Chapter 43
Hello everyone! Here's another chapter for all of you and I hope you all enjoy it. This chapter will not be very happy, so make sure you have your tissues ready. I hope you all like this story and thank you all so much for your support on this story. I hope you all tell me what you want in your favorite characters. There's a lot going on that is yet to be revealed. This chapter will be centered around Queen Juana, so I hope you all like that. We will be meeting new Royal Families, so don't get confused lol. Thank you all so much again. Please Read and Review!
April 2, 1555
Convent of Santa Clara, Tordesillas, Spain
Queen Juana of Castile and Aragon's Bedchamber
Queen Juana was laying in her lightly breathing. She was now completely bed-ridden now. She was not able to walk anymore. Her condition had gone downhill the past week and there was nothing that could be done for her. The physicians had given up all hope and just made sure that she was comfortable, under strict orders from the Holy Roman Emperor. These days, not many saw Queen Juana, except her children and Princess Giovanna, Duchess of the Infantando, her Italian granddaughter who nursed her.
Suddenly, Charles V walked in and smiled at his ailing mother.
"How are you, Mother?" he asked.
Juana sighed.
"What can I do for you, Hijo? she asked weakly.
Charles sat next to his mother's bedside and tried not to cry at how weak and worn his mother looked.
"Mother, we need to talk about your condition. We need to discuss your...condition." he said.
Juana nodded.
"There is no need to mince words. We all know that I am dying." she said.
Charles shook his head.
"No, Mother. You will recover. You will fight this." he said.
Juana shook her head.
"Charles, I am seventy-five years old. I am old and I am tired. I have been Queen most of my life. I had to fight my husband and my own father just to secure my Throne. I had to prove myself to everyone. I raised six children, and three of my grandchildren, after your beloved sister, Isabella, died. Oh, my sweet girl. How did I survive burying my own child?" she said.
Charles closed his eyes. His mother was not known to feel sorry for herself at all. However, he knew that his sister's death had hit his mother hard, especially since Isabella almost begged for her mother to lead an army to reclaim her husband's throne from the current King of Denmark, who was a usurper. However, since the current Queen of Denmark, Queen Maria, was actually a daughter of Juana's cousin, the late Queen Joanna of Naples, the mother of the late King Frederico of Naples, she didn't want trouble with them.
"Mother, you shouldn't talk like that. Isabella would be proud at how her children turned out. You even made Dorothea Queen of Poland through marriage to King Sigismund." he said.
Juana sighed.
"Except she hasn't produced a surviving son. I worry for her." she said.
Charles nodded his head. His niece, Queen Dorothea of Poland had been married to the Polish King for fifteen years now and had produced seven children. However six of them were girls and the only son that she managed to have was stillborn and two of her daughters died as infants. Currently, she only had four daughters, Princesses Ludmila, Olga, Stefania and Karolina. Now that she was thirty-five it was a worry that the Queen wouldn't have a living son.
Juana shook her head.
"Dorothea will have a son. They said that my sister wouldn't have a son for England and your cousin is currently sitting on the Throne, is he not?" she said.
Charles admired his mother's fierce nature.
Juana looked at him.
"You must be ready to rule without me, Hijo. I know you can do it. I want you to honor the treaty I have with the French. No more wars for five years. I have always kept my word and I want to continue to do so, even in death." she said.
Charles nodded.
"Mother, Liliana's betrothed is held captive in our lands. We must do something for all of those men. If we can just..."
Juana held up her hand.
"Are you speaking as a Father or a King?" she asked.
Charles was silent. He didn't know how to answer his mother.
Juana smiled.
" i know you want to see Liliana happy, Hijo. However, that is a large fortress and will take many men to save those men. You must negotiate with Henri to ask his men to let our men go. That is their only hope. I don't want more war." she said.
Charles nodded. He couldn't picture being without his mother. He had lost his beloved Mary so many years ago. Now he was losing his mother.
Charles left his mother's room and started to cry silently. He sat down and let his cane fall to the ground with a clatter.
Suddenly, His sister, Mary of Austria, Dowager Queen of Hungary, was walking down the hall and saw her eldest brother crying. The fifty year old woman sat next to him and put her hand on his arm.
"Charles, why are you weeping? Talk to me?" she said, gently.
Charles looked at his sister.
"Mother is dying. How am I going to run Spain without her? Spain needs her." he said.
Mary nodded.
"Does Spain need her or...do you need her?" she asked.
Charles glared at his younger sister.
"We all need her." he said.
Mary sighed.
"Mother has been Queen for fifty years. She has fought wars, dealt with the conflicts in New Spain and now she is tired. God is calling her to her rest. That is no choice of ours." she said, as a tear rolled down her eye.
Charles wiped his eye. His mother wan't only his mother, but she was his partner and it hurt him to be losing her. Despite being fifty-five years old, he felt like he was becoming an orphan.
April 7, 1555
Convent of Santa Clara
Tordesillas, Castile, Spain
Queen Juana was laying in her bed, resting, her breath ragged and weak. She looked around her room and tried to drift into sleep. She was praying that death would come. She hated that she had to feel it coming. She didn't want to suffer anymore. She had resigned herself into the hands of the Lord and wanted to hurry and rejoin her family in Heaven.
Suddenly, she felt a cold breeze pass over her. She looked up and saw an auburn haired women with warm hazel eyes smiling at her.
Juana eyes opened a little wider.
"Isabella? My darling, is that you?" she asked as a tear fell down her worn face.
Isabella, Queen of Denmark, walked closer to her mother. She was wearing a gown that was pure white in color. She stood over Juana.
"It is me , Mother. I am here." she said.
Juana held her hand out.
"Please, take me with you, Hija." she pleaded.
Isabella shook her head.
"It is not time, Mother. I am here to just tell you one thing." she said.
Juana took several breaths.
"Tell me." she said.
Isabella looked at her mother with a sad face.
"Thank you for looking after my children. I watched over them all their lives. I am proud of all of them. You protected them and loved them. I am grateful to you and my sister, Mary. You even made my daughter a Queen." she said.
Juana had a tear fall down her face. She had always wanted to be sure that her late daughter was happy of how her three children turned out. However, she always hoped that they turned out how Isabella wanted them to and she now knew that Isabella was happy with how John, Dorothea and Christina turned out.
