For days following the disagreement, unrest abounded. The Prince and Princess did not see much of each other, though they still shared their bed. He would sleep once she already drifted off. This lingering silence broke their hearts, and yet they're still too proud to apologize. Now the growth on Charles's face speaks of a sad and lonely man.
Yet, for all that, he did not drown himself in drink. Instead, he drowned himself in work. He started helping Henry write legislation, and it resulted in the King letting him do it all himself. For he took one look at the new dairy farm laws and declared, "I have trained you well. This is equal to my own work." His Majesty only gave final approval.
As the Prince sat at Henry's writing desk, drafting a law, he heard a yell from the bedroom. Charles got up and rushed to see what the yelling is all about. With a huge smile on his face, Henry spoke. "Charles, so glad you came quickly. I have an important task for you." He motioned to two covered artists' easels.
His Highness can only imagine what is underneath. Perhaps some ostentatious painting to go in the gallery in the front hall. Then he thought he could very well be a picture of the King's favorite hunting dog, Sir Rupert Evans. However, it's neither of those things.
"You, my friend, are going to help me choose my new wife. Behind the coverings are two ladies, both sisters. What I need is a new alliance. An alliance that will bring me political support and power in Europe. I am aligning myself with the House of Cleves. The Duke, William, has had two portraits commissioned for me of his two eligible sisters: Amelia and Anne." Henry's voice resounded with glee and a touch of pride.
The King sipped his wine, then continued speaking. "I had the artist be as accurate as possible and not flatter either of the girls. So what's there is true, and I have not seen either portrait. You will view them with me. I want your honest opinion." With that said, His Majesty motioned for the servant to unveil the paintings.
Once the portraits were revealed, Henry didn't know what to say. Both girls looked passable. On the other hand, Charles became even more thankful for his wife- even if she isn't speaking to him at the moment. His Mary is a beauty among women.
Raising himself out of bed, Henry slipped on his house shoes. The Prince cautioned him. "Sire, do you think it wise for you to be out of bed? Do take it easy."
Henry waved him off. "I am fine, Charles. Stop nannying me. I'm just walking to the portraits for a better look." And he did look. He stared, and he scrutinized every little detail. The man also asked questions that his friend wasn't sure how to answer. The final question being, "Which one is more beautiful?"
Running a hand down his face, His Highness sat in the chair, ready to be rid of this task. He answered the only way he knew how. "Well, they're not Mary."
This made the King burst out in laughter. "No. They're not. But if you had to choose, which would it be?"
Charles stood up and made his way to the paintings. He, too, examined the details. Beauty alone does not make for a good marriage. There has to be something more. However, the King will not be happy until he is wed again. So, "Henry, I do not know. Nor do I wish you to base your decision on my answer, for what if I choose wrong and you end up hating her. They're both adequate-looking females, I suppose."
Henry dismissed this. "Of course, you would say that. You're in love with my daughter. I just can't make up my mind. I will sleep on it and then look at the pictures with fresh eyes. Whichever one I like most in the morning, I will marry."
But then Charles remembered something. "You know John Hutton sent a report to Cromwell about the one called Anne. I recollect it saying something to the effect of there is no great praise of her personage or beauty."
Again Henry dismissed him. "Bah! Cromwell disagrees. Why, one man told him that Anne's beauty outshines even that of her married sister Sibylla. And that girl is a beauty, so therefore her younger sister must be prettier. She must."
Charles stared at the painting of Anne. She is definitely not his Mary in the looks department. Knowing his friend's taste in women, he's just unsure if this one is the right one. But then, once Henry sets his mind on something, he's not to be deterred.
And this was the case. After sleeping on it, His Majesty decided Anne of Cleves would be his fourth wife. He called for Cromwell and the Prince. When both sat in the chairs by his bedside, he told them, "I have made up my mind. I will marry the sister called Anne."
Cromwell cowed and praised this decision. "Oh, Sir, you have made a fine choice. I have received many commendations for the woman's beauty and gentility. Since she is the Duke's daughter of the Cleveian Court, she will have been raised to be a suitable counterpart for you. Plus, she is a reformist, like yourself." The secretary smiled to himself.
Oh, how Charles wishes to knock the smug look off the man's face. He would give nothing more to do so. At that moment, he heard his name. "Yes, Majesty," he inquired.
The King pointed his blue feathered quill at him. "Charles, you will journey with the envoy to fetch my bride." He began writing on parchment.
Dear God. Did he hear Henry correctly? "Come again? Did you say I am to accompany the delegation to Germany?"
Henry looked up from his writing to his son-in-law. "Are your ears full of wool? Yes, I said as much." He returned to his correspondence.
Charles spluttered out noises. "But Sire, wouldn't some lower ranking court member be better suited for this? Am I not needed for Kingly training? What of my family? Will I have to leave them behind?" He does not want to go.
