Daughter of Time

December 1542

Greenwich

I half expect to find the King withdrawn when I arrive at Greenwich for the Christmastide festivities. However, within hours of arriving, I am escorted to his presence chamber where he receives me most animatedly.
The pains of the girl Queens infidelities have taken their toll on his appearance. His face is paler and more lined than I remember when I was last at court earlier in the year. His leg is obviously still giving him some trouble, for though he has a sturdy cane to walk on, he still limps to raise me from my curtsy.

"Welcome, Mary. You are pale," he says softly, scrutinising my face with care. "You have been unwell?"

I am touched by the concern in his voice. "A slight indisposition, your majesty. My physician has bled me, and pulled a bad tooth."

He gestures to his cupbearer to bring me a goblet. "Some wine will restore some colour to those cheeks,"

A small smile begins to play upon his mouth. "Have you heard the news from Scotland?" He asks leading me to one of the carved chairs before the roaring fire.

"I heard the Earl of Hertford excelled in the field for Your Majesty. Though I was very sorry for the loss of King James."

"Some nephew," he scoffs, as though the death of his kinsman is irrelevant. "Refusing to meet me at York. Insulting me. Still, at least he did his country one favour in leaving them with an infant girl to succeed him."

For a brief moment, I delude myself that my father would celebrate the birth of a female heir to the throne. He who has always been so against a female succession. As I all too painfully know.
Leaning in close to me, with a secretive smile, he confides: "I plan to marry her to Edward and unite our kingdoms."

Of course, fool that I am. That is why he is so pleased with the birth of the Scottish Queen. My father has long wanted Scotland under English rule. Natural inheritance of it would be an ideal situation for Scotland and England. "I am sure your Majesty will succeed," I reply diplomatically. My father always gets what he wants. One way or the other. The desecrated altars and pillaged shrines bear testament to that.

"The Scots will need our protection," he continues, as if there is no danger of suitors courting from elsewhere. "She can come and reside in England. I will not have the next Queen of England introducing Scottish ways at my court. You could teach her English manners. How to dress, and so on. It would give you a purpose at court, " He says bluntly waving his hand in the air, oblivious to my hurt from his words that I serve no true purpose for my father.

I cannot believe that this is all God has planned for me. I could do so much good for this country if only given the chance. How I wish I could make my father see that I could serve some purpose for him. If I were to be married, I would be able to create an alliance with my mother's home country. Instead of our countries being at constant war there could be at peace. I could serve as an ambassador for England, as my mother once did.

"At least," he pauses oblivious to my disheartenment, "If I do not have another son, Edward will have one to continue the line. A young thing like that is bound to produce a nursery full." He gives me a wink, that I should know what he is talking about. I give a nervous laugh but my burning cheeks tell me I am blushing ashamedly. "And the Scots should be easier to negotiate with than the Emperor." My father says draining his goblet.

At the mention of my kinsman, I am alert. I have heard nothing of him for months. "The Emperor has failed to conclude the alliance for your marriage." He leans in towards me. His tone is not sympathetic. In truth, there is almost some contempt in his voice. "The terms he has offered us are so miserable as to be insulting. You do realize that?"