When she looked up again, Isabella had disappeared. Juana had a few more silent tears fall down her face. She was sad to see her daughter leave, but she knew she would see her again soon.
12 April 1555
Convent of Santa Clara
Tordesillas, Castile
The physicians exited the room with all haste. It was treason to predict the death of the monarch, but each and every one of them knew that the aged leader of Castile and Aragon was not long for this world. It was impossible to say when it would happen; when the old woman would draw her last breath, but the learned men who were leaving believed that it would happen long before the sun went down on this Good Friday. It was turning out to be not so Good after all.
King Charles V of Spain, Holy Roman Emperor, had been ruling beside his mother for decades. His own wife, the late Princess Mary Tudor of England, Holy Roman Empress, had died more than twenty years ago and since then, he had existed to serve his mother and his children. He had summoned his grandson, the Infante Luis, King Consort of Navarre and Prince of Asturias and Girona, to be at his great-grandmother's death bed. His messenger had brought news that the King Consort of Navarre was on his way two days ago, but there was yet no sign of Luis. Charles knew it would be hard for Luis to leave his family right now, as his wife had just given birth to the heir to all three thrones; Castile, Navarre, and Aragon, and Luis would not want to leave his one-month old son so soon. Charles also knew that Luis would do so, as duty, in this case, had to come first.
Charles looked at the bed where his frail mother lay sleeping. He watched her chest rise and fall with her staggered breaths. She had never been sick a day in her life. Even when she had been with child and in confinement, she still managed to run her kingdom. Now, she was a shell of the person that she had once been, but Charles knew that she would be in God's hands soon, and her suffering would be over. She would be reunited with her parents, her siblings, and all of the children and grandchildren who had not survived. He smiled at the thought of his mother and his late wife watching him from heaven and making jokes at the mistakes he would make, despite his age. He knew his mother would be greeted by all of those who went before her when she finally was called to God's side, and he knew that she would be happy there.
From her bed, Juana began to stir from the deep sleep she had fallen into hours before the sun rose. She opened her eyes and saw her eldest son staring at her in quiet contemplation.
"Starring at me like that will not tell you what I am thinking, my son," Queen Juana said, waking Charles from the trance he had been in with his thoughts.
"Mother," he said, smiling at her. "You're awake." He walked to her bedside and bowed, then sat on the edge of her bed.
"No more of that bowing nonsense, Charles," the aged Queen replied. "I know what I taught you, but by nightfall I will be elsewhere, and you will be King in your own right. For the rest of my life, you will be only my son and the formalities will cease."
Charles looked at his mother and nodded, "Yes, mother."
There was a knock at the door. Queen Juana's page announced the arrival of King Luis of Navarre, Prince of Asturias and Girona. "Enter," Juana commanded of her great-grandson.
Luis stepped into the room that had been given to his great-grandmother when they had stopped at the convent. She had fallen ill on their journey home and had yet to recover from the sickness. Luis bowed and then walked to her bedside, displaying the same mannerisms that Charles held when he had done so moments before.
Queen Juana held out her arms to embrace her great-grandson; the only son of her grandson, Philip, who had died when Luis was very young. Luis hugged the older woman before sitting in a chair next to his grandfather. The aged Queen looked from her son to her great-grandson and back again before Charles asked what she was doing.
"The two of you, sitting there, side-by-side," the Queen began, "is a sight to behold. I feel like I am looking at Philip, God rest his soul, who was the perfect combination of you and Mary, except that Luis' hair is darker."
Luis smiled at the reference to his father and grandmother. Charles looked at Luis and began to laugh. "What?" Juana questioned.
"It just reminded me of a conversation that Mary and I had when she was expecting Philip, mother," Charles told her. "She said that she hoped our baby looked like her mother but with my dark hair and that he would be perfect if he looked like that. She got what she wanted, but not in Philip. It came in Luis instead."
Juana chuckled at the thought of her late daughter-in-law getting what she wanted in her descendants. Many of her children had the look of the Plantagenets of England, mixed with their Spanish and Castilian heritage. Mary would be so proud of who her children had become.
"You're right, mother," said a ghostly voice from the other side of Juana's bed. Juana turned her head to see her former daughter-in-law standing there, not quite transparent enough for anyone else to see. "I am immensely proud of my children, and my grandchildren and great-grandchildren." Mary looked at Luis with the addition of her great-grandchildren to her statement and smiled like the angel that she was. Juana reached out her hand to touch the figure but couldn't quite reach her.
"Mary?" Juana questioned.
"Mother?" Charles looked at the area where his mother was reaching and saw nothing.
"Don't you see her, my son?" Queen Juana asked. "Don't you see your wife?"
"No, mother," he replied, with a single tear streaming down his face, while Luis looked at his great-grandmother as though she had lost her mind.
Queen Juana looked at Charles, then back to her daughter-in-law. Mary was no longer there. She had vanished as quickly as she had come. Juana looked at her son once again. "She was just there, Charles. Mary was here with me and said that she was indeed proud of her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She was looking at Luis and smiling."
Charles just nodded, not wanting to upset his mother in her condition. "I believe you mother."
The next few hours brought little relief and more worry as Juana slipped in and out of consciousness. She mumbled to herself, talked to her children that were in the room, and continued to see spirits of those who had passed on before her, all the while, her son Charles was at her side, watching over her, as she had watched over her descendants for many years. Charles was lost in thought when a knock at the door drew his mother's attention from her bed.
"Enter," she commanded.
The door swung open and Eleanor, her eldest daughter and Dowager Queen of France, walked into the room. "Eleanor, my beloved daughter," Juana said and held out her hand for the woman. Eleanor walked to her mother's bedside and took her hand, sitting beside the older woman. "I know you are scared my daughter, but King Alfonso will not treat you badly. He is an older man who has been married before and understands how young women are. He will respect you, if not love you. Do you understand?"
Eleanor looked at her brother with confusion. Charles just looked at their mother and nodded to Eleanor, who played along with the scene that Juana was reliving from more than thirty years ago.
"Yes mother," Eleanor said, as a tear fell down her face.
She stepped back from the bed and closer to Charles' chair. "She goes in and out of reality like this Eleanor, " her brother informed her, to which she could only nod. Then, a noise from the bed caused them both to look in their mother's direction.
