Chapter 45
Chapter 45 has arrived! I know I normally upload more frequently, but I take more time to make sure that these chapters are good. The story must go on. The death of Queen Juana was a major things, but now it's over, so the updates should be more frequent. If you all have any questions or reviews, please leave them. Thank you all so much and please enjoy Chapter 45!
May 3, 1555
Alhambra Palace, Granada, Spain
The Council Room
Emperor Charles was sitting, going over documents. He was now the sole ruler of Spain. He had important things to do, but he was tired. He was now fifty-five years old and was now suffering from gout.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps approach him from behind him. He turned and was face to face with his three sisters and his brother.
His sister, Mary, touched his shoulder.
"Charles, you should take time to rest. The affairs of government can wait. We just buried Mother a few days ago." she said, as they all sat down.
Charles shook his head.
"You all know Mama would be here working. She even worked from her deathbed in Tordesillas. Anyway, what can I do for you all?" he asked.
Mary looked at her siblings, who all nodded their head.
"Charles, I've been governing the Netherlands for twenty-four years now. I love it. However, I think it's time to retire. I want to stay here with Eleanor. We both can reside here in Castile." she said, with a smile.
Charles slightly glared at his younger sister.
"Why would you do this? Mama just died and I'm in charge of it all. Do you want a grander title?" he asked, frustrated.
Mary had tears fall from her eyes.
"Charles, you don't understand. I'm fifty years old. I'm not married and I don't have children. At least here in Spain, I'll be around family. I won't die alone." she said.
Catalina, the youngest Hapsburg sister, touched Mary's hand and looked at Charles.
"Charles, we all have children and grandchildren to lean on. Let Maria come home. She's done enough. Fernando is still in Austria and I am still in Naples. Let Maria have some happiness." she said to her eldest brother.
Eleanor glared at her brother.
"Charles, you can appoint someone to run the Netherlands. You can't keep doing this. It's because of you I had to leave my only daughter in Portugal and spend seventeen years married to Francis and he could hardly stand my presence. I didn't have the opportunity to bear more children, because he neglected our marriage obligations. Let me and Mary live together and be sisters." she said.
Charles looked at both his sisters. He knew Mary and Eleanor didn't have the best lives. Eleanor was separated from her only child to become the Queen of France and Mary became a widow when she was only twenty-one years old and vowed to never marry again, but she did help raise their sister, Isabella's, three children upon her death nearly thirty years ago.
Charles sighed.
"You can come home, Mary." he said.
Mary sighed and smiled.
Charles then looked at Ferdinand.
"Brother, you will most likely be married soon. How do you feel?" he asked.
Ferdinand smiled.
"Happy. Anne is perfect to me. I'll never forget my beloved Anna, but Anne is beautiful, smart and caring. I need that now." he said.
Eleanor smiled at her baby brother.
"I pray you two have nothing but happiness." she said.
Catalina laughed.
"That's only if she can look past his horrible snoring." she said.
All five siblings started to laugh. For the first time, since their mother's death, they felt somewhat happy.
1 June 1555
Portugal
The King of Portugal had been sitting outside of his wife's chambers for what seemed like days, though, in truth only about twelve hours had passed since he had been summoned from his office to her side. He had watched as the afternoon sun sank low in the sky, and the moon had risen over his beloved homeland. He did not know the exact time, but he suspected that it was around three or four in the morning.
From within the chamber of the Queen, he could hear his wife screaming in pain. Labor was never easy, but this was a sound that Carlos never hoped to hear again in his life. The screams took him back to the birth of their first child, a daughter, the Infanta Catarina. They had almost lost her in the birthing process, and Queen Mary, who was Princess Mary of England and the Duchess of Beja, had nearly died from the long process that delivered their baby girl to them. During the births of their other children, Mary had not cried out like this, though she had yelled in pain. This was different. This was Catarina all over again, and Carlos could not help but worry that he would lose her to this child.
Inside the Queen's chamber, Mary was pushing as the midwife instructed, but the child did not seem to want to come. Mary knew that this was probably her last child, due to the fact that she would turn 40 next year, but she so desperately wanted to provide her husband and her nation with another son, just in case their eldest did not have children, or if he was called home to God before he had a son of his own. The Queen laid back on her pillows as the contraction passed, and she turned her head to look out the window. It was dark outside, but the rays of the sun could barely be seen starting their journey over the horizon.
The midwife and two of her ladies in waiting were attending her during this birth. Her eldest daughter, the Infanta Catarina was in Spain with her husband and her own son, Sebastian, and Queen Mary wished that the girl was with her. She had been a great source of comfort to her during her previous pregnancies, even when the baby did not survive. Mary feared that outcome this time as well. The labor had been hard for her. She knew it could not be easy on the child.
"I can see the head, your Majesty," the midwife said. "You're nearly there. Just a few more pushes and this child will join you in the world of the living."
"From your lips to God's ears," Queen Mary responded, and then she pushed again with all her might. When she fell back to the bed from pushing, her ears were ringing, and she closed her eyes to will the sound to go away. In an instant, her mother appeared from the darkness and took her hand.
"Mi hija," Katherine said, "you can do this. Your baby is almost here. Just two more pushes and my beautiful grandchild will be born. Gather your strength my love and bring this baby into the world."
With that message, Katherine vanished, and Queen Mary of Portugal found more strength inside her heart. She opened her eyes and pushed again. "The head is born," the midwife announced. "One more small push your Majesty." Mary did as she was instructed and felt her child slip out of her body. She collapsed back onto the bed, and allowed a single tear to fall from her eyes before sitting up on her elbows and looking at the midwife. Just then, her newborn child's cry pierced the room, startling Mary's lady nearest the window into dropping the pan she was holding. Mary looked at her, then past her, as Carlos ran into the room, not caring if he was allowed to be there yet or not.
"Mary?" the King of Portugal questioned as he entered the Queen's chamber. Mary said nothing. She was took busy looking out the window.
"Your Majesty," the midwife said, "meet your healthy and beautiful new daughter. Portugal has a new Infanta." The older woman placed the bundle into Carlos' arms. The little girl calmed immediately as her eyes met her father's face, and she felt his loving embrace around her. Carlos took the baby over to his wife's side and smiled.
"Mary," he said, "we have a daughter."
"I know," Queen Mary responded. "I'm sorry Carlos. I wanted to give you another son."
"Son or daughter is of no matter to me, my darling. I will love this little girl as much as any son."
Mary smiled at him. "What should we name her?" Carlos asked.
"Isabel," Queen Mary said without hesitation. "Her name is Isabel." With that, Queen Mary of Portugal laid back on the now clean bed, took her daughter into her arms, and the two fell into a well deserved sleep, as the sun greeted the newest Portuguese princess with its rays of golden light.
3 June 1555
Castile
The Alhambra Palace
Charles looked at the jewels now scattered on the table in his war room. A courier had brought them from his late mother's private chambers. These were not state jewels but pieces his mother had personally collected over the years, or ones she had been given as gifts from various people throughout her long life. He smiled as he recalled the stories behind some of them but could not decide what to do with them. If his wife had still been alive, he would have left this division up to her. His Mary would have been fair about it and saw to it that his sisters received their fair share of the collection. He was at a loss because he did not know which pieces should belong to whom.
He reached down and picked up a ruby encrusted tiara. His father had given this to his mother on their first anniversary, along with a ruby ring set in a gold filigree. He quickly found the ring among the other pieces and set it on his desk. That should belong to his eldest sister, Eleanor. That was an easy decision. What else would be that easy? After thinking for a moment, he began to search for an emerald necklace set in silver, with a matching bracelet. This had been a coronation gift to his mother from his grandfather, King Ferdinand II. He decided that it should go to his sister, Maria. She loved the color of emeralds. He put that in a separate place on his desk. Then he knew that the sapphire bracelet and ring which had come from his grandmother, Queen Isabella of Castile, should belong to his youngest sister, Catalina, Dowager Queen of Naples. He turned back to the collection and began looking for single pieces that could be combined with those sets to complete them.
He found a ruby bracelet for Eleanor's set quickly, and an emerald ring for Maria, but he knew the sapphires might be harder, as his mother had not been fond of sapphires. Charles looked at the remaining pieces and thought of his daughters, granddaughters, and great-granddaughters. He found his mother's wedding tiara in a box, separate from the other pieces. He set that aside for Lilianna, the only daughter he had that was still unmarried. He would have to talk to her and see where her heart was now that her fiancée was dead. He did not want to force her into anything, but he did not want her to be alone for the rest of her life either. For his daughter, Adriana, Queen Consort of Naples, he chose a beautiful bracelet made from Amethyst and silver, with a matching rose colored ring, and for Isabelle, Archduchess of Austria, he set aside a double string of pearls, also made into a bracelet, knowing her fondness for the jewel. After placing those pieces on his desk with cards noting who they were intended for, he turned back to the extensive collection still laid out on the table.
It was not anything in the collection itself that caught his attention, but a wooden, hand-carved box that looked as though it had seen better days. He reached for it and opened it, revealing the contents within. It was a gold and silver necklace, with a large oval shaped citrine in the center. The gem was not flawless, but it was still beautiful. He sat down in a chair and recalled the story his mother had told him about the piece and why it was so dear to her.
At once, Charles, the Holy Roman Emperor, knew who his mother would want to have this. He gathered up the other pieces in the collection, placing them back into the large chest his mother had kept them in, and locked it, then rushed out of his office to his bed chambers. The King of Aragon and Castile was going on a trip, and he felt the urge to leave today.
15 June 1555
Portugal
Martim sat in his chambers at the palace rereading the letter that his uncle, King Carlos, had given him from Queen Adriana of Naples concerning the possibility of his having a daughter with the woman he loved before she died. According to her Majesty, it was true. The girl's grandparents, her mother's parents, who had been raising her in the year since his Theresa had died, Martim was indeed her father and there was no doubt about it. Although Theresa had refused to name him while she was alive, apparently, she wrote a letter to her mother on her death bed telling her who the girl's father was and where to find him, saying that she did not want to burden him with a family while he was rising in his chosen profession as a soldier.
Martim sighed at the thought of Theresa thinking that she or their daughter would be a burden to him. He had loved her so very much, and had he known about the girl, he would have rushed back to Italy and married her before their child came into the world.
Just then, there was a knock on the door, and it opened without hesitation to reveal the King of Portugal entering his room. Martim rose to his feet and bowed.
"Your Majesty," he said. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"Sit down, Martim," King Carlos commanded. "I have received another packet from Queen Adriana. It contained this." He handed two papers to Martim. One was a marriage contract and the other was a christening certificate. The later was from the church where his daughter had been christened. It named him as the father and did not list the girl as a bastard, which caused Martim to look at the former. It was a marriage contract dated nearly a year before Theresa's death, stating that they had married just before their child was born. It was from a church in Crete. Martim looked at Carlos with questions in his eyes. "Read the letter. It explains it all."
The letter said that the girl's grandparents had bribed the church to change the dates on the christening certificate and include Martim as the lawful father based on the marriage contract. The only thing missing from the marriage contract was his signature. The letter went on to read that the girl's grandparents were more than willing to let him come to Italy and fetch his daughter on the condition that he sign the marriage contract and bring it to Italy to show them that he agreed that he and Theresa were married. Martim looked at Carlos and back at the letter. It was not true, though he wished it was, but he would sign it in order to have the chance to raise his daughter; to raise Theresa's daughter.
"You can leave in the morning," Carlos said to his nephew, rising from his seat. "I will have a horse and a sack of gold ready for you. You can purchase a carriage in Italy and hire a driver and nanny for the girl. Did it say what her name was?"
"She was christened Marie-Therese, probably after her grandmother and mother," Martim said, looking at the christening certificate again.
"Then safe journey to you Martim, and little Marie-Therese," Carlos said, and left the room.
Martim began packing his things into his bags and prepared himself to meet his daughter, the only thing he had left from the woman he loved with all his heart.
17 June 1555
Navarre
Queen Elizabeth was in the nursery with her children when the trumpets sounded outside, announcing a royal visitor. She couldn't imagine who it might be, considering that everyone she could possibly be expecting was at the palace. She rose from her place on the floor where she had been reading to her daughter, Princess Isabel, and went to the window, but was too late to see who the visitor was that had arrived in Navarre. As her daughter was otherwise engaged with her toys at the moment, the Queen slipped out of the nursery and down to the foyer, curious as to the identity of their mystery guest.
She heard a familiar voice coming from her study and smiled.
"Guard?" the Queen questioned.
"Majesty?"
"Would you please send for my husband, the King? I believe his grandfather, the Holy Roman Emperor, has arrived," the Queen said.
"As you wish, your Grace," the young man replied and then went to do as he was commanded by his Queen.
Elizabeth opened the door to her study and saw his face. "Your Majesty," she said, curtsying to the Emperor. Charles bowed and then took her hands in his, kissing them both. "What brings you to Navarre so soon? Everything is well in your Kingdom, I assume, as we have heard nothing alarming."
"Yes, quite well, Elizabeth, but thank you for asking. I have come here on a personal matter," Charles informed her.
"Oh?"
"I was recently brought my mother's personal possessions and among her jewels, I found a piece that I think she would have wanted you to have," Charles said to his granddaughter-in-law. "Please, sit, while I tell you the story behind it." Elizabeth did as he asked.
