An Endless Supply Of Rubies

Natural Ally

"Poor ghost," Charles said, feeling a hint of sadness over the dead man.

"He made the mistake of favoring lesser men over greater ones," Henry said, his voice raising. "For such mean creatures, they're determined not just to usurp the nobility, but to destroy us altogether."

Charles turned to look at the men laughing at the other end of the table. "Sometimes, My Lord, it may be so," he agreed, reluctantly. "But surely the King is right were he gives offices and dignities to those who have the right qualities?"

"No, those men that are made by the King of vile birth have been the distraction of all the nobility of this realm," Henry said. "And if God calls away the King, they will suffer for it."

"My Lord, be careful not to wish the King's life away," Charles said in a low voice. "That is treason."

Henry simply scoffed, and took a gulp of wine. There was silence for a moment before Henry changed the subject. "They tell me that you have children, Your Grace," he said.

Charles nodded. "I do, My Lord," he responded. "Three sons and two daughters. My wife and I are very lucky."

"They also say that your wife is the daughter of His Majesty and that late Catherine of Aragon, is she not?" Henry pried further.

Charles again nodded, this time saying nothing. He did not like where he thought this conversation was heading.

"Then perhaps we could arrange a marriage between our two families," Henry suggested. "Your oldest son to my oldest daughter, or your oldest daughter to my oldest son?" Noble blood obviously flowed through the veins of the Duke's children, and Henry was eager to ensure that his children all found noble matches.

"Unfortunately, my oldest son has already been entered into a contract," Charles said, masking his relief. "And my daughter Eleanor is not yet four years old. My wife would have me wait until she was older." He stood from the table, and nodded his head in the Earl's direction. "I am afraid that it is getting late, My Lord. I do believe I shall retire." And with that, Charles left the feast.

It was no secret that the King was getting older. One could see it in the way that he stood, or the way that he walked. Charles was getting older as well. Soon, they would both be nothing but a couple of old men. This also meant that people saw an opportunity to gain power. After Charles died, there would be many men looking for Amelia's hand. Those who controlled the daughter of the King had a chance at the throne. There would also be those looking to marry their children off to the grandchildren of the King, in hopes that they would one day bring their families to power.

Charles really hated it when his family was seen as nothing more than political pawns.

5 August 1541

Mary felt elated as she strode out of the castle, holding her infant daughter in her arms. The people of Lincolnshire cheered for her as she walked towards the platform. It was unlike any reception that she had ever received in London. Even Philip, who walked beside her, noticed how much the people in the North really adored her, and how her stride was much more regal and confident than it had ever been before.

"I want you to say a prayer for His Grace, the King's Majesty," she said, her voice strong and confident. "We pray for His Majesty's long and blessed reign, and for his good health, in the name of the Blessed Virgin, whose only son died in agony for our sins. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, I bless all of you." She paused for a second, taking in the scene in front of her. "All shall be well. All manner of things shall be well. Benedictus deus." The last part was as much for her as it was for the people, reassuring herself that everything would be alright.