Juana was gazing at the foot of the bed smiling as though she was in the middle of a lavish ball and she was the guest of honor.
"Philip, my love, look," Juana said, seeing her late husband at the foot of her bed. "We have a son." Juana gestured to the pillow she now held as though it was an infant. The ghost of her late husband smiled at her, as her two eldest children glanced at one another.
"She's reliving the day you were born Carlos," Eleanor whispered to the Holy Roman Emperor. Charles just nodded and watched his mother closely.
Juana fell asleep after releasing the pillow from her grip. Charles knew the end was coming, but he did not want his mother remembered in such a manner. "Eleanor," he began, but his older sister knew what he was thinking. "Don't worry Charles," she started, "mother will not be remembered for these bouts of insanity. No one outside of the family will know."
Charles nodded his head and turned back towards the woman who had been there his entire life as his sister slipped from the room to gather the rest of their family. As the hours passed, Queen Juana tossed in her sleep and became more agitated at times, but then was like a child. Charles wondered if she was seeing her parents during those times, but did not dare to ask. Throughout the day her children and grandchildren who were in Castile came to see her and ask if Charles needed anything. He always shook his head.
Charles was staring out the window into the darkness by the time his mother regained full consciousness.
"Mi hijo," Juana said softly, reaching out her hand to her son, and Charles knelt at his mother's bedside. "You must take that worried look off your handsome face. I know my time is coming and I know it will not be long. Soon, you will be King of the realm that my parents created in your own right. Be a just King, but be a firm King. Do not be so hesitant that you delay important decisions for too long, but to not be so quick to act that you do not think through the choices you make."
"Yes, Mother," Charles replied, kissing the back of her hand.
"Always remember that I love you," she said.
"I love you too mama," Charles replied, as he had when he was a boy. That was how he felt, watching his mother die, like a child who was lost.
Juana looked at her son and then turned her head toward the window, nearly blinded by an amazing white light and the shadows of people she knew well.
"Is it time?" Juana asked.
"Yes," replied a familiar, sweet voice that Juana would know anywhere. She saw her baby sister, Catalina, step into the light so she could see, finally viewing the faces of those she loved. All of her siblings, including little Anna, who her mother had lost before she was born, and the infant boy who was older than her brother, Juan, were there. Both were in her father's arms, loved and protected as she had been as a child sitting there.
"Catalina?" Juana asked, confirming what she already knew.
"Yes, sweet sister, it is I."
"Come my daughter," sang the voice of her beloved mother. "Our Lord awaits you."
With that, Juana rose from her bed with only a glance behind her, embraced her family once more and walked with them into the light of Heaven.
12 April 1555
Charles stood and kissed his mother's forehead for the last time. He made the sign of the cross and straightened his clothing. He knew he was a mess, but he had to tell the court that his mother, Queen Juana of Castile and Aragon, was gone. He turned towards the door to her make-shift chambers at the convent where they had spent the past two months, since she had taken a turn for the worst. He thought back as she had negotiated with the French. She must have known that she was dying, even then. He shook his head in awe at the fact that she effectively had stopped the war with France while here. Then her reasons became clear. She wanted to leave him with a peaceful nation, knowing that her dying would cause him stress. His mother never ceased to amaze him; even in death, she put everyone else first.
His mind began going through the list of things that he needed to do now that she was gone. He had to tell the family and the court, write to the pope and request that His Holiness personally do the masses and funeral for his mother, oversee the changing of the guard to his own regime, and make certain that his own arrangements were in order for Luis to take over when he died. Charles was not a young man anymore and although he would not die today, he was not as certain as his mother had been of when his time would come.
Charles walked to the heavy doors of his mother's rooms and knocked twice, paused, then knocked twice more. It was the signal that they had arranged with the guards, so they would know what had happened. Charles heard the head of his mother's security force shout "The Queen is dead! Long live the King!" He paused, looked back at the bed where his mother's body lay in eternal slumber, then opened the doors and stepped out into the hallway. The physicians bowed to him, then entered the chambers to ensure that the Queen was indeed dead, as was custom.
Charles made his way to his older sister's chambers with tears in his eyes. He was halfway there when he saw her, the Dowager Queen of France, Eleanor, running towards him, followed closely by his younger sisters, Maria and Catalina.
"Oh Carlos," Eleanor cried, hugging her brother, "is it true? Is Mama gone?"
Charles just nodded his head and enveloped his two younger sisters into their hug. Luis, Charles' grandson, King Consort of Navarre, came through the double-wide doors at a fast walk and stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing his great-aunts and his grandfather hugging in the middle of a corridor. Charles looked at him and nodded. Luis bowed on one knee to his grandfather, who was now the King of Spain. Looking behind them, Eleanor saw Luis on one knee and immediately broke the hug and curtsied to her brother, causing her sisters to do the same.
Charles shook his head. "Not today, ladies. Not today Luis. Today we have lost her, our rock. Today we are only a family grieving for their matriarch. Tomorrow. . . Tomorrow I will be King."
Charles put his arm around his older sister and followed her to her chambers in the convent. Maria and Catalina did as well, but Luis returned to his chambers to let Elizabeth, his wife, know that Queen Juana, was dead, and to prepare for the funeral before joining the rest of their family in their grief.
April 14, 1555
Pamplona Palace
Pamplona, Navarre, Spain
Queen Elizabeth was smiling, as she watched her son sleep. Despite his early dramatic birth, he had really improved over the six weeks since his birth. His wet nurse said that he was feeding well and little Eduardo was putting on weight. Elizabeth was glad she had done her main job as Queen and provided a healthy son. However, she knew that she knew that Eduardo's life was fragile and she needed more children. But she was only twenty-one years old and knew that she had time.
Suddenly, Alex Dumane walked in and bowed to Elizabeth.
"Your Majesty, a letter has arrived from Castile. It seems urgent." he said.
Elizabeth nodded and smiled at Alex.
"How is married life treating you, Alex?" she asked, as she began to open the letter.
Alex shrugged.
"Jeanne is a kind wife. Hopefully we will fall in love, but I have no complaints about her." he said.
Elizabeth nodded in approval. She wanted the marriage to work for them, especially since Jeanne would always be a pawn and a figure head for rebellions against her. She opened the letter and began to read its contents.