"Many years ago, our grandmother, Queen Isabella of Castile, had a younger brother named Alfonso. He was known as the Prince of Asturias for most of his life, and when the fighting broke out in Castile, he led the rebel forces destined to unseat King Henry IV. When Alfonso proclaimed himself King of Castile and Henry the usurper, Isabella was declared his heir. She loved her brother very much and he loved her, as well." Charles paused to let Elizabeth take this information in before continuing, and to acknowledge that his grandson, Luis, King Consort of Navarre and Prince of Asturias and Girona, had entered the room. When Luis had sat beside his wife, Charles continued.
"Alfonso had a gift for choosing amazing gems and for carving them into delicate designs later in his young life, but he did not start knowing how to carve the gems at first. One of his practice pieces ended up being a treasure for our grandmother after his death," Charles informed the younger couple, producing the citrine necklace he had brought with him. He handed it to Elizabeth for her inspection.
She looked the piece over closely. Elizabeth could see the flaws in the cuts, as well as a couple of smaller cracks. It looked as though it had been carved by an apprentice trainee, and the fact that it was made of citrine spoke to the inexpensive cost of the mistakes that had been made. "So, Alfonso carved this piece himself?"
"Yes," Charles said. "It was intended to be a gift for a future daughter, if he had had one, but his life was shortened by a mysterious illness at the age of fourteen. Our grandmother found this among his possessions and claimed it as her remembrance of her younger brother. She gave the piece to my mother when her older sister, Isabella died, and told my mother that this piece reminded her of the beloved sibling she had lost all too young, just as my mother had lost her older sister, but she also said that their hearts were gilded by the angels and now rest in the heart of Spain to watch and protect it, as they did the Christ child."
Elizabeth had tears in her eyes from the story, and from the love that was shared in this family that she had not only been born into but had grown to love as she did her own parents and siblings. Charles came around behind her and fastened the necklace around her neck.
"It's yours now, my dearest Elizabeth," Charles said, kissing her cheek. "You, along with Luis, will unite all of Spain one day, under one crown. He will be its strength and you will be its heart. So wear this knowing that you, my child, are the Golden Rose of a united Spanish Empire." Charles looked at her once more, then at Luis, who he patted on the back. Then as quickly as he had come, he left, and as the Queen of Navarre watched him go, she felt a heavy burden on her shoulders to live up to the expectations of those who had come before her.
21 June 1555
France
King Henri II of France, his councilors, and the Portuguese ambassadors had been in his council chambers for hours discussing the ins and outs of the betrothal between Francis, the Dauphin of France, and the Infanta Joana, the second daughter of King Carlos and Queen Mary of Portugal. It was a good match, as the two were close in age, and the Princess was reportedly as beautiful as her mother, if not more so, which pleased the French King, as his son would have a prized beauty at his side who knew her place as his consort. The Infanta was not as dowered as some European Princesses, but her dowry was not one to scoff at either, and the down payment King Carlos had sent as an enticement would clear many of France's war debts.
The problem with King Henri signing the document was the fact that King Carlos did not want his daughter to come to France until she was nineteen years old. That was not what they had agreed upon. Henri probably would have agreed that the couple would not marry, so long as the girl was in France, until her nineteenth birthday, but not having her here would result in yet another broken engagement for his son. King Henri did not want that to happen, as there were already rumors about his son being deformed that had spread across the continent from the time of Francis' birth. It was one of the many reasons that Francis had been taken to Grenada to attend the funeral of Queen Juana of Castile and Aragon. Those who had seen the young French heir could not continue those rumors now, but there was always the fear that someone would believe them.
King Henri looked at the Portuguese ambassadors for a while before speaking, letting everything settle into his brain before deciding on what course of action to take. "Gentlemen," he began, "I just don't see why my son should wait an additional three years to make the Infanta his wife. It is not customary for the heir to a throne to wait that long, unless his intended is several years younger than he is, and they would be losing valuable time in the creation of an heir for France."
The Portuguese Ambassadors looked at one another. They could not deny that the French King had a strong point in that argument, but King Carlos had commanded them to keep the Infanta at home for as long as the French would possibly give into, as her mother adored Joana and was extremely close to the girl.
"What age would you suggest that they marry, your Majesty?" one of the men asked.
King Henri looked around the table at his advisors and then said, "Fifteen, your excellency. She comes here at fifteen, but they do not marry until her sixteenth birthday."
"One moment, your Grace," the other ambassador said. The two gentlemen stepped away from the table, closer to the doors, to discuss the situation, though they both knew where their next step would lead. Upon their return, the older of the two spoke, "Eighteen. The Infanta will arrive here on her eighteenth birthday, and they can marry immediately."
King Henri was annoyed that they were trying to negotiate for the Princess to have more time in her home land. This was not how royal betrothals worked, and most seasoned ambassadors would know that to be tradition.
"Sixteen," King Henri said, "and they marry immediately. I will not budge any farther, gentlemen."
"Your Majesty," one of the ambassadors began to object, but was interrupted by the King of France.
"Gentlemen understand this. I want this betrothal to happen. I want the young Infanta as a daughter-in-law, and I want a treaty between our nations to be in place before the cease fire with Spain comes to an end," King Henri said, "but I will NOT under any circumstances delay my son's marriage. He will be married by the time he is sixteen years old, or I will find a French lady of similar age to betroth him to, and she will become France's next Queen."
The two men looked at one another. The younger had a look of fear in his eyes, as if they would fail this mission. As they turned back to the gentlemen at the table, the older ambassador spoke, "We will take these terms to our King, your Grace, and see what he has to say about the age his daughter can marry. We are not authorized to go any lower than eighteen for the Princess, but that would not meet your deadline, as she would not be eighteen before your son turned sixteen."
King Henri looked from one man to another. He thought about the situation. Francis would turn sixteen on the 19 January 1560. The Princess would turn eighteen on 1 October 1561. No, that was too long to wait. It was too much time to prevent something from happening that would mess up his plans for France. "Take my offer back to King Carlos then, and do not come back here until he agrees to a marriage date of no later than December of 1560."
The two men bowed and left the room. King Henri stood up, dismissed his council, then went out the rear doors to the council chambers which led to his office. He knew both his wife and his mistress would be waiting for him, wanting news of Francis' betrothal. He didn't know how either would react, but he suspected that Diane would be proud of him for standing his ground with the Portuguese, and Catherine would chastise him, saying that Francis would be better off with an Italian bride, then proceed to list all of the noble girls she could think of with Italian heritages.
As he reached the door, he looked around the room one more time and sighed. It was only ten in the morning in France, but he already knew it would be a long day to come.
26 June 1555
England
Catherine Stokes had rushed to her sister's home as soon as the courier had delivered the message that that Countess of Stafford had went into labor. Margaret was twenty-seven years old, but she had only been married for a year, and with their mother, Elizabeth Tudor Brandon, the Dowager Queen of France and Duchess of Suffolk, having died when Margaret was only five, Catherine felt a responsibility to be there for her younger sister.
Many who knew they youngest daughter of Charles and Elizabeth Brandon, thought she would have entered the church when she was little. Margaret was a true angel-child, some had said, because she never gave her father a moment's grief. As the girl grew up, largely in service to the Queens or Princesses of England, it was then thought that she would simply reside at court, in service to the royal family. But then, John Marlowe saved the life of Queen Anna of England and was rewarded with a title and lands of his own, and he shocked the court by asking the King for his blessing to marry Lady Margaret, who said yes.
The Marlowe's had a happy year of marriage, including the announcement that Lady Stafford was expecting her first child. The pregnancy had been an easy one so far, and she went into labor yesterday evening around nine o'clock. The midwife was called, and a messenger was dispatched to the home of Lady Catherine Brandon Stokes, Marchioness of Pembroke, eldest sister to Lady Margaret. Catherine made her way to the Marlowe home and had finally arrived. She hurried up the stairs to find Lord John Marlowe, Margaret's husband, sitting on a chair outside their bedchambers.
"John?" Catherine questioned. "How's it going?" Just then an ear-piercing scream came from the chambers, and they both turned towards the door.
"It's been like this for hours," her brother-in-law replied.
"It will be okay. Women have been having babies for centuries," Catherine said, reassuring him.
"Yes," John responded, with a sadness in his voice, "I know."
The door to the chamber opened and one of the ladies attending the birth told them that Margaret was asking for Lady Catherine. Catherine stood and went inside. She saw a lot of blood on the sheets where her sister lay, pushing her child into the world, and noticed that Margaret looked pale. Margaret reached her hand out to Catherine when she saw her between contractions, and Catherine went to her sister's side.
"You came," Margaret said.
Catherine nodded and grasped Margaret's hand tighter. "I told you I would. All you had to do was send for me, and here I am."
Margaret was hit with another contraction and began to push again. Catherine looked at her younger sister and realized that she was having the same problem that their mother had when Margaret was born. She told the midwife to turn Margaret on her left side. The older woman started to argue, but Catherine stopped her by saying that their mother had to be turned with Margaret and not to argue. After the contraction was over, Margaret was turned on her left side as Catherine had ordered.
Margaret pushed with the next contraction. The surprise in the midwife's voice could not be contained when she announced that she could see the baby's head. The older woman did not believe that turning her patient would work. Fifteen minutes later, a newborn's cry could be heard throughout the house, and Lady Margaret laid back on the bed, exhausted.
Catherine went and took the baby out of the arms of one of Margaret's ladies. She bathed the child herself, wrapped it in a towel, and then took the baby to its mother. "Margaret, I want you to meet your daughter."
Margaret looked at her older sister with surprise. She and John both were certain it was a boy. This was a surprise to her. "A daughter?"
Catherine nodded at her sister, looking down at her niece. "What are you going to call her?"
Margaret looked at her baby and then at her sister. "I have no idea. We only discussed names for boys, but I don't think that Nathaniel or Edmund would be fitting for a girl."
Catherine laughed. "You're probably right." Catherine thought for a moment. "What about Mary?"
"Mary," Margaret repeated. "Mary Marlowe. I like it." Just then, the doors swung open and Margaret's husband walked in. "John, come meet our daughter, Mary."
"Daughter? Mary?" John replied, stunned.
"Don't you like it?"
"Yes, Mary is a fine name for a girl," he said, sitting on the bed and taking his daughter into his arms. "Hello Mary Marlowe. I'm your father."
With that, baby Mary smiled and feel asleep in her father's arms.
July 8, 1555
Balnagown Castle , Kildary, Scotland
Lady Jane Grey-Stewart's Bedchamber
Lord Duncan Stewart, his mother, Lady Isabel D'Albret and father, Lord Joseph Stewart, Duke of Ross were waiting outside of Jane's rooms, as her labor progressed. She had gone into labor early in the morning and it was now early afternoon. Duncan, who had only been married for a year , was worried. His wife, who he cared for., was struggling to bring their first child into the world.
Duncan looked at his mother.
"What's taking so long, Mother? " he asked. .
Lady Isabel D'Albret sighed.
"Childbirth takes time, my son. Jane will be fine." she said.
Duncan nodded his head. He knew his mother was very melancholy at the moment. Originally born in Navarre, she was the youngest sister of the recently deposed and executed King, Henri. She had to hide her grief, under orders from his grandmother, Dowager Queen Margaret.
Suddenly, everyone heard Jane scream , followed by the loud cry of a newborn infant.
Duncan ran to the door and waited for it to open. Minutes passed and all he could hear was his new born child crying. He was beginning to panic.
Suddenly, the door opened and one of Jane's maids walked out, wiping her bloody hands on the cloth.
"Lady Jane has delivered a healthy son." she said
Everyone smiled.
Duncan looked at the midwife.
"How is my wife?" he asked.
The midwife smiled and stood aside to let Duncan in the room.
Duncan walked in and smiled when he saw Jane sitting up in bed, holding their newborn son. Jane's hair was neatly brushed and she was beautiful.
She looked up at him.
"Duncan, meet our son. We have a son." she said.
Duncan sat down and looked at their newborn son. He had light red hair and pale blue eyes. He was truly a beautiful baby boy.
Duncan kissed Jane's cheek.
"What should we name him?" he asked.
Jane smiled.
"I was thinking Arthur, after your favorite uncle." she said.
Duncan smiled.
"Lord Arthur Stewart it is" he said.
July 20, 1555
Madrid, Castile, Spain
Princess Giovanna, Duchess of the Infantado, sat in the gardens of her home reading a book her husband had given her as a gift on their wedding day, seven months prior. She fanned herself with the book to get a break from the heat, and contemplated returning to the shade of the house, where she would be sheltered from the sunlight. She loved Spain, and was beginning to love her new husband, despite the great differences in their ages. One thing she definitely loved was being a step-mother to his youngest child, Lady Anais. His first wife had died in childbirth, giving birth to a son who never took his first breath. The youngest surviving child was now six years old and the most loving creature that the Princess had ever met. She was glad of the chance to raise a child, though she knew she would never have one of her own.
She had married at a young age and spent eight wonderful years with her husband before his death, but they never conceived a child. As he had gotten a former mistress pregnant, she knew the problem was not with him, so it had to be her fault that they could not have a baby together. Besides, her new husband, Diego, would probably not want more children since he was almost fifty when they married, and he now had a grandchild.
A heatwave broke Giovanna from her thoughts, and she decided to make her way back to the house. She closed her book and stood but could not catch her balance. She nearly fell, and likely would have if her husband had not been almost to her. He'd come home to surprise her by spending some time with her before dinner.
"Easy, wife," he said, steading her with his forearms.
