Kings and Queens are, at heart, just ordinary men and women. Power and titles are what sets people apart. Everybody laughs, cries, bleeds, lives, and dies at some point in life. One time, Mary overheard the baker at the palace say, "We're all kneaded out of the same dough but baked in individual brick ovens." And that's true because people are people, regardless of where they came. Except royals are people whose heads are crowned with dreams and ideas and rule the land with vision and inspiration. Well, they should because without a good vision, the people perish, and that has been the chokehold of King Henry VIII.
When the Brandon family arrived at Whitehall Palace, the atmosphere was less jovial than usual. On a typical day, the place is bustling with business, excitement, and anything that makes His Majesty's mood more pleasant. With the King's age and ailments, Henry's temper is shorter than it used to be, while his waistline is larger. However, today was different. Today the people loitering around did not wear smiles but somber expressions. Melancholy wafted through the air. Though those at the palace waved and nodded their welcome to the Prince and Princess, it was strained greetings.
These things made Mary wonder as to the state of her father because this atmosphere, coupled with the urgent message, seemed dire. Her left hand wandered to Charles's, seizing it tightly, and her right held on to the side of her dress, running its blue fabric through her fingers. Only when she felt a squeeze from the Prince did the mounting apprehension calm a bit. His Highness continued holding her hand and soothingly moving his thumb as they wound their way through the palace halls. Coming to a stop in front of the King's rooms, the guards immediately stood at attention, bowed, saluted, and moved to let the royal couple enter.
Archbishop Cranmer rose from a chair and shook hands with Charles. He bowed to Mary and explained, "His Majesty is infirmed and abed. He has been so since Friday last and only sent for you a few days ago, as he did not wish to spread worry. It started with his leg, which has plagued him for so long. While the leg was ailing him, a fever broke out, followed by a cough deep in the chest. The royal doctor has been with the King since this started and has given frequent updates. Her Majesty, Catherine Parr, has also been sitting vigil bedside. Doctor Peterson, the King's new physician, does not give much hope for a successful recovery. I am terribly sorry to be the bearer of that news."
It was treason to predict a King's death to His Majesty himself, but the doctor knew enough to tell the man closest to Henry. Charles thought it suitable for the physician to be aware of things to come. As the Prince pondered the King's health and the new palace doctor, his wife drew in a shuddering breath. Deep down in her heart of hearts, Mary knew the news wouldn't be good, but it was still difficult to hear.
Her father is unhealthy. The last time his leg acted up, it was a miracle he survived. So, now all she can do is pray, wait, and be present. The Queen, informed of the Brandon's arrival, stepped out to welcome them. She looked tired and unwell herself. Her blonde hair was in disarray and pulled back from her head while her dress was wrinkled. None of that mattered as much as the King. Her strained voice told them, "Henry has been asking for you both. Please, see him. It would mean so much."
Charles and Mary drew themselves up and followed Her Majesty into the bed chamber. It was dimly lit, except for the fire going in the fireplace. The King was lying on the bed, his body covered in thick blankets and fine linens. He looked as frail as Mary felt at the moment. Seeing her magnificent, larger-than-life father in this state reminded the Princess of all the feelings when she last visited her Mama's deathbed. A part of her died with her mother, as it does for anyone who loses a loved one.
Having two living parents is like having two wings. With both, you can fly, and Mary flew for a long time as a child. Then her parents were taken away from her, and she had to survive on her own, fly solo. Gradually they returned to her life, and her mother died. One of the wings was broken for good. And life was hard.
Though her relationship with her father has always been challenging, it got better in the past few years. There's love and contentment where there hadn't been any. This man is the last of Mary's living parents. Now her other wing is about to break. Once he's gone, she'll have no parents left, and that is a sobering fact. She kept reminding herself that although life must end, love does not. A smallness engulfed the Princess's presence, tears welled up in her blue eyes, and she clung to Charles's hand. At the moment, that's her only lifeline.
As soon as the Queen had whispered to her husband, Henry lifted a feeble hand and beckoned the couple close. Charles led the way, never letting go of Mary, not for a second. Unable to help it, tears ran down the Princess's cheeks. Catherine handed her a handkerchief, which Mary used to dab the wetness away. With a raspy voice, Henry spoke to Charles first. "You will be King. You are ready. I've prepared you," was all he said. Then His Majesty shewed the Prince and the Queen away, leaving just himself and his eldest daughter in the dreary bedroom.