Suddenly, she put her hand to her mouth in shock.
Alex looked at his Queen in concern.
"Is everything alright, Your Majesty?" he asked.
Elizabeth looked at Alex and shook her head.
"Queen Juana has died." she said, with a tear falling down her face.
Alex looked at her, in shock. He knew the Spanish Queen was getting up there in age, but he didn't think that she would expire so soon after declaring a standstill with France.
He made the sign of the Cross.
"May God have her soul." he said.
Elizabeth cleared her throat.
"She will be buried in Granada. King Luis has requested my attendance to return to Castile and attend her funeral. He said he really needs me by his side now. I am going to him. Our King needs me" she said.
Alex opened his eyes, in shock.
"You're going to leave Navarre. What about the Prince and Princess?" he asked.
Elizabeth nodded her head.
"I need to make arrangements. Isabel and Eduardo are too young to make this journey. Someone will have to govern Navarre in my absence." she said.
Alex nodded.
"I am sure Jeanne can look after the children. I know Lady Sancha will be traveling with you." he said.
Elizabeth looked at him.
"No. I'll ask Lady Maria, Duchess of Viseu to look after them. Thank you." she said.
Alex looked at Elizabeth, but understood her hesitant nature. She was still a new Queen and she couldn't trust anyone. Especially the former Princess.
Alex bowed.
"I'll prepare whatever you need, Your Majesty." he said.
Elizabeth nodded and dismissed him. She let a few tears fall for her beloved aunt/great-grandmother. She had learned a lot from Queen Juana, so she hopes that she can live up to her family's expectations as a true, lone Queen.
14 April 1555
Rome
Marcellus II, Bishop of Rome, was rereading the letter in his hand. Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor, had written him just days before concerning the death of his mother, the late Queen Juana Trastamara of Castile and Aragon, the last surviving child of the late Catholic monarchs, on April twelfth, asking that he come to Castile to perform the funeral himself. It was no small undertaking, but of course, he couldn't refuse. He was the Pope and she was an icon of the Catholic Faith.
Upon receiving the news of her passing, peacefully as it was, despite the recent war with France, he had set his secretaries to copying formal invitations to every Catholic monarch in Europe, and even some who were not, about the funeral procession for this great woman. The wording was more of a command than a request, and he knew that few, if any, would refuse to attend, especially when he promised that over two thousand of Rome's soldiers would be accompanying him to ensure total peace, and that all weapons would be checked at the entrance to the church prior to admittance. He would have no feuding at this solemn occasion. These messages were sent out with guards who were instructed to place them in the hands of each assigned monarch themselves. There would be no mistake that the Kings and Queens of Europe would not receive them, and as it was to be a private affair, with no one other than monarchs and their families attending, there would be no objection based on the idea of treason. A funeral service for the people of Castile to attend would occur the day before this gathering in a different location.
Preparations were already underway for his journey when the messenger he sent to Naples entered the room. "Holy Father," the young man said, bowing, "I have just returned from Naples and King Alfonso and his Queen have both agreed to attend, and will be bringing their two eldest children. Furthermore, the King wished for me to inform you that he is sending fifty of his personal guard to attend your journey to Castile and back to further ensure your safety." The Pope smiled at this gesture, knowing that the King of Naples would understand the significance of the message he sent.
"Thank you, my son," he replied. "May our Heavenly Father bless and keep you always." With that, the young man left the room with orders to ensure that the guardsmen were fed upon their arrival in Rome. He had set the date for the late Queen's funeral for the twenty-ninth of the month, giving everyone just enough time to arrive if they set out immediately, which he expected them to do upon receiving his message.
Meanwhile, around Europe, the messages were being delivered, as ordered.
On the sixteenth of April, a messenger arrived in Austria.
He had been in the chapel, praying for his mother's soul, though he knew she was in heaven with her family who had all gone before her. "Your highness," his court herald said softly, interrupting his prayers, "a messenger has arrived from Rome, from his Holiness."
"Take the message and find the man some food," Archduke Ferdinand said plainly, "I am praying for my mother."
"Forgive me, your highness, but he says the Pope has ordered him to place the message in your hands, and yours alone."
Ferdinand sighed and exited the chapel into his throne room. "What is this about?" he asked the young man before him. "We are in mourning for my mother, Queen Juana, who has just passed to her eternal rest."
The young man bowed and held out the letter. "Forgive me, but his Holiness said I was to deliver these messages to no one but the rulers of each kingdom I was assigned."
Ferdinand took the letter and read it quickly. "Tell his Holiness I will comply. That he need not have wasted his time on this. All of her children who still walk this earth will be there." The young man bowed again. "Go to the kitchens and get something to eat and I will have chambers prepared for you."
"Thank you, your highness, but I have to continue on my journey. I have a long ride ahead to Poland and the court of King Sigismund."
"Then wait here a few moments," Ferdinand commanded. He ordered his guard to go to the kitchen and quickly pack some bread and cheese for the young man to take with him. The guard returned within minutes and handed the young man a sack.
"Thank you, your highness," the young man bowed again. "I will take my leave of you, with your permission."
"Granted," Ferdinand said, "and God bless you and keep you on your journey."
The seventeenth saw messengers arrive and then depart from the courts of Sicily, Cleves, Saxony, and Hungary. On the eighteenth, France and Denmark received their summons, though the message to France was one that included a warning of peace during this event. By the twentieth, all of Europe had been notified and summoned, except for Scotland, who received their summons on the twenty-first of April. Dowager Queen Margaret was furious at the thought of taking her granddaughter, Queen Mary, to Castile, but reluctantly agreed that to defy his Holiness would be unwise for Scotland. After summoning her sons and grandsons together, they decided that the young Queen would indeed attend the funeral. Margaret ordered that the palace guards be made ready and that one hundred soldiers would accompany them to Castile, as guards for Queen Mary.
Preparations were being made with all haste throughout the continent and in a few short days, every ruler in Europe would be gathered in Castle to say goodbye to the late Queen, Juana
April 16, 1555
Copenhagen Castle, Copenhagen, Denmark
King Christian III of Denmark and Norway
King Christian was lying in his bed. The fifty-two year old King was resting. He had rode all day to this castle. He was stressed on mainly family matters. He was trying to find his eldest daughter, Princess Anna, a husband, but it was hard since she was thirty-two years old. He hoped that it would become easier, as he greatly loved his eldest daughter and wanted her happy.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.
