Fanfic: An Endless Supply of Rubies Ch 26, Tudors | FanFiction
A/N: After Robert Aske dismissed his followers in December/January 1536/1537, there was a second uprising. This uprising was not authorized by Aske, who was widely considered to be the leader of the rebels. Instead, it was led by Sir Francis Bigod, who knew that the promises the King made would not be met. The Duke of Norfolk quickly squashed this insurrection and arrested several rebels, Bigod, Aske, and Lord Darcy. Bigod was later hanged at Tyburn.
This is also another moment where the timeline gets weird. In the show, Queen Jane tells Lady Rochford that she is pregnant before the second uprising begins. However, history tells us that Jane's pregnancy was celebrated on Trinity Sunday in May of 1537. This story will take history's side and have Jane announce her pregnancy much later.
The word "zounds" is used in this chapter. It was a pretty serious curse in medieval times, kind of like the f-word today.
23 January 1537
A peaceful resolution. That was what Amelia had hoped for, and that was what she received. Her father had forgiven the northern rebels, and as far as she could tell, he was intent on keeping his promises.
With the dealings with the rebels hopefully over, Amelia could once again focus on being at court. It was wonderful to be back, to see all of the people that she hadn't seen in months.
The King had arranged for private apartments for Amelia and her family at all of his palaces, so she could once again travel with the court as it moved around without having to leave her family behind. Elizabeth was to live with them as well, since she was still rather young and not old enough to live on her own. Mary, on the other hand, had her own private quarters, with Elizabeth and John loved to visit.
One morning, Catherine and Frances came to visit. Elizabeth and John delighted in seeing their friend again, and the three raced off into one of the other rooms to play.
The two women sat by the fire, Amelia holding Owen and Catherine holding her son Henry, who had been born shortly before Owen had. It was nice to spend some time with someone else who had a young child, even if they were just catching up on gossip.
"Did you hear about Lady Ursula Misseldon?" Catherine asked, her eyes wide with anticipation, as if she was about to burst out some huge secret she shouldn't be sharing.
Amelia shook her head.
"Apparently, she's having an affair with someone powerful!" Catherine exclaimed. "She's engaged to Sir Robert Tavistock, you know, the one who complains about every little thing. He caught Lady Misseldon posing nude for a portrait by Master Holbein! When he took his complaint to the King, the King dismissed it because of Master Holbein's genius!"
Amelia tilted her head to the side. "How does that show her lover is powerful?"
"Because only people with lots of power and money can afford Master Holbein." Catherine gasped. "What if it's the King?"
"Please, I don't need to think about my father having a mistress," Amelia shuddered. "Besides, I have great love for Her Majesty, and would hate to think about my father doing anything to betray her."
"I'm sorry," Catherine apologized. "Sometimes I forget that you're His Majesty's daughter."
"It's true that I am His Majesty's daughter," Amelia responded, "but more importantly, I am the Duchess of Suffolk. I think that outranks the title of 'King's bastard daughter.'"
They were silent for a moment, before they began telling stories of their children and laughing at their antics. It wasn't long before the door opened and Charles came inside, a grim look on his face. Catherine and Amelia both recognized that look as one that spelled trouble, and Catherine quickly excused herself to the other room where the children were playing.
"I'm being sent north," were the first words that tumbled out of his mouth.
Amelia wasn't surprised. She knew that the King would send Charles north to set up the parliament.
"There will be no parliament," he continued, watching his wife's jaw drop. "Instead, I must administer an oath to the leaders and gentlemen at Yorkshire and Lancashire, and force them to acknowledge that they rebelled and follow all laws, even the ones they rebelled against. Anyone who won't is to be arrested and executed."
Amelia froze. "So the people of the north won't be able to air their grievences?" she asked slowly, still processing what Charles had told her.
He shook his head. "I only came to bid you farewell. I am supposed to leave rather soon," he whispered. Charles looked down at Owen, who was smiling in Amelia's arms. He placed a kiss on the baby's forehead before kissing his wife deeply and passionately.
"I love you," he whispered.
"And I you," she whispered back.