"Thank you, husband," Giovanna said, smiling at his presence. "I don't know what came over me. I must have stood up too fast."
Diego just nodded at her explanation and offered her his arm. They walked back to the house, talking about this and that along the way. Upon arriving there, he took a momentary leave from her while gathering the new material he'd bought for her. He'd been to the market earlier and found a chocolate colored material that he thought would compliment her eyes perfectly, and he wanted to show her before the markets closed, in case she did not approve.
"Sweetheart," he began from the other room, "what do you think. . ." his comment was broken when he saw her crumpled on the floor where he'd left her only moments before. "Garrard! Garrard! Where are you man!?" He yelled for his personal servant. When the younger man appeared from the kitchens, Diego ordered him to fetch the physician, as he scooped Giovanna in his arms and carried her to their bedroom upstairs.
Diego kicked the door open and laid his wife on the bed softly. He felt her head. She was burning up! She also looked flushed. Although the doctor would have the final say in the matter, he believed that he had seen this before, with soldiers in the field. They were sun-touched and required lots of rest and fluids. This calmed him down, but he knew he wouldn't be satisfied until the doctor confirmed what he thought was wrong.
After what seemed like hours (but was more like twenty minutes), the doctor arrived with Garrard and entered their bedroom. Her ladies were trying to cool her with water and cloths, and the physician ordered Diego and Garrard out of the room. After a while, he emerged with a smile on his face and a laugh behind his voice.
"Well, Diego, I expected better from you, old man," the physician said. "Why would you send for me in a situation like this?" Diego looked confused. The doctor could tell he was confused, and that caused him to laugh even more. "I guess from the look on your face that your wife hasn't told you yet?"
"Told me what, doctor?" Diego asked, wondering exactly what was going on.
"She's with child, Lord Diego," the doctor told him, causing Diego to sit down hard on the nearest chair, nearly missing the seat and falling into the floor.
"A baby?" Diego replied, still in shock. "But how. . . I mean, she can't. . . I thought. . ."
Now it was the doctor's turn to look confused. "What do you mean she can't? Can't have children? She most definitely can and is. From what I can tell, the baby is due around Christmastide."
Diego was thinking a little more clearly now. "Doctor, is everything alright with her and the child?"
"As far as I can tell, they are both fine," he replied. "Why?"
"My wife is an Italian Princess. She was married before, for eight years, before the death of her first husband. They never conceived a child together in the time they were married, but he allegedly had a child with a mistress before their marriage. She believed that she was incapable of having children," Diego told the physician.
"Oh, well, I see," the doctor said. "Your reaction makes more sense now. I don't know what happened with her first husband or their past, but your wife is definitely with child now. There is no doubt about that."
"Is that why she fainted earlier in the hallway?"
"That, and the fact that she was exposed to too much sun," the doctor said. "She will be fine with rest and fluids. Keep her in bed for the next week, then she can resume her normal activities for now." The man paused, then said, "And Diego, find her a midwife." He shook his head and chuckled, then walked down the stairs and showed himself out.
Diego stood at the top of the stairs, still trying to take in what the doctor had told him. He was interrupted when one of his wife's ladies appeared at the door to their bedroom. "My lord," she called, "our Lady is awake and asking for you."
Diego nodded and walked into the room, kneeling down beside the bed where his wife was laying. "How are you feeling sweetheart?" he asked.
"Tired, and light-headed," she responded. "I'm sorry, Diego. I didn't mean to worry anyone. My ladies told me the doctor was here. What did he say?"
"That you'd had too much sun and need bed rest and fluids for the next week," Diego told her honestly, "but. . ." He wasn't sure how to break this news to her.
"But?" she questioned. "Diego, is something else wrong?"
"Not wrong, per say, Giovanna," he said, "but this may be somewhat of a shock to you."
"What?" she asked. "What is it?"
"The doctor said that you are with child and will be delivered around Christmastide, darling."
Giovanna looked at her husband, not believing what he said. Was he playing a cruel joke on her? "With child? Diego, that's not. . . I can't have a baby. You know this. Why would you say such a thing?"
"Because it's true, Giovanna," he responded, taking her hand in his. "As God as my witness, that is what the doctor said. We are going to have a baby. . . together. . . this winter."
Giovanna looked at him, still not able to believe what he was saying, but he just swore to her before God that it was true. Surely, this man would not risk his soul to play such a mean joke on her. Could it be possible? Could she be with child? She thought back to the last few months. She couldn't remember her courses coming, but maybe she was just being forgetful. She had been nauseous last month, but she hadn't been sick. Without thinking, she put her hand on her stomach lightly. Maybe. . .
"Can you ask the village midwife to come here tomorrow?" she asked him.
"Of course, sweetheart," he said, standing up from his position by the bed. "I will have your dinner sent here. The doctor did not want you getting out of bed for the next week."
She nodded and watched him leave. If she was really going to have a baby, she would do whatever they told her to keep this little one safe, even if that meant not leaving her bed until Christmas. Giovanna fell asleep with the thought in her mind, and her dreams were filled with Christmas festivities
28 July 1555
Austria
The Archduke Ferdinand was sitting in his study going over some documents concerning a possible treaty with the Kingdom of Imereti. Their King, Bagrat III, was eager to forge some new alliances, and the deal he proposed was fair, but Ferdinand was also wary of smaller nations whose monarchs were bold in approaching a giant like Austria. He was reading the documents for a second time when a knock came at the door, and upon his command, a messenger walked in.
"I bring you greetings from the King of Denmark, your Grace," the messenger said. "He asked that I deliver these to you directly." The messenger handed Ferdinand a packet of documents. This could only be one thing, and Ferdinand was anxious to open them.
"Thank you," Ferdinand replied. "Please, go to my kitchens and get something to eat while I read these. I will have a reply for you later this afternoon, and you can leave in the morning with fresh supplies."
"Thank you, Your Grace," the messenger said, closing the door behind him.
Ferdinand opened the documents from Denmark and began to read the letter that King Christian III enclosed:
To his Grace, the Archduke Ferdinand of Austria concerning the marriage proposal between his Grace and the Princess Anna of Denmark and Norway, from His Majesty, King Christian III, King of Denmark and Norway,
Your Grace,
My advisors and I have read through your proposals for your marriage contract with our beloved Princess Anna. We feel that your terms are more than acceptable. We are of the mind that she should journey to Austria in early September, accompanied by six of her ladies, her chaplain, and two dozen guards. The guards will return to us upon her safe arrival in your country, but her chaplain and ladies will remain with her until the time of your marriage, whereas it is acceptable to us that you chose a new household for her, as your wife, if you so desire.
The proposed marriage date of 15 October 1555 is acceptable to us, and we look forward to attending if conditions permit at the time. As you have requested, the Princess will bring half of her dowry with her, and the other half will be delivered to you within a month of the actual marriage taking place.
You will find, enclosed, the contracts as you sent them, with our signature and seal.
Wishing you all the best,
Your future father-in-law,
King Christian III of Denmark and Norway
Ferdinand smiled. Anna would be here in September. He had to make preparations and tell his children. He asked his page to gather his children in the drawing room and send one of his guards to fetch his steward and the comptroller of his household. He then sat down to write a reply to King Christian III, which took nearly an hour and four drafts to compose. He didn't know why he was so nervous; it was not like he'd never been married before.
An hour later, he sent for the messenger who had delivered the contracts to him and presented him with the reply, then directed his steward to show the young man to rooms for the night. Ferdinand made his way to the drawing room, where his children still living at home were waiting for his arrival.
When he closed the doors to the drawing room, his children stood and bowed and curtsied to him, as custom demanded. They sat when he did.
"Father is everything alright?" asked Eleanor, his eldest daughter still at home. She was due to marry in November and was making preparations for her own wedding to the widowed Duke of Sicily.
"Yes," he replied, "everything is wonderful right now, daughter. I have received word from the King of Denmark. As you know, I proposed to Princess Anna, and his Majesty has accepted my terms for our marriage to take place."
"That's wonderful news, Father!" his son and heir, also called Ferdinand but nicknamed Andy by the family exclaimed. "When will the Princess arrive?"
"She will be here in early September with a small entourage her father has assigned to her, including her own chaplain and six of her ladies-in-waiting," Ferdinand informed them.
"Her own chaplain? Father, isn't the Princess protestant?" Andy questioned.
"She is right now, yes. Anna and I have spoken at great detail concerning this matter. She understands that she will have to convert to the Catholic Faith upon our marriage, and though her father has not said anything about it directly, I believe he understands that as well," Ferdinand assured his son. He looked at the expressions on his children's faces and noted their concern, but it was his youngest daughter that drew his attention. "Come here Joanna." The girl stood and walked timidly over to her father. She never knew her mother, and the look on her face said that she had questions. Ferdinand pulled her onto his lap and asked, "What are you thinking about little one?"
Joanna looked at her father, unsure of whether or not she should ask what she was thinking, but in the end, her curiosity won out. "Will Princess Anna like me Father?"
Ferdinand chuckled. "Of course, she will. She loves children and is eager to meet you and your siblings."
"Does she have any children for me to play with?" Joanna asked.
"No, sweetheart," Ferdinand said. "She's never been married. The man she was betrothed to died very young."
"That's sad," Joanna said.
"Yes, it is," Ferdinand replied, "but she wants to be your friend and to teach you new things. She said she would bring her favorite horse with her and would teach you to ride. Would you like that?"
Joanna smiled and nodded. "Do you think she will paint with me?"
"I'm sure she will," Ferdinand answered. He turned his attention back to his other children. "I have started the preparations for her arrival. I am sure you will all make the Princess feel very welcomed here when she arrives." His children all nodded in agreement. "Well, with that, I suggest we all dress for dinner. It should be served soon."
Ferdinand stood and walked back to his study, hoping that his children would be accepting of their new step-mother. He was certain that they wouldn't misbehave; he and Anne had raised them better than that, but accepting someone new into a position of authority could be difficult. He hoped the children would make that transition as easy as possible for the young Princess, and that in time, they would come to respect her as a friend, if not a mother figure.
August 1, 1555
Ribiera Palace, Lisbon, Portugal
Infante Duarte, Prince of Portugal 's Bedchamber
Infante Duarte was sitting on his bed, looking at a portrait of his future wife, Infanta Maria. She was the daughter of his late uncle, King Diego and his aunt Isabella. He admitted she was beautiful, but he also didn't know her.
There was a knock at his door.
Duarte looked up.
"Come in." he said.
The door opened and King Carlos walked in. Duarte stood up to greet his father.
"Hello, Father." he said.
King Carlos smiled at his son and heir.
"Hello, son. I have just come to tell you that Infanta Maria will be arriving in Portugal in a week's time." he said.
Duarte sighed and nodded.
King Carlos walked closer to his son.
"Son, are you still weary about marrying her?" he asked.
Duarte turned towards his father and nodded. Carlos had to admit his son was a handsome. Now aged sixteen years old, his light auburn hair had darkened even more, light blue eyes, fair skin and was tall.
Carlos put his hand on his son's shoulder.
"Son, your mother was a stranger to me before and now she and I have been married for twenty years now. We have five beautiful children, you and your sisters. Now, I will not promise you and Maria will be happy, but this marriage is for the good of Portugal. From what Queen Elizabeth says, she is a kind, intelligent girl. Be kind to her and I feel she'll be kind to you, son." he said.
Duarte smiled. Although he was still nervous, he was going to do what was best for Portugal.
5 August 1555
Naples
"You're certain?" Queen Adriana asked.
"As certain as I can be, Your Majesty," the older woman responded. "You will be delivered of the child in early March."
Queen Adriana handed the midwife a purse of gold and thanked her for her services. She sat down at her dressing table and thought about the fact that she would have another child soon. It had been four years since Princess Isabella was born, and the physician had warned her and the King at the time that should she have another child, it could cause serious problems. They had been careful not to conceive since then, but apparently God had other plans. She sighed and resigned herself that this was God's will. If her time on earth was over, at least she would die performing her duties to the crown of Naples. To her, that was an honorable way for a Queen to die.
The Queen composed herself and washed her face from the tears that had fallen. She had to tell the King so they could make plans for the new child coming in the Spring. She left her chambers and went to his office, where he should be at this time of day. As she approached the room, she listened to see if he was meeting with anyone. She could not hear voices, so she knocked.
"Enter," she heard her husband say, and opened the doors.
He looked up from his papers. "Hello, sweetheart. What can I help you with?"
"I have some news for you, and I wasn't sure if I should wait to tell you or not," she began.
"What is it? I am not busy at the moment. In fact, I would welcome a distraction," he told her, rising from his chair to usher her to the seats nearer the fireplace.
When they both sat down, she looked at him for a moment, unsure how to begin.
"I know we were trying to prevent it from happening," Queen Adriana said, "but the midwife tells me that I am expecting another baby."
"Oh goodness," her husband replied. "When is the child due?"
"Sometime at the beginning of March is what the midwife told me."
"I see," the King of Naples responded. He was not sure how to react to this news. Normally, another child would be welcomed, but with his wife's health after the birth of their daughter, Isabella, it was cause for concern. "Well, I suppose we should make preparations for the birth."
"I suppose so," she said.
He did not want to scare her, but he was concerned for her safety with this pregnancy.
"What are you thinking?" Adriana asked.
"I am pleased that there will be a new child to love, darling, don't get me wrong, but after the problems you had with Isabella. . . "his voice trailed off.
