The thing about life is there is always a new set of problems waiting at the door. New things that require strength, courage, and diligence. Great things never came from the comfort zones of life. These new moments are essential for turning wounds into wisdom and pain into power. For every challenge encountered there are opportunities ahead. When life tries its best to give a pounding on all sides, the person one has at their side becomes as important as the problem itself.
After getting through the presentation of the twins, Mary saw her husband very little. The King occupied Charles's time with matters of state pertaining to his marriage with the Boleyn woman. Apparently, Pope Clement VII sent a proclamation announcing the marriage invalid. Even after almost a year of this shame, people in positions of power still think the marriage is a shame.
It makes Mary laugh to know people hate the woman almost as much as she does. In retaliation her father had parliament pass the Treason Act. This made it an offense to attempt to accuse the King, and his heirs, of heresy and tyranny. All subjects were now ordered to take an oath accepting this. Which is where Charles comes in. Since Sir Thomas More refused to take the oath, he was to be imprisoned in The Tower.
Charles has been the King's eyes and ears at the hearings going on at Lambeth Palace. All this did was make Mary hate this accursed place even more. She is more than happy to quit London altogether and go to either of their homes in Wales or Suffolk. Instead she, herself, feels imprisoned here, in this crummy castle. Nothing is as painful as staying in a place you don't belong.
The very little she did see of her husband is at night. Even then he is too tired and worn out to speak. He goes to bed exhausted mentally and physically only to wake up and go through the whole ordeal again. During their time together he doesn't wish to speak on the trial. Rather he is content not speaking at all, just snuggling and cuddling in bed until his eyes will close. He also wants her to read to him poems of love while her fingers card, and caress, through his hair. It's almost like he's trying to rid himself of the leftover feelings of damnation and discomfort, that are wrought throughout the day.
She learned from Ambassador Chapuys that Thomas More was happy to swear that the children of Anne Boleyn could be the heirs to the throne. However, he could not, in good conscience, declare all of the previous Acts of Parliament are valid. Chapuys told her "The man could not deny the authority of the pope without jeopardizing his soul to the damnation of Hell."
Mary cringed but didn't say a word for she knew a good man had sealed his fate. And for what, she wonders. Along with this, her heart broke and she cried when word got out about the Observant Friars of Richmond, who also refused to sign the oath. They were all rounded up and hung, or drawn and quartered for denying the royal supremacy. A few days later a group of Carthusian monks was executed for the same offense.
When told how the monks were chained upright to stakes and left to die, without food or water, wallowing in their own filth, the Grand Duchess was downright inconsolable. She rose from off the bed, which she flung herself onto, and began packing a trunk for herself and the children. Panic has now overtaken her. It harkens back to a dark time in Ludlow when the anxiety would be so great it threatened to swallow her whole. Taking things from out of a wardrobe and throwing them haphazardly into the trunk, she freely wept.
Entering the room, Charles saw his wife sobbing and shoving items into one of their luggage cases. He rushed to her side and grabbed her steady. She refused to look at him. "Sweetheart please what's wrong?" he asked. Concern is written all over his tired face.
Waving her hands around the room, her broken voice yelled out "This place! This place is all wrong. Everything is all wrong. I hate it! I hate this palace. I hate London. I hate what is happening to men of God all because of some wretched, wicked woman and her children." Her sobbing continued in earnest.
Then she wrenched herself free of her husband's grip and returned to stowing items away. As she threw things in, she choked out the words "I want to leave with the twins away from here. I can't. I can't stay here any longer."
With tears in his own eyes, Charles went to his trembling wife and put his arms around her. He pleaded "Please. Please don't leave me, I beg you. You're the only thing that gets me through the day and the hearings. I can't make it without you. Please don't go."
She felt his tears wet her neck. Turning around in his embrace, they walked to the bed and laid there crying in each other's arms. She promised him she would stay until the trial is over. "But after that I want us to leave. I don't want us here another minute longer than we have to be, especially the twins."
Agreeing he let her know "I hate this place as much as you. But I need you. I need your face, your kindness, your goodness, and your love to get me through. Then we can leave and go as far away as you want."
When their breathing leveled out, she voiced a deep-rooted concern. "It's because of me all of those men died." Her breath grew shaky again and she tried to roll on her side facing away from his piercing gaze.
Not letting her roll away, he stroked her face with his hand. Broken, he asked, "Why would you say that?" He doesn't understand this thinking.
"Because people still see my mother as rightful Queen. I'm her daughter and, whether he likes it or not, I'm the King's daughter too. The people see me as the legitimate heir to the throne. If I were out of the way, then people wouldn't be forced into signing something they don't agree with. They wouldn't have to die. So you see, it's my fault." She began weeping again.
He wept for her broken heart. Every time he gets headway with her and the pieces of her heart are almost mended, something happens to set him back again. It's always the King, always him. The man has no idea how much he hurts his daughter. One day he prays for a chance to tell His Majesty all of these things. He's going to make his friend see just how much pain he has caused, how much suffering his daughter has had to endure.