He turned and left, leaving his wife standing by the fire, a stray tear rolling down her cheek. The King, no, her father had broken his word, and made her husband break his as well. All of the promises her father had made were nothing more than words. There were no actions behind them. How could one pretend to understand the cause of a rebellion, and then enforce a solution that went against almost all of the issues that were raised? Even though she was a woman, she could tell that negotiating, finding a peaceful resolution, would have been able to satisfy both parties.
She vowed never to break her word.
25 February 1567
Charles hadn't expected that the northern rebels would give him the resistance that they did. He was met with a large group preparing to march on a castle, a short battle, a multitude of arrests, and 74 men who refused to sign an oath.
He watched from the hill as many people, men and women alike, cried and wailed over the men who had been hanged. The women, he reminded himself were widows now. What would they do? If they had children, how would they support them? Many, he imagined, would be forced to remarry, or beg, or hope that their oldest child was old enough to be married, or in a place where they could provide support.
He hated executions because they reminded him of his own mortality.
Charles was aging, without a doubt. Most men wouldn't live to see his age. Amelia, on the other hand, was young. Very young. There was no doubt that he loved and adored her, more than any of his previous wives. Margaret, Anne, and Mary had all been wonderful women, but Amelia was far different. She was compassionate and kind, always seeking for peace instead of war. She was patient too, and forgiving. He didn't think that any of the women he had previously been married to would have forgiven him for his affair with that Frenchwoman.
Honestly, he couldn't even remember the woman's name. Amelia was who mattered most to him.
Charles knew that he wouldn't live forever, and that Amelia was likely to outlive him by many years. A small voice in the back of his head told him that he should have convinced the King to marry her to someone younger, someone that she could have grown old with.
It was then he realized how deep his love really ran. He wanted to see Amelia happy, even if it meant that she wasn't with him.
Into the evening, he was deep in thought.
8 March 1537
He hated watching Robert Aske say good-bye to his family as much as he hated lying to Robert Aske.
Mr. Aske used almost the same words Charles had to say good-bye to his family. Like Charles, he firmly believed what he said, only did not know the truth. It reminded Charles that as often as he promised to return, he never knew for sure if he would or not.
He gave the order to march on.
He was getting sick of all the lies.
5 April 1537
The journey had been long and arduous, but he had made it home. Home. It wasn't Westhorpe anymore, he realized, but wherever Amelia, John, and Owen were.
His conversation with Cromwell was much longer than he had anticipated. By the time he returned to the family's apartments, the sky was lit only by stars.
Amelia was asleep when he entered their chamber, but she woke when he closed the door. "Charles?" she asked sleepily, rubbing one of her eyes with her hand. "Is that you?"
"Yes," he responded.
Even in the darkness, he could see the smile that lit up her face. "Welcome home, my love," she said joyfully.
He said nothing more, but changed into his shift and sat down on his side of the bed, resting his head in his hands.
"Charles?" Amelia asked quietly. She sat up and moved over so she sat just behind him on the bed, one of her hands coming to rest on his shoulder. "Something's troubling you, I can tell. Unburden your heart, love," she whispered.
He raised his head. "If I do," he said, turning his head to meet his wife's eyes, "believe me, everything will change."
Amelia said nothing, but took one of Charles's hands in her own, locking their fingers together and rubbing circles on the back of his palm.
Charles turned away from her again. "I am commanded to return north to carry out retribution," he said. "I must execute more rebels, only this time without trial or proper process."
The circles stopped. "Many?" she whispered hoarsely.
"Yes, many," he replied. "Many, hundreds, thousands. I must kill hundreds of men, women, and children, or lose the love of my king!"
"Women and children?" Amelia cried softly, tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes.
"I have no choice," he whispered, meeting her eyes again, defeat evident in his voice.
"Of course you have a choice," Amelia said. "What if it was me? Or your own children?"
Charles turned away and was silent for a moment, and his answer was so faintly whispered, Amelia had to strain to hear it. "I would still have to do it."
Her hands released his, and he made no effort to grab them again. "I better go check on Owen," she said quietly.
He watched as she passed in front of the fire, the warm glow illuminating her body. He could see tears begin to fall from her eyes, and saw her hands rub her stomach, as if she were trying to calm it.
Her slightly swollen stomach.
He had just told his pregnant wife that he would kill her and their children if the King ordered it.
Zounds.