He sat up in bed.
"Enter." he said in a gruff voice.
One of his private messengers entered the room, bowed, handed him a letter.
King Christian opened the letter and read it. He closed his eyes and closed the letter.
"Bring the Queen to me immediately." he said.
The messenger nodded and left the room, with much haste.
Several moments later, Maria of Naples, Queen of Denmark walked into her husband's chambers. Despite being forty-two years old, she was still very beautiful with dark brown hair, green eyes, full bosom and a nice figure, even after eight pregnancies. Queen Maria was actually the second wife of King Christian. His first wife, the late Queen Isabella of Denmark, had been his first wife and was also her elder sister. From the first marriage there were Princess Anna, Prince Frederick, Prince Magnus, Duke of Holstein, Prince John, Duke of Shleswig and the late Princess Dorothea, whose birth killed Queen Isabella and mother and daughter died a day apart. To keep the alliance, Maria was married to her sister's widower two years later, when she was only twenty in 1533. Now, twenty-two years later, She was a respected Queen, loved her king, despite his affairs and had managed to give birth to eight more heirs: Princess Louisa, Prince Otto, [who dies aged three in 1540], Princess Christina, Prince Stefan, Duke Sonerburg, Princess Sophia, Prince Phillip, Princess Lucretia, and little Princess Elisabeth who was not even five years old.
Queen Maria bowed.
"You wanted to see me, Your Majesty?" she said, in her Italian accent, which was still strong after twenty years.
King Christian sighed.
"Maria, it seems that your cousin, Queen Juana of Spain, has died. We have been ordered by His Holiness to attend her funeral in Granada." he said.
Queen Maria made the sign of the Cross. She never met her cousin, but greatly respected her.
"Will Frederick and Anna be traveling with us? They are your eldest children." she said.
Christian nodded his head.
"Absolutely. Thankfully, I have several sons here. Make preparations for your household. We are departing first thing in the morning." he said.
Queen Maria smiled and nodded and began to leave, before Christian grabbed her arm.
"I didn't say you had to right this moment." he said, with a lusty look in his eye.
Queen Maria smiled, stripped off her nightgown and joined her husband in his bed and outside the chambers, the moans of Queen Maria could be heard.
17 April 1555
France
The palace was ablaze with lights and the kitchens had been scurrying with activity for the past twenty-four hours as the kingdom prepared for its celebrations of the war ending with Spain. One month had passed since the cease fire had been signed, and most of France's soldiers had returned home. There were only two companies left unaccounted for, and they were due to return that very night to the palace and be greeted by their King. King Henri had been in his study nearly all day, planning his speech for when those soldiers returned.
"Henri, my love, do you really think the cease fire will hold?" Diane de Poitiers, long time confident and mistress of the King of France, asked in earnest. She was worried for her brother and nephew, who were returning with the last two companies that evening.
"Of course, Diane," Henri said, without looking up from his speech. He continued writing as she walked to the window and stared out into the courtyard of the palace, where a young man on horseback was approaching at a rather alarming rate of speed.
"Henri," Diane began again, watching the rider dismount and hurry to the gates of the castle with a bag on his shoulder and a letter in his hand.
"Diane, I will never finish this if you keep talking my love," Henri reminded her gently of his writing.
"There is a messenger entering the castle as I speak, darling," Diane replied. "He was riding very quickly. Oh, I hope nothing is wrong."
Henri stood from his desk and walked over to her at the window, where she was continuing to stare at the gates of the castle. He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her into a hug. "I'm sure everything is fine, my love."
A knock at the door interrupted their tender moment.
"Enter," Henri commanded.
The large door swung open and the Dauphin entered the room, bowing to his father as he did, and waited to be recognized, as protocol demanded.
"What is it Francis?" King Henri asked of his eldest child.
"Father," Francis said, approaching the King and Diane, "a messenger has arrived with his correspondence from Rome." Francis stepped forward and handed his father the letter bearing the seal of His Holiness, the Pope.
Henri took the letter and returned to his desk to open it. He was not expecting anything from the Pope and was rather confused. Perhaps His Holiness was writing to congratulate him on the cease fire with Spain. Almost immediately, King Henri dropped the letter and made the sign of the cross.
"Father?" Francis questioned.
"She's dead," was all Henri could utter at first, but then regained his composure after the third time he spoke the words.
"Who is?" Diane asked.
"Queen Juana of Spain," Henri replied. Both Francis and Diane crossed themselves, looking at each other.
"She's dead?" Diane questioned. "But didn't you just . . ."
"Yes," Henri said, still staring at the message from the Pope laying on his desk. "And we are instructed to attend her funeral in Grenada on the twenty-ninth of this month."
"We?" Francis said, questioning his father. Why would France be required to attend the funeral of their recent enemy?
"All Catholic monarchs, my son, not just France," Henri asked, picking up on where his son was headed with the question. "The Pope has ensured that all weapons will be lain aside, guards will protect all rulers at this event, and no one is to show any aggression, or else they will be excommunicated." Francis just stared at his father for a moment.
"But mother won't be able to attend, Father," Francis reminded him.
"No, of course not," Henri replied. "It will be you, Elisabeth, Claude and myself."
Francis nodded. "I will have our servants begin preparations to leave. When we will begin our journey?" He asked, standing straighter than before and proud that his father had not objected to his taking charge of this situation, despite the fact that he was only eleven years-old.
"In two days' time," his father replied, turning to Diane. "Oh, and Francis, please inform your mother of what has happened. She will want to prepare your sisters for the customs of Spain."
Francis nodded, bowed, and left the room, leaving his father with his thoughts and his mistress.
April 18, 1555
Ribeira Palace, Lisbon, Portugal
Queen Maria of Portugal's Bedchambers
Mary was sitting by her window, watching a silent rain fall over the courtyard outside her bedchambers. He hand was resting on her large stomach. In a little over a month, she would be giving birth to her seventh child and hopefully the fifth to survive. This particular pregnancy had really excited her. Despite her age, she was happy to be with child. Although she knew there a chance she could lose her life if this birth went wrong, she didn't care. She just wanted to hold her healthy child.