That was when the dam broke. All of Mary's emotions spilled out of her eyes and rolled down her face. In a very ungraceful move, the emotionally besieged Princess threw herself onto her father's chest, clutching his red silky royal night garments. Murmured words of "Daddy" came amidst broken sobs. Henry held his child and weakly stroked her back and auburn hair. When the tears were all cried out, and only shudders remained, she begged, "Please don't leave me. I'll be all alone."
Henry's tears had stopped, too, and he somehow said, "You are not alone. You have Charles, the children, true friends, Lady Flora, my dreadful sister in Scotland, and your horrible cousin in Spain." A wheeze, then a coughing fit, came over him. Inhaling a deep, raspy breath, His Majesty spoke again. Mary tried to stop him, but he shook his head no. The look of stubborn Tudor determination in his eyes said he had more to say—- things that he must speak.
When he spoke, it was with love and a weak, gravelly voice. "Mary, I leave the kingdom in a poor financial state. I'm counting on you and Charles to dig England out of my mess. Forgive me for that. Forgive your father for lots of things, the chief being his idiocy for sending you away, for treating you ill and using you to aggravate my second wife, for my treatment of your mother, for not showing you the love I have for you in my heart. I have been a fool father, but you and Charles are exemplary parents. You will be an outstanding Queen."
He coughed deeply before sadly saying, "I only wish I could see you on your coronation day, but know I'll be there in spirit. Take care of Charles. He loves you so much. Be good and kind yet firm with him. As you realize, he had a hard childhood but is worthy of love. Remember that when you're angry at him. Take care of my grandchildren. I'm proud to have had what time I did with them. Please take care of your sister. She loves you and misses you. Set her a good match when older."
As he said these things, tears flowed down both their faces. Then Henry told her, "Your mother and I tried so many years for children. Many died before we had you. We took one look at you and fell in love with your chubby cheeks and big blue eyes. My heart was full. I had so much love for you and your mother. Of all my wives, I loved her most of all. She was what every wife should be—- loving, kind, gracious, vibrant, and supportive of me. Catherine complemented me in every way, and I oppressed her all for a son. A son that I never got, but grandsons I gained through you. An irony for my ignorance."
They squeezed hands. The minutes seemed to tick by with just the two of them until Henry declared, "My time has come. I feel it." His eyes grew heavy, and his breathing labored. At this point, the King began saying nonsensical words. "I see them. My dead wives have come to lead me home or shame me." He shook his head from side to side. "No. I don't want them. I don't want Anne, or the child Catherine, or Jane. I want my Spanish Queen. I want my Catherine, my Catalina."
Mary swallowed thickly and didn't know what to do. She figured he must have gotten his wish because he quieted down and lifted a hand as if reaching for some ethereal figure. Henry turned to her and whispered, "She's here. Your mother is here now. She's come for me and looks as beautiful as the day we wed. I see her in you, Mary. You look so much like your dear mother. She's a saint for putting up with me and loving me until the end."
Neither noticed the door open through his cries. Their spouses slipped in. They stood at a distance—- Charles tense waiting to gather his wife in his arms, and Catherine silently weeping. Holding his daughter's hand, Henry remarked, "You have always been the apple of my eye. You are the one thing that's more valuable than silver or gold, more costly than diamonds, and more worthy than the kingdom. You are my pearl of great price. I love you, Mary."
The room stayed silent, save for the tears of the women. The King requested his daughter to "Hum that lullaby. The one your mother always hummed when you were younger." Knowing the one he spoke of, Mary did as requested with a shaky voice. But that didn't matter because it was for her father. She hummed the Spanish lullaby and patted the great King's hand while doing so. When she had finished, His Majesty coughed a prolonged torturous cough. Then his eyes closed, not to reopen.
The Queen rushed to the bedside in tears. And Mary shook him, calling out, "Father! Father! Father, wake up! Daddy, wake up!" But he didn't. That's when Charles swooped in and scooped her up. As the servants and doctor entered, he carried her out of the bedroom. In the sitting room, they sat on the sofa near the window. He held her while the two wept together. Losing a life is difficult, no matter who the person may be. But the death of a father, a dear friend, who's as close as a brother, is a challenging thing indeed.