Setting the quill into the ink pot, His Majesty trained his sharp eyes on his friend's face. "No lower ranking court member will do. Escorting the King's bride is of utmost importance. I need to put forward a good show, and what better person to send than the Prince? That would be you. Meeting with all sorts of dignitaries is part of Kingly duties, so consider this more training."
The Prince grew annoyed the more his father-in-law spoke. Like he wants to lead a trip to Germany. All for the sake of a woman who may or may not be as beautiful as described.
Henry also informed his friend, "As for your family, Mary may accompany you. The children can stay here with me. There is no need to worry about their safety. They will be moved to my side of the palace down the hall from my room until you return. No one dares to touch even a hair on their heads without my knowing."
With that finalized, any arguing the point is out of the question. The details of the envoy were arranged that day, and Cromwell hand delivered the itinerary to both the King and the Prince. They were to leave the following morning. That gives him not very long to pack and tell his wife the news.
Just the thought of telling this to Mary made his insides screw up. His hand ran through his hair. This would be much easier were they not in an argument. With hesitation, he left the King's chambers for his own. He stopped just outside and slumped against the wall, thinking about what to say.
When he felt he had the right words, he opened the door and entered. It's there he found his wife bedecked in some bright pink frock. It's eye-catching for sure. His heart clenched a bit at her sight, for he hasn't observed her in far too long. She's laughing and sewing, looking happy and resplendent. He cleared his throat to alert the ladies in the room to his presence.
The women took notice of him and bowed their heads. But not his Mary. No. She kept her head held high, and her eyes fixed on him. Ever stubborn, and he loves her for it because even at her worst, she doesn't come near to his late wife's horrible temper and treatment. However, he does miss her and loathes this dreadful silence between the two of them.
She spoke the same words as she did upon return from the Dowager Countess's house. "Yes? May I help you?"
He put on a smile and told her, "You can help me. I need to speak with you privately. It's very important."
Casting aside her fabric and sewing tools, she rose and followed him into the bedroom. She walked to the window while he shut the door. Once it shut, she rounded on him. "Charles, this better not be some trick to get me into bed. I'm still sore at you."
Leaning on the door, he remarked, "Yes. I know." Then he shifted himself off and strode to a chair. When he sat, his eyes took her in. Today, she left her hair down and pulled it back on the right side with a diamond clip. Her face is impertinent as ever. It made him chuckle because she's all the more gorgeous when she's angry. Though he wishes that anger wasn't directed at him.
The minute she heard his chuckling, she huffed out a breath and stamped her foot. Then she turned around and headed for the door. Except as she passed him, he caught her wrist and pulled her down to his lap. His hands held her in place. Their faces only centimeters apart would be easy for them to give in to the love they feel despite the petty disagreement. But one of them has to yield first.
Their eyes bore into each other. Charles spoke first. "Can we stop this contention between us?"
She pursed her lips and then responded, "That depends. Will you stop treating me like some dimwitted fool?"
His hands stroked her back and left heat marks every place he touched. It made her warm all over. As for him, this is the first he's touched his wife in days, and it made him shudder to do so. His stomach took flight, and his heart sped up.
He then made known a certain truth. "Mary, you're not a fool. Far from it. You're the smartest woman I've ever known. One of the most intelligent persons of my acquaintance. I am sorry I laughed at you, but you must know I didn't do it for reasons you think. In my head, I could picture you, my petite little wife who hasn't a harsh bone in her body. I saw you trying to break the wine bottle, and it made a humorous picture."
Again she huffed and turned her head. His fingers pulled her back to look at him. "I'm sorry, My Darling, but you are not made to for sports. Except for archery. That you're made to do. The next time you're to commission any ships, we'll practice breaking wine bottles beforehand."
She tugged at the hair on the nape of his neck. "Rude man," she jested. Then she confided, "I thought you were mocking me and that hurt my heart. Plus, some stupid man stepped on the hem of my gown at the guard review, and I fell. My knee ached too. It was all so embarrassing. When I thought of you laughing, it hurt more. So I got angry."
His face hid in her neck with his nose taking a long inhale of her sweet scent. He's missed that these few days. It calms him. He placed a kiss before bringing his head up to look at her eyes. "I'm sorry you were humiliated, and I'm sorry I laughed at the wrong time. How is your knee?"
Lifting the hem of her dress and skirts all the way up to her knee, she showed him. His fingers glided gently over the bruise and stroked a circle with his thumb. "Again, I'm sorry, Sweetheart."
"It's not your fault. It's the idiot who stepped on my gown's fault," she let him know. Then he hugged her to him, and she slid her hands around his neck. He felt wetness there. "I'm sorry, Charles. I'm sorry for staying mad at you and not speaking. I let my Tudor temper get the better of me, and I took it out on you. Please forgive me."