Adriana nodded, understanding his concern. "There may be problems but there also may not be. The physician who delivered her was unsure but warned us as a precaution. Also, it has been four years. My body should be well recovered from her delivery." She was trying to reassure him despite the concerns she had.
"I know," he said. "I could not stand it if anything happened to you. You have helped me keep this nation together during some of its roughest moments."
She smiled at him. She knew that he was right, but as the true born Princess she was, she blushed at the compliment. They did not come lightly from her husband, regardless of the love that was between them.
"Well, then I will just have to make certain that I pull through this delivery without a problem, then won't I?"
King Alfonso laughed at her confidence, not to poke fun, but to appreciate the fact that she was trying to lighten the mood. "You never cease to amaze me with your strength. You are a true granddaughter of Juana of Castile." He caressed her cheek. "I suggest you go make the nursery ready for another addition, wife."
She stood to leave and do as he asked. "Adriana?" she heard him call to her before she opened the doors.
"Yes?"
"Also, I want you to find two additional ladies to wait on you until the child is born," he commanded, gently. "I want you resting as much as possible, even before you enter your confinement."
"If you think that's necessary, I will do so," she replied.
"Necessary. . . no, not exactly necessary," he told her, "but it would ease my mind to know that you had extra help during this time."
"As you wish then," she said. She walked out of the room, smiling. She would do as he asked so his mind would be less burdened but first, she wanted to tell her children that they would soon have a new sibling, and prepare the nannies for the coming arrival of the new Prince or Princess of Naples.
7 August 1555
Imereti
King Bagrat III of Imereti, a small coastal kingdom on the Black Sea, paced back and forth in his office, waiting for the arrival of his eldest son, Prince George. Imereti was not a large nation, but its royal family were quite wealthy compared to some, with the recent discovery of sapphires below the eastern forest line. It was this legacy that the King would pass on to his son once his time to rule was over, but this was not why he had summoned his heir to his office this morning.
The Queen of Imereti, Elene, had died fifteen years prior, after a hemorrhage with delivering their youngest son, Prince Alexander. The King's council had been after him to take a new wife, and until now, he had dodged it. However, last month, he had told them in no uncertain terms that he had no interest in taking a new wife since he had three living sons, all of age to marry, and told his councilors to focus on the Princes instead. They had done just that.
Prince George entered the room and shut the doors to his father's office behind him. He knew what this meeting was about; he was being asked to remarry. His late wife, Lady Maria, Crown Princess of Imereti, had died from tremors while pregnant with their second child, who passed away with its mother. He had only a single surviving daughter, Princess Mamia, who was not yet two years old. It had been a year since his wife died, so it was time that he remarried. George knew that. What he didn't know was to whom he would be betrothed.
"Son, sit down," his father commanded, and he obeyed. "The council has a proposal for a new wife for you."
"I figured as much when you summoned me here," George responded. "Who is she?"
His father handed him a portrait of a young lady. "This is the princess, Amadea, of Cyprus. She is almost seventeen years old and comes from the Poitiers line that claims to descend from King David of the Bible.
"She is very pretty," George acknowledged. "What of her mother? Does the line seem healthy enough?"
"Yes, her mother, the Dowager Queen of Cyprus, has seven children, all of whom survive at present. It includes three sons and four daughters, the latest born earlier this year, two months after the passing of the late King," Bagrat informed his son.
"When will this marriage take place?" George questioned.
"If her brother, the current King of Cyprus, agrees, then sometime next summer, once the details of her dowry and other bequests are met," the King said.
"Fine," George replied. "I will bide my time for now, but if I may, I would like to request that the Princess come to court as soon as our betrothal is complete. I would like some time to get to know her before we are wed."
"I will see what I can do about that request, son," the King assured him.
George stood, bowed to his father, and left the room. His only thoughts were to his first wife, who he had grown to love. He hoped that in time, he and Princess Amadea would find that kind of love together, as soon they would be bound until death.
13 August 1555
London, England
The warm summer breeze blew across the courtyard of the palace causing the trees to sway and the water in the fountains to ripple. Lady Catherine Stokes stood on the path towards the palace entrance, looking back at her daughter, Lady Katherine Grey, who was adjusting her skirts after departing from their carriage.
"Come now, Katherine," her mother said. "The Queen has agreed to see you. We must be on time."
"Yes, Mother," Katherine answered. She knew that her meeting with the Queen of England could make or break her future as a courtier, as well as providing the independence that she wanted when it came to her day-to-day life, although she was well aware that as a young woman she could never be completely independent.
The two women entered the palace and, after Lady Catherine spoke with the guards that were posted at the enormous wooden doors, they were shown to the Queen's apartments, taking seats outside of the grand doorway that led to her rooms. After a few moments, the herald tapped his staff and announced their arrival. "Lady Catherine Stokes, Marchioness of Pembroke, and her daughter, Lady Katherine Grey."
The two women were shown into the Queen's outer chamber, awaiting the arrival of the Queen. Moments later, the curtains to the Queen's bedchamber opened. The two were face-to-face with the Queen of England. They both curtsied.
"Lady Catherine Stokes," Queen Anna acknowledged, "it is an absolute pleasure to see you at court once again."
"The pleasure is all mine, your Majesty," Lady Catherine said.
"And who is this young woman with you?"
"My daughter, Lady Katherine Grey, your Majesty."
"No!" The Queen exclaimed. "This can't be little Katherine."
"Yes, it most definitely is," Lady Catherine responded. "She's all grown up, or thinks she is, your Grace."
The two women laughed at that remark, while the younger woman blushed. The Queen ushered the pair into her private chambers and paused for a moment, looking from mother to daughter. "What is it you've requested to see me about, Lady Catherine?" Queen Anna asked.
"My daughter, Your Majesty," Lady Catherine said. "She is fifteen now. It was my hope, and hers. . ."
"That she could come to court as a lady-in-waiting?"
"Yes, your Grace. If you have a place for her that is," Lady Catherine confirmed.
The Queen turned to Lady Katherine and smiled. "Tell me, young Katherine, are you a proud girl?" Queen Anna asked.
"I try not to be, your Majesty," Katherine answered honestly, "but no one among us is perfect, and sometimes pride does affect my words."
"Are you an accomplished girl?"
"Yes, your Majesty, I believe I am," Katherine answered again. "I can play the virginal and the lute and have been told that I am a talent at both. I can also speak Spanish and French, as well as English, and am able to read and write in Latin."
Queen Anna was impressed that a young girl of only fifteen had learned these things. "Your mother has done well by you with your education, Lady Katherine."
"I only hope I can make her proud to call me her daughter, your Majesty," Katherine said, sipping her tea.
"I think you will," Queen Anna responded. With that she stood, Katherine following suit, and walked into her outer chambers, where her ladies were preparing for a sewing session. "Lady Mary?"
"Your Majesty?" the young woman said as she curtsied to the Queen.
"Find Lady Margaret and tell her I am sending Lady Katherine Grey to her as a new lady for my daughter, Princess Eleanor," Anna said, knowing that her husband would not object. After all, the girl was his cousin, and a second cousin to their own daughter. "She will arrive in the morning, after staying tonight with her mother here at court."
"Yes, your Majesty," Lady Mary curtsied, then left the room to do as her queen had bid. With that, Queen Anna took her leave of Lady Katherine, and the young girl returned to her mother's apartments at court, smiling at her new appointment in the Princess's household, eager to begin her life at court.
August 21, 1555
Sada Palace, Aragon, Spain
Infanta Catarina, Duchess of Franco's Bedchamber
Catarina smiled as she held her son, Sebastian. He was now seven months old and was healthy and strong. He was her pride and joy. Unlike most women of her birth, Catarina chose to nurse her son from her own breast and had not employed a wet nurse.
Suddenly, Juan walked in. He had finally retired his mourning garb and was watching his wife and son with a smile on his face. He wished to have a more loving relationship with Catarina. Since his affair their marriage had become more about convienience than love.
He cleared his throat. Catarina looked up and stood up and bowed her head.
"Husband." she said curtly.
Juan sighed.
"I was coming to inquire about your mother. How is she?" he asked.
Catarina put her son down and walked to the window.
"She is fine, as well as my new sister. They are both healthy." she said.
Juan sighed.
"Catarina, we started this marriage in a loving way. Can't we return to the way we were? For Sebastian's sake?" he said.
Catarina turned towards her husband.
"Juan, I already forgave you. I do care about you. However, I will not let you keep hurting. However, just because you hurt me, doesn't mean I stopped caring for you. I want us to be happy again, but it may take time." she said.
Juan sighed. He knew what he had done was terrible, but he dearly loved Catarina. She was a woman and was the mother of his son and heir. She was also intelligent, kind, generous , just and extremely beautiful. He knew he had a wonderful woman and he had to show her that he loved her and although he could never be perfect, he did love and respect her. All he needed was a way to prove it.
31 August 1555
England
Lady Katherine Grey was walking in the gardens of her new residence. As lady-in-waiting to her Royal Highness, Princess Eleanor, she had some free time each day when the Princess attended music lessons from her tutor and the gardens called to her for their beauty. She still couldn't believe her luck. The Queen of England, Princess Eleanor's mother, could have put her in any number of positions, but Lady Katherine felt lucky to be placed with the royal children. It was a position of honor that allowed her to still have some time for herself, almost daily, and she wasn't heavily watched to the point where she felt she couldn't breathe.
Katherine sat on one of the stone benches, reading a novel she had found in the library, and enjoying the sunshine. She had read three pages when she heard a noise coming from the direction of the stables. She turned her head to see what the commotion was but could not tell from behind the hedges that were planted behind her. She stood, closing her book, and walked towards the stables where the royal children kept their horses.
When she reached the doorway, she saw a handsome man standing in the center of the barn with a newly born foal. He was wiping the animal down and talking to it in a calm voice. Lady Katherine took a step forward to see more of the lovely newcomer, as she was an avid horse lover, but startled both the young man and the newborn foal as a twig cracked under her foot.
"Oh," she said, "pardon me, sir. I heard a noise and wanted to see what it was, then saw this amazing creature and wanted a closer look. I did not mean to upset your new charge."
"That's quite alright, Lady. . ." he responded, not knowing how to continue.
"Katherine," she replied. "My name is Katherine Grey."
"It's a pleasure to meet you Lady Grey," he said. "I am Lord Robert Dudley. I am master of horse here for the royal children, and this newcomer that you were so eager to see is Gwenivere, daughter of Penelope."
Katherine stepped further into the stables to see the young filly. "I think the name suits her."
"Yes," Lord Robert said, "it does. Her father is named Uther."
"It's interesting to see that someone favors the tales of King Arthur of Camelot," Katherine said.
"That would be her Royal Highness, the Princess Eleanor," Robert informed her. "She insists on her horses being named for romantic heroes and heroines from legends like that. She also has a mare named Marian, from Robin Hood, and a stud horse named Lancelot."
Katherine chuckled a little at that. "My step-father is fond of horses as well, and typically names his horses with a theme too, although his are usually named for flowers and trees. His newest colt was named Oakwood, for the grove of Oak trees that surround the boundaries of our land."
"That's a strong name for a colt," Robert said.
"It is indeed," Katherine agreed. The two stood there in silence for a moment, and then Katherine remembered that the Princess would be done with her music lesson soon, and she was expected at the house. "I should probably be getting back to the house. Her Highness will be expecting me."
Robert nodded, and Katherine turned to leave. As she reached the stable doors, he stopped her. "Lady Grey," he started, "I was wondering, if you had some free time in the evenings, if you would like to come out here and help with the horses? I plan on training this little filly as soon as she's weaned, and I could use someone with even basic knowledge of horses to help."
"I'm usually free after supper, Lord Dudley," Katherine replied, nearly blushing. "I'd be delighted to come help with the horses."
"Good," Robert said. "Why don't you come by tomorrow? We can get started with her becoming familiar with us both."
"I will see you both tomorrow then," Lady Katherine said, smiling, and the walked away from the stables. She didn't know why she felt the way she did, but Lord Robert Dudley had made her feel different, more alive. Katherine walked to the door of the house quickly but could not remember a step she had taken. She could only recall his face and could not wait until tomorrow when she would see him again. Little did she know that in the stables, Lord Robert Dudley was brushing Gwenivere softly and humming to himself, and she was the reason why.
31 August 1555
Anhalt-Zerbst, Germany
Prince Karl of Anhalt-Zerbst slammed the doors to his chambers as he entered them, frustrated with the council. His plans to rebuild the finances of his nation were met with disdain from his council members, and although he'd never wanted to rule on his own, he found himself wishing he were a King instead of an elected Prince now. Kings had the ability to decide financial matters on their own, particularly when it came to their own money, held separately from the national treasury. It wasn't as if he was asking for the council to fund his plans; he only wanted the national treasury to match his personal contribution, and the new trading routes that would be opened to the small German principality as a result would increase their funds more than three times over. Why couldn't his council see reason?
A knock on the door was met with his frustration as he ordered the person behind it to go away.
A few moments later, a lighter knock came, and he heard his wife question his presence in the room, "Husband? May I come in?"
Karl sighed. Juana did not deserve his frustration. He knew this, but he wasn't sure he could contain his temper. "It's not a good time right now, sweetheart," he replied. "Can we talk later?"
There was a moment of silence before she replied. "We can, but what I have to tell you is rather important."
Karl sighed again. He knew Juana wouldn't say that if it wasn't. He splashed some water on his face and dried it with a towel, then opened the door for his wife. She entered the room, smiling, and hugged him.