After saying a prayer over the body of King Henry VIII, Archbishop Cranmer gave the word to the Captain of the Royal Guard. Whitehall Palace's flags were lowered, and the bells tolled the death of the King over the land. Through tears, Mary and Charles prayed with the godly man. They reentered the bedroom, where Henry lay. The Princess kissed her father's cheek and hand, pressing his regal hand to her face. Not forgetting her stepmother, she hugged his final wife, then held Charles's hand as they exited. Cranmer met them and stated, "The kingdom needs a King and Queen. Death doesn't wait on matters of state. Know that while you grieve, your reign is imminent."
What the pious, older man did next was profound, at least to the Prince and Princess. He motioned the guard inside and bowed as best he could on aging knees. Then his voice called out clearly, "All hail Queen Mary and King Charles. May your reign be blessed and prosperous."
The guards bowed and followed suit. "All hail Queen Mary and King Charles. All hail," they declared.
With a sense of overwhelming emotions and a bit dazed, the declared King and Queen gathered their wits and nodded. Before they left the room, Cranmer told them to think about who will hold their cabinet and top positions of state (at home and abroad). The older man also explained essential documents would be coming to them, papers to sign, an impending coronation to plan, living arrangements to finalize, and the challenging task of overseeing the King's funeral. Now more unnerved than ever, the duo emerged from the death chambers with new wings and new emotions.
It was as if everyone in the palace knew it too. All of the palace servants lined the halls, paying respects and bowing to their new ruling Monarchs. Hearing her parent's voices in her head mingled with the distinct one of Lady Flora calling her to task about tears in public, Mary reigned in the warring emotions. She choked down tears of sadness, although anyone could see her tear-stained face and red eyes and understand what they were for. Charles held his wife's hand tighter and pulled her closer to his side, just in case the overwhelming nature of the day caused a fainting spell. No one would dare begrudge Mary that. It's too much to take in one day for anyone.
The Royal guards now became their guards with the task of protecting the new King and Queen. They followed them to the Brandon's apartments. The first people to greet them upon arrival were Edward, Anne, William, and Paisley. All four bowed out of respect. Immediately Charles set out to rectify that sentiment. "Friends, I beg of you, do not bow to us. Especially when in private. We're all family here."
The four treasured friends disagreed. "You're the new reigning King and Queen of England. We are your humble servants who are blessed to call you friends and family. But we would be remiss if we didn't pay our respects to you first," Edward proclaimed.
Charles gave a brief nod of the head in acceptance, and everyone sat. The ladies wept quietly while the men drank a cup of ale. They're all still in shock at the death of the formidable King. The amazement and melancholy stayed for two days until a messenger summoned Charles and Mary to parliament chambers. It's there Lord Chancellor Wriothesley formally announced that His Majesty was dead. The room wept and looked to the Prince and Princess for guidance. The couple had a few tears (although they'd privately grieved the past days). Almost out of nowhere, Archbishop Cranmer and the heralds entered. All eyes were on them. They stopped at the head of the room.
Two heralds blew loud brass horns before the third cried, "The King is dead. Long live the King and Queen of England!" Everyone in the room fell to their knees in respect. Charles took his wife's hand, and the two stood stone still, humbled. It was all the new King could do not to run out of the room because who would think him worthy of being a King? In his mind, Charles knows he's now the King of England, but his heart says otherwise. Yet, here he is—- Charles Brandon, born to a lowly standard bearer, made a Duke, married two princesses (the latter one the love of his life), risen to Prince, and now King. A lump formed in his throat as Mary gripped his hand.
He turned to her and saw unshed tears in her eyes. Knowing what she was thinking, he cleared his throat of the lump and emotions. Then raised a hand. The room grew quiet and still. Charles looked to Mary and spoke. "Gentlemen, and honored members of parliament, we thank you for the declaration. While we acknowledge our new positions, we have a King to grieve first. My wife, the Queen—"
Charles paused. The lump in his throat returned as he said those words the Queen. It's the first time he's ever said it in an official setting. Knowing that his Mary is now the Queen of England catches him in the quick, straight to the heart. His wife, who was thrown away, kept to herself in Ludlow, disregarded by her father the King, mocked and tormented by her stepmother and kin, is now the holder of the highest title in the land. She's only overshadowed by himself as King, which is a difficult feat considering her beauty and grace surpass him daily. That's how he would prefer it, with her in the spotlight and him supporting her. Lifting his eyes to meet his wife's encouraging ones, Charles restarted again with pride and a wobbly voice.