Suddenly, There was a loud knock at her door.
She carefully stood up and made herself look more regal.
"Enter." she said.
The door opened and King Carlos walked in and kissed Mary on her cheek.
"How are you, sweetheart?" he asked.
Mary sighed.
"I am well. I am actually looking forward to my confinement in a few weeks. I'll get to stay in bed and rest." she chuckled.
She noticed the somber look on her husband's face.
"Carlos, what is it? Is it one of the children?" she asked, worriedly.
Carlos shook his head.
"No, they are fine. However, I do have sad news." he said.
Mary braced herself and composed herself. She knew that if she let herself get emotionally out of control, she could risk the life of her unborn child and she knew that if she lost this child, there would be no more chances to have another child.
"What is the news?" she asked.
Carlos sighed.
"Our aunt, Queen Juana of Spain, has died." he said.
Mary closed her eyes and sat on her bed. It shocked her and it may have sounded ridiculous, but losing her mother's last surviving sibling, it felt like she had lost her mother again.
Carlos nodded, as if he could read his wife's mind. His late mother was also a sister of Queen Juana and it was a little unsettling.
Mary looked at her husband.
"Carlos, we are next. I have never felt more old than I do now." she said.
Carlos sighed. He was forty-three years old and although he didn't feel old, he knew his generation was next to start leaving the world.
"The Pope has also ordered that all Monarchs of the Catholic Faith is to travel to Granada for her funeral, set for the twenty-ninth of this month." he said.
Mary shook her head.
"No, Carlos. I loved our Aunt, but i will not risk our child. I will stay here in Lisbon. Will you take Duarte?" she asked.
Carlos shook his head.
"No. Now that he is sixteen, i want to leave him in charge. I will take Juana with me. I hope to get an audience with the French King, to solidify Juana's marriage." he said.
Mary nodded her head. She knew that Duarte had to learn to be King and she would enjoy time to prepare for the delivery of her child and also spend time with little Cristina, who was too young to attend the funeral of Queen Juana.
April 18, 1555
Royal Castle, Warsaw, Poland
King Sigismund II of Poland's Private Chamber
King Sigismund was reading a book and greatly stressed. His advisers were stepping out of bounds with him. After fifteen years of marriage, He and his wife, Queen Dorothea, had only managed to have four surviving daughters out of the Queen's seven pregnancies and even with the three that didn't make it, only one was a boy. Sigismund cared for his wife, but he had to admit that the lack of a male heir did stress him, especially since Queen Dorothea was now almost thirty-five years old. Even still, he loved their daughters: Princess Ludmila, Princess Olga, Princess Stefania and little Princess Karolina.
Suddenly, there was a knock at his door.
"Come in he said, without looking up from his book.
The door opened and Queen Dorothea walked in, with tears in her eyes. Her brown hair was down her back and she had an open letter in her hands.
Sigismund looked up and walked over to her.
"Dorothea, what is wrong?" he asked.
Dorothea looked at her husband.
"My grandmother, Queen Juana, has died." she said.
Sigismund sighed and mad the sign of the Cross. He knew that after her father had been deposed in Denmark and Norway and her mother died, Dorothea and her siblings were taken under the wing of Queen Juana and she even arranged their marriages.
Sigismund hugged his wife.
"I am so sorry, darling." he said.
Queen Dorothea looked at him.
"The Pope has ordered all Catholic Rulers to attend her funeral in Castile. I haven't seen Spain in fifteen years." she said, with a pleading look in her eyes.
Sigismund sighed.
"Well, if His Holiness has ordered it, we can't deny him. He is God's representative on Earth. Let us prepare. it will be a long journey." he said.
Queen Dorothea nodded, bowed and left her husband, to prepare her household to say good-bye to a wonderful Queen and Matriarch.
April 19, 1555
Candia Castle, Crete, Kingdom of Candia
King Giacomo Kantanoleos of Candia's Bedchamber
The sounds of the ocean and the gulls were heard outside, as morning came over the horizon. Despite the face that it was barely morning, a young man, wearing only his robe was kneeling in front of the Cross in his room in deep prayer. This young man was King Giacomo, the second King of Candia from the Greek-born Kantanoleos family. His father, the late King Nicolai, had won the Kingdom in a rebellion years ago. After a successful reign, he died in September 1549, leaving his only eighteen year old son as heir. Giacomo's mother, the late Queen Helena, died giving birth to him, so upon the death of his father, he was truly alone, except for advisers. Now aged just twenty-four years old, Giacomo was a great King. He protected the Kingdom and secured it's wealth and culture. His father had made the official religion of the island to be Roman Catholic, although Greek Orthodox was popular. Another thing that was said about King Giacomo was his handsome features. He had long chestnut brown hair, hazel brown eyes, tan skin and was muscular from constant exercises.
A movement from his bed roused him. A beautiful woman with light auburn hair, fair skin and blue eyes rose from the bed. This woman was Queen Marina Cavalli, Giacomo's wife of five years. After taking the throne, he was advised to marry quickly, as he was an only child. Less than a year later after taking the Throne, Giacomo and Marina were married in a lavish, public, Roman Catholic Ceremony when he was nineteen years old and she was seventeen years old. Their marriage was a loving one and Queen Marina had already produced two sons, Crown Prince Nicolai and Prince Matthias, who was still a baby.
Giacomo smiled at his Queen.
"Why are you up this early, darling?" he asked.
Queen Marina smiled.
"I like to look at our sons, before they rise. Then we can all attend Mass together." she said.
Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door. Giacomo made the sign of the Cross before rising from his altar and standing up.
"Enter." he said.
The door opened and a messenger walked in and bowed and handed a letter to King Giacomo and left. Giacomo opened the letter and began to read its contents. After completing the letter he made the sign of the Cross. Queen Marina then knew someone had died.
"Giacomo?" she asked, walking up to him.
Giacomo looked at his wife.
"It seems that Queen Juana of Spain has died." he said.
Queen Marina made the sign of the Cross. Although she and Giacomo never met her, they both greatly admired her as a Queen.
"May God have her soul." she said.
King Giacomo nodded.
"The Pope has ordered all Catholic rulers to attend her funeral in Granada, the sight of her parents greatest victory." he said.