"Was your day with the council that bad?" she inquired.
"Yes," he told her. "They rejected my plans for the new trading routes and the shops I want to fund."
"Oh," she said, solemnly. "You will just have to approach them again." She hugged him once more. "They will see reason in time."
Karl shook his head. "I don't think there is a reasonable person on my council at the moment, but I appreciate your faith in them." He paused. "What was it that you wanted to tell me, darling?" Juana looked unsure of herself as he asked that question. "It's okay. I have calmed down some just by seeing your lovely face." He kissed her softly to reassure her it was okay to tell him whatever she wanted to say.
She smiled at him. "Well, you know how I haven't been feeling well of late?"
Karl nodded at his wife.
"I went to see the physician this morning," she told him.
Karl was concerned. Her father had died young. Surely her news wasn't that bad.
"What did he say?"
"Apparently, I haven't been feeling well for a reason," she replied. "However, he also said that my condition will go away in about six months."
"Six months?" Karl questioned. He thought for a moment, concerned about what his wife was saying. Then, it hit him like a brick. "Six months. . . as in. . . I mean, you're. . . we're?" He couldn't get the words out of his mouth.
Juana smiled from ear to ear and nodded at her husband. "You're going to be a father, Karl."
He picked her up and hugged her after swinging her around.
"Karl, put me down," she commanded.
"Oh my," he said, realizing what he was doing. He put his hand on her stomach. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, sweetheart," she replied, laughing, "we just have to be careful."
"Of course," he said, kissing her. "A baby?"
"Yes, a baby," she responded with as much joy as he was displaying. "It's due around February."
"Oh darling, I can't believe it. You've made me the happiest man in the world!"
He hugged her again, led her to his bed, and the two laid there for the rest of the afternoon talking about names for their child, where the baby's room would be, and planning for the future, blissfully ignorant of everything else in the world except their growing family.
31 August 1555
Lisbon, Portugal
The trip across the peninsula had been long and hot. The weather was unusually humid for the region, and it made the journey unbearable at points, causing the carriages and guards to have to stop and rest. The Infanta, Maria de Aviz, daughter of the late King Diego and Princess Isabella, Dowager Marquessa of Moya, was finally coming back to the land of her birth and about to meet her betrothed for the first time.
Maria had spent the past year in Navarre, serving as a lady-in-waiting in the court of Queen Elizabeth I of Navarre, learning how to navigate a royal court, as she had been raised in Spain at the home of her mother and step-father, the late Marquess of Moya, Andres. Over the past year, she and Queen Elizabeth had discussed many things, including her duties as a royal Queen consort. The Infanta's betrothed was the Crown Prince of Portugal, and one day, God willing, she would be Queen.
Her mother had not wanted her to go, but Maria had reasoned with her in the end and Isabella realized that her daughter's future lay in Portugal, not in Navarre, where the Dowager Duchess had chosen to make her home after the death of her last husband. Isabella feared for her daughter's safety in Portugal, as many believed her to be illegitimate, but regardless of the Infanta's status, she was still Isabella's daughter and her first child to live past infancy. Isabella wanted her protected at all cost. It had taken both Maria and Queen Elizabeth of Navarre to convince her that Maria would be safe.
As the entourage arrived at the palace, Maria looked out the window to get a glimpse of the palace that would be her home for the foreseeable future. It was much larger than she recalled, but she barely remembered it, so that was no surprise. The doors to her carriage were opened by the palace footmen and a step was placed for her and her ladies to step on. Upon exiting the carriage, she saw an older man and a boy about her age standing on the top step of the palace, near the enormous wooden doors. One of the gentlemen standing at the bottom approached her, offering his arm, which she took, and together they walked up the steps.
"Your highness," the man said, releasing her arm when they reached the top, "may I present King Carlos of Portugal and his son, your betrothed, Prince Duarte. Your Majesty, your Highness, the Infanta Maria de Aviz."
Maria curtsied to the King, but was staring at the Prince, who was a very handsome young man. Carlos bid her to rise, which she did, and he bowed, kissing her hand. Duarte followed suit.
"It is a pleasure to see you again, your Highness," the King said.
"The honor is mine, your Majesty," Maria responded.
"Come," Carlos commanded, "we will show you to your rooms."
Duarte offered her his arm, and together they walked through the long hallways leading to the residential section of the palace.
"I trust your journey was not too uncomfortable?" The King questioned.
"It was very hot, your Majesty. We had expected to arrive much earlier, but the horses needed extra care, and frankly, the breezes were most welcome," Maria responded.
"Yes, it has been unusually hot this year," Carlos said, smiling at his future daughter-in-law.
There was a moment of silence, then Duarte spoke up. "I understand that you play chess, your Highness?" the Prince questioned.
"Yes," Maria said. "I quite enjoy the game."
"As do I," Duarte said. "Perhaps we could play together sometime after you have rested from your journey."
"I would like that, your Highness," Maria responded, giving him a small smile, which he returned.
"Here we are," the King said, watching the posted guards open the doors to her chambers.
The three stepped inside the rooms, along with Maria's ladies-in-waiting. They had been redecorated on the orders of Queen Mary, using the most brilliant colors of blues and yellows, which Isabella had written were Maria's favorite colors. The young princess was enthralled as she looked around.
"They are to your liking?" Duarte asked, sincerely.
"Oh yes," Maria said. "Very much so."
"My mother ordered them to be decorated for your arrival."
"Oh, please give her my thanks," Maria requested.
"Do you need anything, your Highness?" Duarte inquired.
"No, thank you," Maria said. "Not at the moment."
"Then we will leave you to unpack and get settled," King Carlos said. "Will you dine with us this evening, your Highness? Or shall I have something sent here?"
"I would love to, your Majesty. Send for me when it is time, if you please?" Maria asked.
"Of course," Carlos responded.
With that, both the King and the Prince, bowed and left Maria to her own devices to settle in before the evening meal. As her ladies set about unpacking her belongings, Maria explored the rooms she had been given by the King and Queen. She discovered that she not only had a bedroom and dressing area, but there were two adjoining rooms for her ladies, each with three beds in them, and a sitting room filled with books. On one of the shelves, there was a chess board with a box for the pieces, and near the window was an easel for her to paint on.
After she was finished exploring, she lay down on her bed and as she drifted off to sleep, she realized that she didn't feel like a foreigner here; she had, in truth, come home.
1 September 1555
Navarre
Lord Alexandre Dumane stood at the head of the table, surrounded by friends as he spoke. He and his wife, Lady Jeanne, had invited a small number of other nobles, as well as the King and Queen of Navarre, to their home to celebrate their first anniversary with them, and it was about time for dessert to be served. Alexandre stood with his glass of wine raised to propose a toast.
"Your Majesties, Lords and Ladies of the realm, Lady Jeanne and I want to thank you for accepting our invitation to celebrate our first wedding anniversary with us. A lot has transpired over the course of this past year, and we are grateful to have such constant and loyal companions with whom we can share our lives, including intimate moments like this. This past year, becoming a husband to this wonderful woman, has been one of the best years of my life. In Jeanne, I have found someone with whom I have much in common, including my affinity to sleeping late." He chuckled and winked at Jeanne as the others around the table joined in his laughter.
Jeanne blushed because although she knew that they both slept well into the morning, they did not and had not shared the same bed yet. He was waiting for her to love him first and had kept good to his promise not to make love to her until she did, but he did not embarrass her by allowing others to think that the were not man and wife in all ways.
Alexandre continued, "In all seriousness, Lady Jeanne is the most wonderful and dutiful wife that any man could ask for, but I am the fortunate one who calls her his. Tonight, I want to celebrate that with something very special." The door opened and in walked one of his footmen with a small chest. He took the box from the man and walked to where she sat at the other end of the table. He got down on one knee and opened it in front of her. The contents contained a set of jewelry made of pearls. She looked at him with wonder on how he could afford it. Although they were well off, the price of these jewels was well beyond what he made in a year. "Jeanne, I had these sent from my sister's home in France. They were a gift to my mother from the Dowager Queen of France, Eleanor, for her years of service to her majesty. They became mine upon my mother's death, and she left a note for me that I was to give them to the woman who had captured my heart. Tonight, in honor of our first anniversary, I want to give them to you, as you have captured me heart, body, and spirit."
Jeanne was in tears as he put the necklace around her neck, and his mother's pearl ring on her finger. Now she understood why he'd asked her not to wear any jewelry tonight. "Thank you, my Lord husband," Jeanne replied when she could speak. After helping her with the earrings and bracelet, Alexandre sat back down and signaled for dessert to be brought in. The party continued for several hours, and after saying goodbye to their guests, the couple made their way upstairs, where he left her at the door to her room, kissing her hand, then turned to leave. Jeanne watched him walk the few short paces to his own door and spoke.
"Alexandre?" she questioned in a timid voice.
He turned to face her. "Yes?"
"Did you really mean what you said tonight, about me capturing you?"
"Yes, Jeanne," he replied with a sigh, "I really meant it." He turned once again towards his door, but she stopped him. He turned back to see her walking towards him.
"I love you too, husband," Jeanne admitted, trembling as she spoke the words.
He looked at her closely to see if there was any ounce of a lie in what she said, but the tears in her eyes spoke only of honesty. He bent down slowly and kissed her for the first time since their wedding. His heart swelled as they kissed, and when it was over, he backed away to see her reaction. She was glowing. "Are you sure, Jeanne?" he asked, wanting to give her a way out if she wanted it.
"I think I've known it for several months now, if I were to be honest," she replied. "I just didn't know how to say it."
He looked at her closely once more, as if searching for something that said this was all a ruse, but he didn't find it. With that, he swooped his wife into his arms and carried her inside his bedroom, laying her gently on the bed and kissing her passionately. He made love to his wife over and over again that night before watching her fall asleep on his bare chest, all the while thinking that he had finally found a real home in her heart, and he was grateful for it.
5 September 1555
Austria
Princess Anna of Denmark and Norway stared out the window of the carriage that was taking her to Austria; the home of her future husband, the Archduke Ferdinand, and soon to be hers as well. She was looking forward to her marriage and to her new life there. Just two years ago, she would have never believed that she would be married, not after loving her late fiancée for so long, but it happened. She'd fallen for the Archduke from almost the moment she saw him, and now she would be his wife, and the step-mother of his children.
The Austrian countryside rolled by slowly. She could see why he had spoken of his homeland so fondly. It was beautiful. The greens and blues meshed together in a comforting way, occasionally broken by villages and hamlets with their church steeples rising high into the sky. The Princess sighed contentedly and leaned her head back against the seat of the carriage, closing her eyes. Sleep must have found her, as she felt one of her ladies waking her.
"Your Highness, we have arrived."
She sat upright and smoothed out her travelling dress before stepping out of the carriage. The castle in which the Archduke lived was huge, displaying the wealth of the Habsburg family. The many rooms and the windows were obvious by its size, and Anna wondered how she would manage it all as Archduchess. Her awe was short-lived.
"Anna!" Ferdinand said, as he stepped out of the huge doors that led into the courtyard.
She smiled warmly at him as he approached her. He took her hand in his and kissed it as she curtsied to her betrothed. Technically, they were already married, as her father had insisted that the marriage take place by proxy before she left, but their actual wedding would not take place for another six weeks. She knew, in that time, she would have a lot to learn. She had been raised Protestant, but her husband-to-be was Catholic and in line to become the Holy Roman Emperor should God call his brother to heaven. Her conversion to Catholicism was to take place the day before their wedding.
"My darling Ferdinand," Anna acknowledged.
"It is good to finally have you here in Austria," he replied. "Welcome to our home."
He led her into the courtyard of the castle, talking about their plans for later that day. She was to rest from her journey for a few hours, then he would introduce her to his children who still lived at home, including his eldest son and heir, Ferdinand, who she was told to call Andy. They would have dinner as a family that night, and then he would show her his library. Reading was a passion that they both shared. Tomorrow she would be shown the rest of the palace and meet the priest who would help her learn her new religion, and with whom she would have classes every day before their marriage in October. As he opened the doors to her suite of rooms, Anna was even more overwhelmed than when she saw the castle he lived in, but she knew she would adjust, as Ferdinand would be there, helping her every step of the way.
10 September 1555
Portugal
The Infanta Maria sat at her dressing table, making ready for the party that was being held in her honor that night in the ballroom. She would be introduced to the noble families of Portugal, and she had been told that the King and Queen would be announcing her engagement to the Crown Prince, Duarte. She had been bathed earlier by her ladies, and her hair was done in a more mature style than she had ever worn before, but she liked the way it made her look. The dress she was to wear was laying on her bed at the moment. She looked at it with some wonder. Her mother, Isabella, would have never allowed her to wear something like this were she still at home, but she wasn't. She would be Duarte's wife soon, and soon after that, a mother.
She sat in one of the window seats of her bedroom, deciding to read a book until it was time to finish dressing for the event. Maria must have fallen asleep there, because the next thing she remembered was being woken by one of her ladies telling her that it was time to dress, and she was expected in the ballroom in no less than thirty minutes. She was dressed hurriedly by her ladies, and then one of them sprayed perfume on her wrists right before a knock at the door filled her with anxiety. The time had come for her reintroduction to Portuguese society.
