome his new bride, kissing her briefly, ceremoniously, on the lips before speaking to her. "My lady," he made a shallow bow to her and she inclined her head in return. "I am here to welcome you to what is yours." He told her courteously.
She smiled shyly in response. "Your Majesty is very gracious, and I am very happy."
She must have been taught some English prior to her being sent to wed the King but it was clear that she was not yet comfortable with her new language. That would take time. He found himself hoping that she would be able to have that time. The King could do worse in a bride.
Cromwell was the first to begin applauding – hardly surprising, as he had a vested interest in seeing this match succeed – but the other courtiers were quick to follow his example.
Taking his bride's hand in his and turning so that he was still facing the dais, on which his daughter stood, eagerly awaiting her turn to be presented, the King beckoned to Elizabeth.
"Allow me to present my daughter, the Princess Elizabeth."
The love and pride in his voice as he spoke the name of his beloved child was unmistakeable, but those who knew the King best would also know that there was a warning edge to his voice. Just as he had not responded to any of the attempts made to persuade him to soften towards the Lady Mary, or looked kindly on those who made the mistake of thinking that, with Anne dead, he would be susceptible to appeals on behalf of his bastard daughter and might be persuaded to restore her to favour, he would not tolerate it if his new bride proved unwilling to deal kindly with Elizabeth.
He might be able to forgive her for his disappointment over their first meeting but he would not be able to forgive her if she was an unkind or disinterested stepmother to his precious child.
Elizabeth stepped forward, dipping a graceful curtsey before offering her bouquet to her new stepmother. "For you. I think they are pretty."
As he expected she would, Lady Anne accepted the bouquet with pleasure, enchanted by Elizabeth. "Thank you, Princess. I think you are pretty too." She told her, and Elizabeth's answering smile was a radiant one. The child loved compliments as much as her mother had at her age... at any age. She turned slightly to speak to the King, her genuine smile making her look more attractive than she had on their first meeting, when she was so nervous that she could barely string a sentence together. "I shall love her." She said, reaching out to stroke Elizabeth's hair. Her words were spoken in an earnest tone, and nobody present could doubt her sincerity.
The King did not say anything in response to this, but those watching his facial expressions could see that his feelings towards his bride warmed in that moment. Even if she was not the wife he had hoped for, even if he felt that she was not as beautiful as her portrait had led him to believe, the fact that she was plainly willing to be a loving stepmother to Elizabeth counted for much.
Cromwell could breathe an inward sigh of relief, knowing that if the match pleased the King, he would not suffer for making it.
For himself, he could be relieved to know that, if his son-in-law could be happy with this amiable lady, a lady who would be happy to be a mother to little Elizabeth rather than viewing the child a nuisance or a threat, he did not need to fear that the King would seek to set her aside in favour of another woman, one who might prove to be a threat to his granddaughter's interests.
His daughter's successor was a woman who could be trusted.
He could watch their wedding and rejoice.
He never expected that the new Queen would cause trouble.
She was an intelligent woman, even if she was not a sophisticated one, and her brother's ambassadors to England and the King's ambassadors to Cleves ensured that she was made aware of how matters stood in the English court, so that she would not displease the King by championing those he considered his enemies or deriding those he considered his friends. They would have warned her of the King's temper, warned her that he was not a man who would thank her for interfering in his business, and that her best hope of pleasing him would be to conform to his will in all things, never arguing with him and never expressing an opinion contrary to his own.
She knew that, by marrying the King, she would gain two stepdaughters but that only one of her stepdaughters enjoyed their father's favour, while the other was barred from his presence.
She would have been told that the Lady Mary, born of a union that the King entered into in his youth, not knowing that he sinned by doing so, persisted in her defiance by stubbornly claiming the title of Princess, the title to which she, as a bastard, had no right, and that because of her stubbornness and her disobedience, her father refused to see her. She would have been warned that, if she wished to please the King, she should focus her energy on being a loving stepmother to the Princess Elizabeth rather than wasting her time championing the interests of the Lady Mary.
It would please the King to see that she was kind to Elizabeth.
It would anger him to hear her defend Mary.
Hinting that the girl should be forgiven for her defiance or, worse still, that it was to be expected that Lady Mary would have sided with her mother, would enrage him.
It should have been plain enough for all but the simple-minded to be able to understand how the land lay, and the new Queen was far from simple.
He took the initiative, when he paid a call on her to welcome her to her new country and to thank her for her kindness towards his little granddaughter, to warn her that, though there might be some disloyal courtiers who would try to persuade her to act as an advocate for the Lady Mary, and who would prey on her tender heart and gentle nature to make her feel pity on the girl, she would do herself no good if she allowed herself to be swayed by their coaxing. They might try to make her believe that the King longed for a reason to welcome Mary back into his life, and that he would be grateful to her if she requested it of him and gave him an excuse to rescind his daughter's banishment, but their only interest would be in helping Mary, even if it meant putting their new Queen in a position where she would anger her husband.