Loudly he heralded her complete title. "My wife, Her Majesty Queen Mary Brandon née Tudor, would like to thank you all for the prayers, kind words, and baskets you've given in light of her father, His Majesty King Henry's death. We both thank you for the respect you've given to him and how you've faithfully served him all these years. We hope that you will serve us in the same manner. Let us not only look forward to a prosperous future of the kingdom but also take time to mourn and celebrate the life of His Majesty King Henry VIII."
It was his first speech as King. With those words, Charles and Mary held hands while each parliamentary member came to bow, give their respects for the passing of the King, and formally greet their new King and Queen. The duo received many blessings and well wishes filled with hope. Even those who were Henry's boot lickers and ring kissers began trying to do so with them too. However, Charles held them at bay. In time everyone will see this will be a drastically different reign than the past. The palace will no longer be a den of thieves and a place where the pleasure of all sorts consumes. No. Now there will be children present at court, and their presence alone will set the tone.
The court and reign of King Charles and Queen Mary will be one of family. There have been times when they've quietly spoken of how their wishes for the court if they were ever King and Queen. One of the highest priorities was cleaning out the dirt and making it family-friendly. The couple loves their children and are very hands-on parents. That will not stop due to their new positions. In fact, anyone on their council will be allowed to bring their children to court, which is one of the things they've discussed with those they've considered.
After meeting with the parliament, the couple returned to their quarters and rested. They needed the rest because the coming days saw them draft a cabinet that included Archbishop Cranmer staying in his position. It saw Edward Seymour as Lord Chancellor and Secretary of State, Jeffery Campbell as head of the Royal Guard, and William Compton as Lord High Admiral and director of the Queen's security detail.
Finally, Anthony Knivert was stationed as the Chancellor of the Court of First Fruits and Tenths. It's also known as the Secretary of State's ambassador of goodwill. They created that position because they knew how onerous it is for only the Secretary of State to plan trips abroad and oversee everyone that visits the kingdom. It's been Edward's chief complaint. So, the position is sort of that of an undersecretary. The duo also begged Doctor Pearce to move to the palace and become the Royal Physician. But he would not citing how his work is in Wales. However, Doctor Pearce did recommend his assistant Edmund for the job. The King and Queen agreed and asked the young man, who accepted on the spot.
With all the prominent positions in place, this left only jobs for Mary's ladies-in-waiting. Her list for new maids grew three times the size of her old one. She paced around the room holding the lists, telling Charles her woes. "I can't take on any more women. I just can't."
Charles, sitting with one leg across the other, holding a glass of wine in his hand, laughed. "Is it that you can't or that you won't, Darling?" He knew full well Mary didn't want any more women in her retinue.
Cutting him with her blue eyes, the Queen forcefully said, "I won't. I only want to be surrounded by women I trust. I have Paisley, Anne, and now Dot again. Three main ladies are enough. Everyone else applying are only snakes in the grass. You know that." She held up the lists and remarked, "Why just look at these names? Lucy Anne Stiles, Constance Stanhope, Emily Knighton, Kinsey Beckett, Willaford Howard, Katherine Culpeper, and the list goes on and on. Like I would select a Howard, Culpeper, or any one of those treacherous ninnies."
Charles didn't argue because he knew to do so would be a loss of comfort. A happy wife is a happy life. However, it fell to him to guide his Queen into a small sitting room one morning. Dressed in her mourning dress, not wanting to receive visitors, Mary complained about it until a familiar voice graced her ears. "It's about time. Keeping a body waiting for so long is unbecoming of a Queen," Lady Flora declared.
Putting on her spectacles, the Dowager Duchess motioned with her hand. Not caring for royal protocol, by-passing the bow or curtesy altogether, ignoring rank, she went straight for the heart of things. "Let me take a look at you. Turn around," she stated in a commanding voice.
It's refreshing not being catered to by one's true friends and allies. Mary did a turn and came closer to the Duchess. The young Queen wondered, "Well, do I meet approval?"