Maria left her rooms and made her way downstairs to the ballroom of the Palace. She waked as Queen Elizabeth of Navarre had taught her during her time as the Queen's lady, with confidence and grace. The doors were opened upon her arrival, and the herald announced her after tapping his staff. "The Infanta Maria of Portugal," the older man said in a clear voice. Maria took a breath and stepped into the enormous room, with all eyes turned towards her. She made her way to the dais, where the King and Queen sat on their thrones, and where her fiancée was standing. She curtsied to them and when they bade her to rise, she did so with a flawless motion that even surprised her.
King Carlos stood from his throne and made his way down the carpeted stairs, extending his hand to her, which she took and allowed him to lead her up next to the thrones. She heard the herald tap his staff again, and the King cleared his throat. "Ladies and Gentlemen of Portugal," he began, with all eyes turned to face him, "please give a warm welcome to the young lady standing beside me, the daughter of my late brother, King Diego, her royal highness, the Infanta Maria." The court applauded at his introduction, and Maria smiled warmly at the people on the ballroom floor. "Queen Mary and I are pleased to announce that the Infanta and our son, Crown Prince Duarte, are to be married. We have received the papal bull just last week, sanctifying their union when the time is right." The crowd applauded again. "We wish them all the happiness in the world." Another thunderous round of applause came from the people as King Carlos placed her hand into Duarte's, who smiled brightly at her as he led her back down the stairs to dance.
Once the dance had concluded, the Prince excused himself for a moment to get them both something to drink. Maria sat in the chair he had led her to before leaving her, looking around at the wonderous cloth that was draped everywhere in the room and wondered if all balls in Portugal were this grand. It was then that she overheard two women that she did not know talking from behind one of the curtains.
"Her mother was the false Queen, Isabella, from England. The one that King Diego used and claimed to be married to, but wasn't," said the first woman.
"So, the girl is a bastard?" asked the second woman.
"Technically speaking, yes," the first answered, "but I saw our late King and her mother together many times while I worked here. It was obvious that the late King loved the woman."
"That's a shame," the second woman said. "If they really loved each other, he should have married her properly."
"I don't know how true the rumors are, of course," the first voice said, "but at the time, it was flying around the palace, before Princess Isabella got here, that King Diego had told her that he had a bull of dispensation, even though he didn't. But I also heard that her father had written His Holiness after she left, demanding that the marriage be stopped."
"Her father?" asked the second woman.
"The late King of England, Henry VIII," the first woman said. "She was the eldest daughter of Henry and the late Queen Katherine of Aragon."
"Wasn't she also married to King Manuel?" the second woman asked.
"Yes," replied the first, "she was Portugal's Queen when Manuel was on the throne, which was why the dispensation was required in the first place."
"The girl cannot help the fact that she's illegitimate," the second woman said in Maria's defense. "Do you think Princess Isabella even knew there was no papal bull if King Diego lied to her?"
"No one knows for sure if she knew prior to sleeping with him, but she had to know in the end," the first woman explained. "It was how King Carlos and Queen Mary ended the conflict of who should rule. They made a deal with Diego that their son would marry Maria when he was of age if the issue ended without bloodshed. Diego kept his end of the bargain and admitted that Maria was illegitimate. Now, they are keeping their promise to him."
Maria was heartbroken. She had no idea that the stories of her parents' marriage not being sanctioned in the eyes of God were true. At this point, she was about to cry, and her mother had taught her better than to ever let anyone see her tears. She started looking for an exit point, and upon finding it, stood to make her way out of the room, when her elbow was caught, and the person started leading her towards the area behind the thrones. She looked back at her captor and saw her Aunt, Queen Mary, behind her, so she relaxed some, but couldn't make sense of what she had heard. Queen Mary led her into a private room behind the thrones, ordering her to sit down, then she left the room.
The Queen of Portugal returned a few moments later with the King and Duarte in tow. The King walked over to Maria, kneeling down in front of her, and hugging her closely.
"Maria, my dear," Queen Mary began, "I overheard what those two old biddies were saying and thought we should explain some things that you obviously didn't know, judging by the look on your face." Maria nodded at her Aunt as she and Duarte sat down at the table, followed by the King.
"As you know, my late brother, Diego, was King here before his death," King Carlos began. "He did love your mother very much, of that there is no doubt, but it is true that their supposed marriage was not sanctioned by the Pope, which would have been required because your mother's first husband was also my brother, the late King Manuel."
Maria just stared at her Uncle. "My mother was married before my father?"
"Yes dear," Queen Mary said. "Your mother is my sister by blood. We are both the children of the late King Henry VIII of England and the late Queen of England, Katherine of Aragon. The current King of England is our brother, and the Queen of Navarre is our sister."
Maria nodded. That much she knew.
Queen Mary continued. "Our father arranged your mother's first marriage to Manuel when your mother was only sixteen years old. She was sent from England to Portugal, and from what I understand, Manuel was very cruel to her. She gave him several children, but none lived to see their first birthday. When Manuel. . . died, Isabella returned to England, labelled a barren Princess, and our father consented to a marriage between her and a nobleman of the realm. She gave birth to twins by him. The little girl was sent to France at two and died shortly after. The boy was left behind when Diego sent someone to England to propose to Isabella, saying he'd obtained the papal bull for the marriage, and Isabella made the choice to leave for Portugal. She returned here, was married and crowned Queen, then had you. Her life was happy finally, but that happiness was short-lived, as when Diego became sick to the point where it was obvious that he would not recover, the truth was made known to the family that the marriage was not valid. Your Uncle Carlos was next in line for the throne, and he promised your father that you would marry our son legally and in the eyes of God so you would have a chance to be Queen of this nation as your father wanted. Had the truth of your birth come out, you would have never been allowed to take the throne in your own right, and your father realized that this would be the only way you would ever be Queen without a risk of an uprising, so he accepted our offer."
Maria's eyes were wide. She couldn't believe what had happened when she was so young. She couldn't believe her father had lied to her mother about their marriage.
"What those ladies were saying is partially true," King Carlos said, "but it doesn't mean anything to us. You are our niece, and will be our daughter-in-law, provided that this is what you still want to happen. We would like for it to, but you do have a choice, and if you chose not to marry Duarte, we will ensure that you find a suitable husband and are properly cared for."
Maria looked at Duarte. His face showed that he was worried, but she didn't know what he was worried about. He smiled at her, nodding his acceptance, or at the least his approval of whatever choice she made.
"I think I would like to marry your son, Your Majesties," Maria said after a few moments more with her thoughts. "In the two weeks I have been here, he has been so kind to me, and we have several things in common, like our love of chess. I think he and I can become friends, and perhaps, in time, even love each other, as I already care for him." Duarte smiled, then turned to his parents and nodded.
"Very well, my dear," Queen Mary said. "Let's return to the ball now?"
"Of course," Maria replied, standing from her chair, as the King and Duarte did the same. The King held out his arm to his wife, and Duarte mimicked his father.
"Duarte," the Queen said, looking back to her son, "don't leave her alone in there again tonight."
"Yes, my Lady Mother," Duarte said, "I will guard her with my life."
Carlos shook his head and led the way back to the ball with both his wife and the Infanta Maria smiling.
1 October 1555
Navarre
Queen Elizabeth I of Navarre had established quite a routine for herself since being crowned the previous year. She would wake in the morning about five and spend the first hour in prayer, thanking God for all he had given her and asking Him to bless her nation, her subjects, and her family. At six-thirty she was dressed and ready for breakfast with her husband, if he was home, and their daughter, Princess Isabel. From seven-thirty until nine, the Queen would see her subjects and take requests for various projects that needed to be funded, then she had a council meeting every Monday at ten.
This morning, however, would not be quite the same. Elizabeth woke and knelt to pray, as she always did, but once her prayers were done, she stood to dress, but fell backwards onto the chair that held her dressing gown. She sat for a moment, watching the room spin before her eyes, then tried once more to stand. Walking to her vanity table, she began to make ready for the day, then joined her husband, Luis, in the family dining room. Isabel was already seated, telling her father about her walk with Lady Inez, her new governess. Luis stood when Elizabeth entered the room and came around the table to pull out her chair, as he did every morning. Once he was seated again, they discussed the council meeting and what was being presented until the servants entered the room with their meal. Elizabeth's eyes grew wide, then she paused and ran from the room, leaving Luis astounded at her behavior.
When she returned twenty minutes later, he looked at his wife questioningly.
"It must have been something I ate last night with dinner," she told him, then began to fill her plate with the food that was set before them. He nodded, still concerned, and began to eat, letting the matter drop until later.
After breakfast was over, Luis escorted her to the throne room where she would meet with her subjects, but Elizabeth paused in the hallway and turned to him. "Luis, do you think you could meet everyone this morning?"
"Of course, love, why?" He asked.
"I'm just extremely dizzy at the moment and feel it would be best if I returned to our room and rested for a time," Elizabeth explained.
"Okay," Luis responded, and turned to lead her down the hall instead, but as they turned, Elizabeth swayed, then reached out to catch herself on a nearby chair before fainting into his arms. Luis lifted the Queen and carried her to their bedroom, where he instructed the guard to fetch the doctor immediately. He entered the room and laid his wife on their bed gently, his concern growing more and more obvious. The doors to their chambers swung open, but it was not the doctor. It was Lady Sancha de Mendoza, Viscountess of Narbonne, Elizabeth's lady-in-waiting and her closest friend.
"One of the servants told me what happened, your Majesty," Sancha said. "Forgive my intrusion, but I was worried."
"There is nothing to forgive my Lady," Luis replied. "Elizabeth would want you here."
"What happened?" she asked. Sancha was not the type to gossip, so Luis told her the events he witnessed this morning and was about to ask if Elizabeth had complained of anything yesterday when the doctor entered the room.
Luis explained what happened again to the physician, who walked over to the bed and examined his patient.
"There is no fever," he announced after he had concluded his examination. He looked from Sancha to Luis and back to Sancha, then turned to the bed, where the Queen of Navarre was waking from her ordeal. "Your Majesty," the older man said, addressing his Queen, "forgive the delicate nature of this question, but how long has it been since you had your monthly courses?"
Elizabeth thought for a moment, then a wide smile appeared on her face. "At least two months," she replied, looking at Luis.
"I believe we have our answer as to what's troubling the Queen, your Majesty," the doctor said, also smiling. "I would say her Majesty is two months gone with child, and you can expect the birth to happen sometime in May or June." The man packed his bag and left the room quietly, still grinning as though he was the father-to-be.
Luis looked at Elizabeth with love in his eyes. Their youngest child, Prince Eduardo, was not even a year old and they would soon have a third child in the palace nursery. He couldn't believe this was happening and was overjoyed at the news. He rushed to the bed and knelt beside where his wife lay, with her hand on her stomach, oblivious to the world, until a small laugh came from behind him. Both he and Elizabeth turned to see Sancha smiling as well.
"What is it Sancha?" Elizabeth asked.
"I was going to tell you later today, during our walk, but you might was well know now," she began, but didn't have to finish her sentence. Elizabeth just smiled more. Luis looked from his wife to her best friend, unable to comprehend what had happened to cause this.
"What?" he asked, looking at Sancha.
Elizabeth giggled, despite the fact that she was a Queen, and answered for her best friend. "Sancha is expecting too, darling. Wasn't that obvious?"
Luis just shook his head and sighed. How did she know that? He wondered, but looking at Sancha, it was confirmed. Elizabeth and her best friend would be pregnant together and have their children at about the same time of the year. As the two women hugged, elated by their joy in the shared experience, Luis wondered how he and Carlos, Sancha's husband, would cope with this double. . . blessing?
October 15, 1555
Austria
Ferdinand stood at the altar, awaiting his bride to be, nervously playing with his fingers behind his back so the guests could not see that a second-time-bride-groom was as nervous now as he was on the day of his first marriage. His first wife, Anne, was as nervous as he was back then. He wondered if his second wife, Princess Anna Oldenburg of Denmark and Norway, would be as well.
The wedding was being held in his family chapel at the palace where they lived. Neither Anna nor he wanted the spectacle that came with weddings. Ferdinand was a private man when it came to such intimate things. His children and their spouses, along with his grandchildren, who resided nearby, were in attendance, along with a few close friends of the family and the family's servants and their spouses. It was an odd mix of people to be in one place, but these were the people that he and Anna had decided on, and it was left at that.
The chapel doors opened, revealing Anna and her father, King Christian III of Denmark and Norway. The smile on her face said it all. His bride was happier than she had been in such a long time. It was rather unusual for a first-time-bride to be thirty-two years old, but her story was not a happy one.
Like most European princesses, Anna had been betrothed at a young age. She and her fiancée had grown up together at her father's court and had a bond that was strong by the time they were to marry. She would have been a Duchess and remained close to her mother had they married, but it was not meant to be. The young man died just a few months before their marriage would have taken place. After the typical year of mourning had passed, her father tried to arrange another marriage for his daughter, but Anna begged him not to force her into a loveless situation after she had lost the man she truly loved. She told him that she would never be happy with anything less than a marriage filled with the joy he had brought into her life, and her father, the King, would not break his daughter's heart a second time. It wasn't until she travelled with her father to Navarre for the coronation of Queen Elizabeth I that her heart changed.
She had been bold asking him if she could sit with him, but he had caught her eye and once she knew who he was, she knew he would not harm her. The Archduke of Austria was known for his piety and fierce devotion to the Catholic Church. They spent the rest of the evening talking about their love for books, and when he asked if he could write to her the next morning, before she left for the return trip home, she knew that he enjoyed their conversation as much as she had. They spent the next several months corresponding, and when his mother passed away the following April, he knew that he could not let her go. Ferdinand proposed and she had accepted.