He explained that the Lady Mary knew what it was she needed to do in order to win back her father's love but that, despite the efforts made to persuade her to take the Oath, as she was commanded to years ago, and to prove that she was his loyal subject and loving daughter – something that any truly loving and loyal daughter should be happy to do – the Lady Mary remained obdurate, refusing to listen to anybody who counselled her to take the Oath and to admit her illegitimacy rather than persisting in her defiance of her royal father.
If she refused to listen to the lords the King sent to persuade her, and even to her cousin's ambassador, she wouldn't listen to the Queen, and wouldn't thank her for trying to convince her.
It was likely that the Lady Mary would regard her as an enemy for her advice, not as a friend.
The Queen listened to his words, never interrupting him, and when he said his piece, she thanked him politely for his advice. Her tone was cool as she remarked that she was sure that he only wished to do her a service by advising her, and that she was grateful for the kindness he had shown her. When she rose to her feet, offering him her hand to kiss, it was clear that their interview was at an end and that she had no wish to hear any more from him about the Lady Mary. It was also clear that he had fallen in her estimation, and that she saw him as a cold, unfeeling man rather than as the proud and affectionate grandfather she had seen him be for Elizabeth, and that she knew why he had no wish to see Mary return to court.
"Princess Elizabeth tells me that the Lady Mary was kind to her when they lived together," she remarked in her halting English, before dismissing him, showing that she valued the opinion of a little girl above his. "She is a clever child. I think I may trust that she speaks the truth."
Unable to call his granddaughter a liar, and knowing that it was pointless to try to dissuade her, he smiled, bowed and withdrew, praying that the King would make it clear to her that this was one matter that his wife had no business interfering in, and that when he did, the Queen would have the sense to give up.
He was not surprised when he learned that, just days after he cautioned her, she asked the King if his eldest daughter might be permitted to come to court, so that she could meet her.
He was relieved, though not particularly surprised, when he heard that the King had refused her request in no uncertain terms, telling her that she should be a mother to Elizabeth, if she wished to interest herself in one of his daughters, and to forget about the Lady Mary, who did not deserve kindness at her hands or at his after her unfilial and treasonous disobedience, insisting that Mary was very fortunate that he had not sent her to the scaffold, as was his right. He refused her request to invite Mary to court, and her request to be allowed to visit her at Hunsdon.
He was surprised when he heard that the new Queen repeated her request after giving the King a couple of days to cool his temper, telling him that it was long past time to move beyond the hurts of the past, and that it was not right for a family to be divided, and when she continued to press him, never accepting his refusals. George's wife, Jane, who was installed as one of the Queen's ladies and who saw to it that he was kept informed about her actions, told him that, although it was plain to all that the King was angry about his wife's repeated attempts to persuade him to soften towards the Lady Mary, and although his responses to her pleas grew harsher each time she pressed him, the Queen persisted, never accepting 'no' as his final answer.
It seemed that the foolish woman had taken it into her head that she had a duty to reconcile father and daughter, and to see to it that an unhappy young woman was welcomed back to court, and to the life of luxury and honour that a King's daughter deserved.
Eventually, to his dismay and disgust, the King gave in.
He didn't yield graciously, nor did he show any inclination to reach out to the Lady Mary himself, but he finally grew so impatient with her attempts at coaxing him that he growled that she could visit the girl herself, if that was the only way that he could have some peace.
The Queen took him at his word, and set off for Hundsdon the next day, and made several visits over the coming months.
Later, when he learned that the Queen had succeeded where others had failed, and persuaded Mary to take the Oath, he cursed himself for mentioning the Oath to her in the first place. He had clearly underestimated both her determination to bring about Mary's reconciliation with her father, and her ability to persuade a stubborn girl not to cut off her nose to spite her face.
Once the King learned that the Lady Mary had agreed to take the Oath, the Queen was instantly forgiven for their disputes over the girl, and he granted permission for her to invite Mary to court.
Although the Lady Mary was a child of no more than ten or eleven years the last time she was permitted to come to court, and although she no longer enjoyed the royal status she had enjoyed in those days, she walked in to the Great Hall with her head held high when she was announced, inclining her head regally to the courtiers who bowed or curtsied at her approach. She wore a grey silk gown, and a pearl diadem, most likely a gift from the Queen, as the jewels she was once permitted to call hers were reclaimed by the King for the use of his true heiress when she was exposed as a bastard, and it was evident by her bearing that she intended to show them that she was still a princess in all but name.
It was daring behaviour on her part, as the King surely expected to be greeted with a penitent daughter who recognised that she had wronged her royal father with her past defiance, but he supposed that he should have expected daring from the daughter of the stubborn Spanish woman.
Not all of the courtiers bowed before her.
A few were loyal to the Boleyns and the Howards, and took no pleasure in seeing Elizabeth's rival at court, knowing what it would mean for the child if her half-sister managed to win the King's love away from her. Others, who might have wished her well, or at least not wished her ill, felt that Mary's uncertain status made it too risky for them to pay their respects to her until the King indicated how he expected his illegitimate daughter to be treated by his courtiers, and thought that it was wisest and safest for them to wait for him to set the tone.
The Lady Mary steadfastly ignored those who did not pay her homage, keeping her eyes fixed on her father and on the Queen as she entered the Great Hall.