With a sniff, Lady Flora took off the spectacles and let them dangle from the pearl string around her neck. The older woman said in true Dowager Duchess fashion, "You will do."
Those were the words Mary took as an invitation. She rushed to her friend and gave her a huge hug. Then the tears came, mainly for her deceased father. The Duchess's arms went around Mary. She whispered words of compassion, kindness, and courage. When the young woman calmed, Flora shared, "The death of one's parent is a blow. No one will ever care for you or love you again like that. Their absence is cast over everything. But don't let the grief be a burden around you. Instead, use it and let it anchor you in place. So that you never forget how precious life is and how much you've loved. It's that love that warms the heart on lonely winter nights. Trust me, I know. If you've lived long enough, you lose many important people and still find the will to keep going. It's a wonder."
Her older friend's words brought solace to Mary. She needed to hear it. Once the Queen had fixed her face, the two women sat and discussed the coronation, etiquette, the duties of the queen, and the list of ladies in wait. Together they culled and shortened the list, getting rid of every Howard or cousin of the family. Still, the Her Majesty thought it was too long, too many women to partake in gossip and rumor starting.
But the Dowager Duchess assured her they're needed. "If only to sit around and make you seem all the more important. It's what kings and queens before you have done. Your father is a prime example of a large royal entourage. Though yours is smaller than those in the past, it's what you must do— the great illusion of self-importance. Don't worry, Dear Girl, that's why I'm here. Mr. Harris and I will get these girls either on the boat or throw them overboard."
And the two of them did, along with Mary, Dot, Paisley, and Anne. One by one, the women came for interviews. At one point, Lady Flora asked Elizabeth Peel, "Was the last time you had an interesting thought when you considered drowning yourself in wine?" The girl was so flustered that she left the room in tears while Mary and Dot snickered behind their hands.
Then on another day of interviews, the Dowager Duchess sat reviewing the files of Emily Beckett and Constance Stanhope. Both women entered the room demure, heads held high and all smiles. Once Mr. Harris got through with his inspection Lady Beckett fled as fast as she could. That left Lady Stanhope to the scrutiny of Lady Flora. Constance Stanhope, a high lady of the court of King Henry, loves to put on airs and flaunt her position. After putting away her spectacles, the Duchess declared, "Upon review of your file, I find that you offer nothing to the Queen, the court, the kingdom, or the world in general. I suggest you find a worthwhile hobby and apply at a later date."
Lady Stanhope's face turned red, and her hands balled up at her side. She turned on her heels and stormed out of the room. After the brutal interviews, Mary was left with two girls that passed muster. The first lady was Lorianne Audley, daughter of Thomas Audley--- King Henry's Lord Chancellor of the Privy Chamber. The other Beatrice Baker, daughter of John Baker. Another of the late king's privy chamber members. Those are the two Mr. Harris said could see past their personalities and humble themselves to be biddable. Plus, they did not break down in tears.
For the final weeks of mourning, King Henry's body was sent to Windsor for the ceremony and public mourning. The royal servants covered his ornate casket in blue velvet and fine cloths of gold. On top of the king's coffin was a monumental wax sculpture of the man himself. Nicholas Bellin had carved it, and His Majesty was clad in crimson velvet trimmed with miniver; on the statue's head was a crown, a nightcap of black satin, set full of precious stones. The thing was as flashy and gaudy as the King was in real life. His final rest was with his late wife, Jane Seymour.
And just like that, two weeks after the funeral, life seemed to return to normal. It marked the dawn of a new era for England. The Archbishop helped to plan the coronation of the new King and Queen. This new beginning started with the pair in meetings all day. It's time to practice what the Brandons had learned ruling their provinces. A time of responsibility and prosperity is starting with the reign of King Charles and Queen Mary. It's the onset of the first leg of the critical body of work ruling the kingdom. The old passed away, and the new began. Hand-in-hand, Charles and Mary held tight to each other and their future.
**Author's Note**
Well friends, we've reached the end of this journey. Up next is the epilogue. I've waited to post this because I wanted to get it just right. Thank you for reading and joining me on this adventure together. At the end of the epilogue I will preview my "modern" story for Charles and Mary. I think it's a little "sexier" and a lot of fun. I hope you'll join me for that one too.