Queen Marina sighed. She may be a Queen, but she also loved being a mother and with her boys only being four and one year old, she didn't want to leave them this early, but she also didn't want to defy a direct order from the Holy Father.
She kissed Giacomo passionately on the lips.
"I will see that everything is prepared for our journey." she said, as she went to talk to her ladies-in-waiting.
Giacomo smiled. He felt bad because of the death of the Spanish Queen, however, he was going to use this as an advantage. He knew that King Alfonso of Naples was going to be attending the funeral, since Queen Juana was his grandmother. He also knew that King Alfonso had a three year old daughter, Princess Isabella of Naples and it would be nice to establish a marriage between her and his oldest son, Crown Prince Nicolai. His Kingdom would have an ally in Naples and since he and Marina were young, they could have more children to marry into most of the Royal Houses. His dynasty would live on. All he needed was an audience with King Alfonso.
April 19, 1555
Hampton Court, Richmond, England
King Henry IX's Privy Chamber
Harry was sitting at his desk and going over very important documents. The past year had been difficult for him. His beloved wife, Queen Anne, had been battling some foreign illness and now it was known that she was in poor health. Every passing day, he could see his beloved vibrant wife growing weaker and weaker. She barely had energy and she wasn't even forty years old yet.
The door opened and Prince Edward, Duke of York walked in. Now nearly eighteen years old, he had grown to be very handsome. He was tall, fair-skinned and posses a head full of the Tudor red hair, though darker.
Harry smiled at his second son.
"Edward, how are you son?" he asked.
Edward smiled.
"I am well, Father. I just came from my prayers. How are you?" he asked.
Harry sighed.
"I am worried about your mother. She grows weaker." he said.
Prince Edward cleared his throat.
"Mother will get better. She will." he said.
Harry smiled.
"I know she will. I know i won't lose her. All of England has their Queen in their prayers." he said.
Suddenly, one of the Court Messengers dropped a letter on King Harry's desk and bowed.
King Harry opened the letter and began to read over it. He let the letter drop, in shock.
Prince Edward looked at his father.
"Father, what is it?" he asked.
Harry looked at Edward.
"My aunt, Queen Juana of Spain, has died." he said.
Prince Edward eyes opened wide.
"Father, I am so sorry." he said.
Harry sighed.
"The Pope has ordered all Catholic rulers to attend her funeral in Spain. I can't take your mother. She would never survive that journey and I have to leave William as Prince Regent." he said.
Edward straightened his back.
"Take me, Father. I wouldn't mind another trip to Spain. I though it was beautiful." he said.
Harry smiled at his son.
"Dress in black and get yourself ready. We depart tomorrow. we only have eleven days until her funeral." he said.
Prince Edward nodded and walked out of the room.
King Harry let a few tears fall for the loss of his aunt. The last link to his beloved mother was now gone.
April 20, 1555
Stockholm Palace, Stockholm, Sweden
Crown Princess Matilda of Sweden's Bedchamber
Matilda was eating her lunch in her private apartments. After a few bites she smiled, as the child in her womb started to move. Matilda was now nearly seven months into her third pregnany and was only twenty years old. She was happy to be having another child and for the most part, her and Eric had been getting along more. She couldn't believe it had been four years since her arrival.
Suddenly, one of her ladies in waiting walked up to her.
"A letter from Rome, Your Highness." she said.
Matilda took the letter, in confusion. She never had correspondence from Rome before.
She opened it and began to read. She was shocked by the words she was reading. She knew she had to act fast.
She looked at her maid.
"Summon the Prince to my chambers. Now." she said.
The maid nodded and left.
A few moments later, Prince Eric walked in and kissed Matilda on her cheek.
"What is it, Matilda? I was going hunting with Father." he said.
Matilda sighed.
"You have my apologies, but I needed to speak to you." she said.
Eric nodded.
"Go on. " he said.
Matilda looked at the letter in her hand.
"I just received this letter from the Pope. My great-aunt, Queen Juana of Spain, has died and all Catholic rulers and leaders must attend her funeral. It is a direct order. " she said.
Eric looked at his wife.
"What does that have to do with us? This is not a Catholic country." he said.
Matilda looked at him.
"But I am Catholic. One day I will be Queen one day. However, I am to go into confinement soon and I can't risk that long journey, especially after losing the baby last year." she said.
Eric sighed.
"What are you trying to ask of me? " he asked.
Matilda took his hand.
"Go to Granada in my place. I know you're not Catholic, but this is family and the Pope did grant us a dispensation to allow us to marry. I don't want him to invalidate our marriage and making our children, especially our only son a bastard. I beg of you, Eric. Please go." she asked.
Eric sighed. He didn't owe anything to the Bishop in Rome, but he owed Matilda everything. She lost their daughter because of him.
"I will depart at first light." he said.
Matilda smiled and hugged him.
"Thank you so much, Eric. I am so happy." she smiled.
Eric smiled. Matilda was not always happy, but to hear that she was happy made him happy, despite the fact that the world had lost an interesting Queen.
April 20, 1555
Akaki Castle, Nicosia, Cyprus
King Janius II of Cyprus Bedchamber
As a raging thunderstorm raged outside, a fourteen year old boy was sitting on his bed reading a book. This young dark haired, green eyed, olive tone skin boy was the boy King Janius II of Cyprus. He was the second child and eldest son of the late king John III and Dowager Queen Rebecca. He was bored. Since he was turning fifteen in May, he was too young to take the Throne and would not be able to rule his Kingdom in his own right until he was eighteen years old. His late father's council ran things for him, while he finished his studies.
There was a knock at his door and he looked up.
"Come in." he said.
The door opened and Dowager Queen Rebecca Zano Poitiers walked in. At just thirty-six years old, she was still very beautiful. Originally born in Venice, she had married the late King n 1536, when she was only seventeen years old. Over the next nearly two decades, the beautiful Queen was able to secure the Throne, by bearing seven children, with six currently alive now. She had a loving marriage with the late King, despite his occasional mistress. She was devastated when her husband died on December 24, 1554. She had been pregnant with her youngest child then and gave birth to Princess Charlotte without her husband. Despite her wealth and beauty, Rebecca was probably never going to marry again, but she was adamant that her children was going to make it, even though their father was gone.
Janius smiled.