His hands continued to rub soothing gestures on her back. "I do, Mary. I just hope you can forgive me for what I'm about to tell you." With those words, her head snapped up, and she tensed all over. Before she could speak, His Highness addressed this. "It's not what you think. In fact, it has nothing to do with me. It's all your father."
Those words did not bring her comfort. In fact, it did the opposite. And anytime her father has anything to do with Charles, it's always "He's sending you somewhere. If he's making you go fight some battle, I'll go fight him myself."
This made him chuckle. "Hold on, my knight. There's no need to fight your father. He's not sending me into battle, but he is sending me to Germany."
A disgusted look came over her face. "What?! Why is he sending you to that God-forsaken place?" She stood up and walked over to her dressing table, where she picked up a hand cream. Her hands need to do something before she marches into her father's bedroom, demanding to know why he's sending her husband to Germany.
He pouted at her absence. His eyebrows raised at her temper, knowing it's not directed at him. "I love the way you love me. Thank you for defending me. But he's actually sending you as well. We're both going along with others- a Royal Envoy."
She then placed the hand cream back onto the table, although a little harsher than intended. Her feet stalked back over to him and sat on the window seat. He got up and sat beside her. They both angled themselves to have a better look at the other. "What do you mean I'm going with you? And why are we going in the first place?"
Taking her hand, he played with her fingers. "Just what I said. You're going with me by order of the King. Besides, don't you want to meet your new stepmother?" He knew that would stoke her ire.
Her eyes looked up and searched his. "Could you repeat that? I swore you just said want to meet my new stepmother."
Not taking his eyes off her, he acknowledged her question. "I did. We are going to retrieve your father's new wife. Her name is Anne of Cleves."
She does not understand. "Why someone from Germany? Why not someone from England?"
Making himself comfortable, he reclined on the window seat and steepled his hands over his stomach. "That's simple. No one wants to marry him. He inquired to several well-bred princesses in France and Spain, but they're skeptical. With him divorcing your mother and beheading his second wife, would you want to marry him?"
She shook her head no. He continued on. "And that is why he had to look in other regions. He thinks Cleves will be a good ally. But here's the shocker. Brace yourself." Those words made her uneasy. Then he told her about commissioning two paintings of the Cleve sisters.
With mouth agape, she stared at him. "So he has not met this woman?" He shook his head no. "He has not seen her with his own two eyes, yet he will marry her?" He nodded. "And we are to go fetch her and bring her back?" He nodded again. "Is he mad?" Surely he must be.
A huge beaming smile formed on Charles's mouth. "No, not mad, Darling. Just in want of a wife. So much so that he's sending us to Germany to bring one back." He reached his hand out for her, but she had already gotten up.
As she began to open the trunks and the wardrobe, she asked, "When are we leaving?"
"Early in the morning, tomorrow," he explained. His eyes followed her movements around the room, watching her pull things out and place them on the bed.
She threw her hands up in the air upon hearing those words, and a groan left her otherwise pleasant mouth. "Bother! That leaves us hardly any time to pack." This began knots forming in her stomach, and her eyes skimming-over dresses in the wardrobe. They'll probably be gone for at least two weeks, so she'll need to pack for that plus an extra week just in case.
Dress after dress became piled up on the bed. Then she did the same with her husband's clothing. After which, she called the servants in to pack the items and ready them for the journey. It took all afternoon, which frustrated His Highness because he had other ideas for how they could spend their time. During dinner, she asked Charles about the children, and he told her, "They're staying here with your father, actually."
This did not make her happy, but she knew their grandfather would take good care of them. In fact, if she did have to leave them, he and Lady Agnes combined would not let a single hair on their head be harmed. So while it pains her to not take the children on this trip, she is at ease with leaving them behind.
When dessert had been served, chocolate mousse pudding, Mary's spoon immediately began to dip into the bowl. However, Charles stilled her hand. The look that crossed her face made him want to laugh out loud, but he held it in. "After dinner, I think we deserve a different kind of treat. We've been apart for three days, and I've missed you, not just for our lovemaking, but just yourself- holding you mostly."
She got up and moved to sit on his lap at his words. After placing a sweet kiss on his cheek and a peck on his lips, they fed each other the dessert. Until the Prince grew silly and smeared the chocolate on her cheeks, chin, and nose. Her Highness grew upset about this gesture, but that was before he kissed it off in all the places he put it. Which led to ideas about other naughty places they could put the pudding.
However, all of this planning had been in vain because just as the couple entangled each other in a passionate kiss, a came to the door. A breath of annoyance came out of His Highness's mouth. Stomping to the door, Charles threw open the door and stared the servant down with a formidable look. The servant, Gwyn, let His Highness know the twins are asking for their parents. And so, a night of frustration ensued due to not getting what he wants and also from the boys poking him in the side with their feet. For his life, he doesn't recall how William came to sleep on his chest with Owen at his side. But it happened.
Early the next morning, the Royal Bride fetching party pulled out of London. Only time will tell if this wife will be worth all this trouble.