She walked down the aisle on her father's arm, and her hand was placed into his. Both turned towards the altar and knelt. Although Anna was raised Protestant, she had converted to the Catholic faith yesterday. The future Holy Roman Empress could not be seen as a heathen, after all, and the concepts she had learned about her new faith were not that much different from her old one. The ceremonies were a bit more lavish, and the services longer, but the basic concepts were the same. Anna and Ferdinand said their vows, the priest blessed their union, and they kissed for the first time in public and as husband and wife, then turned to greet their guests before making their way to the banqueting hall where their reception was to be held. When they reached the doors, Ferdinand turned to her and asked if she was happy. She nodded and told him that she was, but before she could kiss her new husband again, she felt a tug on her dress and looked down.
Joanna, Ferdinand's youngest daughter with his first wife, looked up at her smiling. Anna knelt down and smiled back at the girl. Joanna took Anna's hand in hers, then did the same with her father, and together, the three of them walked back to the palace where they would spend the rest of their lives as a family.
27 October 1555
Navarre
Lord Alexandre Dumane, Duke of Lautrec, was sitting at his desk rereading a letter that had arrived from his sister, Louise, who lived in France. Louise was his older sister and was recently widowed in the war with Spain, as her husband died serving the French King. She had no surviving children either, as her two little ones had died almost as soon as they were born. Louise tried to pick up the pieces of her life and move on, but she wrote that the house reminded her of her late husband, and she was tired of the suitors that her friends tried to set her up with, so she wasn't lonely.
Alexandre put down the letter and thought about their childhood, growing up with the Dowager Queen of France, Eleanor. She had kept him and Louise as a favor to their father. They were both educated as well as any prince or princess would have been thanks to Queen Eleanor, and both children had been allowed to marry for love. Louise had found her happiness with the Baron of Elbeuf, Emmanuel Harcourt, until his untimely death during the war. Alexandre hadn't married on his own, but instead set out for the adventures that the world could offer him. He met the Prince of Asturias, Luis, who was now King Consort of Navarre, and had been made a Duke in Luis' wife's court. He had married the daughter of their enemy, but had fallen in love with her, and she with him. He had found happiness in his life. Perhaps his sister could find happiness in Navarre as well.
He took out some paper and his pen:
To Lady Louise Harcourt, Dowager Baroness of Elbeuf
My dearest sister,
I have received your letter of 12 October and have had the most marvelous idea. Why don't you pack up your things and come to us in Navarre? Jeanne and I would love to have you, whether your stay be temporary or permanent, and I know we would have a wonderful time catching up in person. It would also give you leave of your friends and numerous suitors. Please, do think on it.
Your loving little brother,
Alexandre, Duke of Lautrec
He prepared the envelope and sealed it with his ring, then took it to his messenger to deliver. Smiling, Alexandre went back to his desk, hoping his sister would accept the invitation and come to Navarre. Now he just had to tell his wife that he'd invited his sister to stay with them. He knew Jeanne would be okay with it, but he wanted his wife and his sister to get along so they could be a real family, and if they were blessed with children in the future, he would love for his sister to be there to watch them grow up too. However, she still had to say she would, and although he wanted her to accept, he knew that she might not. For now, all he could do was hope.
5 November 1555
Stockholm Palace, Stockholm, Sweden
Crown Princess Matilda of Sweden's Private Apartments
Matilda smiled at her youngest daughter, Princess Katarina. The new baby girl was now four months old and had a head of beautiful golden-red hair. Everyone kept commenting on the beauty of the little angel.
Matilda knelt down next to the cradle.
"How's my girl? Mama loves you very much." she said.
Katarina smiled at her mother.
Suddenly, the door opened and Queen Catherine of Sweden walked in.
Matilda stood up and bowed, but the twenty year old Queen waved it off. She hated formalities, especially since Matilda was her true friend at Court.
"Matilda, how are you?" she asked.
Matilda smiled.
"God blesses is immensely." she said, looking down at little Katarina.
Queen Katherine smiled. She knew how Matilda felt. Although the King was nearly forty years older than her, they had just welcomed their own daughter, Princess Kristina , just last year.
The Queen sighed.
"Matilda, I want to tell you something first, before you hear it from Court." she said.
Matilda nodded her head, listening to her husband's stepmother.
Queen Katherine sighed.
"Do you know my older sister, Lady Ebba Stenbock?" she asked.
Matilda glared, but nodded. The two Stenbock sisters were different as night and day. Ebba was a brunette, vivacious, flirty and had a negative reputation. Queen Katherine was quiet, kind, red-haired, and sweet natured.
Matilda sighed.
"What about her?" she asked.
Queen Katherine sighed and put her head down. This was not in her character to gossip.
"Prince Eric as taken her as his new mistress." she said.
Matilda looked at her stepmother-in-law and then left the room. She walked down the Palace hallways and was heading to her husband's apartments. She had to see this for herself. Her husband, sleeping with a newly married woman.
Suddenly, she saw her husband, Prince Eric and Lady Ebba Stenbock, walking arm in arm and laughing and smiling, but they paused when they saw her. Matilda had a look of utter disgust.
Eric looked at Ebba, who bowed and left down an adjacent hallway.
Eric walked over to his twenty year old wife.
"I didn't want you to find out this way, darling." he said
Matilda closed her eyes, to keep her tears from flowing. She refused to give Eric and his whore the satisfaction.
"You told me you couldn't visit our children, because of pressing matters. Then I find you cavorting with your slut. Am I just good for bearing sons?" she said, as tears fell down her face.
Eric glared at her.
"No. We have three children and only one of them is a son, so no you're not good at it." he said, with a callous tone.
Matilda suddenly slapped Eric so hard in his face, that the blow pushed him back.
He looked at his wife. Matilda had definitely become more beautiful, however she was his wife. Her attention had been on their new daughter. He needed his needs met.
Matilda glared at him.
"You're a fool if you think any whore will love you. They love you for the power. They love Prince Eric of Sweden. I love Eric of the House of Vasa, my husband and the father of my children. You may have fun with your little toy for now, but you'll find out the hard way that I'm right. Good day, Husband." she said.
With a curtsy, Matilda left her husband, holding his face in the middle of the hallway
20 November 1555
Sicily
The Archduchess was quite radiant. There was no one in the room who could deny that. Many were surprised when they were told that their leader, Lorenzo, the Duke of Sicily, would be marrying again. He had loved his first wife, Princess Christina of England, so much and it was obvious to all who knew them. Their three children knew it as well. It came as a shock to the nobility of Sicily that he had agreed to marry once more.
The wedding had been an amazing event, but the reception was one fit for any Queen, much less an Archduchess. The nobles had gathered, dressed in their finest, to attend both the ceremony and the party afterward. Many were now getting drunk on the caskets of wine that King Henry IX of England had sent, knowing his Uncle would show his new bride how Italian's celebrated. In truth, the Archduchess, now Duchess of Sicily, did not know how to react.
Eleanor Habsburg had been brought up in a strict Catholic environment. Her parents did not drink to the point where they were drunk; they wouldn't have even thought of it. However, her new homeland within Italy was very different from the plains of Austria, where she was raised. Men and women alike enjoyed parties and often looked for reasons to imbibe. This world was strange to her, but she knew, in time, she would adjust. She was watching the guests at her reception party when Lorenzo's daughter, Lady Bianca, Duchess of Mantua, approached her and curtsied.
"My lady step-mother," Bianca greeted her, "I wanted to take this opportunity to welcome you to our family and express my desire for us to be friends."
Eleanor smiled. Her husband's eldest daughter was several years older than she was, but she was grateful for the friendliness of all of his children from his first marriage. It could have been much worse had they not been so accepting of the situation. "Thank you, Bianca," Eleanor replied. "I hope that we will be friends as well. I know it must be hard to see your father with a new wife. It was for me when my own father remarried last month."
Bianca nodded, knowing that Eleanor's father, the Archduke of Austria, Ferdinand, had married Princess Anna of Denmark and Norway a month ago. The two women were in roughly the same situation regarding the remarriage of their parents.
"I know I cannot take your mother's place, nor do I want to," Eleanor continued, "but I do want your father to be happy, and I think that with our situations being similar in regard to our respective fathers, we can support each other. I look forward to getting to know you and your siblings better."
"I would like that as well," Bianca said, honestly. "My husband and I would like to bring our children to Sicily for Christmastide this year, if you have no objections to that."
"Of course not," Eleanor said. "I would love to meet them."
Bianca smiled. "Do you plan on having children of your own with my father?" She asked.
"Only if God wills it," Eleanor replied. She had not thought of the possibility, since her husband was so much older than she was, and he already had three children with his first wife, including an heir in his son, Lord Peter.
Just then, Lorenzo, Duke of Sicily, approached the two women, greeting his daughter with a kiss on each cheek, then turning to his bride. "I am sorry to interrupt what looks to be a pleasant conversation, but I would like to dance with my new bride, daughter, if I might steal her away from you."
"Or course, Father," Bianca said, stepping back from the couple. "Enjoy your dance, and I look forward to seeing you both at Christmas."
With that, Lorenzo swept Eleanor onto the dance floor, and paraded her around the room in grand style, as if he had regained twenty years of his youth. The guests marveled at the change in their once aged Duke, who looked like a twenty-year-old bride groom with his young wife. Eleanor felt like a princess while they danced, and in that moment, developed the hope that God would grant them at least one child of their own. After all, children were the hope of the future, and the reminder that time would continue long after they were all called to heaven, and that was one legacy she would love to leave behind.
29 November 1555
France
Queen Catherine de Medici of France sat in her chambers shaking her head at the revelation that had just hit her, and it had hit like a ton of bricks.
(Flashback)
Henri entered her chambers in one of his rages, furious at the idea that any nation would reject his little Claude as a bride for their heir, but none-the-less, the official word had come from Sweden that they wanted a younger wife for Prince Johan, one that was more his own age, and one who was at least tolerant to the Protestant faith. She had tried to calm him down, she who was more level headed over these types of things, except where Francis was concerned, by pointing out that Sweden was not the strongest nation in Europe, and it was their loss, not Claude's.
Henri stared at her for a long time before walking towards her. He took her hands in his and kissed them both, then whispered, "How did I ever get so lucky to land such a level-headed Queen?"
She could smell the wine on his breath and realized that he was drunk. "You'd have to have someone level-headed in order to deal with the fact that you kept a mistress in one room and your wife in another, and although your wife was your Queen, your mistress was your true love. Not many women would tolerate that Henri."
The King of France nodded, not realizing the insult that was behind it due to his intoxicated state. He kissed her deeply, allowing his hands to wander her body, before leading her to her bed. Catherine lay back, knowing what he wanted, but rather than argue or fight, she just let him have his way with her, all the while wondering when he would just stop coming to her and turn to Diane exclusively.
When it was over, Henri left her bed. He dressed and walked towards the door, but he stopped. He turned back to her once more and said in a low voice, "I always hoped things would be different for us, Catherine. For what it's worth, I do love you." He turned again and left her room as she cried herself to sleep.
(End flashback)
It happened that night. It had to have been that night, as there had not been any other occurrences between them. Catherine stood and looked at herself in the mirror. She was not young, by any means, but not yet an old woman. After eight pregnancies, she knew what was going on from the moment that the sickness had hit her. She was with child once more. There would be another heir for France, or at the very least, another daughter with which an alliance could be created. If she was right, and she was confident that she was, the baby would come in June. Now the only obstacle she had was telling the King, her husband, preferably without his mistress, Diane, around.
Catherine made her way to his study. It was ten in the morning, and she knew that Diane was usually in the gardens at this time of day. She was about to knock on the door when it opened suddenly, revealing the very woman she did not want to see; Diane de Portiers.
"Your Majesty," Diane said, dipping into a shallow curtsey for her Queen. "What brings you to this part of the castle at this time of morning?"
"I needed to speak with my husband," Catherine answered, "but if he is busy, I will return later."
"No, no," she heard Henri say from within the room, "come in Catherine."
Catherine entered the room with Diane behind her. After hearing the doors shut behind her, Henri spoke. "What did you need to see me about?"
"I was hoping to talk to you in private, Henri," Catherine said softly, which was against her typical nature.
"Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of me," Diane told her. Catherine glared at the woman, then turned back to Henri, hoping he would ask Diane to leave, but her husband did not pick up on her wishes, so she just sighed and continued.
"I am here to inform you that I believe that I am once again carrying an heir to France, Henri. If I am right, the baby will come in June," Catherine told him, without emotion in her voice, as to not give Diane anything to gossip about.
Henri looked at his wife with some surprise, and started to say something, then shut his mouth as quickly as he had opened it. "Are you sure?"
"As sure as I can be without having seen a midwife," Catherine replied. "I have been through this eight times before, though, so I am fairly certain of my condition."
"Very well," Henri said. "I will create a new account for the upcoming arrival of our child. You will have the books for it this afternoon." He went back to his papers for a moment, then realized she was still standing there. "Yes? Is there something else?"
"I. . ." Catherine began, then thought better of what she was going to say. "No, I will let you know when the midwife has confirmed it."
"As you wish," Henri said. Catherine turned and left the room, closing the doors behind her, but something told her to wait. She heard Diane screaming at her husband about the new baby and how he'd promised her that Hercule would be the last one; that he'd never sleep with Catherine again. Catherine smiled as she left the doorway, knowing that this would cost her husband greatly in the one place that Henri II of France was vulnerable; his wallet.