"Hello, Mother. I didn't expect you to visit me tonight." he said.
Dowager Queen Rebecca smiled.
"I missed you, mio figlio. How are you? Why are you studying this late at night?" she asked.
Janius sighed.
"I just want to be a good King...like Father." he said.
Rebecca sighed. She knew that her son had a big burden to bear. He was a still a boy.
"So my dear boy...you know that you need to marry soon. We just received a letter from the Pope about Queen Juana of Spain's death. As a Catholic ruler, thanks to your father, w you are required to attend. Now, this could be a great opportunity to find a Queen." she said.
Janius sighed.
"Mother, it is the Queen of Spain's funeral. Why would I find a potential bride there?" he asked.
Rebecca sat down.
"It will be a great chance to find an eligible Princess to marry. We need a marriage. Not only do you need an heir, but we need more allies." she said.
Janius sighed. He knew that this was something he had to do. He was not ready to meet all the Catholic rulers yet. It did make him nervous, but he had to do what was best for Cyprus. He knew that they needed more support. His Catholic faith was a minority in these lands.
"Very well, Mother. I will go, only if you come. I want you to come with me." he said.
Dowager Queen Rebecca smiled.
"Of course I will. I will make the arrangements." she said.
The Dowager Queen kissed Janius on his forehead and left the young King alone. The young King went to his private chapel, knelt at the altar, said his nightly prayers, made the sign of the Cross and then went to bed and fell into a sound sleep.
21 April 1555
Holyrood Palace, Scotland
"I cannot believe this!" Dowager Queen Margaret said with some level of contempt in her voice. "His Holiness has just ordered that all Catholic Monarchs in Europe travel to Castile for the funeral of Queen Juana, who apparently passed away on the twelfth of this month, an gabh i fois ann an sìth."
Prince Arthur, her eldest surviving son, looked at his mother with a blank stare. "Why would this be such a surprise mother? Wasn't the late Queen the last living child of Ferdinand and Isabella?"
"Aye, that she was, but His Holiness is well aware that Queen Mary is just a child and too young to attend such an event without enormous risk to her health and safety," the older woman replied, concerning her granddaughter.
Prince Arthur reread the letter that the Pope had sent. "Mother, he states that there will be no fighting or violence of any kind out of respect for the services that her parents did for the Catholic Church, on pain of excommunication. No one would dare defy this."
The Dowager Queen shook her head. "We THINK no one would defy it my son, but who knows what kind of underhanded plots are going on out there. Perhaps there is someone who believes that they can take Scotland's throne from our young Queen if she was out of the picture. It's too risky."
"Then will you tell the Pope no?"
"Do you honestly think I can?"
"Then what shall we do," asked the Prince.
Margaret thought for a moment and sighed. "Assemble the guards, ALL of them except for the palace staff, find your brothers and their eldest sons as well as yours, order our trunks packed, and tell the Queen we are leaving in the morning for Castile to do as the Pope has commanded," she told her son, "then pray that nothing happens to your niece. That's all we can do."
"And what about her mother?" Arthur asked.
"She will have to come along. After all, she is also the Dowager Queen of Scotland and a royal consort," Margaret replied. "We will just have to tolerate her French ways for the time we are gone."
"Yes, Mother," Arthur said, bowing at the order. He then turned to the doors to her office and took his leave to make her wishes happen. He knew that with Marie de Guise along, it would be a very long trip. He only hoped that everyone would make an effort to get along while they were away, and this included his very stubborn mother.
April 21, 1555
Palazzo Abatellis, Palermo, Sicily
Lorenzo, Duke of Sicily's Bedchamber
Duke Lorenzo reading one of his favorite books. The fifty-four year old handsome Italian man had been in deep thought for awhile now. Ever since the death of his beloved Christina, he had been truly lonely. He left England after her death and chose to reside in his own palace. Now, since his wife's death four years ago, he was thinking of remarrying again.
Suddenly, there was a knock at his door.
He looked up.
"You may enter." he said.
One of his personal messengers walked in And handed him a letter, bowed and waited for further instructions
Lorenzo opened the letter and began to read it's content. He was shocked by what he read.
He sighed.
"Get my children in here now. " he said
The messenger left. Several minutes later, Twenty one year old Peter, his wife, Lady Anabelle Stewart and thirteen year old Melanie walked in. Both had grown to be extremely attractive. Peter was tall like his uncle, the late Henry VIII, with reddish brown hair and Melanie was also tall, with a light complexion, with brown hair and piercing blue eyes, like her late mother. Lady Annabelle was a granddaughter of Dowager Queen Margaret of Scotland and married Peter in November 1552, when he was eighteen and she was sixteen. They already had one child, a daughter named Teresa, who was born in December 1554. She was a beautiful girl with chestnut brown hair and hazel green eyes.
Peter spoke first.
"Father, what is wrong?" he asked.
Lorenzo sighed.
"It seems that Queen Juana of Spain has died and the Pope has ordered all Catholic Kings and leaders to attend her funeral in eight days time." he said.
Lady Annabelle spoke.
"I can't leave my poor daughter here alone. I'll have to stay." she said.
Peter nodded his head.
"I agree. Teresa is too young to travel and I know Annabelle will look after her." he said.
Lorenzo nodded.
"Very well. Annabelle will stay with the baby and Peter and Melanie will travel with me." he said.
Melanie looked at her father.
"When will we depart, Father?" she asked.
Lorenzo smiled at his youngest daughter.
"We depart at first light tomorrow. I will make the arrangements. You all may go." he said.
All three left Lorenzo, as he began to make preparations for the journey to Spain to say goodbye to a legendary Queen.
A/N Here it is! The next chapter is here. Unfortunately, Queen Juana of Castile and Aragon has died. She was a magnificent Queen, but she will now be resting in Heaven. Her funeral will be taking place in the next chapter and will be wonderful. Also, we met two different Royal Families in this chapter and we will be seeing more of them in the future. Please leave your reviews and anything you all want to see in the story. I hope you all enjoyed this Chapter. Thank you all to my Loyal Readers! Let's keep it going to 1603! Please Read and Review and Chapter 44 will be up soon!
Queen Juana of Castile and Aragon [11/06/1479-04/12/1555] *Beloved Mother, Grandmother and Queen*