Looking down at her, pinning her with his eyes he made clear "You, My Darling, are not the cause of this. None of this is your fault. This is madness and grasping at straws to keep power for a person who is not worthy of it. She is hated and he knows this, same as her family. This is not your doing and I don't want you thinking so."
Her hands pulled him down to her. With her husband so close, laying on top of her, she inhaled his manly scent. It's calming and comforting to the spirit. She began thinking of how to save her family from this insanity surrounding the palace. She knows her place is with the Duke, to be away from him makes him vulnerable and she can't have that. The Queen always protects her King. She will protect her husband. She will keep him safe from the craziness of the outside world and somehow create a haven here in their apartments. No winter lasts forever. Thank God it's almost time for spring.
As the days and the trial wore on, Cromwell reminded Sir Thomas "Your example is resulting in men being executed."
More knew the man was trying to goad him. He spoke and made known "I do nobody harm. I wish everyone good. And if this is not enough to keep a man alive, in good faith, I long not to live." He refused to bend the full knee and lose his faith and his soul.
The days after saw the priories of Carthusian, Charterhouse, Axholme, and Beauvale refuse to acknowledge the King to be the head of the Church of England. They were all hung or drawn and quartered at Tyburn. In response to this Pope Paul III made Bishop John Fisher a Cardinal. The King was so enraged that he ordered the bishop to be executed too.
The public was furious and blamed the Queen for the man's death. All sorts of spiteful, ugly things were uttered about her. During this time Mary tried to stay peaceful despite all of the brutality her father has enacted. She prayed a lot, cried a lot, and wrote letters of bereavement to the families of the executed men (if they had any). At night she soothed her husband's wounded spirit.
All of these things wore on him. They spent a lot of time with their sons. Out of fear guards were placed around the two night and day. No one was to enter the twin's chamber except their parents, Dot, Joan, Anthony, William, and the King. Even the nanny was to be watched like a hawk, because as Charles said "Nannies can be bought."
A week after the Bishop's death, Sir Thomas More was taken to Tower Hill. On the night before the man's execution, Charles was summoned by the King to go be a witness. To which he responded to His Majesty "After that, I would like to take my leave, with my family, and return to our home in Wales." He decided to forgo going to Suffolk. That is just too close to Norfolk for solace. The King agreed to his friend's request.
The morning of the death saw Charles Brandon not wanting to get out of bed. "I'm depressed, dispirited, and tired." He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.
In order to look at his face, Mary straddled her husband. But she tried to remain dignified in doing so. "Charles you cannot lie here. I know you want to, and I would want to as well if I were in your shoes, but you can't. The sooner you go, the sooner you can come back, and we rid ourselves of this heinous city. Perhaps stand to the back, so you don't have to watch. Think of happy thoughts and better times. Think of me naked even."
He laughed at that. "Why should I have to think of you naked when I could have you naked right now?" His hands began lowering the strap of her nightgown. She did him a favor and rid herself of it. Then proceeded to give him something incredible to think on during the horrible, senseless death of a good man.
It was late that evening, Charles had not come in from the day yet. Mary sat playing cards with Dot. The two friends had been in fervent prayer for the More family all day. They had been playing cards since after dinner. She was worried and concerned, wondering where he could be and why he wasn't here. A huge knot settled in her stomach.
Dot had just called out "full house" when both the Duke and Anthony entered the room. They seemed ill at ease as they sat and poured glasses of wine. Staring at her husband, Mary asked "What is wrong? Something happened. Did more men of God get executed? How many more will suffer for the evilness of this farce of a marriage?"
Swallowing his wine down, the Duke eyed her. "The Queen is the one suffering right now, as is the King. I am late tonight because she miscarried earlier. It was a boy. The King is in a right state with that news."
Both ladies gasped. Moving to sit on her husband's lap, Mary pulled his forehead down to hers. This has become a common thing between them. It soothes them both. Charles warned her "I don't want you going anywhere near her. If you see the miserable woman coming, turn and go the other way. There's no telling what she's liable to do to you." He is seriously worried about his family.
She promised him she would. They both looked up and noticed their two friends had left. They didn't even hear them leave. One good thing that's come of this horrible visit is the relationship between Dot and Tony. That has progressed to an engagement. It's difficult to be happy when you're sad and fearful at the same time.
"We cannot leave as expected. We'll have to push the return trip off another day. The King has requested I go on a hunt with him tomorrow. How could I deny him his request when he just lost the one thing he's wanted?" His jaw clenched and the tension in his shoulders grew large.
His wife noticed this and placed her dainty hands on the problem area. She began massaging it away. Though frustrated they couldn't leave yet, she did understand. He began telling her about the atrocity of the execution, without gruesome detail. Her heart clinched for Thomas More's family and was unsure if sending a bereavement letter was the best course of action. Instead, she prayed silently again for them and she prayed for Charles, to have peace from all he has seen and dealt with over the past month.