8 December 1555
Scotland
Mary, Queen of Scots, sat in her bedchambers at her desk, reading the last letter from her husband-to-be, William, Prince of Wales. He had sent her birthday greetings and told her that he was looking forward to the day they were to be married so that neither of them would be lonely in the ruling of their respective nations. Mary felt that a marriage based on friendship and respect was a good thing, but she wondered about the couples in the Scottish court that seemed to really care about each other.
As a child, she had watched her Uncle, Prince Arthur, Duke of Albany, and his wife, her Aunt Sibylle, closely. They were always together at court functions, and her Uncle kissed her Aunt frequently, despite being in public. Mary wondered what would make a man with Arthur's upbringing break court protocol and do something like that. She was lost in her own thoughts on the matter of love when her grandmother, the Dowager Queen Margaret, walked in, and Queen Mary did not notice until the older woman spoke.
"What are you thinking about, my dear one?" Margaret asked, causing Mary to jump with fright.
"I received a letter from William today, Grandmother," Mary told her, handing the older woman the correspondence. Margaret read the letter, which seemed appropriate to her, and handed it back to Mary.
"He seems like a nice young man," Margaret assured her.
"Yes," Mary agreed. "I guess there are just some things about marriage that I do not understand."
"Like what?"
"Well, I see Uncle Arthur and Aunt Sibylle when they are at various court functions," Mary began, "and they are always holding hands. Uncle Arthur likes to kiss her too."
Margaret smiled. "Yes, he does." She was proud of the man her second son had become. His marriage to Lady Sibylle had been arranged, like almost all royal marriages, but over the years, they had grown to love each other deeply. "But they were not always like that, my darling girl."
"They weren't?"
"No," Margaret told her. "Uncle Arthur's marriage was arranged too, much like yours to the Prince of Wales. My marriage to your late grandfather was also such a match."
"Really?"
"Yes, would you like me to tell you about it?" Margaret asked.
"Yes, please." Mary responded, and moved to the rug by her hearth where the two would be warmer.
Margaret followed and sat in one of the chairs positioned around the fireplace. "It was 1503, and I was born a Tudor Princess. My father, the late King Henry VII, had secured a marriage alliance with Scotland for me when I was only nine, and it was agreed that I would travel to Scotland for my marriage when I was thirteen. So, a few months before my fourteenth birthday, I left my home and came here."
Mary sat and listened attentively to what her grandmother was saying. She had never heard this story before and was greatly interested.
"Your grandfather was a good man, but we were not in love when we married. I knew what my duty was to him, as his wife, and to his country, and that was to provide heirs so that when he and I were gone, our children would be left to rule Scotland, and the nation would be secure. Your father was our oldest son, as you know," she paused and waited for Mary to acknowledge that. "Then came your Aunt Elisabeth, who died last year. Your Uncle Arthur was our third child, followed by Uncle Joseph. Then I had another little girl, your late Aunt Christianna, who died having her first child in Sweden." Mary's eyes grew wider at this. She did not know that she had a third Aunt that was her father's sister. "Then your Uncle Victor was born, and finally your Aunt Sophie, who married your mother's brother."
"You may not know this, but your father was married before he married your mother," Margaret told her. Mary looked at her grandmother with some confusion. "He married Princess Isabella de Medici of Sicily the first time, but she died seven years into the marriage. It was a great loss to your father, but he had a son by her, Prince James, Jamie as we called him."
"What happened to Jamie?" Mary asked, curious about the half-brother she never knew about.
"He fell ill in 1539 and died a few weeks later," Margaret said, with some sadness in her aged face. "We all grieved him greatly, but if he hadn't died, your father would have never married your mother, and you wouldn't have been born."
"I'm sorry, my Lady Grandmother," Mary said compassionately.
"I am and I am not," Margaret responded. "Things happen in God's time and with His reasons, not ours. We lost Jamie, but we gained you as a result." She smiled at her granddaughter.
"But if I were a boy instead of a girl, Scotland would be better off now," Mary said, knowing how most people felt about female rulers.
"Scotland has the ruler it was supposed to have, my darling girl," Margaret told her. "In time, you and William will marry and united England and Scotland through the births of your children. That will be a good thing, as no more wars will have to be fought on home soil. No more lives will be lost between two nations that should exist in peace."
"Grandmother," Mary said, "what if William doesn't like me when he sees me? What if he thinks I'm too young to rule with him?"
"He won't, Mary," Margaret answered. "He's been waiting for you for ten years. He will respect you, even if love doesn't happen between you right away."
"Do you think he will ever truly love me?" Mary asked.
"I think that all things are possible, if God wills it," Margaret answered. "My own grandmother, Lady Margaret Beaufort, the late King Henry VII's mother, said that a lot, and usually she was right. God has His own plan and it is up to us to follow that." Margaret paused and took a raspy breath. She looked at the twelve-year-old girl in front of her, who was hanging on her every word, and realized that this might be too serious of a conversation. "But today isn't about history, darling. It's your birthday, and it's time to prepare for your celebrations. Go now, make yourself ready and I will be down shortly."
Mary stood and hugged her grandmother. It was a rare moment when the Dowager Queen acted like a grandmother instead of a regent, but Mary had loved it. She wanted to know more of her family's history, but she did as her grandmother asked, and prepared herself for the celebrations ahead, not noticing that as she left the room, Queen Margaret struggled to stand from the chair and took a few moments to make her way out. Outside the door to the Queen's chambers, Margaret paused, crossed herself and quickly prayed that it was God's will that she live long enough to see Mary married to William, firmly believing that if she didn't, her granddaughter's future would be in jeopardy.
18 December 1555
Spain
Princess Giovanna, Duchess of the Infantado, lay in her bed in her confinement room with the midwife and her ladies surrounding her. The Italian Princess, now a Duchess of Spain, had been in labor for nearly two days, bringing her first child into the world. It was not going well, and the Princess was exhausted from her efforts. The midwife was beside herself to know what to do in this situation. She cleaned her hands and made her way outside, where the Duke sat waiting.
Lord Diego was worried for his wife. They had only been married for a year, and no one expected Giovanna to become pregnant, much less carry a child to term. It was a second marriage for both of them. Her first had last eight years, until her late husband's death, and she had never shown signs of being with child during that time. His first wife had died in childbirth years prior with a stillborn boy that never took his first breath. The situation was being relived in Diego's mind, and he feared for his new wife and the child she carried.
He looked at the doors, surprised when they opened, and the midwife came out. "Well?" he asked the woman, holding his breath as he braced himself for the worst.
"Sir, the Duchess and the child both live, but the child is not coming as fast as it should," the midwife informed him. "Please, send for the doctor. I am at a loss to help her at the moment."
Diego nodded and pulled the cord outside of the Duchess's chambers for a servant, who came quickly. "Fetch the doctor boy," the Duke commanded. The boy bowed and left the house, headed towards the village. The midwife looked at the Duke, then went to open the door to the chamber, when the door was pulled open from the other side. One of the Duchess's ladies was standing there, looking shocked.
"What is it?" the midwife asked.
"The Duchess. . . the baby," the girl stammered. Behind her, a wail came from an obviously strong set of lungs. Both the midwife and the Duke peered inside the chamber doors.
"I will return, my Lord," the midwife said, entering the birthing chamber, closing the doors behind her.
Diego sat back down. His child was healthy. He had heard it cry, and it was a strong cry. He smiled, but then thought to his wife. It had been two long and agonizing days for Giovanna. That couldn't bode well for the almost thirty-year-old, first-time mother, especially not with her history.
Thirty-minutes later, the chamber doors opened once more and one of Giovanna's ladies emerged, holding a small bundle wrapped in a blanket. She placed the sleeping baby in its father's arms and smiled. "You have a son, my Lord," she told him.
Diego looked down at the bundle. "A son," he repeated, kissing the infant on its forehead, as he had with each of his other children when he held them for the first time. He looked from the baby to the woman and asked, "How is the Duchess?"
The woman's face fell. "I do not know my Lord," she replied. "The Duchess is very weak from the exhausting ordeal of bringing this little one into the world. It would be best to wait for the doctor."
Diego nodded, but quickly turned to see the village doctor rushing up the stairs. He bowed to Diego, then immediately went into the Duchess's chambers. Diego sat in the hallway, holding his newborn son in his arms, hoping that Giovanna would recover. Forty-five minutes passed before the doctor emerged.
Diego stood up quickly, watching the gentleman for any signs of his wife's condition. "How is my wife?" he asked, when none was given.
"The Duchess is tired, my lord. Physically exhausted from her efforts to bring this little one into the world," the physician informed him. "She has lost a lot of blood, but there is no sign of an infection yet." Diego breathed a small sigh of relief at that news before the doctor continued. "Do not leave her alone for the next several days. I will come every morning to see that she's still recovering, but as long as she does not develop an infection, she should make a full recovery."
Diego smiled a small smile at that news. "Thank you doctor," he said. "My comptroller will pay you for your time." The physician bowed and walked down the stairs to the main floor, as Diego knocked on the door to his wife's chambers. He was ushered in by one of her ladies, and he made his way over to the bed, his new son still in his arms.
"Giovanna," he said to his sleeping wife. She opened her eyes slowly and looked at her husband. She gave him a weak smile as he brushed his fingers across her cheek. She was cold to his touch, but he knew that was normal from his experiences with his late wife. She tried to sit up, but he wouldn't let her. "Rest, darling," he said, placing their son in her arms.
She nodded, looking at their baby boy. "What should we name him?" she asked.
He smiled at her. "Anything you want, love," he told her. "This is your first son. I have named other children. The choice should be yours."
She looked at the baby, then at her husband. "Alfonso," she said, "for my brother, the King of Naples."
"Alfonso it is," he said.
Giovanna fell asleep again moments later, and Diego had one of her ladies take the child to the nursery. She would have a long recovery ahead, but she would survive, he told himself, as he left her chambers and went to his own to get some much needed rest.
December 25, 1555
Hampton Court, England
The Banquet Hall
King Harry was sitting on his throne, looking at the Christmas festivities unfold. Everyone who knew the English King, knew that he loved Christmas. He always put lots of effort and planning into the feasts and the banquet.
He looked at his wife, Queen Anne of England. By now they had been married for twenty-four years. Even though she was only forty and was a whole year younger than her husband, Queen Anne's appearance had had faded due to her declining health. Her complexion was very pale and her once vibrant brown hair had lost its shine. There was no hiding her bad health now. Even her weight was affected. After the birth of young Princess Margaret, Anne was a little plump, now she was very thin.
Harry took Anne's hand.
"How are you feeling, darling?" he asked.
Queen Anne weakly smiled.
"I'm well, my love." she said.
The night carried on. King Harry had their youngest child, five year old Princess Margaret, on his lap. The Entire Court was alive, until suddenly the herald called out:
"HIS GRACE, LORD EDWARD FITZROY, THE DUKE OF RICHMOND AND THE LADY ELIZABETH FITZROY!"
The doors opened and Edward Fitzroy ,King Harry's illegitimate brother and the Duke of Richmond walked on with his eldest daughter. They both made their way into the room, as the court began to murmur. The Duke of Richmond had not been seen at Court for three years, since the death of his wife, Lady Kitty Howard.
They Fitzroys made it to the Thrones and bowed.
"Your Majesty, I hope you find yourself in merry spirits this Christmastide." Edward said.
Harry stood and looked at his brother. Now in his mid thirties, Edward was the perfect image of the late King Henry VIII and Lady Bessie Blount.
Harry walked up to Edward and hugged him and the Court applauded.
"Welcome back to Court, my brother. Don't stay gone like that again." Harry said.
Edward nodded and looked at the young lady to his side.
"Allow me to introduce my eldest daughter, Lady Elizabeth Fitzroy." he said.
Lady Elizabeth bowed. She was a very beautiful young woman of sixteen years. Her hair was the Tudor Red-Gold. She was full in the bosom, fair in complexion and was the same height as her father. To many of the veterans of Court, it seemed as if the late Queen Elizabeth of York had been reborn into her illegitimate granddaughter.
Harry smiled at his niece.
"Merry Christmas, Lady Elizabeth." he said.
Lady Elizabeth smiled.
"Merry Christmas, Your Majesty." she said.
Harry resumed the festivities and everyone was eager to welcome the Fitzroy family back to Court. Their presence and happiness was important, since any illegitimate family members were scrutinized and looked upon with suspicion.
Lady Elizabeth got lots of attention. Many remembered her playful nature as a child or the beauty and kind spirit of her late mother. She was talking to an older matron, when Prince William cut in
Lady Elizabeth smiled.
"Thank you, Your Highness. I did not want to be rude but that woman would not stop talking." she said.
William smiled.
"I know. She does that. I can't believe it's been three years. How have you been?" he asked his cousin.
Lady Elizabeth sighed.
"I will admit, I prefer country life. Father was in seclusion after Mother died. I pretty much helped run our estate, while looking after my younger siblings." she said.
William nodded and the two cousins talked and drank a goblet of wine and the entire English Court had a very Merry Christmas.
A/N Thank you all for the patience you all had! I wanted to make sure this Chapter was perfect and now we are at the end of Chapter 45! I will be doing my best to upload faster and keep the suspense down. I hope you enjoyed Chapter 45 and chapter 46 has already been started! !