He was standing just behind Elizabeth, who stood between her father and stepmother, a smile of welcome on her young face, when the herald banged his staff before announcing Mary, and it pleased him to hear her announced as the Lady Mary Tudor, the title he hoped she would bear until the day she died. It pleased him even more to know that, now that she had committed to taking the Oath, Lady Mary could not avoid paying her respects to Princess Elizabeth.
Mary swept a deep, regal curtsey as soon as she came within a few yards of the King.
"I ask Your Majesty for his blessing." She asked, keeping her eyes lowered.
He thought that she would have been justly served for her past defiance if the King had refused to bestow his blessing on her, leaving her bent in her obeisance while he sternly told her that, though he had permitted her to come to court, she would have to prove herself worthy of the kindness he had shown her in recalling her from exile, and remember that, if she dared to disobey him again, she would be very fortunate if he stopped at imprisoning her in the Tower for the rest of her days.
It was what he would have done, had he been in the King's place, and had he had the misfortune to be the father of such an unfilial, undutiful child.
He should have known that the sentimental King would do no such thing, not when the Lady Mary presented herself to him as a humble, loving daughter.
Instead of snubbing Mary, he stepped forward, reaching out his hand to her to help her to her feet.
"My own daughter." After raising Mary, he kept her hand in his as he drew her closer to the Queen and to Elizabeth. "May I present you to Her Majesty Queen Anne." Mary curtsied to the Queen, who stepped forward to kiss her gently on the cheek. "And to Her Highness the Princess Elizabeth."
He considered Mary's curtsey too shallow, thinking that a bastard should show the Princess of England and the heiress to the throne more respect, and he was disgruntled to see the King accept Mary's gesture, without requiring more of her by way of obeisance to Elizabeth. He wouldn't be surprised if the King believed that this was enough, within a family.
"Hello, Mary." Elizabeth's smile was wide and infectious as she skipped over to her older sister, crooking her finger to motion her to bend over so that she could kiss her.
Several of the courtiers applauded softly, touched by the scene before them.
He felt like shouting, like reminding them that the Lady Mary had been a traitor in all but name, denying the rights of the true heir to the throne so that she could pretend that she was something more than another royal bastard. He wanted to snatch the King by the front of his doublet and shake him, if that was what it took to remind him of the times when this bastard brat had dared to insult Anne to her face, had dared to say that little Elizabeth was illegitimate and had dared to flout the King's express commands. He wanted to tell the King that he should have sent Mary to the scaffold long ago, and that he was a coward for allowing her to escape justice all these years because he lacked the steel to see his daughter die a traitor's death.
An icy chill crept through his veins at the King's next words, and for an instant he wondered if his self-control had slipped and he had spoken his thoughts aloud.
"I remember some of you were desirous that I should put this jewel to death."
The King's voice was almost indignant and his eyes were granite-hard as they scanned the Hall, as though searching out the faces of those who had tried to convince him that it was a mistake on his part to show Mary such leniency. Murmurs of horror and dismay rippled through the Hall, as those who supported Mary seized the opportunity to express their disgust towards those who would have seen the girl executed, while those who had recognised that she could not be allowed to live as long as she continued to deny the invalidity of her parents' union, and her own illegitimacy, and who sought to persuade the King of this, did their best to avoid his steely gaze, in the hope that he had forgotten that they were among those calling for Mary's death.
For her part, Mary swayed, looking ready to swoon.
Much as he disliked the girl, much as he regretted the fact that the King hadn't sent her to the scaffold long ago, he had to admire her for the shrewd gesture.
No sooner had she begun to sway where she stood than the King reached out to catch her.
"I've got you. You're safe." He soothed her, supporting her until her faintness passed. "Be of good cheer, Mary, for I swear to you nothing now will go against you."
He caught a flicker of fear in Mary's eyes, and knew that she must be wondering how long her good fortune would last, and what it would take for her to ensure that she stayed in his good graces. She knew as well as anybody present that, if she hoped to improve her position at court, if she hoped that her father might consider allowing her royal honours or including her in the line of succession, she would have to ensure that she never lost his favour. She knew what it was like to be without the King's favour, and she had no intention of losing it again, if she could help it.
He vowed to himself that, if a day ever came when the King grew so fond of the Lady Mary that it put Elizabeth's position in the slightest jeopardy, he would see to it that she didn't live long.
He would not allow Anne's daughter to lose out on her rights, and he would never bow to Katherine's bastard, not after what was necessary in order to make Elizabeth and the Boleyns secure.
"Agamemnon was nasty to King Priam's daughters too," Anne's scowl made it clear how she felt about the long-dead Greek king. "He let his men take them away, and he made Princess Cassandra come with him to be his servant." Doctor Knight had evidently deemed it best to amend the role that Agamemnon had intended for Cassandra, rather than leaving himself in a position where he would have had to explain the role of a concubine to a little girl of six. "That was wrong."
"If Agamemnon's daughter had to die, why shouldn't Priam's daughters suffer too? He could have avoided the whole war if he'd sent Helen back to her husband when Paris first brought her to Troy, but he didn't. At least Priam didn't live to see his daughters' fates. He was the lucky one."
TBC.