The two turned in and he made his own request. "Can you read me to sleep with romantic words? Maybe it will help me dream romantic dreams of you to chase away the ugliness." He laid on his side gazing at her.
She kissed him then and grabbed her book. "From Guilhem of Aquitaine called Farsi Chansoneta Nueva— I shall make a new song before the wind blows and it freezes and rains. My lady is trying and testing me, to find out how much I love her. Well, no matter what quarrel she makes, she will not loose me from her bond."
Her words washed over him and lulled him to slumber. Upon waking, the next morning, he kissed her and pushed a piece of hair from off her forehead. Then dressed and went to meet the hunting party. It was a depressing day, to say the least. The King is down in the dumps and those who accompanied him (mainly himself, Tony, and William along with the Seymour brothers) were also maudlin.
The King pulled Charles to the side, away from all the others, while hunting quail. He said something that the Duke thought he would never hear his friend say. Well, two things really. "Charles, I think I was too quick to let Mary leave in the line of succession. I've been thinking a lot about that recently. I'm also beginning to think my marriage to Anne is cursed by God." His Lordship said nothing and kept his friend's words close to the vest.
They hunted and killed, but it was not the same kind of fun as usual. It made Charles long for his wife's poetry or one of her ridiculous romance novels. And thinking of those made him think of her, wondering what she was doing.
The Duchess was finished feeding the twins and told Dot "I think I will take a turn about the palace. I'm in need of fresh air." Dot kept the boys since they were up and awake. Carter, the Duchess's chief guard, went with her. Her eyes stayed on the lookout for signs of the Queen, so as to avoid the woman.
She wandered up a flight of stairs and into the expansive library. Her hands landed on the children's story of Sir Arthur The Cowardly Knight, who really wasn't cowardly at all. He was just incredibly misunderstood. Her wandering helped to clear the cobwebs in her mind and also brought back memories of her childhood. On the stairs, close to the top, she stood remembering times when she would run up and down these very steps. For it was here, at this very spot, she dropped her doll, Cynthia.
In the middle of a memory, a snooty voice interrupted. "Of course, it's the cursed bastard." Mary turned her head and saw Madge Shelton, the Evil Queen's handmaiden. "What are you still doing here? I would have thought your husband had his fill of you and sent you away. Along with your two brats of course," the chubby lady declared.
Mary thought the unpleasant woman ugly in nature and in looks. "My husband loves me. Unlike you who is still unmarried and obviously unhappy. It must be joyless and disenchanting to play second to a Queen who is so hated." This woman is nothing to her.
Stepping closer to Her Highness, Madge taunted her. "It must be grim and distressing knowing you're nothing but a bastard. And you'll never be in the line of succession for the throne. I spit on Spain and anything Spanish." She then spat in Mary's face.
Wiping her face with the sleeve of her dress, the Duchess stood straighter. She decided to call the nasty, crass woman out. "Interesting you say that. I have come into details about how you and your mistress, the Queen, have come into an agreement with Spain's neighbor Portugal. I wonder if the King is aware of this, seeing how it concerns my husband."
The tasteless woman grabbed Mary sharply by the arm. "How do you know about that?" The woman just revealed it was true. She began squeezing her arm tight, and Mary looked around for Carter. Shaking the Duchess like a rag doll, Madge's harsh voice noted "If you breathe a word of this—" Before the crude woman could do a thing more, Her Highness had spun on her heel and missed her footing.
Down she fell several flights of stairs. As soon as she hit bottom, Mary thought of her husband and her babies. She also felt a lot of pain and then her world went black.
On their way from the stables to the palace, a procession of guards met them. "Your Majesty! Your Highness! Come quick! It's the Grand Duchess."
At hearing the Duchess mentioned, Charles yanked the guard to him. His face screwed up with worry and fear. "What about the Duchess?"
"She's fallen. Down the stairs." The guard could hardly speak for fright.
Taking off in a run, the Duke hurried himself into the palace. The King was right behind. The whole time Charles prayed Mary was alright. However, when he reached their rooms it became very apparent she is not alright. In fact, lying there on the bed, she looked frail and fragile surrounded by a cocoon of pillows.
His heart picked up speed, his muscles tightened, and a lump formed in his throat. Coming close he noted her eyes are closed. Her dress had been changed and she is wearing her thin, short, white cotton nightgown. The one with the wide lace straps. It's her favorite. With her hair fanned out on the pillow, she looks like some fairy princess. A beauty, a sleeping beauty. He put his face to hers and felt her sweet breath tickle his lips. She's alive but asleep.
The halfwit doctor told him as much. There's no telling when she'll wake up. Before he let out a sob, he took her hand into his and spoke softly. "Merciless Beauty by Chaucer—- Your eyes slay me suddenly, their beauty I cannot sustain. They wound me so, through my heart keen. Unless your words heal me hastily, my heart's wound will remain green." Bringing her hand up to his mouth he kissed it, then brought his head down to the bed and wept.